I Am a Dog Lover . . .

I have had a variety if pets during my life time.  As a little girl on the farm, we had parakeets.  Mine was one of the green ones with a yellow head.  Her name was Lulu.  All she ever did was bite me and wouldn't say a word. As determined as I was, Lulu preferred talking to her own kind.  Who wants them anyway.  They almost never snuggle.  I say almost because as a teenager, I raised a little sparrow, Birdie, who loved to snuggle up under my hair when I sat and read.  I would get little birdie nibbles and little contented sounds while he was there.  If I whistled he would come flying up from his perch to me and if I kept whistling, he would sing with me.  Loved that little bird!

As many farm dwellers find, they can often open the door to find a new "pet" greeting them (undesirables being dumped).  Why do people do that, I don't understand it.  Living on the highway, we knew it was only a matter of time before the critter would be a big old grease spot on the pavement.  No, I am not heartless, it was just a fact of life and each time, my heart was ripped out and stomped on.  Seeing that they were creatures of bad habits, my parents were usually relieved . . . . it would be the end of an unpleasantness.

My dad bought a pregnant cocker spaniel, named Dixie brought her home and it was love at first sight.  Can you just imagine my excitement that I would soon have some darling little puppies to love along with their mother?  the next morning we discovered that she had escaped and headed back to Deming, NM and was of course, hit in the highway.

Fast forward, Dad bought a rat terrier we named Skipper.  If any of you remember the movie, My Dog Skip, that was the role Skipper played in my life.   That dog was so perfect, he almost walked on water.  So what if he had a habit of nipping . . . . OK  . . . biting others.  Sometimes I could even get it to bite my brothers by making him think they were hurting me.  What more could a little girl ask for when growing up with two ornery brothers who took the pecking order to new heights of torment?  Skipper was so much fun, so strong in tug-of-war, could jump so high and could catch anything that you flung at him.

Later, it was a poodle, then a mix with some wire haired terrier who was the smartest and sweetest little creature.  Everyone loved that little girl ..  she was indeed so ugly she was cute.  I gave up on having pets at that point when she was hit in the street while walking in the dark leash-less with my roomie.  That was a hard one to swallow.  

Yes, all of these dogs slept in my bed.  I believe that we should embrace dogs as part of the family if we are going to deprive them of their natural packs.  Maybe not necessarily in our beds, but snuggling those warm, breathing, loving  little creatures was very comforting to me.  I have always been a snuggler and always will be.  Jon likes them to be wrapped around his feet to keep them warm.

Fast forward to after Sarah was born.  We found a little black terrier mix, took it to the pound, even though the kids were dying to keep her  . . .  OK so did I.  When we saw her picture in the paper, we couldn't get down there fast enough to "adopt" her.   When she proved to be a chicken killer, it was time to take her back.  After the third attempt, I called Jon and told her that I was assigning him, I just couldn't bring myself to do it.   She had killed our favorite pet chicken, Henny Penny.  Poor Cocky Locky never recovered and just pined away after he lost his little sweetheart.

Next on our list was Sally.  Her full name was "Alchesay Sunshine Sally".  An older gal on the Apache reservation was through showing her and since she put out pet quality puppies, she was about to be "put down". When I called to see if I could buy one of her last litter, I got interviewed and offered the mother.  What a blessing that big old red dog turned out to be!  She was lonely, so the former owner had us bring her back and bred her to a HUGE male that made her look dainty in comparison  . . .  all 75 lbs. of her.

Golden retrievers are the perfect family pet.  If they just didn't have so much hair!  No, this one did not sleep in our bed, though in time she did decide she needed to sleep at the side of the bed along with her "puppy", the one we kept from the the litter . . . .  who topped off over 100 lbs.  That is a lot of dog to trip over when you get up night!

When they both died at the ripe old age of nearly 13 years, it felt like the house had died too.  When Jon said that we didn't need a dog now because the kids were getting older and were busy . .  blah, blah, blah. I reminded him that the dogs always hung all over me, always followed me around the house or wherever I went, so just whose dogs were they anyway.   I won that one and he was glad.  I decided to be fair, the next one had to be smaller since we just have a good sized back yard, not the wide open country our goldens had roamed.

We had Pokey for six years and when we lost him to the eternal pavement, he got replaced by two that almost total his 21 lbs. .

Two little chihuahuas who look suspiciously like terriers.  They are named Daisy Mae and Chocolate Chip, though Brick and rock would have been more appropriate . .  . that seems to about how smart they are  . . . .  or maybe their owners should be named that for spoiling them so badly.   Total lap dogs who adore me and keep my life full, even when I am home alone.  They make coming home a real event, every time.

So what brought this whole lengthy epistle on?  I have had it with cats!  They sneak into your house at night, even when they don't live there.  They steal the chicken out of the sink that was thawing over night.  But worst of all they kill the little mama bird and her baby that is nesting on your patio.  I love watching them every season.  Now I go out and my patio is deserted.  No one craning her long little neck at me to see what I have in mind.  No little flutters as the babies are strengthening their wings to fly the coop.  All I can say is, "Watch out you awful beasts, Grandma is on the prowl and she just might be packing  . . . . . . a big ole bucket of water or fly swatter!"