Why I Love My Pets

Author: siggy

There are many reasons I love my pets.  Growing up, I had none.  It was not even an option.  I have a chance to do it all over.  At the moment, I have a menagerie–seven cats and four dogs.  I know I won’t always have that many.  I love each cat and dog.  Sure they are a responsibility.  I welcome that gladly.  Each cat and each dog is different.  Each one I have to love differently.  Not every pet responds to me.  So what.  It is a privilege to raise them.  They don’t belong to me.  Each one is on loan.  I treat each animal differently.  Like others, there are those I love more.  Cats are very different than dogs–much more independent.  I am just glad I have the opportunity to raise and love each animal.  It is a privilege and an honor.

My seven cats and four dogs enrich my life.  I have to admit only one cat (Cool Hand Luke), a completely black scrawny cat, seeks me out and snuggles up to me occasionally.  Maybe, that is because she is the only pet I had before I met my wife over ten years ago.  I have always taken care of her.  She has a favorite spot in my room, where she curls up by the window on the books I have placed there.  When she is not there at night she sleeps on my bed catercorner from me.  She does not get along too well with the other cats.

My relationship with the other six cats are all different.  Cheyenne, a beautiful long haired cat, usually does not let me pet him.  In fact, if I approach him; he goes the opposite way and looks at me with the expression “how dare you go near me.”  Jasmine, a tiny delicate female, the mother of four of our cats, does not seek me out but does not object if I pet her.

China, a long haired exotically colored black and white cat is one cool cat, supremely confidently poised cat will, also, not seek me out but certainly not turn down an hug from me.  Tiger will also not turn me down.  He has the softest fur.  Even the vet commented how soft his fur was.

Pumpkin, the only cat from Jasmine’s first litter, is just a nice cat and gets along with all the other cats.  And then there is Buttons, somewhat similar in coloring to Tiger.  He was the last cat to enter this household.  He showed up at our front door.  He is about as wild as you can be and still be a domestic cat.  He hides under our bed.  And usually goes the other way if I dare approach him.  That takes care of the cats and now I will talk briefly about our four dogs.

There is Pax, the elder, who is a ninety pound scary dog but a real scaredy cat.  He likes the sound of his own voice and will demonstrate that if he runs into the yard and seeks out the furthest right corner of the fence barking every step of the way.  He comes up to me if he wants something for he knows I will not ignore him and act quicker than my wife.  He is getting up in age–now twelve.

Now there is the golden retriever appropriately named Sweetie.  She is very tactile, loves to have something in her mouth and just can not get enough attention.  In fact, she will demand it and sit there all day while you pet her.  She is the mom of the last two dogs (Pax is the Dad) Tilla and Coco.

Coco is a long haired female who is black with a touch of red in there.  She has the most adorable fluffy ears.  She likes her privacy.  She will often go into the bed room by herself and just stay there for hours.  She will lie down there front paws crossed so delicate like completely feminine like.

The last animal I have is Tilla originally called Atilla The Hun and The Olympian.  He is the only dog who could jump the fence we had built around a large section of the yard and necessitated us building it even higher.  He is lean, aggressive and completely black and the most athletic of our four dogs.

He keeps me company as I watch TV in the evening and then sleeps in the Lazy Boy I vacate when I go to bed.  I won his love by giving him a belly rub almost every time he wanted it.  He and I have a special relationship.  He is the only dog I have given walks.  That is a brief description of my relationships I have with my eleven animals.  Each one is different.

Three of them were in:  “Tilla” was the only dog out.  Three times I urged him to come in and three times he turned over on his back to demand a belly rub.  I ignored him all three times.  Finally he “trotted in” so we were able to leave the house.  All four dogs had gone out and now were in.

I don’t want more things to come into my house, that is cluttered enough; although we have made much progress.  I am as responsible as my wife for more things coming into my house.  There is always another book or another piece of music to purchase.  When both of us go, someone will have a massive job to clear the house.  I mentioned this to my wife and she did not seem concerned about this.  We have made much progress in decluttering our house.  It seems a losing battle.  I really have to determine (in our will) what truly is important.  To me it is my journals and poems.  I don’t know what things my wife wants to bequeath if anything.  Right now we have a menagerie (seven cats and four dogs) but they are starting to get up in age, particularly, the cats, where the youngest one is nine years old.  I am sure my wife would want them to go to a good home if any animals were left when both of us are gone.  You never know how much time you have.  And death may come suddenly.  You never know.

“Pax”, our big ninety pound dog, likes to hear his own voice.  He will lumber out into our yard barking every step of the way until he reaches the far end and then make sure no one can pass our yard without him commenting.  As I said, he likes the sound of his own voice.  He is the most vocal of our four dogs.  And also the elder.  All four dogs will run out into the yard to do their business.  And he will do it right away and shortly after will bark in front of the entrance demanding we let him into the house immediately.  If he needs to go out, he will come to me and make sure he is heard because my wife would not respond to him as quickly.  He has no patience.

Coco, Tilla and Cool Hand Luke have their nightly routines.  The first two are two of my dogs (I have four) and the third is one of my cats (I have seven).  Coco, when she is ready to retire for the evening, lies down on the far side of my bed.  In fact, once in awhile she even jumps on my bed after I have gone to sleep.

Her brother, Tilla, last night joined me in my office (or “man cave” as some people would put it) and while I was watching TV came in the room and nudged shut the door and laid patiently there waiting for me to retire.  As soon as I was finished watching TV and left my Lazy Boy chair he immediately jumped on it.  His bed time is nine (but not mine) and if I am not on the chair he will take it.  More than once he wouldn’t budge.  I had to sit on him before he reluctantly left so I could watch TV.

Cool Hand Luke’s favorite spot is in the same room.  The black cat (interesting enough the two dogs mentioned are also completely black) will sit on some books perched on top of a book case to the left of my Lazy Boy chair and by the window.  She is often found there.  That is a new spot for her.  For a long time she used to lie curled at night at the head of the bed to the left of me.

She does not get along too well with some of the other cats.  For a number of months other cats were often lying together on my bed especially Jasmine, a dainty female, with some or all of her four kids she had in two litters.  Sometimes Buttons, a tiger colored cat (we have two), will lie on our bed too; although he often hides under the bed.  He sometimes terrorizes Cool Hand Luke.  Of late, the cats have not been spending the night on the bed so Cool Hand Luke has returned occasionally to her old spot.

The other pets’ routines at night I have not noticed or they do not have the same ones every night.  The other cats are great at disappearing.  My wife who sleeps on the other Lazy Boy chair in the living room says the cats are quite noisy at night.  I would not know.  I sleep solidly.

Spring Is On Its Way

Author: siggy

Spring is on its way:  officially in four weeks.  It does not feel that way today.  It is cold and windy and all I want to do is stay inside and go out only when I have to.  None of my four dogs seem too eager to go out.  Now I am counting the weeks and then days until spring.  I do this every year, do my countdown to spring.  Winter I just endure.

My dog Tilla gives great hugs.  He is one of four but he is the only dog that does this.  I will be sitting in my chair and he will lay his upper body on my lap.  He is all of seventy plus pounds but he does not hurt me when he does that.  He just wants to give me a hug.  And that is his way of doing so.

Of the eight cats I have “Cool Hand Luke” is the only one who comes to me.  She also sleeps nearby.  I brought her into the family when I married my wife over nine years ago.  Some of the other cats tolerate me and others even go into the opposite direction when I approach them so I appreciate her. (Yes, she is a female.)  “Cool Hand Luke” is completely black as were the dog and other cat I brought into the marriage–now both dead.  You never really own a cat.  In fact, they own you.  The dog I owned “Daisy” was really special to me.  It was the first dog I raised from a pup and also the first dog I trained although she was an adult when I did that.  When I was in the living room, she never took her eyes off of me and was one mighty stubborn dog.  Now I have a special relationship with “Tilla” one of my four dogs.  I never thought anyone would replace Daisy but he has.

Pax is the bemused elder, a Rottweiler mix almost twelve years old.  The other three dogs are approximately five.  He is the dad of two of our dogs and Mom is our golden retriever.  He kind of looks at me with this odd look almost cockeyed.  He is the only one left from the three dogs we had when I entered this marriage nine years ago.  He no longer moves too quickly on his arthritic legs.  I have stepped on him too often although he has never bitten me for doing this.  He is now cautious when I walk nearby.  My nickname for him is “Woof”:  he is the most vocal of our four dogs.  He does his business in the yard quickly and indicate to us very (???) with a quick bark or two that he wants in the house.  He likes to run in the far right corner of our yard and barks at anyone who has the temerity to pass by.  He is one intimidating dog but he really is a sweetheart.  He is the only dog who is really my wife’s although he does listen to me.  He is the one dog I really do not want to get out:  he is plain scary looking.  He weighs about ninety pounds.

My wife said our dog was in the same spot for the last three hours. I approached him and he hardly moved. His eyes followed me so I knew he was still alive. I was afraid I would wake up the next morning and he would be dead. I found out in the middle of the night he was no longer there. I was thrilled: that was a good sign. Even the biscuit that had been lying untouched by his mouth was gone. He is twelve years old and still manages (despite his arthritic knees) to run to the other side of the yard. He may have gotten old all of a sudden. He was in the yard today not in a prone position but slightly sitting up. It is summer and our four dogs are not that perky. I love Pax but no pet lives forever. I would really miss him.

“Tilla wants out again!”  He is the only dog of our four who know how to pop open the front screen door and let himself out the front door into the fenced yard.  All we could say is, “Tilla wants out again.” as he runs into the yard.