Our animal buddies, past or present.
Maria:
Unto me she came
Holly:when i was in a very long-term relationship of years past, it became quite emotionally abusive, and i was deeply depressed. i had three cats at the time, and have many memories of skirting suicidality by connecting with my love for them. wanting not to abandon them kept me alive, literally i believe. i used to sing "you are my sunshine" to the littlest one while i paced with her in my arms. she purred. even now, i feel grateful.
Dan:
Tanya:
I had a dog named Babaloo (yes I am a "Lucy" fan).
John M:
Spot (of blessed memory) adopted my partner Xris, on or about 1994. She was a skinny little black kitten with one small white spot on her throat. She started eating the organic fertilizer he was using which was made of fish scales and he realized she was probably starving. He got her a bowl of milk which she lapped up vigorously, purring so hard that her tail was vibrating. Then she left, and Xris wondered if she would come back. A couple of days later he was sitting in the yard with his landlady and he asked her if she minded if he got a cat. Even though the lease said no pets, she said ok. At that very moment, Spot appeared through the fence. Xris went over to the fence and called to her and she jumped up on the fence and onto his shoulder, and never left.
She was friendly as well as wise. She knew that the water bowl was never in exactly the right place and she would spend hours moving it, a fraction of an inch at a time, never spilling any, up over the threshold into the next room, and then back. She loved peoples' laps and if you sat on her couch, she would sit on your lap in reciprocation. She knew when you needed love and she addressed you like a mother, giving you a look that said, "Sit down now. Let me sit on your lap so you can tell me all about, and you might as well pet me while you're doing that. Really, it will make you feel better." It always did, too.
She basically insisted that Xris and I have a relationship. When we sat together on the couch, she would very deliberately sit with half her body on him and half on me, purring a message of "you two belong together." With her little Roman clergy collar spot, we considered her our pastoral counselor/spiritual director.
She died several years ago. We keep her ashes in an iron box with a Mexican icon on it of the Madonna holding her child, called "Our Lady of Abundance." That is who she was, abundant, patient love. We miss you dear Spot!
John S:
Maria:
Lucie, my spirit angel cat, who remains with me after 22 years.
We found her malnourished and ill on Highway 101; we rehabilitated her and in turn she became my healing spirit.
I wrote her this poem eight years ago when she left this reality:
Lucie in my Lap
Unto me she came
From an empty cold place of rain
Lush but lonely, dirty and pure
Paw printing her way into
Radical existence.
Wounded, she penetrated dreamtime
Exposing the rawness of life.
Her hidden oppression opened.
And now, no secrets remain.
In her truth
She sheds freedom and new life.
Beautiful Lucie always in my lap
Purring delicately. Love immense.
Our hearts sing happily, forever peace.
My body rejoices
Illuminating lovingness
Loving you, loving me
Lucie.
Rest my angel; be with me
Tomorrow’s tomorrow.
Please be with me.
I need you so much I know not more.
Lucie, fourteen years forever,
You hold my heart.
Holly:
Matt:
In my case I have had several great pets that I have loved and been loved by over my lifetime. I'm only writing about one today though. I had an awesome dog as a kid that I absolutely loved. Her name was Scampers and even though I had three brothers and three sisters that also loved pets, Scamps was my dog alone. My parents got her for me at the suggestion of my seventh grade teacher. I was acting up in school and having some problems getting along. He suggested that my parents get a dog and make it my dog alone. He also suggested I train the dog as well, giving me a constructive outlet for my energies.
My parents took his advice and got that dog for me. I took Scamps to a Parks and Rec dog training class and trained her well. She wasn’t a purebred. We still have no idea what she was a mix of, but she was a very smart dog and perceptive as most dogs are. My problems subsided and things got better at school.
Shortly after that summer, I lost my best friend, Mary. She died of a congenital disease that had never been diagnosed. It was a sudden and near instant death that none of us were prepared for. It was a shock to us all, but especially me. I was lost without her. Mary was like a twin to me and another sister to my siblings. Our parents were best friends as well and treated her like a daughter. Mary would just walk into our house at dinner time and just sit down and join in. That was normal. She even went on our family vacations with us because we hated to be apart. When Mary died we all were devastated. Because all of us were reeling from her loss I really had no one to turn to. Scamps was there for me though.
I am positive that Scamps knew the pain I was in. She knew how to help me too. Living out in the country, I had no immediate neighbor kids to play with now that Mary was gone. I spent many afternoons tramping around the wheat fields and woods with Scamps, just as I had always done with Mary. When I would break down and cry Scamps was there to cheer me up as best she could and get me moving again. She got me through that period. I have no idea what I would have done if it wasn’t for that dog. In many ways she saved my own life. It wasn't the last time she helped me either, but that's a story for another time.
Scamps has been gone for many years now. I still miss her. I’ve had a few other dogs since then. I will never forget her though. All my dogs have had and will have a standard to live up to, set by Scamps.
Dan:
I decided to fall in love with my husband when I was on a run and saw him for the second time walking his Boston Terrier on the boardwalk.
I saw Steven turn the corner onto the boards and I thought "I'm going to run into his arms". And I did.
Steven had been ill when he first came back to the states in the early 2000's - he bought the pup so it could take care of him - and he did - He named him Dr Love (after the First Choice disco song "Dr Love"- http://youtu.be/w3IWeoMjzzQ)
For 4 years he's taken care of me and my love.
In April we took him with us on my celebratory 50th birthday trip to St Croix.
He swam, kayaked and slept in the sun...
During our second week of vacationing, Dr Love had a series of seizures.
We saw a vet on the island who prescribed anti seizure drugs that incapacitated him.
After our return and we visited our vet clinic for a neurological exam - his prognosis wasn't good - any further treatment might immediately cause his death during the night.
Steven always assured Dr Love that when the time came - he would be there.
So yesterday night at 6pm - surrounded by his flower toy and Steven holding him in his blanket - he was peacefully put to rest.
He was born on November 23rd 2000 and died on April 18th 2011.
He brought much love into the world - and did his self-appointed job of taking care of Steven and then myself when I joined their duo.
We drank 3 bottles of champagne that night and toasted Dr Love - "little one" - we miss him.
The house is very quiet.
But the love is there.
Tanya:
I had a dog named Babaloo (yes I am a "Lucy" fan).
Babaloo was a 20 pound fluffy black "terripoo" that I rescued at 4 months old, who had been abandoned. I took one look at his smiley face and long waggy tale and bright eyes and I fell hard!! This dog was really, really smart and loving and beyond adorable but had one fatal flaw...separation anxiety! He was dream dog when we were home, but if you left him he would sob all day and tear at whatever he thought separated him from getting to you: doors, gates, etc. He could chew through anything and had the chipped teeth to prove it!
This was the bane of our existence. This drove my husband mad!!! I was so in love I covered his tracks and pleaded his case for years until a letter arrived from animal services. Our neighbor had complained and reported abuse! Really, the poor abused dog was left all ALONE while I went to work....what kind of mother was I?? (this was before the Dog Whisperer).
Well, I was desperate so after consulting with the vet he was prescribed doggie prozac. Yes...we felt "so L.A.!!". But it worked! He was now Babaloo the mellow "leave me if you must " dog! Great!! But expensive, until we realized that we could drive to Mexico, cross the border, have some Margarita's, buy some chatchkaz and a goodly supply of cheap doggie prozac and all was right in the world!!
Babaloo lived till 13 years old and to this day has a sweet spot in my heart. His last year was spent in a doggie wheelchair with weekly acupuncture treatments (I know...so L.A.), but it worked and he was blissful till the very end. And he was enormously loved!!!!
John M:
Spot (of blessed memory) adopted my partner Xris, on or about 1994. She was a skinny little black kitten with one small white spot on her throat. She started eating the organic fertilizer he was using which was made of fish scales and he realized she was probably starving. He got her a bowl of milk which she lapped up vigorously, purring so hard that her tail was vibrating. Then she left, and Xris wondered if she would come back. A couple of days later he was sitting in the yard with his landlady and he asked her if she minded if he got a cat. Even though the lease said no pets, she said ok. At that very moment, Spot appeared through the fence. Xris went over to the fence and called to her and she jumped up on the fence and onto his shoulder, and never left.
She was friendly as well as wise. She knew that the water bowl was never in exactly the right place and she would spend hours moving it, a fraction of an inch at a time, never spilling any, up over the threshold into the next room, and then back. She loved peoples' laps and if you sat on her couch, she would sit on your lap in reciprocation. She knew when you needed love and she addressed you like a mother, giving you a look that said, "Sit down now. Let me sit on your lap so you can tell me all about, and you might as well pet me while you're doing that. Really, it will make you feel better." It always did, too.
She basically insisted that Xris and I have a relationship. When we sat together on the couch, she would very deliberately sit with half her body on him and half on me, purring a message of "you two belong together." With her little Roman clergy collar spot, we considered her our pastoral counselor/spiritual director.
She died several years ago. We keep her ashes in an iron box with a Mexican icon on it of the Madonna holding her child, called "Our Lady of Abundance." That is who she was, abundant, patient love. We miss you dear Spot!
John S:
There have been so many wonderful cats in my life: Fido, Fred, Noah, Carl, Fran, and Daisy, each with their charms and quirks, each keeping watch over their domains from a sunny spot or cozy nook. All soft as anything and so comforting to hold and pet. Now we have "the two boys," Luigi and Cosmo. Luigi, the younger, is full of pep, until he isn't, as in this picture. Bless the cats, I couldn't do without them.
Benjamin:
I still cry when I think of my dog, Max. He was a giant boxer/great dane, with brindle coat, black face, and white blazes. I got him when he was 5 weeks old, much too young to be weaned from his mamma dog.
My grandmother's next door neighbor gave him to me. We met at Grandma's house, and he curled up in my lap, hiding his face, scared as he could be. In a few minutes, he started to open up and play and explore. This was in my last year of college, taking just a few straggling courses for credits to graduate. He and I were together practically all day every day for the first two years of his life.
I taught him to catch a frisbee. He followed voice and hand commands, and was basically the most awesome dog ever. He understood me just by looking at me. He was happy with me, sad with me, there for me, all the time. At that time, I was involved with a girl I thought I would marry. She, Max, and I were like a family. Cocaine, however, caused quite a problem in her ability to 1) shut up, and 2) not sleep with other men. So I broke the engagement. Max was 5 at this time.
Everyone said he was on the back half of life, because he was such a big dog (appx 90 lbs). I met Holly and we did get married, roughly a year later. Max was there.
Max moved to Portland with us. He missed Georgia, the open spaces I could take him, our lake house. But we were his pack, I guess. When we brought Mary home, he whined and whined for 3 days straight, until I snuck behind Holly's wishes and let him lick her and sniff her.
When she began to walk, she would waddle to him and straddle him like a horse, pull his ears, and hug his neck. He became very protective, and for the first time ever, started barking when people would walk onto our porch. By this time, max was 8. His black face turned to gray and white. He couldn't chase frisbees anymore. He enjoyed walks and hikes, though.
By the time Monroe was born, Max's back right leg started to go. It took a while to really notice, but he used his left to walk and for support. He was 11 then, well past any age a vet had ever supposed he'd make. Over the next year, both his legs gave out.
When I made the decision to have him put to sleep, the vet came to the house. Holly took the children out to Mt. Tabor, I think. He laid on his bed, I pet his head, and she gave him the first shot. It seemed like an eternity before she gave him the second shot. He didn't want to go. He held on and on to life. There were literally tears running from his eyes.
His eyes. Up to the end, Max was there, in his eyes. All he ever did was love me.
Holly and I are getting a divorce. I don't know what custody will be like. I'm afraid she'll take the children back to the west coast, and i'll be stuck here in Georgia. And I think of Max, how right now, as I'm crying, he'd put his head in my lap and let me know it was all going to be ok, in a way more true than any person can tell me.
Jacklyn:
Benjamin:
I still cry when I think of my dog, Max. He was a giant boxer/great dane, with brindle coat, black face, and white blazes. I got him when he was 5 weeks old, much too young to be weaned from his mamma dog.
My grandmother's next door neighbor gave him to me. We met at Grandma's house, and he curled up in my lap, hiding his face, scared as he could be. In a few minutes, he started to open up and play and explore. This was in my last year of college, taking just a few straggling courses for credits to graduate. He and I were together practically all day every day for the first two years of his life.
I taught him to catch a frisbee. He followed voice and hand commands, and was basically the most awesome dog ever. He understood me just by looking at me. He was happy with me, sad with me, there for me, all the time. At that time, I was involved with a girl I thought I would marry. She, Max, and I were like a family. Cocaine, however, caused quite a problem in her ability to 1) shut up, and 2) not sleep with other men. So I broke the engagement. Max was 5 at this time.
Everyone said he was on the back half of life, because he was such a big dog (appx 90 lbs). I met Holly and we did get married, roughly a year later. Max was there.
Max moved to Portland with us. He missed Georgia, the open spaces I could take him, our lake house. But we were his pack, I guess. When we brought Mary home, he whined and whined for 3 days straight, until I snuck behind Holly's wishes and let him lick her and sniff her.
When she began to walk, she would waddle to him and straddle him like a horse, pull his ears, and hug his neck. He became very protective, and for the first time ever, started barking when people would walk onto our porch. By this time, max was 8. His black face turned to gray and white. He couldn't chase frisbees anymore. He enjoyed walks and hikes, though.
By the time Monroe was born, Max's back right leg started to go. It took a while to really notice, but he used his left to walk and for support. He was 11 then, well past any age a vet had ever supposed he'd make. Over the next year, both his legs gave out.
When I made the decision to have him put to sleep, the vet came to the house. Holly took the children out to Mt. Tabor, I think. He laid on his bed, I pet his head, and she gave him the first shot. It seemed like an eternity before she gave him the second shot. He didn't want to go. He held on and on to life. There were literally tears running from his eyes.
His eyes. Up to the end, Max was there, in his eyes. All he ever did was love me.
Holly and I are getting a divorce. I don't know what custody will be like. I'm afraid she'll take the children back to the west coast, and i'll be stuck here in Georgia. And I think of Max, how right now, as I'm crying, he'd put his head in my lap and let me know it was all going to be ok, in a way more true than any person can tell me.
Jacklyn:
My first poodle encounter:
I had a standard poodle puppy named Pilot. And at about five months, even though I called her my Zen dog because she was so calm, so patient and wise, I could tell she was pretty cagey and probably knew things I didn't. I was living in New York and came home one evening to find that she had taken a pillow off the couch and just nibbled at the end of it. Even though I knew that it was a protest against my absence, I told her she was a bad dog and never ever to take that pillow off the couch and then nibble on it, ever, ever again. The next evening I came home to find every other pillow from the couch on the floor (unnibbled) and the one pillow she had nibbled was untouched and still on the couch.
This was the beginning of extraordinary events with Pi that then caused me to get a second poodle and that is a whole other saga.
Chris H:
My first pet was a sweet black lab that I named Nelly. I'm not sure why... maybe after that girl Nelly on the Little House on the Prairie tv series. The first street I grew up on was Charles St.... so my porn name: Nelly Charles.
I remember ... one day I was giving Nelly one of those dog favorite belly rubs... I was like 10 ... and I was like... "Mom... Nellys got wite stuff coming out of her boobs." My mom was like.... "Oh my God! Nelly's pregnant.... Oh my God!"
So Nelly had puppies... little black lab puppies are the cutest sweetest things. They have a very distinct puppy smell. Fun for the whole family.
Lori:
Here is Julius, who died last year. My first cat, named after the famed Roman Emperor in the hopes that he would scare off the cat that was peeing on our front porch. He lived up to his name, but shortly thereafter fell into the life of luxury, dining-in all day long. I wish I had a picture of him lying spread-eagled over my pregnant belly, purring and soaking up the heat. I can still smell his soft fur. Here's to you, Julio!
Peter:
No comments:
Post a Comment