All God’s creatures, great and small…

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have a pet in my life. When I was little, my family had miniature dachshunds – Sam and Bridget. They were always just there as far back as I could remember. They were like little people, each with their own personality and funny quirks. I loved them dearly.

I was in middle school when they finally passed away. They had both been very sick. It is still something that haunts me. (Bridge was the best doxie mom, and she and Sam had the cutest puppies)

In high school, after my parents divorced, I lived with my mom. Knowing I was having a difficult time adjusting, she got me a mixed-breed Spaniel puppy ~ I named her Bailey. She was my savior. I had this little black fur ball that was all mine. I was devoted to her and she to me.

When I left for college Bailey stayed with my mom and her new husband. On trips home, I would be walking up the driveway and as soon as Bailey saw me, she would begin crawling on her stomach to meet me. Her whole body would be wiggling and I swear she was smiling ear to ear. 

After I got married, I just couldn’t take Bailey away from my stepdad. They had become constant companions. They needed each other, like I had needed her. He was by her side when she died. I was relieved to know she was not alone.

Hubs and I decided early that our home would have pets. Our first was Bill, an orange tabby manx ~ named for the Bloom County cat. He was the offspring of a feral mom and never really adjusted to being an inside cat. At the time we live in a small house in the country and Bill had the run of the surrounding 24 acres. 

Bill was never a ‘touchy, feely’ sort of cat. He never climbed into your lap or snuggled with you. I don’t know if I ever heard him purr. But, I did know he loved us. He was always bringing us little treasures ~ voles, frogs, rabbit pieces-parts, even a fish once. 

His death was devastating. I found his cold body on the side of the road one morning when I went for the newspaper. I have never cried that hard since. Hubs buried him under a shade tree and put up a marker. Bill was about 10,

Brandy, a female boxer, was rescued from a woman who had a daycare in her home. Brandy was chained outside to a metal kennel and rarely got more attention than her daily feeding. She and Bill were buddies, and she missed him too when he died.

When she came to us, Brandy was about 18 months old and desperate for real love. She was so tender with our children ~ JM and WK both came after Brandy had been with Hubs and me for a few years. They loved her and played with her as only babies could. She tolerated being used as a pillow, teddy bear and pony with remarkable grace. She was also very protective of them both. l don’t think anyone would have been able to get near them if Brandy didn’t allow it. 

DD, our mixed Pomeranian was a bit of a surprise. DD was a dumpster dog ~ that’s where we found her. Someone had thrown her away like so much trash. When we brought her home she was a mass of matted hair, and infested with fleas and about every other sort of bug imaginable. It took me a good three hours to clean her up, and all the while she sat patiently and looked at me with those big brown eye. My heart melted and no one would have been able to take her from me.

A short time after she joined our family, DD was having problems. Whenever I picked her up, she would whine. I was worried she had been injured when thrown in the dumpster, so I took her to the vet. The doctor did a physical exam and took some X-rays. He came out to the waiting room and told me he had some good news and maybe not so good news, depending on me. That intrigued me. Following him to the X-ray room I wasn’t prepared for what I saw on the films. Four perfectly formed puppies. Apparently my little bundle of love was preggers. Maybe that is why she had been discarded. We were fortunate in finding loving homes for each of DD’s babies. They weren’t nearly cute as their mom, though.

DD made the move to Florida with us, but Brandy, didn’t. She was too old and suffering with cancer. It was a tearful goodbye.

DD did not like the Florida heat, and I would shave her heavy coat every summer. Ever the woman, she would hide under the bed for days, or at least until her hair was a little more presentable. DD lived until the ripe old age of 16. I still miss her. 

Shortly after we moved to Florida, Hubs and I felt it was time to bring another cat into our lives. If you’re a ‘cat person’ you understand this. If you’re not, oh well your loss. 

The first Christmas in our new home, Hubs comes home with his arms all scratched up, hiding something behind his back. Serenaded by the frantic squeals of his children, he pulls out the twin of Bill. He had found a tiny orange manx at the pet rescue in town. The kitten was just meant to be ours.

Buster, named for the main character in a James Herriot’s The Christmas Day Kitten, joined DD. Buster was only slightly more sociable than Bill was. He would snuggle, but only on his terms. He was the alpha male, even when he was outnumbered by females. 

The following year we introduced Maxx. We had the name ~ in honor of the Grinch’s dog in Dr. Seuss’ Christmas classic ~ before we had the dog, but it just fit. She took over the task of guardian to our children that Brandy had ably held for so long. Hubs and I couldn’t play rough with the kids without Maxx jumping in to ’save’ them. She would put herself between us, all teeth and growls, until we backed off. I loved that! Maxx will be 13 this fall. Her black hair is peppered with white and she doesn’t move a fast as she once did. I’m no sure how much longer she’ll still be with us. I don’t even want to think about it.

Buster died last year. JM came home from school one afternoon and found him in the living room. He had been with us for almost 12 years. She called me at work distraught. I would have given anything to have been the one to find him instead of her. He was a great cat, and we miss him and always will.

Shortly before Buster passed, we found ourselves faced with another dilemma. We already had one dog and a cat, and were being asked to save the life of another puppy. Were we prepared to take in another dog, another big dog? Apparently we were, and Hershey joined our family. She has been the most loving of all our pets, always wanting to snuggle or be near us. When I come home in the evenings she has to be the first to me, demanding I put my hands on her if only for a moment. She’s then happy and can then lie down quietly. Don’t let the baby picture fool you, Hershey grew up to be a 70 pound bundle of puppy love.

But, our family was still incomplete. So last June, as a gift to our son, we brought home Pollo del Fuego ~ our little Fire Chicken. She wasn’t three pounds soaking wet when we found her. You could literally hold her in the palm of you hand. WK was in love. Just like Bill and Buster before her, Po is a manx. And like her predecessors, is ever so slightly crazy. This little bit of fur can make more noise runny down the hall than both dogs combined. She lays in wait to ambush us and will attack anything that moves. Po is absolutely hilarious. 

I hope to always have a pet in my home, in my life. Each of those that have blessed my life so far have either been rescues or found at an animal shelter. I won’t tell anyone to not adopt a pure breed dog or cat, but will always tell them that they will never be disappointed in a rescued pet. Each of these dogs and cats were a part of my family, and when one died, I grieved as I did when a human member passed away. They find their way to your heart and never let go.