Pets: They are Family

I'll never forget that day.

"Dad, we'll feed her. We'll let her out. We'll take care of her."

That was a long time ago, when I was a little girl. We'd had cats for the first few years of my life, but an uncaring neighbor killed them because he didn't like cats. For the next few years, we didn't have pets. Then a teammate of my sister's from Bobby-Sox Softball offered us one of the litter - a beagle.
Life was never the same. The joy of having a four-legged critter would forever enhance my life. Of course, Dad fed her, and Mom let her out. In fact, years later I gifted my mother with a T-shirt that said:

Agenda for the day
Let Dog in.
Let Dog out.
Let Dog in.
Let Dog out.

She wore it proudly in her golden years, but I digress. Back to our puppy. What was never disputed was that our love for our new family member was huge from the start.

Lady Tamara - Tammy. She was an only child, so to speak, for many years, and we spoiled her rotten. My poor mother, who couldn't help but love the dogs as they entered our lives, really wasn't a dog person. Unfortunately, the canines loved her, and they had her number from the start. She was their slave, much to her chagrin.

I remember vividly, night after night, Tammy cuddling up on our sofa, next to my mom and demanding to be patted. It went on all night long.

Years later, my sister decided it was time to get another dog. Of course, she failed to tell my parents. I knew, but they didn't. So, one early Saturday morning, she went to the pound and adopted the 'pet of the week', a beautiful shepherd-collie she named Solomon. I remember my parents and I were in the living room, watching TV, when there was a knock on the window. There was my sister, dressed in softball attire for a women's softball team she played on, and at her feet, this beautiful fluffball who Sis named Solomon.

What could my parents say? The love was right there, smiling and wagging his tail.

Now, Tammy wasn't terribly thrilled. She didn't feel threatened; she was just apathetic. It was kinda funny. It wasn't long, though, before Sol won over our finicky beagle. I have the most incredible photo of them out by our pool. They are on a towel. Sol, all of two months old, is sitting, looking up at Tammy, who was staring down at him.

I swear, Tammy was saying, 'Okay, you can stay, but listen up. *I* am the queen of this house. You do what I say, when I say it, and I get the bones!"

The newcomer was gazing up at his mentor with a responsive, "I love you, Tammy."

That was pretty much their relationship. It wasn't long before Sol was quadruple the size of Tammy, but she always ruled the roost. She was the queen. When they both were given meat bones from the butcher, she'd eat hers and, if she felt like it, she'd go take his, and this big dog would just watch her do it.

Other dogs have joined our family over the years, each bringing their own joy and love to our family. When Tammy, Sol, and others left us to go to Rainbow Bridge, it was heartbreaking. I have very vivid, clear memories of how each one left us. There was so much pain. The mourning was horrendous. Even now, just thinking about them, I'm on the verge of tears.

You see, these 'pets' were never 'pets' to us. They were family. Now, they are my children. When my babies pass on, it is as hurtful and painful as any family member, and, yes, I've taken time off of work to mourn and recover. It's that, or cry through shift after shift.

My babies are my joy and a big part of my survival. Today, I have two girls, a black lab and a lab-shepherd-heeler mix. They are bonded, sisters of the heart. Life, for me, in recent times hasn't been the best, but I've been fortunate to have support from some very kind folks. I'm grateful for them. My babies, though, are what really make me smile. As I sit here, I can look out my window and see them being taunted by a squirrel, or watch them chasing each other all over the backyard, or just sitting down, looking up at me through the window.

I smile. I smile because of them each and every day. It's truly the little things. Tessa, my little one, bringing over her toy, wanting to play. Cassie, her big sister, rolling over on parade, wanting to be rubbed on her tummy.

They are joy.

They are family.

When I was young, Tammy used to get out of the backyard a lot. She was a digger. Oh, the tears I cried. Somehow, though, she always found her way back. Once, she followed me to school. Now, that was a funny feeling, to walk out of class and see my beagle wagging her tail at me. Once, I opened the front door, and she was just sitting there, waiting patiently for us. We had no clue how long she'd been gone. Several times, kind, animal loving people returned her, always with a smile and happy to reunite our baby with us.

None of the other doggies were ever that interested in exploring beyond our home. In fact, Tina, our water-loving golden retriever, wanted to have nothing to do with anywhere but home. I used to try and take her for walks, but I'd get halfway around the block, and this big dog would want me to pick her up. She just didn't like it at all. With Tina, we could open all the doors and gates, and she'd just run to the bedroom and go to sleep on the bed. It was the same with Stanley, our lab-chow mix.

Actually, Stanley adopted me at the place where I was working. Seriously, he was spotted by our receptionist. A bunch of us gathered round and finally coaxed him inside the building (good thing the boss wasn't around). He wouldn't take food from anyone but me. Shrug - I guess he knew he'd be safe and loved forever with me. Of course, I already had two other dogs - Tina and my second beagle, Katie. Luckily, they took to Stanley right away, and he bonded with them within a week or two. The point is, he realized he had a good thing, and he had no desire to go anywhere.

Even Katie, adopted from the SPCA, wasn't like Tammy. Instead of digging, she loved to jump. She was very athletic. She did get out the front door a few times, but she always looked back, as if to ask, "You are following me, right?"

I believe Katie had been abused. She was so timid at first, and I discovered by accident that she would cower when my hand was raised in a certain way. That tore through my heart. It didn't take her long to realize, though, that she was safe here. After awhile the cowering stopped completely. She knew this was home, and that we loved her and would never hurt her.

Katie was very special. She could open doors with her paws, not by nudging and using her nose, but by turning the doorknob. She had an incredible will and desire to overcome obstacles. When she had back surgery, the vets didn't think she'd live, and if she did, they were positive she wouldn't walk. I remember when we brought her home, still under anesthetic, the vet said, "She won't move for 24 hours."

I said, "You don't know my dog."

"She might move a paw in a day."

"Uh-huh. No."

Twelve hours later, the paw moved.

The vet says, "Do not let her move around. She won't be able to anyway, but keep her on her blanket."

"Keep Katie on a blanket? Are you kidding? You don't know my dog."

I swear - that is what the conversation was.

Twenty-four hours later, all four paws were moving, and she was trying to get up - and the next day, she did!

Katie was unsinkable. Nothing got to her, and she didn't know or fear pain.

The only really void in the history of my children is Piccolo, an adorable puppy who died of distemper. I swore I'd never go back to the pound for a dog again. They had his age wrong, and he didn't get his shots in time. He was so smart and full of life. Maybe it was the name. He was named after Brian Piccolo, the Chicago Bear football player who died tragically of cancer at age 26. My Piccolo died too young, too. I remember him running around the yard, doing tricks at his tender age. He wasn't here long, but I miss him just as much as I do my other doggies, all of whom have lived long, happy lives.

My point?

Pets may be pets to some, but to me, they are family; they are my children. They have personalities that are distinctive and unique. Like kids, they misbehave. Like cunning adults, sometimes they know how to get each other in trouble (Katie had that mastered).

I feel sorry for folks who think a dog is just a dog, or a cat is just a cat. I also have no tolerance for people who give their 'pets' away so easily at various times. Would they give away their child? Yes, because that is exactly what they are doing. They give no thought to how the dog will feel when they just suddenly disappear from their lives. Cliche, but true: dogs are people, too.

My babies having always been my deepest and best joy.

They are my loves, and I would do anything in this world for them.

And now, it's time to let my Cassie and Tessa in the house; they've been outside, playing, and now it's time for Mom to get some love from her babies. We are a family, and that is something I would never change.