Monday, November 13, 2023: Favorite Things #1
Starting my Favorite Things Posts with my pets!
Daily Diary, Day 1169: My Pets
Yesterday I decided that between now and December 25, I would start to post or repost pieces talking about my Favorite Things. The following is a repost of one of the 15 favorite things I wrote about last year. It seemed as good place as any to start since its Monday which we refer to as Rio Day in our household when the Border Collie Rio comes to play.
I started out thinking I would make this a post just about our current dog, Leeza, being one of my favorite things, but pretty quickly decided to honor all of the pets in my life. All of them in one way or another have brought me continuing joy, as well as the heartache that came with losing them.
First, when I was 4 or 5 years old, there was a gray tabby, Suzy Cat (always referred to that way, I have no idea why—wasn’t as if there was another animal in our house when we got her.) She had a couple of litters of kittens--that was back before there was an effort to stop the over-population of cats-and she was an excellent mother and mouser. One of my most vivid memories was watching her drop a stunned mouse in front of her kittens, and showing them how to catch it.
As she was aging, my parents got a Boston Terrier puppy, Misty, and she was my closest companion until I went away to college. I think as the only child, shy around other kids, having a pet like Misty was doubly important. I never felt alone with her.
Then in college, my future husband and I adopted an orange tabby, we named Thelonious, for Thelonious Monk. Sadly, after five years, when we moved out to California for a job where we couldn’t have a cat (we were dorm parents for a year), we had to leave him behind. This was a lesson in life, having to accept that sometimes what life gives you in going to require some hard decisions.
For the next seven years we moved around a lot, always renting, always in places where we couldn’t have pets. As soon as we had a place where we could have a cat, we got a rescue cat, Jeremiah. However a year later we were moving, again to a place where we weren’t sure we could have a pet, so we rehomed this cat with friends.
After that move, as soon as we could, we got two kittens, and we have never been without pets since then (about 35 years.) These kittens were not littermates, but acted as if they were. They were Jessie, an odd female calico with a stubby tail, and Jeremy, a black male we called Jeremy. They were extremely different in personality, but very good friends, and they provided the first real experience of pet ownership for our young daughter. When they were 4 or 5, our daughter made the argument that, since she didn’t remember them as kittens, we should get more kittens. My husband countered with the suggestion that we get a dog, instead.
Needless-to-say she was enthusiastic about that idea, saying if she had known we were open to getting a dog she would have asked for that. The dog we ended up getting (very long story) was an Irish Wolfhound, Maggie, who my husband had fallen instantly in love with. However, it was abundantly obvious that Maggie was way too big to be a pet for our daughter, so we almost immediately got a second dog, a Boston Terrier, Sammy, who became her companion.
We now had four animals at the same time. However, Wolfhounds don’t live long, and we lost Maggie at age 8. We missed her so much we soon got an another wolfhound, Ellie. Here is a picture of the Boston Terrier, Sammy, and the wolfhound Ellie when we first got her.
The second is of the two of them when Ellie was grown!
During Ellie’s life-time, both of the cats and Sammy died of old age, but very soon after that we inherited from others, two more cats, Mila and Courtney, and a dog, Jane, and we were back to four animals.Unfortunately, some years later, Jane died suddenly of a stomach ailment when we were out of town. Some time afterwards, when we knew Ellie didn’t have long to live, we got a seven year old rescue, a part border collie, Maisie. For a good time after that, we had the three, the dog Maisie, and the cats Courtney and Mila. They all lived good long lives, but by the second year of Covid, the cats were gone and Maisie was fading fast. Every single one of these pets brought something unique to us, and gave us joy that far outweighed the expenses of vet bills and the inconveniences of kitty litter boxes and frequent dog walks, and the heartache when we had to let them go.
That’s why, two years ago, despite our age (and the legitimate question of whether or not it was sensible to get a young dog that might outlive our ability to take care of it), we knew that we would not be happy in a home without a pet. When Courtney, our last cat, died, I had already decided I couldn’t handle kitty litter anymore, so, at least for now, no more kittens. But my husband knew that having and walking a dog was still essential to his well-being so we got another rescue, Leeza.
Leeza was a two year old when we got her (she is now 5), and the story was that she’d been rescued the fires in Texas. She arrived at the shelter in San Diego pregnant with 10 puppies. After having the puppies and a recuperating from a good number of physical problems, she was ready for adoption.
While she has her own idiosyncrasies (which I suspect are rooted in her past experiences) she has certainly become one of my favorite things. I love the fact that she is the first animal we’ve ever had that collects all her toys onto her bed. I love the fact that when you feed her, she always does this happy dance, and she looks so peaceful when she is asleep. I love the fact that she is the first dog we have ever had that enjoys a play date with another dog…in this case the border collie Rio. And I love to watch her as she stares longingly out the window waiting for my husband to return (this photo is from this morning when he had gone out to the grocery store.) I even sort of love the fact that she occasionally leaves muddy footprints on the floor, as she did this afternoon, because this is a sign that it had rained enough to create mud!
And, I would certainly like to hear about your favorite pets and what you love about them.
In case you aren’t sure how you got here, I’m Mary Louisa Locke, the author of the USA Today best-selling Victorian San Francisco Mystery series and the Caelestis Science Fiction series. This is my newsletter reflecting on my life as an indie author trying to age gracefully. If you aren’t already subscribed but are interested in doing so, you can subscribe by clicking the little button below. If you enjoyed this post, please do click on the little heart and/or share with your friends, and I always welcome comments!
I've been married almost 60 years (Feb. 1st) and we have had dogs and cats all that time. When we moved or Orange County, CA, we had 4 cats. One by one they died, living very long lives. Now at 78 (hubby is 81) we have decided not to get another cat, thinking it would outlive us. We are very active and healthy, but it was my Hubby's decision. Now, I think (after reading an article) that my trouble sleeping at night is for lack of a warm, purring cat next to me in bed. Sigh. I wish......
I love hearing your stories about Leeza. I haven't been very successful in the dog department. When I was a little girl, my dad bought me a black Labrador retriever puppy. I remember driving a long time to go to someone's house to get him. I loved that dog so much. But, soon my parents split up and mom did not want to deal with the dog so he went with my dad. Soon thereafter, an unfortunate accident took his life.
A few years ago, my son decided to get a dog from the shelter and Brodie entered our lives. He was about five, a chocolate Lab (maybe a mix), who was as mellow as mellow could be. His owner had died and there was a line of people wanting to adopt him. We got there first. He really was the perfect house dog. He wasn't excitable, didn't bark a lot, didn't jump on people and got along with the cats. But, he was terrified of men and from, the get go adopted me instead of my son. He followed me everywhere I went and laid at my feet when I sat. He did not like being outside, did not run around the yard and did not know what to do with a ball. He did, though, bury his rawhide bones. I felt sad for him.
It seems like I always had a cat growing up. There was Smokey who broke his leg and had to wear a cast that he somehow managed to escape. Back then we didn't automatically fix our cats and he was a tom cat through and through. I learned a lot about first aid from his adventures. Before him and after him were a series of cats I don't even remember. It seems that they would last a year or less, many of them having been hit by cars. There was one kitten we had that was a bit wild. He sunk his nails into our neighbor's rear end when she was visiting with my mom. Of course, I found it hilarious. The adults did not.
When I was grown and out of the house, my best friend's cat had kittens and I had to have one. She was a calico and the 2nd to climb out of her box (the first one out had already been taken). She was a charmer and a stinker. The only cat I successfully trained. She knew she was not allowed in my office so she would stand at the threshold with her front paws just barely over the line. She died in my arms after giving my chest one last lick. She was one of a kind.
When my kids were young, my son heard something in the shed. He and his dad investigated and found 3 almost newborn kittens. Dad asked what to do with them, thinking shelter-wise. I, however, said this was a great opportunity for our kids and we kept and raised the kittens. We learned how to tube and then bottle feed, how to clean them like their mama would. My son (the one who had Brodie) bonded with the calico of the litter. My other son and I like the grey (another female) and the ginger tabby (a male) was sort of everybody's cat, but he did seem to tend toward my husband. All 3 died within about a year of each other, when they were around 15/16.
My son and daughter then adopted shelter cats that were both 4. One is normal and the other definitely has a screw loose. My son is contemplating getting another dog. This time around, I am thankful they are grand-fur babies and I'm off the hook. All of these animals have definitely enriched my life. It amazes me how their personalities are so strong and unique. Who knows? Maybe when my last 2 kids are gone I may get my own cat again. I want a cuddler this time around.