Tag Archives: pet ownership

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Puppy tales, Part 10

Some time ago I promised I’d scale back the messages about our new dog, Toby.

A new development has occurred. It’s all good, and it’s worth sharing. Perhaps other dog owners out there can relate.

I’ve mentioned in a previous blog — or perhaps two — that Toby is a pretty smart little guy.

It turns out he understands English quite nicely. So, with that, my wife and I have been forced now to spell certain words out rather than just say them. You know, kind of like the way new parents do with their children — and just as we did with ours.

Toby know the words “walk,” “treat,” and “ride.”

If we blurt out “walk” within Toby’s earshot, he jumps up and starts running around the entry-way doorknob where we keep his leash. We get a similar response to the word “treat.” His ears perk up and he runs into the kitchen where we keep his bag of snacks. And, of course, the same thing goes for “ride.” Since he loves riding in either of our vehicles, he heads for the leash.

Yes, we have to spell these words out now if we say them in a context not relating to Toby’s activities.

My wife and I only thought our nest was empty when the younger of our two sons went off to college those many years ago.

I’m not going to bet against our dog learning more words that will keep us on our toes. For all we know, he might even learn to speak them.

 

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Emotion has taken over … for now

Emotion is such an undefinable trait, or perhaps it has too many definitions to be pigeonholed.

It’s persistent, treacherous, tender, strong, fragile, tricky, elusive, simple, complicated.

How do you define it? I cannot. All of the above? I’ll settle for that.

Know this. My emotions in the past week have gripped me tightly because we lost a furry pet. Our 12-year-old cat died suddenly and apparently without trauma in my study. Socks was his name. He had several favorite sleeping places and one of them was atop a table next to my desk. That’s where he died.

I told my wife just this morning that I still have difficulty — one week later — talking about him. I cannot do so without choking up. But I can write about losing him.

Pets have this way of taking over your heart. Cats and dogs are inherently different, but they share a common ability to capture your heart. Socks and his sister, Mittens did that when we brought them home in the summer of 2002. Little Toby, our pooch, did it more recently when he came into our lives just a few months ago.

I know that losing a pet isn’t quite like losing a member of one’s human family. That’s happened, too, of course.

At many levels, though, pets do become part of the family. Socks was a big part of ours. He had a dominant personality, which he exhibited with extreme affection whenever and wherever possible — which means all … the … time. He was lovable and sweet. He loved to be kissed and he absolutely relished human contact. Aren’t cats supposed to be aloof and snooty? Not this one. Not by a long shot.

To be honest, he was unlike any other pet I’ve ever “owned.” I qualify the term because in that strange sense that no one can quite define, Socks and Mittens in fact have owned my wife and me. In the past couple of months, ever since Toby’s arrival, Mittens has begun to assert herself. She’s coming out of her scaredy-cat shell. Good for her.

Well, we shall go on. My wife and are full-fledged adults equipped with all the requisite adult emotions. We’ll get through this loss.

It’s just going to take a little while.

 

 

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Rest in peace, big guy

Pet owners know how it feels to lose someone to whom you grow attached immediately.

That means, oh, just about every American living today gets it. We’ve all owned pets, yes? Most of them become members of the family. And you get that, too, I’m certain.

Well, friends, a member of our family died tonight. His name was Socks. He was a 12-plus-year-old alley cat. He came into our lives, along with his sister Mittens, in June 2002. We went to the SPCA one Saturday afternoon to select one cat but then came home with two.

We fell in love with them immediately.

What’s more, they fell in love with us at precisely the same time.

Pets do that kind of thing, you know.

It’s hard to single out what made Socks so special.

I’ll start with his temperament. He was quite territorial and didn’t like neighbor cats traipsing onto his turf. He was unafraid to shoo them away and he did so with gusto.

I wrote about a particular episode.

https://highplainsblogger.com/2014/01/15/cat-does-well-even-without-claws/

Still, Socks wasn’t like your normal cat. He acted more like a dog. He’d follow us around the house. He’d beg for food. He’d climb on our laps, fall asleep purring and then he’d snore. It was a barely perceptible snore, but it was a snore nonetheless.

Socks developed a particular attachment to my wife. I joked to her directly and told friends — usually in my wife’s presence — that she hasn’t enjoyed a good night’s sleep since Socks joined our family. He’d snuggle up to her, usually around her face. He’d occasionally drape himself across her neck while she was sleeping, all the while purring so loudly you could hear him across the room.

Well, that’s about all there is to say.

This blog usually is a forum for my rants and my occasional updates on personal matters. I just wanted to share briefly a loss that pet owners understand all too well.

It’s going to take some time to get over this one.

Oh man, we’re going to miss the big, gentle brute.

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Puppy Tales, Part 9

Update: I’ve been scolded, gently, by my daughter-in-law and now my son. They’ve reminded me that Toby the Dog’s actual “first road trip” was to their house in Allen about, oh, two months ago.

Mea culpa: My memory isn’t too good some times. Perhaps it was the hotel stay and the brief moment of anxiety that the dog exhibited that blocked my memory of the earlier trip.

I stand corrected.

***

You may choose to believe this or not. It doesn’t matter to me. A few followers of this blog have asked me about Toby the Dog.

I now have some news to report. It’s no biggie.

Toby has just completed his first road trip. He did beautifully.

He’s about seven, maybe eight months old. The only vehicle travel he’d done was around Amarillo. Well, we just returned from a quick overnighter to Oklahoma City.

We left Friday afternoon and returned Saturday afternoon. We blazed east on Interstate 40, checked into our hotel room, then left for the evening to attend a gospel concert. He travels beautifully in the car. He sleeps most of the time and isn’t interested generally in sticking his head out of the window and having the wind blow in his face.

What did we do with the dog once we got to the hotel? We brought his kennel. We put him inside. He yapped, whined and whimpered when we left the room. We stopped briefly at the front desk and asked the check-in clerk: “OK, we’re leaving for a few hours and we left our dog inside our room, in his kennel. Is anyone checked into either of the adjoining rooms?” She said someone was in one of the rooms. “Will they hear the dog? He’s upset that we’re leaving.” She said if they complain, she’ll just tell them we’re out for the evening and that we’ll return … and that the dog will settle down.

My wife told the clerk that she thinks he’ll “settle down quickly once he realizes what’s going on.”

We left for the evening and returned about 10:30 p.m. We asked the clerk as we walked in, “Any problems, any complaints?” She said, “I didn’t hear a thing and no one said a word.”

Excellent!

So, there you have it.

Toby the Dog passed his first major test away from home.

We’ve advised him there’ll be many more trips like this coming up. We think he’ll be ready.

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Puppy tales, Part 4

Honest to goodness, I do not intend to keep blogging forever on this canine family member.

It’s just that dog ownership is something new to my wife and me. Yes, we’ve owned dogs before, but the previous dog that entered our lives did so more than 25 years ago. We had him and then he was gone.

Toby, as you know by now, came into our lives just the other day. My wife and I have re-learned something about pooches: They do require attention.

We’ve been cat owners/lovers for our entire married life together, which on Thursday hits the 43-year mark. The two cats we own are now 12-year-old siblings. We’ve had them since they were about 3 months old. They rule our house. They set the boundaries. We follow them. That’s how it goes. Toby is learning that lesson quickly.

Socks is our big male. He’s very sweet. He loves people. He doesn’t like other animals. Toby got a lesson on Day One. He ventured too close to Socks, who then hissed at him, took a swing at him and said, in effect: Stay away, Bub, or else. Toby has gotten the message.

Mittens is our female. She’s much smaller, but that doesn’t mean a thing. She holds her own. She’s also pretty shy — around people and she has even less tolerance for other four-legged creatures than her brother. Mittens and Toby haven’t gotten acquainted formally just yet. They will. I believe she’ll learn to tolerate the little guy.

My wife and I are quick learners. We’ve understood all along that dogs are more labor intensive than cats. So no one has to lecture us on the obvious.

I’ll just need to keep reminding myself how happy Toby is to see us when we walk into a room.

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Puppy tales, Part 3

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Message received. I’ve decided to take the high road regarding our new dog’s former owners.

I’d sent out a request for advice on how to handle this situation. We took possession of a small mixed-breed dog over the weekend. His name is Toby. He’s about as sweet as sweet gets. Our great-niece informed us his former owners didn’t want him and so they had decided to let him run loose in our southwest Amarillo neighborhood hoping someone would claim him.

That’s her story and she’s sticking to it.

It angered my wife and me so much we felt compelled to tell our dog’s former owners off.

I’ve thought better of it.

Why? Perhaps the major reason is that I don’t know with whom we would be dealing.

Suppose our niece is correct and the pooch’s former owners are dimwitted enough to turn their dog loose with no regard to his safety. Would they be equally dimwitted to shoot someone who confronts them in front of their house? I decided I didn’t want to take the chance. This is Texas, the place where people supposedly love their guns and are unafraid to use them … correct?

As some of my friends and family members advised me, we have emerged as the good guys in this little tale. Our dog is happy and safe. He’ll make a wonderful addition to the family.

Who knows? Perhaps while we’re walking him through the neighborhood we’ll encounter his former owners who might feel either a little bit of shame over doing what they did or they might feel a touch of gratitude that someone is taking good care of a dog that deserved better than to be cast aside.

Whatever. This matter is resolved happily. Toby has a new home.

 

 

 

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Puppy tales, Part 2

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The first night of our new dog’s life with us went well.

Toby’s his name. He isn’t exactly the kind of dog my wife and I envisioned getting when we realized the time was right. However, he’s quite sweet and well-behaved. We had talked about getting a medium-sized dog, a mutt, a pet that would require as little care as possible.

What we have now appears to be a young-ish smaller dog, a mixed breed. He appears to be a cross between — and this is just a guess — a Chihuahua and a Dachshund. Our veterinarian will be able to give us a better idea.

Now comes the question with which I am wrestling: Do I confront his former owners and tell them what despicable low-lives they are?

I’ve already told the story of how we came to acquire little Toby.

I’m now torn between two instincts: One is to let the former owners’ horrible behavior go unanswered. It was that behavior that compelled them to turn their little dog loose on the streets, to fend for himself with the hope that someone would come along and rescue him. In that regard, the cretins accomplished their goal. Someone did find the little guy. Our great-niece brought him to us and, as fate would have it, he now has become a member of our family — pending our two cats’ approval, which we expect they’ll grant eventually, albeit grudgingly.

Do I want them to sit in their house, all smug and thinking they had succeeded in their terrible strategy?

No I don’t.

That’s why I’m wrestling with the temptation to find them, introduce myself to them and then tell them why I detest what they did. I also feel as though I need an answer to this question: Why in the world didn’t you take the dog to the SPCA, a no-kill shelter just south of town, and have them put the dog up for adoption? Guaranteed, this pooch would be snapped up immediately at the SPCA’s weekly pet adoption program at Pet Smart.

These idiots aren’t exactly neighbors. They live apparently a couple of blocks north of us and around the corner.

Any suggestions would be helpful.

I’m all ears.

 

 

 

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Pet ownership lesson No. 1: Don't let them run loose

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Our family today has grown by one.

He stands about 10 inches tall, has four short legs, two large ears and goes by the name of Toby.

That’s what his former owners told us. He’s now ours.

But this tale is about the idiots who gave him away and the method they tried to employ to find him a good home.

It goes like this.

Our 12-year-old great niece is visiting us for a few days. She likes to take walks through the neighborhood. She did so the other day and then returned with a little dog that followed her home. “What do I do with this dog?” she asked. “Put him in the back yard,” I said.

We looked to see if SPCA would be open Saturday. No luck; it would be closed for the Labor Day holiday. “We’re going to take the little guy to SPCA first thing Tuesday,” I told her.

Our niece then took us to the alley where she found the pooch. We talked to some neighbors. They didn’t know a thing about the dog. We brought him home. He spent Friday night in our back yard.

We awoke Saturday and our niece decided to take the pooch for a walk. We had purchased an inexpensive leash and a collar. They went for the walk and a few minutes later our niece returned home — without the dog.

“Don’t ask!” she said angrily. She stormed into her bedroom, then came out a few minutes later to tell us this: “I found the dog’s owners and they still want to get rid of the dog. They told me they just turned him loose at night hoping someone would pick him up. That is just awful! How can people do that to an animal? How can they treat their pets like that?”

She was angry. Then my wife and I got angry.

I declared at that moment that if were a dictator I’d declare those people guilty of animal cruelty and I would send them to jail, throw away the key and feed them dog food. I became so angry that I wanted to hunt those people down and tell them what rotten SOBs they are exposing that dog to harm.

Other dogs could injure him, or worse. He could be hit by a motor vehicle. He could be picked up by someone wishing to do terrible things to him. You name, I thought it.

Well, we awoke this morning. We had a full day at the rodeo. We returned home and our great-niece went for another one of her walks.

A few minutes later, we saw her walking toward the house — with the little pooch at the end of the leash.

She had found the owners yet again and told them that her aunt and uncle wanted the dog. They gave her the dog, told her his name is Toby.

The only remaining issue — and this is a big one — is whether our 12-year-old cats will accept this addition. This has been their house for a dozen years. Cat owners know what I am saying here.

We are cautiously optimistic that they’ll be all right. Toby doesn’t pose a physical threat to them. We’ll get him to the vet soon and he’ll be looked over. The curious thing about this dog is that he appears to be well-cared for. He’s been neutered and he is a loving, affectionate little fella. I guess he’s probably around 2 or 3 years old.

As for Toby’s former owners, it’ll take time for me to cool down. I remain quite angry over what we understand was their strategy for ridding themselves of an unwanted pet.

They have set the standard for what not to do. And for my money, they have disgraced themselves.

Oh, but hey, Toby’s now home.