We don’t have any kids, unless you count the four-legged kind. Pets are supposed to make you live longer and be happier, but sometimes I wonder who’s really in charge! I may pay the mortgage, but the pets actually own the place.
We’ve got a dog and three cats. Annie, our 13-year-old malamute/German shepherd mix, is still feisty and spry. Every night right after her supper, Annie requires a walk. And I mean rain or shine, sleet or snow, it doesn’t matter. Skipping her walk is not an option. She’s got us trained! One time we tried to calculate how many miles we’d walked with Annie over the past decade or more, and we figured it comes out to about 4,000. That’s a whole lotta sniffing and … so forth!
Every night, she marks her territory, leaving her scent at strategic points in our neighborhood like we humans check our e-mail. Approaching a bush of particular significance, it’s like Annie’s saying to us, “Hey! Max came by! Good ol’ Max. Let me just leave a message for him right quick. …”
For a year or so now, the only thing that will pre-empt Annie’s walk is an electrical storm. We finally broke down and got her some “doggie angst” pills to calm her jitters, but not before one stormy night that she actually crawled up onto the bed and tried to wedge her whole body between two pillows. This is a 70-pound dog, folks! It was an interesting night, but we all survived.
Annie will eat whenever and whatever possible. Doesn’t matter how gross it is – she’ll be tugging along at her leash, snarf up some horrible rotten thing and worry about its digestibility later (fun evenings). One time, she even got into some ant traps we had set in (we thought) hard-to-reach places. She turned out OK.
In the kitchen, it’s understood that anything that hits the floor is fair game. Although we don’t give her table scraps, let’s just say she “pre-rinses” the dirty dishes. It’s gotten so that she feels hurt if we don’t put a plate down for her to lick clean when we’re done (like if the food was spicy). But all it takes is a motherly scratch behind the ears and all is well.
Some might say that this dog is spoiled. We don’t think so – just because she has six beds (three that are exclusively hers), a temperature-controlled “day room,” and all-day access to a fenced pen. OK, I guess she found herself a couple of suckers!
Three felines round out our furry household complement: one older tortoise-shell sweetie, and two 6-year-old siblings whom we’ll forever refer to as “the kittens.”
The female, Ellie, is half her brother’s size but has at least twice his brain-power. She’s a little black scamp who gets her way by meowing as though she were criminally deprived – works every time. We call Ellie our own little Visa card – she’s “everywhere you want to be!”
Ellie’s gray, obese brother, Ernest T., is the poster-boy for the phrase “scaredy cat” and will run squeaking at the slightest sound. We’ve had pet-sitters to whom he literally did not show himself for a week. When we enter a room, he skitters off, and we imagine him saying if he could talk, “Help! That jacket you’re wearing scares me,” or “Aaack! The sound of your stocking feet is terrifying!”
Foibles aside, all our critters are endlessly entertaining and precious. Pick my favorite? How could a mother possibly do that? With all their faults, they’re my babies, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world.
Well, maybe the fat, stupid one I could live without, but somebody’s gotta love him, right?
Playlist:
1. Pads, Paws and Claws – Elvis Costello
2. Walking the Dog – Rufus Thomas
3. That Smell – Lynyrd Skynyrd
4. Day In - Day Out – Frank Sinatra
5. Treat Her Right – Otis Redding
6. I Was Made to Love Her – Stevie Wonder
7. Martha My Dear – The Beatles
8. All Night Thing – Temple of the Dog
9. Cat People (Putting Out Fire) – David Bowie
10. Spoiled – Joss Stone
