Anyone who has read my columns knows I came late to the party when it comes to animals. It is astonishing to my children that I have three big Labradors and a cat, something that continually amazes and perplexes even me.
As most pet lovers, we refer to our furry friends as our children. But as most people who have children know, we don’t own them – we are only babysitting them for a while. It is the same for our pets.
We only get to keep them for only a short while, the blink of an eye if you come right down to it. It’s a wonder why we put ourselves through the torture. Wasn’t our children’s adolescence enough?
They are as persnickety as human children. They won’t eat the food you buy that’s on sale, instead their pallet favoring the more expensive packaging of another brand or your doggy bag steak from the local restaurant.
Actually, it is the cat that is more the finicky eater; the dogs are pretty much happy with whatever you get them as long as there’s a cookie on top of it.
I don’t mind fussing over them, though, for they give back so much more than what I give to them. It killed me to have to leave them out in the snow or on rainy days when I left for work. My conscious was relieved one morning, however, when I spied the youngest rolling around in the freshly fallen snow. Snow baths, my beloved calls them.
Covered in mud when I return on those rainy days, they stand still while I towel them off, one by one. They wait their turn for this special love rub down, the signal that Mommy is home and dinner is not far behind. A cookie after dinner the ultimate present, a chewy or a pigs ear for dessert.
So it was with a certain expectation mixed with dread that I received the ultimate gift from the cat.
After returning from his morning constitution, he meowed at the door to let him in. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a shadow around his face, but couldn’t be too sure. It was too late when I found the baby bird dancing around the living room, as the boys stood by and watched as their brother sat grooming himself, expecting me to thank him profusely for the gift.
You can guess how this city girl reacted to the gift.
Walking slowly towards him, kitchen towel in hand, as the chickadee danced around the living room, I realized he wasn’t hurt in the least. The cat had lovingly carried it in with his mouth and set him down, as if introducing him to the brothers.
I calmly walked over to the front door and opened it slightly.
The chickadee hopped towards it, but stopped to turn and look up at me, as if to say thanks.
As most pet lovers, we refer to our furry friends as our children. But as most people who have children know, we don’t own them – we are only babysitting them for a while. It is the same for our pets.
We only get to keep them for only a short while, the blink of an eye if you come right down to it. It’s a wonder why we put ourselves through the torture. Wasn’t our children’s adolescence enough?
They are as persnickety as human children. They won’t eat the food you buy that’s on sale, instead their pallet favoring the more expensive packaging of another brand or your doggy bag steak from the local restaurant.
Actually, it is the cat that is more the finicky eater; the dogs are pretty much happy with whatever you get them as long as there’s a cookie on top of it.
I don’t mind fussing over them, though, for they give back so much more than what I give to them. It killed me to have to leave them out in the snow or on rainy days when I left for work. My conscious was relieved one morning, however, when I spied the youngest rolling around in the freshly fallen snow. Snow baths, my beloved calls them.
Covered in mud when I return on those rainy days, they stand still while I towel them off, one by one. They wait their turn for this special love rub down, the signal that Mommy is home and dinner is not far behind. A cookie after dinner the ultimate present, a chewy or a pigs ear for dessert.
So it was with a certain expectation mixed with dread that I received the ultimate gift from the cat.
After returning from his morning constitution, he meowed at the door to let him in. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a shadow around his face, but couldn’t be too sure. It was too late when I found the baby bird dancing around the living room, as the boys stood by and watched as their brother sat grooming himself, expecting me to thank him profusely for the gift.
You can guess how this city girl reacted to the gift.
Walking slowly towards him, kitchen towel in hand, as the chickadee danced around the living room, I realized he wasn’t hurt in the least. The cat had lovingly carried it in with his mouth and set him down, as if introducing him to the brothers.
I calmly walked over to the front door and opened it slightly.
The chickadee hopped towards it, but stopped to turn and look up at me, as if to say thanks.
The boys looked up at me as if to say ‘what the hell just happened?’
I can’t wait until its time for chipmunk season.
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