What's Your Favorite Pet Story?
The animal lovers of Real Simple, whose pet tales are shared here, would love to hear about your pets and the way they enhance your lives.
Share your shaggy dog (or cat or hamster) stories by posting a comment, below.
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We adopted Katie (Katherine Hepburn) and Spencer (as in Tracy) from the St. Joseph Animal Shelter. My husband and I RV a lot and always take the "babies". When my husband pulls the RV up in front of the house Katie and Spencer go wild and run to the door to get out to the RV. They consider it their big dog house on wheels. Who can argue?
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I was sitting on the couch two years ago, when my brother came into the room, with a mortified look on his face. Then he shouted "Buddy just pulled the lawnmower out of the shed!" But the funny part is that Buddy is a 15 pound Boston terreir that stands not even a foot high!
I was divorced in 1998 at the ripe old age of 27. I was totally lost and lonely and I had never lived on my own. A few months after my divorce I moved into a friend's house while he worked out of state. He had this precious black lab named Parker. I asked him what would become of Parker and he said "When it comes between my livelihood and a dog, the dog has to go." I knew he did not want to give up Parker so I offered to take care of him for the year he would be away. About two months later my friend came home to do some yard clenup and brought a friend to help; a much older man. At this point I had become so attached to Parker I could not bear the thought of him coming back a year later and taking Parker from me. I told him he either took Parker back with him or he would have to officially give me the dog. Well, he did not like that ultimatum and said he'd think about it while he and his friend hauled off a bunch of yard refuse. When they returned I was cooking breakfast with Parker right there by my side as the bacon cooked. My friend looked at me and said "I've decided what to do with Parker." My heart sank because I just knew he and his friend discussed Parker returning to Indiana with them and staying up there. He looked at me and said "He's yours". I burst into tears and hugged Parker's big head and was the happiest woman alive! I asked him later what made him make his decision. He told me his friend looked at him as they drove off with their haul and said "I knew when I first arrived that dog belonged to her. If you take him from her you are going to rip her heart out and the dog's too." That was all that was said between them on the matter. Parker is now 10 years old and I have since bought my own house. He is on arthitis medicine for his osteoarthritis, has moderate hip dysplasia, and a bone spur in his left hip. He is barely gray and still loves to chase squirrels, tennis balls, swim in the river, and run through the woods. He is the best thing that ever happened to me.
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One day I had a few friends over for lunch so as we ate & talked my side door bell starting ringing I didn't pay any attention to it . then one of the girls said Marie someones at the door but I assured her it was only my dog Todo . She'd ring the bell to come in after she had enought of being outside. From that day on my friends call her Avon.
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I had just moved in with a new housemate and one morning was standing in a hot shower trying to talk my eyelids open when I felt something brush against my legs. A large something. Squealing and trying without success to climb up the tiled walls, I looked down to find that I had two surprise guests in the tub with me. My housemate's two cats were apparently in the habit of showering every morning and evidently were not particular as to who they shared with.
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I was in the living room tickling me 5 year old son on the floor and our cat Morgan must have thought that I was hurting my son and she would pounce on me as if to say leave me buddy alone. She would do it every time I tickled Anthony. Anthony has a very strong loud laugh and Morgan loved him. We all did. We just lost Morgan last week. She was 16 years old. We have great loving memories of her.
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When my husband and I were dating, and in a long-distance relationship, I went to stay at his apartment in New York over the summer. As I was eating lunch one day while sitting at the computer, his new cat, Gwennie, came up to me and began meowing. Then she jumped on the computer desk and meowed some more. Never having been a cat owner before, I had no clue what she wanted, so I just petted her on the head and kept eating and working. Finally, she sniffed my slice of cheddar, walked over on the side of the desk, reached out, and slapped me right across the face (thankfully with her claws IN, not OUT)! I got the message and gave her the rest of the cheese. At that point I knew who was always going to be the lady of the house!
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Our Australian Cattle Dog, Dusty, loved to play. She would run, fetch, and snatch a Frisbee out of the air and she was willing to play any hour of the day or night.
Immediately after giving birth to to five puppies, she whined to go outside. She grabbed the Frisbee on the way out of the door! I was shocked that she wanted to play so soon after having puppies. She played for about 20 minutes, came inside...and gave birth to one more puppy!
What a dog. I still miss her.
During a serious bout with major depression, my ex-husband took custody of my teenaged children. I took the loss quite hard and found myself having a hard time living from day to day. During one in-patient stay at a psychiatric hospital, my cat YumYum got out and became pregnant. When her big day came, she snuggled between my knees as I sat on my daybed, and gave birth to her kittens right there. It was as if she was sharing her experience with me. Although I made a nest for her and the four kittens in a closet, YumYum persistently moved the kittens to the unused side of my king-sized bed. YumYum shared her babies with me, as if she knew that would ease the pain of my loss of my own children. It'a amazing how perceptive she was to my pain, and how gracious she was in helping to ease it.
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I have a Pekingese named General Tsao, yes after the Chinese take out food. Well, my boyfriend and I from the very beginning noticed something different about him. Instead of a bark like normal dogs make, General Tsao will either meow like a cat or make the sound of a crying baby. When I first heard it I wasn't sure what it was until I discovered him in his cage crying to be let out. I have to say its a conversation starter at parties when he sees new people and "meows."
My favorite story is about my Charlie. Charlie is a gray tabbie (stray) that I took in several years ago. One winter night Charlie woke me meowing. Get up to see what he wants. Food? No. Go back to bed. Few minutes later he taps me on my head. What? Go to the back door, you want out? No. Okay, back to bed again. So again laying in bed he taps me on my head again. As I get up again at the same moment I could hear my furnace making a strange noise. By the time I got up and to the furance flames were coming out at me. Luckly I was able to turn it off immediately. Not sure what would have happened if he didn't wake his "mom" up in time.
Our cairn terrier liked to tease our oldest daughter. This was witnessed once by our youngest daughter, and once by my husband. Buttons would scratch on M's bedroom door, and when she heard my daughter get up to answer, she would run to the living room and lie down. When the dog heard M go back in her room, she would go back and scratch the door again. When she heard M coming she would run back to the living room and lie down. She repeated this about three times. M finally got wise and waited for her at the door. When buttons scratched at the door M opened the door fast and made the dog jump. This ended the game until the next time.
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I had a beautiful female germean shepard that was my companion since I was a little girl. When I turned 18 I moved from Alaska to Hawai'i. I was gone for a a year, and went back up to visit family and friends. I just arrived at my mothers house to get a phone call from my fathers Best friend that was dog sitting for my mother while she was out of town. He had said he let her out this morning and she is GONE. No snow tracks not one trace. I left the house to check his yard out and there was NO TRACE. I drove up an down the neighbor hood and NO LUCK. I pulled up the driveway to see my beautiful dog waiting for me at the doorstep with her nose at the doornob. She was one of the loyalist dog I have ever had. When I left back to the island she passed on two weeks later in my back yard in the woods.
I had a beautiful female germean shepard that was my companion since I was a little girl. When I turned 18 I moved from Alaska to Hawai'i. I was gone for a a year, and went back up to visit family and friends. I just arrived at my mothers house to get a phone call from my fathers Best friend that was dog sitting for my mother while she was out of town. He had said he let her out this morning and she is GONE. No snow tracks not one trace. I left the house to check his yard out and there was NO TRACE. I drove up an down the neighbor hood and NO LUCK. I pulled up the driveway to see my beautiful dog waiting for me at the doorstep with her nose at the doornob. She was one of the loyalist dog I have ever had. When I left back to the island she passed on two weeks later in my back yard in the woods.
My pet minature schnauzer named Otto goes into my closet and grabs my socks out of my hamper and puts them by his bed when I'm not home..Sort of keeps me close kind of thing. What's amazing he can open my closet on his own...That's my baby!
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After months of searching Petfinder I finally saw the puppy I'd been looking for - a blue heeler,rat terrier mix. When the rescue rep came for the home inspection she brought not only Chloe but her sister Jenny. Chloe was the one I wanted but the nice woman explained that they'd never been separated and that Jenny was a bit blind in one eye, etc. Long story short - both Chloe and Jenny now live with me.
Jenny was more than a little blind - she was almost completely blind. She stays close to home where she knows her comfort zone. Chloe on the other hand knows everyone in our rural neighborhood. One day I saw Chloe coming up the driveway with a little football in her mouth. She walked over to Jenny and gave the ball to her. Since then a lot of toys have appeared in the yard that I didn't supply - Chloe was bringing home whatever she could find as gifts for sister Jenny. And I was toting baskets of them around the neighborhood to let the rightful owners reclaim them. Jenny will lack for nothing as long as big sister Chloe is around and I will lack for nothing as long as both of them are with me.
I was folding clothes in the bedroom with the door closed to keep out the cats. I heard a knock at the door and assumed it was my husband. I yelled but no answer. Upon opening the door, I found our youngest cat, Flint, looking at me like, 'Can I come in?' The lilttle stinker had managed to get his paw under the door and wiggle it a bit, making a knocking sound. Even to this day I still have to check who's knocking at any closed doors in the house.
Despite heavy snow, we decided to get out and finish our Christmas shopping. We put our young Irish setter in the back yard so she wouldn't destroy the house. A block from the house, there she was, having a ball chasing snowflakes. She must have crawled under the back gate. We put the muddy mess in the car and hauled her back to the house and forced her into the garage. Upon returning home, my husband said we'd better let the dog in. I went to the garage and my son went to the back door. Much to our shock, we each let a young female Irish setter into the house! They went wild, chasing one anoither from room to room, throwing mud everywhere. We absolutely could not tell them apart, until we discovered that one--ours--had a rabies tag, and the other had only an identical collar. Despite our efforts, we never did find the owners and finally gave the newcomer to a good home.
About 6 years ago, my fiance brought home a cute little puff ball sheepdog. He named her Brosie. She herd everything including our friends, the cats, even the goats at the farm. She is always a warm and welcome sight after a long day's work. Even when I get up in the morning, I will come back from the bathroom and there she is cuddled up under a blanket with her head on my pillow snoring in unison with my fiance. Dogs truly do make life more full and fun! They remind you to smile and love unconditionally.
A couple of years ago I was living in my parents basement while I finished grad school. It was winter and I had recently broken my tailbone. I was lying in bed on pain meds, about to fall asleep, when I heard a cat crying on the back porch.
I looked outside and it was my parents cat, Lily, out in the freezing cold! I felt awful for her, and immediately scooped her up and brought her in. I took her upstairs to my Mom and said, "Lily got outside and was freezing!"
About that time, my stepdad came down the hall and looked at me strange as I was telling this to my Mom. He then said, "That's not Lily." He then pointed to their cat, sitting in the hallway and said," Lily's right there!"
I was holding an identical gray cat with gray eyes! About that time, the cat (who ended up being a male) saw Lily and freaked out. My stepdad shooed him into the garage and back outside.
I've never let another animal inside. Ha!
I have two turtles, one is a boy and one is a girl. The girl turtle, her name is Leonardette (we found out later after we named them she was a girl), loves to come up to the surface of the pond and beg for attention. It is so cute.
When she wants food she will get up on the wood platforms my honey built for them and put her head down on the plateform to show that she wants food. It is so adorable!
Our lab Mookie was obsessed with playing fetch, as most labs are.
When I was young I played hockey for a few years. When my parents weren't home I would often practice my slap shot in the house, sending a tennis ball down the long hallway for Mookie to chase after and return to me. My best shot of the day sent the ball flying down the hall at a great speed and as usual Mookie went racing after it. The ball ended up rickocheting off the water cooler at the end of the hall. Mookie got her front paws stopped to rebound back towards me, but her back end went swirlling around and knocked over the water cooler. Water went flying everywhere and we soon had a pond in our coat room. Mookie quickly snagged the ball before retreating to her bed with her ears back and tail between her legs.
My first cat, whom I chose when I was five years old in kindergarten, was named : Georgia, Georgette, Nancy, Snowball, Little Swann, Houdini Williams, but went by the name of "Mama". Thereby hangs her tale. We had a ritual of lying in my parents' bed playing on Sunday mornings before church. My father was a minister, and my mother had to organize the rest of my siblings to get to church, I"m the youngest of five. One morning, when I was about six, I was playing with Georgia, as I always did, and Mom called me to come to get dressed. I pulled the covers back, and there was blood EVERYWHERE! I screamed, I thought Georgia had died (though she was still playing with me) Mom came rushing to me, and lo and behold, it was not a horrible injury, it was a kitten. She had one, teeny, tiny, yellow kitten (on Daddy's side of the bed). She immediately started taking care of the baby, and was very attentive, and a very good mother. She continued to have a litter of one, once a year for about four years. The fathers were the two neighbor cats, one yellow, one tabby like Georgia. She finally had two kittens about the time I was nine, and then had three kittens when I was eleven. That was when her run of motherhood ended. Mom said one was ok, but three...well, a bit much. But we always laughed about my introduction to "birthing". Georgia's baby was called "Not Yet" (her owner said whenever he'd eat, the cat would try to get his food, and he'd tell the cat "Not Yet" which ended up sounding like "Notchit". Georgia lived to the ripe old age of 16. And as the end neared, the summer after I graduated from college, I was heading to a party out of town, and told her as I left that I'd put her to sleep when I got back. Two days later, I called home, and she had disappeared. I feel like she knew what I'd said and she didn't want me to have to make that decision, so she went away to die. We never found her, but I know my sweet kitty knows how much I loved her, and she showed me how she loved me. She was a great girl!
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My husband and I adopted an older golden retriever named Kiska 4 years ago shortly after our dog of 14 years died.Our daughters were by then grown but were not too taken with a new dog even though they were both married and had their own homes. When our youngest daughter and her husband were staying with us for a few days before moving from Montana, where we live, they brought their cat along, who was, of course, not pleased to be around a strange dog. Our daughter was holding the cat in a livingroom chair when suddenly she looked up and saw Kiska carrying the cat's food dish from another room, bringing it to the cat. My daughter's surprised reaction scared Kiska and she dropped the dish, scattering cat food all over the floor, but my daughter comforted her and thanked her for being so thoughtful as to want to welcome the cat to our home and serve him! Needless to say, Kiska won a place in oue daughter's heart that day! Kiska also is the special friend of our 4 year old grandson Jack, who, even though he and our other daughter and her husband moved to Minneapolis 2 years ago, says he wants to move back here when he is old enough to leave home, we suspect because he misses Kiska so much! Kiska lives up to the wonderful reputation golden retrievers have, and at age 11 she is enjoying her retirement years!
We once had our son's hamster disappear only to find the cats surrounding the washing machine. Everything ended happily!
My parents always said that I was allergic to dogs. At the age of 32, I found out that I was NOT. My husband and I immediately started looking at rescue organizations and were lucky enough to find Sarah and Dillon (1 year old sister and brother) at Chicago Canine Rescue. Not only are they great company, they keep us active with on average 2 hours of walking and 1 hour of play daily. They're also cost efficient bed warmers.
My tabby cat named Holly is the light of my life. She is always so mean and rebelious,but I love her anyway...Holly only cuddles if it's her idea and ooow!!!(She just bit me!)Anyway,I think she's a cutie pie and did I mention that she thinks she's a dog?Well she does and she shows that by barking at other cats out the back window.Holly also makes laps around the house daily.She runs from the kitchen table all the way up the stairs and into the shower.Holly also loves water.She will lay in the sink and you can turn it on and she won't get up.I love my cat and I will forever!!!
I lost my beloved husband of 40 years to a heart attack in 2003. Since we had no children I found myself alone but fortunetly with a lot of good friends who suggested I adopt a cat.
We lived in the country and then one day, 2 years ago, I found a small kitten being chased by a ferral cat in the back of the house. I brought him in and he adopted me right away.
Since then Tiger is my everything. He travels with me to Florida every winter and his hunting grounds are in Knowlton during the summer. When he comes in at night it's cuddle time on my bed. I don't even mind him waking me up at 4 in the morning to go out!
To me cats are the best pets you can ever have. They clean after themselves, are quiet and very independent.
I could write volumes about special moments & stories with Maxxwell my 12 year old boxer. I had to make the ultimate decision 5 days ago to have him put to sleep after 7 months of treatment for cancer and my heart & soul will grieve forever.
Maxxwell was my empty nest child and the quintessential pet. He could not be called a dog, he may have had four legs, a tail and barked but to his family he was a perfect gentleman.
He had such a will to live and was far more brave than I ever could be. I was devoted to him more than ever during all of the 7 months of treatment and he was nothing short of a miracle during this time. He was not in pain and I always said that he would tell me if he got too tired to go on. I saw it in his eyes and felt it in my heart, that horrible day, Sept. 10, 2007. His doctors of oncology and radiology, his nurse, who all had been so devoted to Maxx and me,were in the room and as I craddled his body and my 2 adult daughters craddled me, he was released to the angels. All of us wept loudly as he nuzzled my face for the last time, his eyes changed just as the leaves on the tree outside suddenly but gently blew as if they were catching his soul to carry to Heaven. He was elegant, dignified, loving, loyal and I pray, peaceful, as he left our lives. He knew he was loved and his last act of love to me was gentle, the quintessential furry gentleman.
We met back in the early ‘90’s, December of ‘92 to be exact. I just had a major blowout with my first, somewhat dysfunctional family and decided that it was best for all if I just left. My foster dad gave me a ride to nowhere that ended up at a boarding house in Albany, NY. The place was great, warm with plenty of company, and their cheesy poof biscuits were to die for. On the downside, it was loud and smelly, not unlike me.
Even a lowly pug could smell her coming from miles away. It was Monday, as I recall, and the bells on the door jingled to announce her arrival. She was a beautiful blonde with a quick smile and a big heart. We’d seen this type before; they usually left with one of the pure bred puppies, but something was different about this one. My instincts told me that any canine would be darn lucky to go home with a dame like her, so I made it my top priority to be that hound.
She wandered back to where we lived. Frankly, I was a bit embarrassed about the condition of the place. Some of my cage mates were not very clean and some even took to pooping where they ate. My next cage neighbor’s lack of etiquette was particularly noteworthy as he took to eating kitty snickers (that’s slang for cat poo in the big house) openly. Sure they taste good, but you’re not getting adopted if you’re seen eating one.
As she came closer to my humble accommodations, I tried everything I could to grab her attention. When she finally got to me I made direct eye contact with her, angled my head at a 45 degree tilt and gave her my trademark ‘BoPaw’ reach. As a bonus, my head as a pup was fully-grown, although my body wasn’t. While it would have been abnormal on any other dog, my oversized cranium actually made me cuter.
With the paw in the air and the bobble head turned just so, I stared into her eyes. I could see instantly she wanted me. Needed me. Had to have me. Hey who wouldn’t?
With her finely manicured nails, she reached out and petted me. She was clearly enjoying our encounter. How easy these humans are to manipulate, I thought. Her hands were refreshingly cool and her smell put me in a state of delight. I was in love. I could tell she loved me too.
After a few gushing, “He’s so cute!” comments, she took her hand out of my cage, gave me one last look and proceeded to move on to Pumpkin’s cage.
What?? Move on?! Hey, we just made a connection. You can’t move on. There’s no book if you keep going. But that’s exactly what she did.
Realizing I was still sitting there with a half-cocked head and a paw in the air, I felt my muzzle glow red hot under my furry face as the other dogs chuckled with delight. After a few minutes I got my bearings back, but by then she had moved through the room, out the door and out of my life.
My hope for a better life was gone as quickly as it had come. A depression enveloped me. The brief glimpse of a superior existence with a loving, caring humanoid was replaced with the stark reality that I may spend the rest of my life at this boarding house. What was once a fun and refreshing place became a dark and daunting cave.
This brush with love, and the subsequent loss of it, had me thinking of ending things in this world. I had heard the stories of the different ways it was accomplished but I knew that if I were going to do it, there was only one way. I knew to whom I could turn.
His given name was Charlemagne Brutus the IV, but he was better known in the house as the Candyman. His studded dog collar betrayed an otherwise noble and tame appearance. C’man slept on the best blankets, drank from the shiniest bowls and rarely took to begging for human food. He was well connected and living life that way.
I approached Candyman during exercise time in the yard. While the other dogs were working on their begging routines, he let on to me that he had a shipment of Hershey’s Dark Chocolate candy bars on the way. For the right price he would let me have them. As the reader clearly knows, as did I, chocolate will kill a canine quicker than a game of “chase the cat” in traffic. Yeah, that quick.
I was desperate, I wanted out of this life and this was the easy path. Death by chocolate, as it is commonly referred to in the restaurant business, was only two Hershey bars away for me. Once ingested, I would soon be patrolling the pearly gates of heaven, looking of course for a place to dig out underneath it. Paradise awaited me.
I knew the price, two greenies and a peanut butter filled kong for each candy bar. The only problem, I had no money and I was unemployed. The price too steep, I resigned myself to the situation at hand. At least death would come seven times faster than it does for others on this lonely, desolate planet. I lay down and quickly dozed off.
“…and if you want any input into what kind of dog we get, I suggest you get your butt over here after work!” the angry voice yelled. The words came from an angel; the very same angel that had visited the dog reclamation center earlier in the day, although in the dream she seemed a little heavier. (Ed note: dreams add 10 lbs to your frame.)
When I awoke, the angel was standing over me. Next to her was a very handsome young man. So handsome you might think he was gay, but let me assure the reader he is not. The sexiest man alive looked at me and said, “He’s cute. Let’s get him.”
“I want you to look at this one over here too,” the angel countered.
What? Another dog? She’s betraying me all over again. Ice must surely flow through this one’s veins. Did I mention this all happening during the Christmas season? Was I just like a Douglas Fir being picked up, twirled and then tossed aside while the next Christmas tree gets evaluated?
Fortunately Prince Charming had his wits about him. “No, I like this one, he’s so dopey looking,” clearly referring to me, “We don’t need to look at any of the others. He’s the one.” I didn’t much care for his attitude but his decision-making capability was flawless.
Knowing that once prospective parents take a dog for a ‘test’ walk, they will adopt the pet 98% of the time, Nurse Cratchet saw her opportunity. “Would you like to take him out for a walk, just to make sure you like him?” she offered. She was eager to get rid of me after my failed attempt at unionizing the locals to get better victuals.
I was put on a leash and escorted out the door. Once outside I made a beeline for my potential owner’s car. It was easy to pick out; my sense of smell is incredible. In a show of respect I immediately peed on it. I then proceeded to ignore them as they fawned all over me. Once you have them this far, you show them you don’t want them and they’ll want you more. It’s a sick world, but you have to play by the rules. Remember, don’t hate the player; hate the game.
The ploy worked, they wanted me. With the decision made I pranced back toward my former home to pack my belongings.
“Not so fast my friend,” Cratchet cackled, “We need to make sure you get all your required shots before we can release you to these fine folks.”
What? I can’t leave yet? What a shot in the nads, which by the way were already gone. My new parents were informed to come pick me up later in the week.
As they went to put me back in my cage, I did my best to stop this course of action. With a rope around my neck, I sat down and forced two, it might have been three, of the staff’s goons to drag me across the floor and to my destination. What a sight it must have been. I glanced at my new owners who stared at the commotion with a half smile and a half shocked look that said, “What have we gotten ourselves into?” It’s a look they would share many times in our future together.
Like it or not, the ice princess and her prince were now my parents for life. I couldn’t be happier but I would soon realize the more family members you have the merrier it is.
(Excerpt from my soon to be released book. Visit my blog to find out more good stuff at www.boknowsonline.com)
Murphy is a very handsome dog. Everyone says so. He’s quiet and well mannered, just as he was when I first saw him at the local humane society where I was looking for a dog. Growing tired of seeing rottweiler and lab “mixes” , I despaired of ever finding a small (yet robust) dog for my tiny house and equally small flower-filled back yard. There he sat, pressed against his kennel gate at the humane society, when my friend spied him. “What about him?”, Marcia asked. I looked in the direction of her pointing figure and thought “oh yes, he‘s the one” as I leapt over the intruding room-length planter . I sat down on the cement floor next to the sweetest face and prettiest coat I had ever seen. I didn’t leave his side until we were escorted to the “get acquainted” room. Marcia filled out the necessary papers for me because I was certain someone else would try to snap him up if I left for even a minute.
That was over three years ago and I’m still impressed with his good manners, affectionate ways, his concern for my well-being, and his superior “dog sense”. My previous dogs have been pure breds and I thought they were great. But now that I have my handsome Random Bred Terrier, I have to recommend the services of the humane society for a great selection of lovable pets.
Kathleen Dankert
5146 Poppleton Avenue
Omaha, NE 68106-1759
402/553-4334
My husband and I have 5 babies.....They are all feline. We had 6, but one of them, Henry Wentworth Litterscratcher, died suddenly at home, on July 12th. It was very painful, we are waiting to find out why he died. He was only about 2 years old. I had a horrible, stressful job working from home, and Henry would lay on top of my desk. If I was on the phone with a nasty customer, I would just pet my Henry, and I stayed calm. I made up a little jingle I would sing to him; "do what you do cuz your so cute doin' it Henry-Do" . We still have his brother Thomas Tiberius Tigerstripes. They were kittens adopted from an animal shelter in Clearwater, FL. They were totally opposite personalities. Henry was outgoing and felt that he should meet any guest that came to the house. Thomas was a bit more reserved, and tended to jump on the bed and hide under the blankets. Since Henry's passing we have noticed that Thomas is starting to pick up some of his mannerisms. Out most recently adopted child is Curious Chole Clownface. She found me at the Chevron station in town about 3 months ago. I was pumping gas and this little bundle of energy strutted right up to me and wrapped herself around my ankles. I called my husband from my cell phone and told him I was bringing home another child. The moves she makes are like something out of The Matrix. She keeps ALL the other kids on their paws! Right before we moved to AL from Tampa last April my husband fell in love with another girl. A sassy little Manx named Gypsy (she came with the name). She is daddy's little girl, and is a little black and white package of attitude. She knows EXACTLY what time my husband gets home from work, and gets up on her kitty post about 5 minutes before he walks in the door and waits patiently. Once he walks in the door she is by his side no matter what, and for the rest of the night does not want to have anything to do with me or the other kids. Our oldest children are 7 years old. They are brother and sister. Rum-Tum-Tugger (yes...his name is a rip-off from CATS), and Princess Froggie. My step-daughter, who is now long gone from the home, named her Froggie, but she is so snooty that my husband and I added the "Princess" to her name. Princess Froggie really has no use for the other children. She sits on her little leopard print pillow on the bamboo chair and will let us know when she desires attention. Tugger, aka Tugs, knows that he is the "alpha male" and demands respect from the other kids. His mentor, and father figure Edward Wellingtom Mouseripper, died back in 2003 at the age of 16, and Tugs knew that he big paws to fill as the patriarch of the family. He has done a wonderful job of it. He loves us, but not so much other people. He is not a biter or hisser, he just prefers to ignore others. As I said we have 5 children, and if your wondering....I have a little sign in the living room window, which you see as you come to the door, that says "we got rid of the kids...the cats were allergic". We will never have to pay for college or weddings. There is no concern of peer pressure, and as far as we know, they never borrow the car so our kids are GREAT!!!!!!
When I found our pig in the gutter, our only intention was to find him a good home or a safe no-kill rescue. When you see a tiny little pig in the gutter of a busy street in the middle of the city, you have to stop. Right? Anyway, after months of trying we still had not found him a home. I already had two large middle-aged dogs and had no intention of adding a miniature pot-bellied pig to the mix, but after a period of two months we gave in to our fate. Emmett Pig, was finally given a name and became an official family member. That was ten years ago. My amazing dogs, who accepted and taught Pig everything he knows, have since died, but Pig is still alive and kicking. Everyday is something new and wonderful, although a little taxing on the nerves at times. Pig goes on walks twice a day and everyone we pass walks away with a smile on their face. My husband refers to him as a Magic Pig. Pig has taught us undying patience and loyalty. The first three years were a constant disaster, but we promised him a home. He has gone from a mischievous little pig to a mischievous middle-aged pig with a great sense of humor. We have lived from coast to coast, always slightly apprehensive that he would not be accepted in the new communities in which we were entering, but Pig is never afraid of these places and always makes a slew of fast friends. We like to say, "He does his own PR." Pig is overtly affectionate and outwardly sensitive. He is an amazing friend and has enriched our lives as well as provided us with many stories to tell.
When we adopted our 70 pound Golden Retriever mix, Sabot, (pronounced SAY-bo) from a shelter in the summer of 2000 I instantly regretted our decision. We are a military family and I started to worry about the logistics of moving, renting a home with a large dog, etc. Within a few short months, however, he had totally won me over and has become such an important part of my life that it is difficult to express it in words.
The last couple of years especially, his happy, sunny, loving presence has been a lifesaver to me. In 2003 my husband deployed to Iraq and Sabot's presence kept me from becoming overwhelmed with total lonliness. In hour home in Germany, thousands of miles from family, Sabot was my family and my best friend as I endured the duration of the deployment. In 2004 I suffered a miscarriage and I cried many tears into his thick fur. He stuck by my side, a true "Velcro dog" taking in all my grief.
In 2006 our daughter was born with multiple special needs. Sabot patiently gave up is every day walk and a large chuck of the attention he had previously enjoyed and stuck by my side as I struggled to learn how to be the best mom I could be. He was loving and patient with our daughter and was a perfect dog can be with a tiny baby.
A year later our daughter died unexpectedly and Sabot became not only my pet and my friend but my reason to get out of bed in the morning. His insistence on walks was the only thing that got me out of the house some days. He was there all the time ready to rest his head in my lap or curl up next to me in bed. He stuck with me through the day, let me cry a river of tears into his soft fur and became a canine rock and supporter for both my husband and me.
Now as we prepare to move to a new location and face whatever the future holds, I look forward to facing it with my dog at my side. Sabot, the dog who was rescued from death row at a shelter has now returned the favor - he has saved my life as well.
I absolutely love the pet pictures that appeared in the July 2007 issue of your magazine. I found it incredibly amazing that my cat looks like the mirror image of managing editor Kristin van Ogtrop's George. Mister Mittens shares with George being the first child of clueless newlyweds. He is a little over a year old and an absolute baby. I would love to send a picture. Is there a way I can do that?
I loved the photos in the July issue as I am an aspiring Pet Portrait Artist. I'd like to send the portraits I did of some of the staff member's pets, but am not sure where to send them...Any help? Thanks!Check out my website at: www.rogueferretdesigns.com.
Sue came into my life at a time when I needed a friend. On the verge of leaving a dead-end relationship, I needed someone to talk things out with. Sue listened to everything I needed to say and never tried to force her opinions on me.
Sue was a goldfish— a twelve-cent feeder fish technically. She was never intended for greatness and never expected to bring happiness to anyone but another hungry fish. She outlived a long parade of more exotic tank-mates and in her way, she taught me how to be strong, even when others expected little of me.
When she finally passed away, my new husband and I gave her a farewell that was only fitting for such a treasured companion—a tearful burial at sea.
I was looking for a reason to get up in the morning when Beau, a Labrador Retriever-Beagle mix, came into my life a little over a year ago. Now I have no choice! Around 5:30 am he rolls over, presents his tummy for some scratching, then bounds off his...er, my...well, our bed, ready for his morning walk. Pleas for "Five more minutes" go unheeded, and if I try to ignore him for too long, he jumps back up on the bed, walks over my supine body, jumps off the other side of the bed, repeat. I expected adopting a dog would help me get more fit, meet more neighbors, and join the ranks of animal-lovers who share funny stories about their adorable pets. What I couldn't have imagined was how he would help me get up on the "right side of the bed" and start my day laughing.
Kuma was sent to me on April Fool's Day 2001. And by "sent", I mean sent from a higher place! I was driving home from visiting friends who had recently had twins; and contemplating my own clock, which apparently wasn't ticking. I was 38 at the time and we had never really wanted children of our own. Our lives were happy and fulfilled but when surrounded by my dear friend's offspring, I wondered if I was just thinking too hard about the subject and should just go ahead and do it, as my mother-in-law once suggested! My mind was wrapped around this thought when a flash of white along the interstate caught my eye. I looked in the rearview mirror, slammed on my brakes, and backed down the highway. There was a beautiful, young Akita there with a black mask and no collar. I got out and he came right to me. I put him in the back of my car and he's been a part of our family ever since, a pure joy in every possible way. I truly believe that something greater than me sent him as a message that canine parenting would be best for us. We've been happy with our fur-baby ever since!
MIke was a diamond in the rough on Petfinder.com. (A great site for locating shelter animals - even speciifc breeds!). We adopted him last year after he had been in a shelter for a year. Prior to that he had simply been found outdoors. Mike is a real sweetheart - who has come a long way from the cat who hid under the couch for 3 full days when first brought to our apartment. He now unabashedly wakes us up at 6 am for his breakfast every morning and chooses where he wants to sit on the couch. But this behavior isn't quite surprising, since we spoil him rotten. He is a testament to the truly wonderful animals available in shelters - even those who are a little shy at first can blossom.
Addison was adopted from the local Humane Society, by my best friend (Kerrie Smith) and given to me for Christmas. She was a beautiful short hair calico with a wonderful personality. She loved people, hated baths, loved drinking from the kitchen faucet and loved to snuggle in a warm blanket. She lived all 9 lives to the fullest. She slipped away to kitty heaven on February 8, 2007. And I'm very thankful she let me hang out in her sweet kitty world for 16 years, because it was always about her.
Over the course of our 45 year marriage, we have had the distinct pleasure of sharing our home(s) with many four-legged friends. Our first children were 2 kittens named Tammy and Suki. Tammy was a stray and Suki was from a neighbor cat's litter.
After that we branched out and added a dog (Ginger) and then another (Trixie). And so it went.
We are currently parental units to four furry friends. Two are sisters who were rescued from the streets of Phoenix. KoKo and YumYum still retain their distrust of anyone they don't really know - hence our children and grandchildren refer to them as the invisible cats.
Our other two four legged friends are BD who is a sweet-tempered chocolate lab/springer spaniel mix and Winston who is a slightly hyperactive rescued German Shorthaired Pointer. BD is trying mightily to teach Winston some manners as well as his place in the family, but his need for attention makes it a very trying job. She persists though, and he is learning, albeit slowly.
Our lives are now and have always been enriched immeasurably by these friends who love us unconditionally, and truth be told, we wouldn't be without them.
After losing both my dog (old age) and my cat (sudden illness) within a 3 month period, I found myself without a pet to love for the very first time in my life. I cried all day every day for a solid week, unwilling to even consider "replacing" them, but also intensely lonely in a way that no one could even come close to helping me through, no matter how they lovingly tried constantly. I tried to ignore the doorbell ringing, but it just keep ringing. As soon as I opened the door my mom started talking as fast as she could so I had to listen. I know you are not ready yet, but I just had to show you the "pet of the week" photo the humane society runs in our local newspaper. Before I could even blink I found myself staring at a 5 month old tabby, his head cocked cutely to one side, and I smiled. Feeling guilty I tried to turn away, but could'nt. Let's go get him right now I said, only to find out it was the one day the shelter was closed! Afraid "Hansel", as they named him, would already be adopted we got there early the next day. Now Rowdy, his true name he told me, is a 10 year old 22 lb big lug who insist on sleeping on my hair ever night since we found each other. When Rowdy was 1 year old my neice was given a feisty little orange tabby named Red. After agreeing to kitty-sit for a week, Red walked in my door and less than 24 hours later I was crazy for the fearless kitten who had no clue how little he was. My neice gave him to me for keeps and as kittens will do he played nonstop. Red is now nine years old and though people never believe me till the are around him, he plays every bit as much now as he did as a kitten. Plus without him making Rowdy exercise a little who knows how much he would weigh! They are a huge, loving part of my life. I guess it's true -moms really do know best! Thanks mom!!!
You’d think I could keep a dog alive. At 35, I was single, professional, homeowner with a back yard and managing computer systems scattered around the world. You’d think I could keep a dog alive.
I’d lost my first baby, a German Sheppard mix named Shasta, after only 3 years to an undiagnosed tumor that ruptured. I had left work early that night, just a feeling that I wanted to get home to her. By the time I got her to the vet, it was too late. Unable to deal with the loss, I rushed out and picked up another dog, securely burying the pain in the tail wags and the comfort of a new baby.
Yet here I was again. Twice in less than two years having ‘put down’ my baby from the cancer eating her stomach. Put down. Like that term is supposed to make sense. I picked up a jar of pickles and then put it down. I picked up (adopted) a 4 year old flat coat retriever and a year and half later put her down. As if it was that easy.
Grieving for Sarah was grieving for both Sarah and Shasta.
Early winter, around me were hurrying couples, a cousin’s marriage, coworkers having babies, happy holiday parties, people coming and going. Screams tore at my throat, but I could only manage to get up quietly and walk away. At both Thanksgiving and Christmas, my two year old niece announced repeatedly that I shouldn’t be so sad since I had both doggies waiting for me in heaven.
I’d tried to hold it together through work. I would already be shaking by the time I was running down the stairs and out to my car at 5. Sunglasses on in the middle of a Pacific Northwest rainstorm, but then no one could see the emotions steamrolling across my face. I’d collapse into the house, hugging the entry way rug sobbing at going through this on my own, yet equally resenting the incessantly ringing phone of family and friends who nightly checked in with their stories of whatever pleasantries they could recall from that morning and afternoon. It filled up the silence on my end. From each one I consumed the power of their voices, but barely said a word. I resented them for interrupting my grieving and yet relied on them to get me through each of the few minutes that passed.
I know I thought about running. I’d sell the house, take the equity and run. Who cares where I’d go, maybe get an RV and just keep moving, maybe take off for Ireland. I hit the walls, putting small white dents in the dark red paint. I’d open a kitchen cabinet and long to rip it down, let china shards strew at my feet just as I felt everything I had ever known, wanted, needed, and believed in my life was shattered. I didn’t have the strength to lift my arms and reach for a glass so I’d rest my forehead on the edge and just try to breathe.
I know I begged any spirits, energies, or gods around me to just ‘talk to me’. My nightly prayer as I drifted off was for them to tell me why, how long would this go on, what could possibly be next. I’d wake up crying again with no more answers than when I’d gone to sleep.
I knew I wasn’t done yet. I wasn’t going to let killing my dog kill me, but I had to find a way to get past it.
I wrote email to the vet, telling her what a waste she was. Demanding to know who had given her a license. She pushed increasing doses of enzymes on a pain-filled animal, wiping away my questions and pleas for help, ignoring the cancer that a specialist finally recognized in only moments. I threatened to launch and all-out electronic war on her and her practice, filling every web site, newspaper, and blog with her inadequacies. But I deleted each one without sending them. I was a grieving mother, echoing my own self-mutilation.
I told myself all the things one is supposed to tell themselves while grieving: my dogs wouldn’t want me to be this sad, I was learning from these painful experiences, and I would come out stronger for it.
Eventually I started to listen to people talk about the new opportunities to adopt and help other dogs. I even started watching a couple web sites for adoptable pets. I went to the humane society once to meet a sweet little girl, but I cried as they pushed her back in her pen and during the entire drive home. I wasn’t ready.
There are things that I remember, moments I’m grateful for in their lives. I still cry for them, but I’m getting through. A fewweeks ago I was adopted by a new baby. We’re going to a new vet. We’re adjusting, learning, loving, and surviving.
This weekend I’m walking in a Relay for the Cure cancer walk. I’m walking for my dogs. Their collars and tags will be attached around my wrists.
My husband and I adopted our beagle mix, Bentley, five years ago. We were trying to conceive our first child and things were not going right. Little did we know that Bentley was a blessing in disguise. This loving dog has been with us through several failed infertility treaments and seen us through many tears. We are now blessed with adopting a son from Guatemala and Bentley is finally going to have a brother to love and protect. There is nothing like the unconditional love a pet provides for you everyday. Bentley is not just a dog he is our first born.
When my mom died, my dad, who was married to her for over 30 years was left alone in the same house they had always lived in. He wasn't exactly alone though. He had Aria, a 6 year old Golden Retriever. It was almost as if she new my dad was sad, because she would follow him everywhere, and when he would cry, she would put her head on his lap and look up at him as if to say "It's going be ok, daddy". Whenever my dad leaves the house to run errands, Aria has developed a new habit. She goes upstairs to my dads bedroom, gets my moms slippers, and leaves them downstairs for my dad to see. She places them right next to eachother, as if someone had just taken them off and left them side by side. It's like clockwork, she does it everytime my dad leaves the house. She misses my mom, and this is her way of showing it, and showing my dad.
I recently lost my beloved Golden Retriever, Cody-Bear. He developed a sinus tumor shortly before he turned nine. I grieve for him every day and feel his loss more than I did when some of my own relatives have died! Cody was truly a once-in-a-lifetime pet. We adopted him when he was 8 weeks old. He was part of a large litter of pups and when we went to make our choice, he was the only one who hung around at our feet as though he was making the choice for us. Not much changed in the 9 years he was part of our family, as he never strayed very far and went everywhere with us, despite weighing about 120 pounds! He claimed the entire back end of our Subaru Outback Wagon on road trips! He was the most gentle, docile, sweet-natured creature I have ever known. We often called him our "gentle giant." He rarely barked and when he did it was a deep, gutteral "WOOF!" We never had to fence him in or chain him up because he simply never left our yard. All the kids in the neighborhood knew him; they would ride by on their bikes and wave and yell "Hi Cody!" He would raise his head and thump his tail and sometimes get up, but then to back to his favorite spot in the sunshine. When we would take walks in the neighborhood, people would often know his name, but not ours. Everyone loved him and even those who did not consider themselves "dog people" were softened by his gentle ways. Cody taught us the power of loyalty, companionship and unconditional love. Thank you for the opportunity to share his memory.
My husband Brian found an 8-week old puppy out near the airport where he works on a cold, rainy, nasty January afternoon. He and some co-workers brought the puppy into the hangar where they were working and made a bed for him and gave him some food, but for one reason or another none of them could keep the little guy. My husband called me at work and told me about the puppy. Being an animal lover, I told him to bring the dog home and we would keep him. On his way home, Brian stopped to get the first round of puppy shots started, bought a leash and collar, toys, blanket, food and water dishes, and then brought home our little man. Tthe newest member of our family was already named by the time I got home to meet him. Because my husband works for American Eagle airlines, and the dog was found where he works - the name "Eagle" seemed quite appropriate!
Eagle is now 2 1/2 and about 65 lbs.! We think he is mostly Australian Shepherd and some Chow. He is all black, has long wavy hair like a shepherd, but with a black tongue and fluffy curly tail like a Chow. He is a beautiful boy, and very friendly and silly. He gets very excited when we come home, even if we have only been gone a few minutes. He is affectionate, and very protective of Mommy! He tries to play with his feline sister Brandy, but she's not very fond of him and keeps her distance!
When Eagle can tell I'm upset or worried about something, he comes over and lays his head in my lap, or curls up next to me wherever I happen to be. He talks to us as well, sounding quite a bit like Chewbacca! He barks whenever anyone comes to the door, and is good for scaring off solicitors! He understands when we ask him to find certain toys - his tennis ball, his green (rubber) bone, his (toy) tire - and will usually go find them when we ask - or sometimes ignore us and go chase bugs!
We can't imagine life without him or our cat Brandy - they are our furry babies!
My husband found a dog hiding under a parked semi in one of the shipping bays at the company where we work. She was skinny (just 24 pounds) with no whiskers (a result of her trying to keep warm while she was out on her own). She had a a dirty bandage on her back left foot but most of all she was scared. He sat with her for over 6 hours eventually gaining a little bit of her trust. I brought him a borrowed dog crate and we hit the local pet store. I wasn't convinced we were dog owners until we left the store and my husband told me her name was Irish and we were keeping her. What was I to say? My husband got her in the tub as soon as we got home. The dirty bandage came off revealing a nasty injury. We rushed her out to the local emergency veterinary service. They found the start of an infection and amputed her leg up to her hip. She has acclimated well, so well that she takes great joy in chasing the cats and running up and down the stairs. Most people say her story is sad but we know that her story is one filled with happiness. She is our joy.
I adopted our cockapoo 2 months after 9/11. I had been wanting a dog for a long time having grown up with several. Last week my daughter commented that "Skooter" was responsible for bringing me out of the post traumatic stress symptoms I was experiencing. We also had the plane crash in out neighborhood & I just needed to have the kind of love & cuddling that a pet is able to give 24/7. He is 5 &1/2 years old now and still bringing us joy.
I was not a dog person until I met Hoku. Hoku was the mellowest of the litter. We soon found out it was because she was blind. We paid for surgery to have her retina's re-attached, but because she was a puppy the surgery did not take. Our family became her seeing eye humans.
I'm sitting on the couch now, with Hoku's head upon my knee. She has some special needs, but has adapted really well as long as we don't move the furniture. She keeps me warm, entertained and sane. Hoku even plays fetch by sound.
My baby, Brandi, passed away three weeks ago. She was a tiny little grey and white kitty, with the most beautiful, large green eyes. She was always complimented on her beauty and personality by those who met her, and rarely forgotten, even years later. Her death has been devastating for me. With her passing, I have come to realize that she was my soul mate, best friend, child and love of my life. I will miss her everyday for the rest of my life, but am thankful that I was able to be part of her life and she a part of mine. My partner and I have been blessed to have loved many pets throughout our lives, but still cannot quite seem to express how mysteriously wonderful and special Brandi was. She was tiny, but possessed a huge presence that filled our home with light, love and joy. After 13 years of her companionship, I struggle to understand how life can go on without her. But thinking back on moments when I was crying or upset about something, how she would find me, snuggle up to my face and purr until I felt better, I know she wouldn't want me to be sad now. So, I get up every morning, put on a memory locket devoted to her and make it through the day determined to celebrate our life together with joy and a smile on my face.
During a recent horrible week, my grandparents experienced a car accident and my other grandmother, my mom's only surviving parent, had a massive stroke. One afternoon after a long day of hospital visits, negotiating with doctors, etc., Mom stopped by my house (close to the hospitals) to take a breath before heading to her home (not close). Our family was away at work and school. But our 15-year-old tiger cat, Tao, was home. Tao had the privelege of living with my parents for a couple years at one point, and she and my mom became good friends. As Mom tells it, she sat down on our couch next to Tao, who was there sleeping, put her head back, took a large sigh, closed her eyes and within a minute had tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt alone, sad and exhausted. Then, she felt a small, gentle paw on her arm. My mom opened her eyes and looked down to see Tao, one paw extended, looking up into her face with what my mother swears was concern and compassion. Tao said, "Myow?" And my mom said, "It's OK Tao." She said in that moment she was able to smile, and felt very much less alone.
I took my 19-year-old cockatoo Zion to a nursing home in Virginia Beach for a visit. One elderly lady was sitting by herself, head down, not participating. Aides said she hadn't spoken in a long time. I sat on the floor in front of her and just stroked Zion's feathers and talked about him. Soon she reached out her hand and ran it lightly down his back and started humming. The aides were amazed. So was I.
Two years ago, my husband and I adopted a beagle that was found on the streets. She was old, tired, sick, and in a lot of pain from her terribly arthritic legs. My husband named her Eunice. Our two cats, recognizing that Eunice was not going to be chasing after them, immediately accepted her into our home. With natural supplements, shots, and lots of love and care, Eunice has been revitalized and is now enjoying a very comfortable old age. Many people who see her comment on how kind it was of us to take her in. One day I was sitting in front of our house with Eunice and a woman who was walking past asked if she could pet Eunice. She bent down to give Eunice her very kind attention, and when she stood up she said, "You are so lucky to have her." This woman instantly understood that my husband and I are the ones who have benefitted most from meeting Eunice. She is an absolute angel. Everyone who meets her comments on how vividly her loving soul radiates. There is nothing so joyous as to see her tail wagging when we come home. She has brought more happiness to us than words can describe, and we can never give her as much as she has given us.
Last Friday, our lab of 13 years, Allie, passed away. Even in her death, she continues to teach me lessons in life. Compassion has been her great lesson for me... lesson of patience and acceptance. I am a better person because of this beloved dog.
I read somewhere why animals don't live as long as people. The reason: people take a whole life time to learn about unconditional love... animals have it in them from the very beginning. We need all the practice we can get. I am still practicing.
I needed to tell someone about our loyal, loving, and dedicated pet. She was my best friend and I will miss her for all time. I was blessed to have been her companion through her sweet, sweet life.
My 11 year old triple pawed 16.5lbs 3 toothed calico cat named Miss Muffett is our love. She has been through 4 dogs, 5 cats, several hamsters and one parakeet and 4 daughters and still is just as cuddly and loving and tolerant of us all as the day I brought her home. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have my nightly cuddle time and kisses from our Miss Muffett.
I adopted my cat, Clementine, by helping catch three wild kittens and their mom from a back yard in Chicago. I took Clemmie and her two sisters were adopted together. They were about 4 months old and had been raised in back alleys and back yards so she was not too happy about being brought indoors! A month later we moved to Kansas City, MO and settled into a small first floor apartment.
One evening after work, I came home and while in the kitchen noticed something in her food bowl. It was a dark lump, about the size of a mouse's head. Turns out, it was a mouse's head. Clem was very unhappy with me when I 'disposed' of the momento in a garbage can kind of way.
Two weeks later Clem woke me up before the alarm by bouncing on the bed. It was a very cold winter morning and I had on an electric blanket. Worried that she would bite a wire as she chased my feet (I thought!) I sleepily asked her to quit.
Instead of a 'mreow' I heard a 'squeek'.
One nanosecond later, I was standing next to the bed with the covers thrown back and a cat giving me a completely perplexed look. I pulled the covers down to find a very bedraggled looking mouse on the bed. A couple of deep breaths later the mouse was on the apartment stoop and I once again had a very irritated cat.
10 years later she no longer has access to the prey (or the figure!) for hunting but she's still my "Mafia Princess".
We have 4 mixed breed dogs living with us now. Two are from the local Humane Society. One of them had been there for 9 months before we adopted her!
2 were pups abandoned behind my son's truck. When he moved back to CO from CA, they came and joined our household.
Two years ago, a neighbor's pit bull attacked one of our females. She had over 5,000 dollars worth of medical care. Something changed in her personality that night. She began fighting with our other older female. Their fights resulted in thousands of dollars in vet bills. One or the other now has to be crated to keep them from fighting. Glad we crate trained them!
One of the younger dogs was recently diagnosed with spindle cell carcinoma and had to have a hind leg amputated. He has done very well and still races and plays with the other two in the back yard.
Even with all the vet bills, I wouldn't trade them for the world. They just make me laugh and give so much love.
“My Dog Genevieve”
When she left me, I was alone.
When she left me, I was afraid.
When she left me, I didn’t think that I,
could get through life.
We used to do everything together,
until she left the world forever
And I felt lost in my own dreams.
When a certain song comes on the radio,
I stop whatever I am doing and gaze out the window.
Tears come to my eyes,
as memories flow to my mind.
The song tells my story in a way.
The first verse is,
“In a moment, everything can change.”
For me, it was true,
I was in my own world, a world of reading,
when my mother came into the small room with my father.
She was crying hard and it stung my heart.
I just knew what had happened.
At first I couldn’t think or do anything.
Then the tears came.
I cried my heart out and asked,
“Why, God, Why?”
Now I understand,
that it was my darling’s time to fly.
I still see her in my dreams,
flying with her white wings through the clouds.
I’m still alone, but not afraid.
Because she is there in a way,
that I never thought of.
She’s watching me from high above.
My dog sees me every day.
I’m still alive even though I thought I’d die.
I hope to see her again…
Some day.
I often wonder how boring life must be for the people who do not have pets. Everyday (and sometimes many times a day) my pets make me smile or laugh. They are an enless source of entertainment. There is nothing like that cat that is waiting in the driveway for you when you get home. She always has a happy meow for me before she rolls over to show me her kitty belly. Watching her stalk and pounce on some unsuspecting prey is truely a pleasure. There's the silly cat who falls of the back of the chair while she is sleeping. She may be dazed for a moment but she gets right back up and goes back to her nap. No matter how late you come home to give him dinner, the dog will always be happy just to have you home. That rolled up piece of paper from the trach will be hours of fun to cat. You will never need a reminder to "stop and smell the roses" if you just have pets to watch.
Tucker joined my husband and I in June 2005, the summer we bought our house and got married. During the past two years, our persistent, energized, and over personalit-ied dog has kept us busy. We already had two yellow tiger cats, Dewey and Cat, and they were less than excited when we brought a Field Bred Springer Spaniel home to live with us. Being that Scott is the "primary handler", I found myself low on the list of Tucker's list of important things. However, during the past few years, I've moved up and our little family of two and four legged creatures gets along like some crazy comic strip.
This past winter, I took Tucker running in two feet of snow and bright sun. He is a hunting dog by nature and I wasn't surprised when he was flushing game birds during our run. I heard a yelp. It was common for him to yelp with excitement when he had a successful find. However this yelp sounded different. We continued on through our snowy run and he flushed a second game bird from it's comfortable snowy slumber. When I called him back to me, he came immediately and looked at me with a cautious and eager expression (yes, that is possible). Turns out that the first yelp I heard was his reaction when he punctured his chest. He had continued onward and was ready to continue again had I not noticed the red snow beneath him.
I immediately called my husband to meet me at the park. I then struggled to carry my 30 pound springer out of the snowy woods in my arms while applying pressure to his chest. After 30 stitches and a hefty vet bill, Tucker healed beautifully. It was actually a challenge to keep him calm despite his wound.
Upon looking back at this experience, I realized that his expression on that day was as if he would have run through a brick wall for me if I would have asked him to do it. And I would have ran all the way to the vet if my husband hadn't met me half way down the driveway to the park.
Many months later, Tucker's whole world revolves around my husband and I. Sometimes when we are in different rooms, Tucker struggles to keep track of us. He does a good job though. As for the cats, they keep him busy. We're positive that there will be a day when we come in a room to find the three of them sleeping on the Dog Bed with one another. In the meantime, we all just laugh at the crazy antics the three pets can come up with.
After six years without a dog, it was time. My husband and I had just bought our first house, and the deal was that I could have a dog when we got a house. So not even a month after signing the papers, we made our way through the animal shelter where, in the last cage, a big-eared German shepherd mix seemed to be screaming "pick me!"
Though she had a bite in her side from a former "jail mate" and was obviously in need of good food, she was so excited to be with us - and that excitement has never gone away! Sadie is our baby and has won over my huband into the world of dogs. My family always had dogs while I was growing up, but I have never met a pooch with all her attributes. She is extremely loving, very smart, great with kids, bursting with energy and yet very mellow.
She just makes life better! And though I know she'll be gone some day, I'm going to charish every moment I have with her.
I saved Gizmo's life about 11 years ago at a shelter in Philadelphia. When i walked through the gloomy shelter having to pick from all of the sad little faces that greeted me as I walked through. Gizzie was the first to greet me and his face was a bit funny looking and his ears were so big he kept falling down. I knew right away he was the one. Giz got me through many late nights of studying and broken hearts. He was my heart, my baby, my kitty!! Then it all flashed before my eyes this pass December when Giz was diagnosed with Cancer. I was devastated! The last six months of my life have been so emotional. Many sleepless nights at the vet hospital hoping that Gizzie will survive. He got very sick in the beginning and after much research an talking to the amazing doctors at University of Pennsylvania vet. hospital I chose to start Giz on chemotherapy. I was told there would be a chance he would go into remission. The last six months I have been devoted to Giz and his treatment. It is a lot of dedication, making sure he takes all his medications every night and getting him to the hospital once a week for treatment.
All of the love and dedication worked! I just was informed that Gizmo is in clinical remission. He still receives his chemo treatment, but now it is every 2 weeks. Every time I hold him and snuggle him tears fall from my eyes because I never know when my furry friend will pass on. He brings so much love and peace to my life and I can't imagine life without him.
I got my black shepherd mix dog, Sammy, when I was stationed in the Navy in Spain. She brought me 12 years of happiness as she shared my crazy adventures with me. She LOVED the beach - chasing the waves & birds & digging.
She recently passed away & I wrote this poem - hopefully it will help others trying to deal with the loss of a family member.
Buried Sorrow
The house is empty now-
no commotion at the door,
no running around the floor.
You always brought me so much light-
you wouldn't go without a fight.
Looking into your sweet eyes-
I knew I was loved and watched over at night.
You lived every moment of every second.
I was blessed with your presence & am lost in your absence.
What I'd give for one more lick or chance to toss the stick-
a little back talk, a howl or a growl,
a trick or squeaky that wouldn't quit.
Few people know me as you-
yet you loved me even though I was often the fool.
You will never be forgotten for all you gave without reward.
A star has gone to heaven's gate
an angel who could no longer wait.
You will always be in my heart
even though we are now apart.
Run & roll in the grass-
chase the squirrels and eat every bone like it's your last.
No more commands, collars or leashes-
just freedom & wide open beaches.
For Sammy Estus 1995-2007
Izzy Mae was the "family dog", but really she was my Mom's dog. She was a beautiful Black lab-Beagle mix that my bleeding heart Mom rescued. Izzy Mae was a stray dog with a heart of gold and the biggest brown eyes and most earnest loyalty to prove it. Above all else, Izzy Mae loved her family...mostly her Mommy. As pets should, Izzy provided her Mom with constant companionship and the promise of unconditional love in the face of many difficult life circumstance. Izzy Mae's heartwarming pet stories are countless, but the common thread in all of them was her immense love for her family and her everpresent desire to be loved back. Izzy was a reciprocator and a friend and she was truly family; a sister to me and a baby to my Mom. Izzy Mae was laid to rest this Memorial Day, May 28, 2007. Her collar and leash are hung by the kitchen door, so when we catch a glimpse coming in and out of the house--we remember what an amazing blessing it was to have such a beautiful animal in our lives.
My baby, Damien, does not live up to his name. 14 years ago, while I worked at a hotel, I heard that someone's son had to give up his cat. I asked my mom about it and she said, NO WAY. So like any other kid, I asked my dad. One week later, I went to look at this baby. I told my dad all about him. I had to have him I said. My mom overheard us and said over my dead body are we having any more animals in this house. We wore her down..........as long as you get him fixed and declawed, she said, can you bring that cat here. I showed her a picture and she was hooked. 2 days before Christmas my dad was driving home with me in the passanger seat, with this little bundle of joy wrapped in my baby blanket.
To this day, my husband has grown to love him almost as much as me. We had a scare last year and thought we were going to lose him. I told him, "If you are ready to go, I will learn to let go." He loked up at me and shook his head. He is just as strong, if not stronger. I love him very much and he travels with us for the long weekend trips we take boating.
I had never been without a pet before, and when I moved in with my now husband, a NON Cat person, he was against getting any type of pet. With his 3 kids there was enough to do! Then one day while taking the laundry out of the dryer, he started talking about the cat. What cat? Well, the one I got that afternoon. We went to the Animal Rescue League, ready to adopt 2. We wanted to name them after favorite NASCAR drivers and make sure they were friends. When I walked in the "Kitty room" there was a grey kitty, laying upside down, on the floor. I picked it up and said, "This looks like a Smoke to me." She instantly started purring and was like a wet noodle and didn't want me to put her down. As I looked at the other cats, I knew she would come home with us. Now, a year and a half later, she is a part of our family. She loves to sit at the front door and look out, and if it isn't open, she will run around and in between your feet until you open it, then give you a "Thank you" meow when it is open. She still immediately starts to purr when you walk in the room and enjoys sleeping on our feet. She loves the kids and never bites or scratches anyone but me. Of all of the cats I have had in my life, she is the best.
Mary, my gray & white striped cat has been my saving grace. She was a stray that showed up on my doorstep in December, a few days before Christmas, and was so affectionate, I couldn't believe that anyone would ever let her go.
She has weathered 3 moves, a divorce, the death of her best kitty friend, Maizy, and a year-long separation from me while I lived and studied abroad.
She loves cuddling, sleeping in the sunshine, watching the birds at the feeder on our front porch, and eating peanut butter (I don't know what it is about peanut butter, but she'll literally crawl on you to get to it)! Oh, and she also loves cheese!
She's my companion, my pal, my confidante that knows all my secrets and heartaches.
She's the sweetest, most loving creature I've ever met.
I have a cat by the name of Freebee. I got her free from a garage sale at the age of 4 weeks. Too young to be away from Mom. But, the people found her in an attic.
She is a calico. She was so tiny she fit in the palm of my hand. Her brother ( who now in Kitty heaven) became her " father figure" and taught everyhting she needed to know as a kitten.
When she first came to the house my hubby was away and we already had 4 other cats.
But, when he called that night I told him I got a kitten . He said"we would talk about that when he got home."
Well when he got home the next day I was sitting with her watching t.v. and she dicided to walk up on top of my hear. which she then proceeded to knead my head. " OW! THAT HURTS"!
When he came in he said " You put her up there " I said "no I did not " and well within a few seconds she melted his heart and has been with us ever since She is now 8 years old!!
Our girl is Charlotte. Charlotte is an Aussie/Lab mix,built like a lab, but with that Aussie personality and smile. Charlotte is the dog that taught us, you HAVE to let them know who is in charge! And while she thinks she knows best? it's not always the case. Charlotte has brought endless laughter and joy to everyone she meets, although she does not give her love easily. We moved from our old house a year ago and continue to hear stories of the kids from the cul-de-sac who "just miss Charlotte." She was an awesome frisbee dog and an endless stream of kids would come by to see if Charlotte could come out to play.
This year, Charlotte refused to put weight on her left leg. It was unexpected, nothing unusual had happened, just her usual bouts of Frisbee. We ended up at an Animal Orthopedist to discover not only had she torn the ACL in both knees, but one was completely ruptured. We are 6 weeks into an 8 week post-surgery "confinement" which has gotten more difficult as the hours pass! She is ready to run. This will be the year of the dog for us, as Charlotte's left leg heals, it will be time to operate on the right. We have no regrets.. We have sacrified birthday and anniversary gifts, holidays and vacations to allow us to pay for her surgeries. At 6 years old, we knew she had probably 1/2 her life left and couldn't continue as she was. Her laughing smile even after only 6 weeks lets us know, we made the right decision. Charlotte is "back". You can see it in her eyes.
My husband and I met because of our dogs. I was throwing a frizbee to Zoie, my lab/spitz mix, in an open field at the park. My husband was walking Maggie, his Weimaraner, on the sidewalk. Zoie decided that Maggie was more interesting than the frizbee and ran off to greet her. I followed and 3 years later, we are married. Now Zoie and Maggie get to be sisters.
My babies are 7 chihuahuas, 1 pom, & 3 very fat cats. They all" know: they are people, not think it. We all share a house with my partner. They all are very funny with different personalities. I lovingly admit to being obsessed with all of them. They love us as much as we love them. I cannot imagine my life without them. My partner introduced the first 2 into my life 5 years ago. I was a 'dog-hater'; only having had cats in my life. Everyone who knew this cannot believe how I let them rule my life. I say they don't rule my life, they make my life meaningful. I do not have any grandbabies yet but when I do, I will teach them the joys of pets.
My baby is a six-year-old golden retriever named Ellie. I got Ellie when I was twenty-five, single, and had just purchased my first home. I didn't want to live all alone, so I got Ellie to keep me company and help guard the house (ha-ha!). My favorite Ellie story is the Popsicle story. A few summers ago, on a hot, humid July afternoon, I sent Ellie out to the backyard with a popsicle to help her cool down. Ellie took it gently, carried it out to the middle of the yard, and then proceeded to dig a hole and bury it in the yard. Needless to say, a few hours later when she went back to dig it up there was only a stick left. I think she knew that something wasn't quite right, but she happily chewed on the stick anyway. That's Ellie--always happy and content. When my husband and I catch her just sitting and "smiling" we always say, "she's just happy to be a golden retriever today."
He was a Shetland Sheepdog mix. Cute as apple pie. One ear remained erect and front center, while the other lazily flopped. Rover was his namo. Everyone who met him, fell madly in love with his adorable silly smiling muzzle and liquid button eyes flooded with mischief. Rover was very smart, as our kids would attest, but the most wonderful times for them came when no one was home to play with.
Rover was suddenly the center of attention and he loved it, let me add. The plan was ...go get Mom. Now, Mom, you hold on to Rover so we can get a head start running across the back yard, then around the house on the other block. Then when we hollar OK, you let Rover loose. After each round, the length of where the kids advanced was increased. Rover always caught up to them before their faces appeared around the other house! We laughed until we were out of tears and our bellies ached with spasms. Our dear little Sheltie would run at a mad full out flat crazy speed, yapping short bursts of whining barks as he flew after the kids. They loved it as much as he did. I have to admit, I did too.
A year after finding our kitty cat Bidge in a gar-BIDGE can in Brooklyn, we realized we needed to get her a friend. I searched petfinder for her new best friend and came upon Williger at the Humane Society. Williger was a black and white tuxedo cat who was just gorgeous, and I thought he would be a great little boyfriend for our little Bidge. When we arrived at the Humane Society, they asked us a series of questions about what kind of cat we were looking for. They also asked us what kind of people we were. After some conversation, they realized that Williger was not a good match for us. "Williger loves dogs! It's crazy, but he needs to be adopted by someone with a dog!" We were a little heartbroken, but realized they were trying to pair us up with a cat who was perfect for US. We ended up adopting Oscar instead (who we later named Sneetch) and I am just in love love love with him. He really is the most perfect cat for us. And Williger??
Soon after we adopted Sneetch, one of my closest friends started talking about adopting a cat. She was jealous of us and our cat-loving ways. "But I have Othello!!!" Othello was her HUGE Australian Shepard. A lightbulb went off in my head.... "WILLIGER!!!" She went to the Humane Society and met Williger and instantly fell in love with him. Othello and Williger are now best friends living together in perfect harmony. And I have my Sneetch! I got to save not one homeless cat, but two!