For the Love of Dog

The last couple of posts have been pretty deep.  So, I'll let you cool down with something a bit lighter.

I'm sitting her with the two four-legged children.  One with her tail wrapped around her across from me.  The other is lightly snoring next to me.  It makes me wonder... do they make CPAP machines for dogs?  He he.
I can only imagine.

Sleeping Baby #1

Snoring Baby #2

I wouldn't consider myself much of a dog person.  Not really.  I'm definitely a cat lover.  Actually, I'm more of an animal lover with a specialty in cats.  That would be the best label if I absolutely need to have one.

Growing up on a farm, I grew to have an appreciation for all animals.  With goats, sheep, chickens and geese, that will happen plus give you a healthy respect for life.  But those animals can never truly be pets, at least not the kind you would expect in the average household.  Not like a dog or cat.

We had both.  I grew up with two dogs and what seemed like too many cats to keep track of.  My parents weren't crazy cat people.  The cats we had were farm cats - mousers.  They worked for their living.  Most were born on a neighbor's farm and we adopted them once the kittens were old enough to live on their own.  My brother and I got to pick out the ones we wanted and name them.

There were a few notables.  The first I can remember was Tuesday.  He was a tough old tiger-striped tom cat my parents got before I was born.  He was followed by a group of four others: Fancy, my brother's calico, Flowerbelle, my own little tiger kitten, Wizard and Garfield, the black and orange brothers.  Poor Garfield went through a series of name changes until we found the one that fit: OJ (as in the breakfast drink), Tangerine and finally Garfield, because he ate too much like his namesake created by Jim Davis.

Farm cats have a rough life.  Sure, we would provide them with food and water at the back porch, but for the most part they hunted their own meals through the day and night.  It would be no surprise to look out the window and see one of the fierce hunters trotting across the yard with anything from a mole, rabbit or bird.  By rule of nature, these poor creatures weren't the only prey.  All predators are prey to something else, no matter how fierce.

Little Flowerbelle with her squeaky mew was the first to go, most likely to a fox though we never knew.  My young heart was devastated.  She was my first little girl.  The two boys became my next loves - Fancy was my brother's through and through.  All three grew to adulthood and protected the farm from small vermin to the best of their abilities.

All three lived good lives.  Wizard was taken by a car, if I remember correctly.  Garfield and Fancy gradually moved into the house as they got older.  My mom wasn't too happy about it, but I did my best to assist their effort.  They still did their jobs and would come in for the night.  Garfield was the only one who would want to return outside for the night's hunt and eventually never made it back home.  Fancy finished her years in the comfort of the house.  By the time my brother went off to college, she would often spend the night on my bed.  I finally claimed his calico angel as my own until I moved out of the house for good.

The mousers weren't the only cats we had.  My parents had an ornery old Siamese that joined them shortly after getting married.  Madame Bovary was never the friendliest of felines.  She tolerated her housemate humans, but didn't take well to visitors.

Bo's nemesis was my grandmother.  She would always make this known at dinner.  Our dining room had hand-caned chairs.  Every time my grandmother would visit, sharp claws would swipe at her through the seat.  Thankfully for her, she never visited often.

Madame Bo finally passed around the age of 21.  She was a devilish old cat, but lived a long healthy life.

No farm is complete without a dog.  The first I remember was Nipper, a little Dalmatian named after the dog  in the RCA Records logo.

Nipper followed my brother around faithfully and was a loyal playmate in our younger years.  As we got older, he was joined by Makai.  She was a runt Great Dane put up for adoption by a breeder because she would never be a show dog.  Not only was she too small (though still a large dog), her ears were cut incorrectly, meaning they still flopped over instead of standing at attention like other show Danes.

Kai was a big baby doll of a beast.  Anyone who knows large dogs (you may know them as horses) knows they are leaners.  She was no exception.  The more she loved you, the harder she leaned on you.  

She was also a terror to small dog owners.  Anyone who didn't know better figured that our large dog was the size of a German Shepherd.  Our family loves large dogs.  My brother had Mastiffs and my uncle had Irish Wolfhounds.  Makai wasn't the first of my parents' Danes, either.  Her predecessor was a large male nearly double her size.  Needless to say, Kai was a fright to those who did not expect her.  No worries, her thunderous bark was much worse than her bite.

One unfortunate to find this out was a neighbor boy from down the street.  We were both in grade school at the time and I invited him over to play on the computer after school.  Both of my parents worked and put both dogs in the dining room until we got home from school to let them out.  I didn't do that on that day - we went straight upstairs to the computer.  We finished as soon as my mom got home.  She let the dogs out before my friend got down the stairs.  He ran out of the house screaming with a huge barking Dane on his tail!  It was a funny experience despite the fact that I got in trouble for having a friend over without my parents home and not letting the dogs out.

Both dogs were the best of friends, always chasing each other through the yard.  They would go on adventures together through the countryside.  We found this out when  they found the local deer pit - a spot out in the middle of nowhere away from population where the street cleanup teams would drop off roadkill deer to return to the earth, so to speak.  They must have loved the smell, as both came home covered in it, sporting a deer leg between the two of them.

Kai taught me a very important lesson in life - death.  Large dogs tend to live shorter lives due to their hearts which often get weaker as they get older.  Her passing was my very first up close and personal view of death.  I will spare you the details, but my brother and I were the only ones home when it happened - an experience I will never forget.

Nipper lived on for a number of years after.  When my brother went to college, the old puppy grew a little closer to me though never as close as to my brother.  I never appreciated his loyalty until I realized  something he would always do.  Every summer I would go to my grandparents' house in New York State for a week.  Every year when I would return, Nipper would spend the night in my room next to my bed.   I took him for granted, always being there. 

Dogs are loud.  Dogs slobber.  They need to be let outside or walked.  We have to leash our dogs in public and pick up their business.  They are scavengers and beggars and constantly need attention.  To me, these are the cons of owning a pooch.  But the pros are rewarding.  Dogs are loyal and loving, providing the only truly unconditional love you will ever find.  This is a fact I just didn't fully realize.

The following years included a parade of other peoples' pets.  The only pets of my own were fish.  Pretty, but not much company and rarely entertaining.  They just aren't the type to curl up next you on the couch or in bed.  So I had to quench my love of animals with the pets of my friends and those I dated.

My next real pets did not come into my life until I met my husband, Jon.

I've already talked about Morningstar.  Feel free to re-read my first post to refresh yourself on my favorite cat.  His "sister" Zippy is still with us.  Now 18 years old and deaf as a doorknob, she is Jon's longest relationship outside of his own family.  She is his drug kitty.  She was rescued and given to him to prove he could take care of a living being (and himself) after he made up his mind to quit drugs.  She is now queen of the house demanding fresh water when thirsty, screeching for breakfast at 5:00 am and dinner at 4:00 pm.  She's not much for being picked up, though I seem to be able to hold her the longest.  Her love, though, is of the hand.  When Zippy sees a hand that is not petting her, she will screech and paw at you until it completes its required job.  We love her to death,  hairballs and all.

Zippy on her favorite armrest

There were two fuzzies that spent limited time with us in the early part of our relationship.  The first, I've mentioned already - Cricket.  She was a small pretty calico with a high chirping mew like the song of the insect.  She reminded me of my Fancy.  Though she was a loved member of the family, she required more attention than we could give her.  Cricket ended up back with the family who gave her to Jon when they moved into a house that accepted all of their pets.

Dante was, well, Dante.  We rescued Dante when we wanted to get our first dog together.  We should have known better as his shelter name was Espresso.  This lovable pit mix was a demon puppy straight from the Inferno, hence his new name.  We tried training classes and a trainer that came to the house.  He had more energy than we could contain, causing us more frustration than necessary.  One day he was misbehaving more than normal and I found him attacking Morningstar.  It was the final straw.  After saving my cat, I took him back to his previous home.  We tried, but our love and effort just wasn't enough.  He was placed with an Amish farmer with plenty of land for him to run and chase rabbits.

Jon's heart was hurt, but he understood that we did all we could.  We would eventually get a dog that was better suited for our little family.

Shortly after moving to Washington, DC, we met Ani Nicole.  It was discovered that Ani was living with an old woman that could not take care of her.  The woman was senile and the dog was matted and living in her own filth.  The poor little poodle had been a breeding dog in a puppy mill.  When the place was busted, a couple gave her to the old lady as a companion.  When they discover she couldn't take care of the pup, they found her a home immediately - ours.  We took her in, cleaned and groomed her and we could see the love and gratefulness in her eyes.  She was a delicate princess, afraid of men other than us, and grating, because of the cages she spent much of her life in.  When she tired during her walks, she insisted on being carried.

The only time she became a true dog would be during visits to my parents' house.  She would perk up as soon as we entered the driveway.  As soon as the door opened, she would hop out and romp around with more energy than she would ever show.  We would walk around the pond on their property and she would run just as free as the wind.  During one of these visits, Ani stopped by the edge of the pond to investigate and perhaps get a quick drink.  We never found out her true intention as she had misjudged the slope and plopped into the water.  

Ani spent the remainder of her short life with us until she succumbed to cancer.  We assisted in her passing to ease her pain and spread her ashes around the pond she loved so much.  She'll never be forgotten.

Ani Nicole

The last, but hopefully not last, to join us is Jack.  Only a couple months after Ani's passing, Jon felt he was ready for another dog.  He had a dream of Ani running around the pond with a dog he couldn't quite see, as if she was telling him it was OK to move on.  A few days later, he stopped by the Humane League to take a look around.  Amongst all the dogs yapping for his approval, he found this little Shih Tzu mix sitting and staring at him, asking him what had taken him so long.  When he got to meet the dog in the play room, he was peed on - sealing the deal.  It was love at first sight.

Jack is named after Captain Jack Harkness of Torchwood, played by John Barrowman - one of Jon's favorite actors.  They are both very cheeky and mischievous.  Jack is our little monkey.

Captain Jack Harkness

Captain Jack Harkness

He has filled our lives with loyalty and love.  I never truly understood this about a dog until Jack.  Jon would often come home after a hard day and immediately go to lay on the bed and play with Jack before even saying hello.

He also loves visiting my parents' home.  Often times we'll watch him as he runs around the pond, looking backward as if playing with another puppy.  He even stopped at the same spot to investigate only to have Ani push him in.  We know he's the best addition to our family.

Since I've developed my own health problems, this has only become clearer to me.  This little monkey is our therapy dog.  On my worst days, I will lay on the couch.  He will come right over, hop up and settle right to sleep in my lap.  I can't think of anything better than bad movies and warm puppies to take the pain of the day away.  We saved him so he could save us.  The dog just knows when he is needed.

Jack on one of my bad days.

I still love my cats.  I always will.  We are so alike in our solidarity and independence.  But I've discovered just how much I can love this little fur ball that helps us get through the day.  Dogs aren't that bad, after all.