Pets

It was 10 years after my Newfoundland died. I've been pining for a dog ever since. Captain was my buddy and pal. We adopted him from a breeder; he lived with us all his life and died with us as well. He was a huge dog full of life and love and as gentle as a lamb. When people would come to our house, I'd tell them the dog was fine, but to stay away from the cat. Suzie was nasty but weighed in at a whopping five pounds. Everyone thought she was a kitten. I always thought that was funny. Yep. She was a sixteen year old biddy, cranky to the hilt and would just as soon bite the hand that fed her as she would look at you. She was nasty and no one would believe me.

Captain passed around the 4th of July and Suzie followed him October 31st of the same year. During the first few days of November I adopted a pretty little six month old stripped kitten from the animal shelter and named her Chloe.

I always compared Chloe and Suzie. Suzie was like Elizabeth Taylor. She had been a beautiful brown Maltese with stripes and blotches of every shade of brown, tan and red. Her fur was as soft as silk and she was tiny, only five pounds. Suzie was also always so elegant and sure footed, bossy and temperamental.

Chloe, on the other hand, was a large girl weighing in at fifteen pounds at her peak. Her face seemed divided right down the middle, half being dark and the other half being light. Chloe, pictured, was a brown tabby mackerel patch. Large, fur like cotton, bold, doplic and even tempered, she was definitely a pleasure to have around. She was our only pet for eight of the ten years I had her.

For eight years Chloe helped fill the void of the lost pets. But I still pined for another dog like my Captain. But when he died, we went through the nightmare of trying to get him to a vet when he became immobile in our lower level. 175 pounds of dead weight. We managed to get the dying dog to our vet where he was watched over until his death.

Finally at my doctor's suggestion we decided to adopt another dog. We didn't want to go through the horror we went through with Captain so decided to adopt one a bit smaller. One of my favorites has always been the Shetland Sheepdog so went to a Sheltie rescue on line. These people were wonderful, sending me pictures of young adult dogs they had ready for adoption. They showed me all the more timid cases because our home was quiet with no children and would probably be best for the more difficult to place dogs. From there, I picked out two that I wanted to meet and made an appointment to see them. We went there and met both the dogs. One was a Merle and when introduced, he said hello and went running off with the other dogs that were the kennel owners. The other was a Tricolor that when introduced said hello and went running off with the other dogs but came back to sit and be with us after a minute. His name is Diamond Hills Pretty Boy Little Brat but we call him Bratley. Bratley was a three year old breeder that came out of a closed down puppy mill. He had spent his life in a cage without much human contact or even contact with other dogs. It's been three years since we've adopted him and he still isn't without issues but he fit with our household and has adjusted to being a pet. He's very worried about pleasing us and we do recognize this. He's with us all the time as if he still can't believe that he finally has a pack of his own. He's a quiet, pleasant, sweet boy. He and Chloe became fast friends.

January, a year ago, Chloe was discovered to have bone marrow cancer. We tried treating her several times, but she continued to fail forcing me to run her to the vet in an emergency. After a thorough examination my vet recommended that it was time. This was heartbreaking since I'd had her only ten years. I was looking forward to another seven to ten. Suzie was seventeen when she finally succumbed to a stroke. It was a few days later when I saw a little coffee colored, five month old kitten at the animal shelter who was just so pretty. But with holding her, I noticed a rumbling in her chest that sounded like a lung infection. When I inquired about this, sure enough it was an upper respitory infection that the shelter knew about and she was being treated for. I left her behind thinking I didn't want another sick cat. A few days later I went back and she was still there. On a second meeting I noticed the rumbling in her chest was gone and my vet had told me during the week when I had inquired that an upper respitory infection was common and he could fix her right up. So this time I took her home and called her Shalimar. When we went to the vet, it was discovered that she had a very nasty case of pneumonia which chewed up her lungs and sinuses. She's in good health now though her breathing is strained. Her vet is impressed that she's come as far as she has. She is now my newest feline love and will stay with me all her life as well.

Bratley has a problem with Shalimar. She is an active young cat and loves to rub against anything sturdy enough not to fall when she breathes on it. He's as much a rubbing post as the nearest piece of furniture. This annoys him but he's becoming tolerant of it. She likes playing in his fur and he just sidesteps away from her. I think they are friends, though he seems often annoyed with her. They will sleep in the same room, but Shalimar is a huggy cat. She finds a chair to sleep in while he stays on the floor or his bed. They don't really share beds, not like Bratley and Chloe did.

There you have it. The animals of my life. Will there be more? I don't know. Only time will tell.