If I think of our early days as parents, I can't forget our first pet. He was a tabby given to us by the clergyman who married us, hence we named him Beelzebub, since he came from the parsonage. Known as Bubby, we have snapshots of him curled beside our newborn son's head in his bassinette sleeping as soundly as the baby. We shocked a couple of old-fashioned ladies with that image. Bubby was hit by a car and lost a leg as a result. He used to travel to my parents' country house every weekend in our car, roam at will, then come when we whistled at 5 a.m. when we would set off back to the city. Later he accompanied our English springer spaniel as well as the baby.
Thinking back, some pets stand out above others, but I'll always be grateful that I married a man whose leaning towards the critters was as pronounced as mine, and that we spent almost all our married life in the country with space for the eleven cats, ten dogs, and three horses along with guinea pigs, canaries, and other livestock that embellished our home at different times and gave us so much to remember. Imagine an oversized Manx cat with six toes on his front feet and five on his back feet who always tried to fit into the oval opening of a new box of Kleenex. You had to laugh. Of course, his name was Cassius (Clay), Mohammed Ali Cat.
Then there was the black and white Great Dane my husband claimed sold a million dollars worth of bearings because she so endeared herself to a foreign visitor we were entertaining (for the company). When she lay down across his lap, he was a goner.
Our beautiful gelding thought nothing of amusing himself at our expense all the years we had him. I found a seedling tulip poplar (about four feet tall) that we decided would offer welcome shade and nice décor in one of our fields. My husband and I dug it up, amended soil and gave it a big new hole in the middle of the field, carried gallons of water to it, and stood back full of pride. The next day when we let the horses out, Toddy trotted over to inspect the addition to the landscape, grabbed it half way up the trunk, plucked it out of the ground, and cantered around the field with it in his mouth, waving it like a trophy.
Most of the time we had two dogs and two cats at a time. I feel my retirement is real now that I live with only one of each. When it's 10 degrees F., I can imagine being glad to have only the cat for a companion, but on the other hand, I wouldn't have met most of the people I know in my present residence if it weren't for the dog. Fergy appeals to absolutely everyone, and is always on the lookout for a pat. The current kitty spends TV time in the evening invariably settled on my middle purring until I dislodge her to let the dog out and go to bed.
Maybe I should note that it's a comfort to have an excuse for talking to yourself.
©2014 Joan L. Cannon for SeniorWomen.com
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