Pets

Last week my sister decided to take the plunge and chose a couple of cute puppies--different breeds--to add to her family life. A couple of days later, she had to take one of them back. Something about the puppy acting duplicitous--she appeared to be one way, but changed after she got her home.

That got me to thinking about the pets I grew up with. Dogs and cats--and a couple of birds and fresh water fish...a hampster. I think that's it.

The first pet was "Mister", a parakeet. He wasn't well-trained and not very friendly. I was scared of him. I don't remember him dying, so maybe he escaped--I hope.

Then one day when us three kids were 5, 4 and 2, Dad thought we needed a dog. From what I remember Mom telling me, Dad knew someone who bred Weimaraners. Our family drove out to the breeder's farm to check out the puppies. We loved interacting with them, though I also remember them being very hyper. Constant wiggles, licks, nips, yips and nudges.

We chose one of the puppies and then piled back in the car--without it! No one explained that we had to wait for the puppies to be weaned. When Dad was able to bring the puppy home, he was much larger than I remembered! Us kids could hardly wait for him to grow up. Somehow I got it in my mind that when he was full-grown, we could ride him like a pony! Doesn't that sound fun?

"Spooky" (named because he was gray, like a ghost, my Dad explained), did grow up, but so did we! He tolerated us trying to mount him for a ride for all of about two steps--then he was done! He would sit down so we'd slide off or he'd slink away, so we slid off. He was very active and loved to jump...up to the top of the fence, until he went over the other side. Then he ran like nobody's business down the block, around the corner...while Mom loaded us kids in the car to go looking for him. That got old real fast.

Nevertheless, when it came time to move to another city, we cried our eyes out when we had to take him to the shelter. We were promised that he would go to a good home with lots of land to run around on--which sounded good to us. But it still felt like we were giving away a human family member.

Thinking back now, I can see the wisdom in not bringing Spooky to our new home. It was a two-tiered backyard, with ample opportunities for escape. It was at this time we got to try out having a hampster for a pet. I say 'try out' because he didn't live very long--a few months of running around and around on his noisy steel wheel, and then one morning I found a stiff "Sterling" in his cage, which was in our room. I didn't mind having his smelly cage gone.

Next, there were some cats that entered into the family, once we were established in our new rental home from the next move.

"Puddy" (short for Puddytat) was a sweet stray that my sister insisted on leaving milk out for. My recollection of him was enduring the shame of being dressed up in a doll's dress and bonnet and then being put in our doll stroller with a blanket over him, paws hanging over the top edge of the blanket. He let us love him to pieces.

"Cinder" appeared in our backyard--curled up in the open bar-b-que--above the ashes, thus the name. She was a sweet adoptee who grew into a matronly surrogate mother to "Chow-Mow", phonetic spelling for the Chinese word for cat--so we were told. This stray looked like a blue-eyed Siamese cat, only with white and charcoal coloring. I remember her as being more shy, but very sweet.

Another move to another city brought neighborhood kids going door-to-door, trying to give away puppies. Somehow, we talked our Mom into saying yes to one of them.

We named him for his round tummy--"Baron Von Barrel"--Baron, for short, was the sweetest-tempered mutt. Best dog ev-ah, with the only exception being my brother's dog, Huckleberry! If you were sad, Baron would come sit right up against you and give some licks on the face--as if to say 'it's all gonna be alright'.

Then there was "Firecracker", a banded parakeet that flew into our backyard and home on the 4th of July--and stayed. After living with Firecracker for awhile, we wondered if the former owners "accidentally" left the cage and windows and doors open! He was an Alpha bird. We bought a very sweet, mellow light-yellow parakeet to keep him company--and all Firecracker did was peck at him! And again, for some reason, I don't remember this bird's demise. Hmmm.

Several years later, Mom knew someone at work that showed Hungarian Pulis. One of their dogs had just had puppies and one of those had a structural deformity, which meant it could never be a show dog. Mom brought home "Tars" (pronounced Tarsh)--an all-black fluff ball!

He sure was cute--as a puppy. As he grew, his corded hair also grew-and grew, longer and longer. We knew he would end up looking like a walking mop, with hair nearly down to the floor. But the brushing and combing that he needed was beyond anything us kids could do. We weren't experts in dog grooming and Tars needed it OFTEN. His coat got matted from all the tug-of-war playing and rough and tumble antics he did outside. And did I mention his personality? Oh. My. Goodness. Tars only liked Mom and since she was at work all day, he had to tolerate playing with Baron until we got home from school. Then, he basically ignored us. Although he was a good guard dog, I guess. Each day when the mail carrier would put the mail through the door slot, Tars got aggressive--barking and growling with his nose right at the hole where the mail would be pushed through. We didn't always get our mail. Sometimes, he would scare-off a mail carrier that was substituting that day. Our he'd grab the mail as it came through the mail slot and shake it around. My brother would play and wrestle with him, and Tars would grab the cuffs of his pants and pull. My brother's pant legs were ripped and torn. Yeah, no love lost with this dog.

And in the mix of all this, I had a 5 and then 10 gallon aquarium with various inexpensive fresh-water fish that entertained the cats--or maybe tease is a better word. But it was great fun to watch the cats become entranced with the swimming marvels, trying to quietly, patiently fish one out. They never could--but they tried.

Before I moved away from home, we added two kittens that my brother found, I believe, out in a field. Named "Brother" and "Sister" (for obvious reasons), Mom basically gave my brother the lion's share of the responsibility for them. Sister was the beautiful, long-haired scaredy-cat. She hid out in the garage until it was time to eat. That was about the only time we saw her. Brother slept in my brother's room, exiting through the open window and ripped screen to prowl around at night before coming back through said window to sleep curled up on my brother's bed. Brother acted more like a dog than a cat--even having more of a broad, muscled chest with stout front legs. And he obeyed commands better than some dogs!

Thanks for taking that trip down memory lane with me.

Well, I look forward to meeting my sister's sweet Wheaten Terrier, and hearing the stories about life with Tilly! And, with my sister's three young grandchildren nearby, Tilly will have quite the time playing and adventuring.