Category: Pets

Mollie, the oldest of my three dogs, is a bit of a big sister.

Sometimes, when Charlie and Maggie play, she joins in. She especially likes to play toy tug-o-war, pulling with her teeth, fiercely insisting that Mr. Pig or Monkey or Blue Dog stay on her side. Most often, however, she sits nearby, watching carefully. If she notices that things are getting too rowdy, or that one of the pups has an unfair advantage over the other, she barks and moves in to break things up. If she’s not in the room but hears me or another family member telling Charlie and Maggie to settle down, she comes running. Sometimes, it’s to support us as we try to bring order. Sometimes, however, she barks at us as if to say, “Why are you giving them a hard time?”

When snacks are given, Mollie waits to be sure Charlie and Maggie have theirs before starting in on her own treat. It’s the same with mealtimes; she wants to be sure everybody’s been served before she begins eating.

Mollie’s generally willing to share her space and her toys, but ear scratches and belly rubs…those are not to be disturbed. Charlie understands that he will have his turn and waits patiently, but Maggie is still learning and often crowds in. Mollie isn’t shy about letting Maggie know to back off, this is her time to be the center of attention. Don’t interfere, Maggie. If Maggie doesn’t respect the first warning, Mollie takes it up a notch, baring her teeth, leaving no doubt that her message is serious. Once all the pups have gotten some love, however, the happy pack is restored. All is well.

I realize that I may be engaging in a bit of projection. Mollie’s a dog, after all, guided primarily by instinct and routine. Nevertheless, I believe (and evidence supports) that dogs are capable of emotional action. Mollie behaves in ways that I, as the eldest sibling in my family, recognize. Protective and responsible (the good), sometimes bossy and controlling (the bad), with notes of jealousy and frustration (the ugly) – it’s a balance of feelings, expectations, and outcomes influenced by family position.

Here’s to the ups and downs of being the oldest, the first, the leader of the pack. And here’s to Mollie, who understands the assignment.

There’s a scene in Steel Magnolias where Shelby describes her dream of getting old, sitting on the back porch, covered in grandchildren.

My husband and I feel that way about dogs.

We do hope to one day be surrounded by grandkids, oodles of them, but that isn’t up to us. Our sons and their partners get to live their lives according to their plans, not ours, and those plans may or may not involve children.

In the meantime (and perhaps, eventually, in addition to), we can surround ourselves with dogs.

Which brings me to Maggie, who joined our pack this week. She’s a middle-aged pup, cute as a button, quite possibly smarter than me, and still full of energy despite being well past her baby days.

Maggie came to the local animal shelter as a stray. She wasn’t microchipped, so they couldn’t immediately locate her owner, but they cleaned her up, treated her for a severe case of fleas, and posted her picture for several days in the hope that she’d be claimed. She wasn’t, and we scooped her up as soon as she was available for adoption.

It’s clear that Maggie’s been cared for in the past. She’s sociable, trusting and well-behaved. I don’t know her story before the shelter or why she ended up in the sad condition she was in, but I’m grateful to whoever loved her before she came to us. If I could give them a message, it would be that she’s in good hands. We will love and care for her for the rest of her life.

Where I live, there’s a limit of three dogs per household. Maggie’s our third, so we won’t be adopting any more. We also want to be sure we have the time and resources to properly care for our pup family, and three is just the right number for us – and for them. Our little pack is complete.

Here’s to getting old, sitting on a porch (or on a couch or a bed or in a backyard), covered in dogs – or whatever it is that brings happy dreams.

My family and I recently got some awful news. Tom, our twelve-and-a-half-year-old cat, is in renal failure.

There’s no cure, but we are doing all we can to care for him. He’s getting lots of ear rubs, cuddles, and under-chin scratches. His appetite waxes and wanes, so we’re offering a steady stream of tasty tidbits and fresh water to tempt him. Often, he prefers quiet isolation, and we’ve created comfy nests of blankets and towels where he can rest.

We want Tom to have more time to roll in the dirt in the backyard and come running when he hears us whistle. To meow at breakfast time and squint contentedly after dinner. To chase a toy across the floor, batting it with his paws and biting it with his fierce little teeth. To sleep, curled up and purring, next to us at night.

We want him to live forever.

But of course, that’s not possible. Not for Tom; not for anybody.

So, we are focused on his comfort, surrounding him with warmth and affection. Making his last days, however many they are, full of whatever makes him happy.

When we welcomed him into our lives, many years ago, we knew the potential for heartbreak. Pets can get sick, injured. They age faster than humans. Always, there is hope for a good, long life, many years of health and vitality, but there is also awareness that there are challenges.

Still, we take a risk. We choose to focus on what makes it all worthwhile.

Perhaps The Beatles said it best –

And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.

We’ve brought a new cat into the family. It’s been a rocky process (coincidentally, his name is Rocky). Individually, each of our cats is a soft, loving ball of fur. Put them together, and they become a hissing, yowling mass of claws and teeth.

We are making progress, but it’s been slow. Fortunately, our dogs, Mollie and Charlie, adapted quickly. I’ve even found the three of them – Rocky, Mollie, and Charlie – napping together, content and comfortable in each other’s presence.

Things change, however, when the cats start interacting. At the first sound of feline hissing, the dogs jump to attention and rush to investigate. The process is a noisy one, with much barking and whining and canine gnashing of teeth.

The pups don’t appear to have a favored cat in these kerfluffles. They don’t act as protectors. Rather, they come across as looky-loos, eager to be part of the excitement, full of loud, barking opinions about what’s going on.

I’ve explained to them that they aren’t helping; their involvement in the situation is complicating things. Unsurprisingly, my words haven’t made a difference. They are dogs, after all. So, we’ve learned that any kitty drama will also require some doggy behavior management. There have been many trips outside or into separate rooms, behind closed doors, in recent days.

I suppose this behavior should have been expected, given the way Mollie and Charlie (especially Mollie) respond to squirrels in the yard and neighbors walking on the sidewalk. Busybodies aren’t typically picky when it comes to sharing their opinions about daily life. I do wish, however, that they’d learn from their experiences and notice that we are much happier when they keep the drama to a minimum.

Still, we love them dearly and sometimes even find ourselves laughing at their noisy interference. So, here’s to our busybodies. Their antics may annoy us, but they do make for some funny memories for the family archive.

“Arise from sleep, old cat,
And with great yawns and stretchings…
Amble out for love.” – Issa, Japanese Haiku

Here’s to Tiger, the gentle presence, the one who grew up alongside our family, our journeys combined. There is sadness in our hearts today. We will miss your sweet meows.