Everyday Stranger

Reading the tales above almost makes me feel guilty in that my "one" is still very much alive. I discovered Sandy- adorable orange tabby that she is-starving under my house with 3 malnourished kittens. I worked from home for 3 weeks bottle feeding the kittens since Sandy's milk had dried up. She used to crawl upon me nervously while I held her children, but seemed satisfied that I was taking good care of them. WHen the kittens grew older, my mother kept them. Sandy was MY cat. She follows me around everywhere. If I'm on the other side of closed door, she yowls until I open it. As soon as I get home from work, she crawls up on my chest to give me a little kiss before settling down on my lap to sleep. And when the alarm goes off in the morning, she looks around to see if I'm stirring. If I am, she crawls up on my chest to say good morning.

I've had 10+ cats and 6 dogs throughout my life so far and I've never had one become as attached to me as she has. I feel very fortunate.

It's difficult to pick out just one...they're all so very special. Gato, a Blue Persian, who I had to put to sleep just two days before my birthday. Gato taught me what undying love and absolute trust was about.

Bogart the Cat got very sick, very fast, less than a week after a checkup at the vet. We used to catch flying bugs loose in the house together--I'd hold him up, and he'd swat at them. He also loved to play fetch and ride around draped 'round my neck--I have a great picture of me and him doing that in the living room.

Celeste, who I adopted from a neighbor when his wife, no longer able to ignore her allergies, told him either the cat goes or she goes. She had the most gorgeous Celeste eyes (Celeste is a shade of blue-green; it's the color of a Bianchi bicycle), and half of her face was black and the other tabby. She was beautiful.

Right now Witter, one of my rats, is living on borrowed time. He's siill active and happy, but he's got a tumor larger than a golf ball on his side (it's attached to his ribs and lung, and he's over two, so surgery was risky). I'm going to be an absolute wreck when he passes away...

Jade-that's funny-I wonder where you got the name? In Swedish, "galen" means crazy, which I can think of a few lovely pets I have had in which that name would apply. :)

Tami-I totally understand. On my grandfather's farm, I once had a pet pig. This pig was born severely retarded, and he was kept seperate from the other pigs who wouldn't let him play their little pig games. He became my pig-I would race home from school to hang out with my pig, and he would wait for me and greet me excitedly.

It was like Charlotte's Web sans creepy spider.

Anyway, one day I came home, racing to see my pig, and he was gone.

My grandfather had sold him for medical research.

I was devestated.

And people wonder why I am a vegetarian against animal testing...

Clearly Misti the wonder dog is the one now. Mrs M has had a plethora of pets, usually two dogs at a time, including the first dog I really got along with, called Pomach (Hungarian for bottle brush -yes, seriously). She was cute and she used to decide my stomach was the perfect place for her to have an afternoon nap when I was having an afternoon nap.

Otherwise we had a Siamese cat called Cinamon, who in hindsight was one darn independant little thing. My brother is now a mad cat lover, whereas I'm a dog person, so I guess you can tell who Cinamon liked more.

Over the years we have had a virtual zoo through our house, everything from lizards to monkeys, birds, fish, and of course cats and dogs. The dogs have always stuck out for me, all of them have been dobermans and all wonderful in their own way. The current dobie, Luc, is far and away the smartest most interactive dog we have ever had. He doesn't leave the yard unless he is told its ok, doesn't cross the street without being invited. People ask who trained him, and the honest answer is no one, he kinda figured out the rules real quick on his own, kinda freaky. They say you can tell if a dog is smart from weather or not they will look you in the eye, this dog will sit and stare at you for long minutes, and doesn't avert his gaze if you look back at him. He is 13 now, Dobie's usually don't live much past 10, so a very sad time is coming soon, this will be much more like loosing a family member than a pet.

I think my benchmark was my Galen. Oddly, though, I have a much more mutually affectionate relationshop now with Piper than I ever had with Galen. It was rare that he would have a nice snuggle. I had to bribe him to hug me with pussycat treats. Although he wasn't afectionate like that though he liked to be close to us and would accompany us to the pool or he would sit on the side of the bath and watch the water when I had a bath. He died about a year and a half ago, now. Piper came along after that. She is very loyal to me. She sometimes settles for snuggles from the Mr if I'm not around, but as soon as she hears me, she jumps away from him like a bullet. She snuggles under the covers, or sits on my chest or curled up around my head on my pillow. She's my girl, and I'm definitely hers.

As much as I love my current dog - a golden retriever/irish setter cross named Izzy, and as fiercley as I loved my family's amazing Border Collie named Buddy, my animal benchmark was a Hereford cross steer (thats a cow, folks,) named OJ. It was short for Orange Julius, since he was a deep orange color. He was my first 4-H project. I picked him out of the pen of steer to go to sale, and started feeding him high powered feed three times a day. He quickly became my favorite friend. I called, he came. I rode him up and down the road above our ranch so he could get all muscular. I spent several hours each day washing and grooming - his coat was sleek and shiny and gorgeous. He followed me around the barnyard even without his halter on. I loved him - and then had to take him to the fair and sell him. That lesson is always a hard one to learn - about letting go of an animal - but it was very good for me as a ranch kid. I had lots of steers, also horses and dogs and cats, but my favorite thus far is still that stupid orange steer.

Jeff. He was with me when we lived in a backpack, with me when we lived in the truck, the two of us squished into the cab of an itty bitty pickup keeping eachother warm at thirty below, with me in foster care, and in my first house, and when I moved to Texas... I can't imagine losing him.

I've had a lot of great pets- our two dogs, tomcats, hamsters, you name it. I couldn't pick one out a benchmark.

My cat, Squeakers is the cat of even people who don't like cats- everybody loves him. My roommate who always talked of hating cats has bought him a whole basket of toys, several beds, catnip, cat treats, you name it!

I took him to the vet last week, because his third eyelids have been out, and she was poking and squeezing on his body to check for problems, and he must've thought he was getting a massage, because he rolled over on his back, spread his fat, little belly out in the air and started purring! The vet was so suprised, she actually called other people in to see it, which of course, was just more attention for him.

I used to say I was a dog person, myself, and I still miss having one, but I"ve been suprised how loveable cats can be.

Forgot to add:

I've had a LOT of pets and I have loved them all very much. Sometimes I feel guilty that the aforementioned pets and I had such a strong bond...it's hard to explain.

I think you get it though Helen and it's a relief to be able to say it to someone who knows what I mean.

Ciao

I have had three.

My rat Lucy, my rat Monique and, this last one may come as no surprise, my adorable cat, Serenity. (The one you see in my header bar at the top of my site.)

Some people do not understand the impact an animal can make on a human being. These three have worked their way not just into my heart, but into my soul.

When Lucy and Monique died, I cried for days. Hardly anyone understood why I was so torn up over a rat. They just don't get it.

When it's Serenity's turn....well...it's going to shatter me. And anyone who doesn't understand that or thinks, "You can just get another one".... they are the ones who lost the most.

I somewhat envy you all, I do not have that benchmark. My father had dogs, my ex-wife had cats, my only attempt was to get my son a dog. But I never had a pet for myself. Now I am too old and set in my ways and do not feel the need nor desire to reach that status. So I felt a little void in my life for lack of such a benchmark, yet I am happy without it. Just a few thoughts from an old......

My Xena. The wounds are still not healed, it hasn't been long enough, but she was the most awesome dog in the world. *sigh*

Oddly enough, mine was also a cat--a Siamese/Persian mix, but without the white paws or "socks" of a Himalayan. Short hair and coloring of a Siamese, body style of a Persian.

And he was named Nicholas. We called him Nicky, though.

Go figure.

I don't really know how to sum him up except to say that when he died of feline infectious peritonitis at 6-1/2 years of age, my mother, who still had a cat of her own, said she wished it had been her cat who'd died, not Nicky. And it wasn't something she said out of sympathy for me. She meant it. My mother loves cats even more devotedly than I do, and she loved her particular cat at the time immeasurably, but Nicky was just that awesome a cat.

He was also the first cat to win over my don't-really-care-for-cats father. I always used to say he was part dog. He had more loyalty than the average cat, and was more "macho" than the average cat, but like in a good way.

We had to put the deadbolt on every time we shut the back door because Nicky had figured out how to use his paws to open it. He could turn the handle and let himself out. Even now he's still the most intelligent animal I've ever owned.

Benchmark. Good term for it.

I never had pets growing up. Mom wouldn't allow them. Now that I have my own house, my fiance and I just adopted a kitten and a dog. They have totally changed my life just in the short time we've had them. I will never be petless again!

Goobers. Plain and simple, it's my Goobs. He's a tabby cat, the first tabby to ever enter our family. (We've had a LOT of cats.) Some friends of my dad's had kittens and my brother and I got to pick one out each. I didn't pick Goobs, he picked me. He climbed up the leg of my jeans while I was holding another cat. Yeah, that's my boy.

Goobers is now 18 years old. He started going downhill recently and we took him to the vet. Goobs now gets vitamins daily (and he *loves* them--weird) and it's like he's got a whole new life. He's one big ass motherfucker too. At his largest, he was a good 26 pounds. Looked like a Macy's Day Parade Float. He's still a big ole bastard, but he's mine. He lives with my parents, who swear he's deaf, but as soon as he hears my voice, he comes running. Awww. My Goobs!!

Mine was a black 110 pound Irish Setter/Labrador mutt named Storm. I got him when I was single, and he went everywhere with me. Without writing a novel, I really can't explain how much he trusted and loved me and how much I trusted and loved him.

In the song "Mr. Bojangles", Mr. Bojangles tells how he and his dog traveled about together, and one day the dog up and died. Then it says of Mr. Bojangles, "after 20 years he still grieves."

I miss Storm.

Would have to be my 'way-back' cat -- a calico persian (not a tortoiseshell) -- she was named Patches as a kitten, but quickly acquired a new name - from "kitten, cum cat, cum quat" -- when my mother was being 'cutesy' and playing with Latin -- Kumquat is what she answered to ever since.

She used to worm her way under the covers until she was curled up in the curve of my arm or leg, and if I insisted on sleeping on my back, she would sleep on my chest -- if someone came in to put a hand on me to wake me, she would bt at them.
but the most adorable thing she ever did was 'give five' -- anyone who walked up to her could just put their hand out, palm up, and she would velvet paw it, just like she were giving them five ...

Everyone else said that she was psychotic, so I guess that she was a one-person cat too ...

I had a Pure White German Shepard named "King". He was found one day and given to me. He was already house trained and was a great pet.

I still remember the weekend he passed on. It was the weekend the movie "Top Gun" came out. I came home from school that Friday to find he had been rushed to the vet and was found to have terminal cancer and was put to sleep to allow him to suffer further.

I still think of him from time to time. I swore that I would never have another pet after that. A few years ago my sister got a Russian Blue named "Max". Slowly I warm up to him and now I think I may be ready for another pet.

Easy-my Grandfather had something similar. He had a farm, and his beloved collie Tammy was always present, and his constant companion. She loved only him, and I think his love to her was as absolute as well. One day she fell off the back of a flatbed trailer, in between the wheels and the platform, and was gravely injured. The vet tried to fix her up, but she was in bad shape.

That night, they took turns watching over her. When my grandfather slept, my grandmother sat up in bed to check the bandages.

Tammy, laying on the floor of the bedroom, then crawled up to my grandfather, licked his hand, laid down and died.

Man.

That, to me, is as pure as love gets.

Our household has always had animals, both cats & dogs. Currently we're down to one dog. I don't know how people without dogs raise children. In the brief times we've been without a dog the amount of crumbs & spills to clean up has astonished us.

We have mourned the passing of all of them, but one was particularly poignant. Here's the Readers Digest version:

Our Golden Retriever died last summer. Her name was Daisy, and she was only 2 years old. She had eaten something that got blocked in her intestines, and the vet performed surgery on her to remove the blockage.

When we brought her home she was very weak, but still game to try and play, something we discouraged, and that night she still struggled upstairs to sleep with us. After the first night, I blocked off the steps to keep her downstairs.

That night I woke up around 3am when I felt the dog get in bed with us. My first thought was " how in the hell did she get past all that stuff?" but when I looked down to the end of the bed, there was nothing there.

The next morning when I went downstairs, Daisy was lying dead at the front door. She had passed away in the night. I'm convinced that her spirit paid us one last visit before she departed.

I really miss that stupid dog.

My benchmark was a 165 pound Great Dane. He was the reason I stopped being scared of monsters. As my mother pointed out, did I really believe that there was a monster alive who could get past that dog? If I was in trouble and got yelled at and cried, I did it curled up with him. He comforted me and, I think, loved me. I certainly loved him. And when he decided it was time for me to get out of bed, we'd have a tug of war with the covers. I always lost. I could go on and on and on. I've had dogs since but he was the gold standard.

ugh. i hope i'm pmsing, because that entry just got me all choked up. or maybe it's just thinking about how my "one(s)" are the kitties i have right now and thinking about losing them is heartbreaking. sadie and emma, my two darlings, have been with me through boyfriends, girlfriends, and more apartments than i can count and still snuggle me up every night. they are completely different. sadie a tiger cat with an athletic build, has the loudest monster purr i've ever heard. she's super snuggly and gives the most fierce head-pushes i've ever felt. i adore her. Emma is my baby. she's got a big belly and thumbs on her paws, big enough that she can pick up pieces of popcorn and eat them (which is painfully cute.) she's also a tiger cat, but with more orange in her fur and a long tail that curls in a question mark when she walks. every night Emma comes in and sleeps by my head in the same spot. she's a mommy's girl and loves me best of all, but she also loves Sadie and i have more pictures of them in insanely cute poses than i can count. i could go on, because the bf's two cats are also wonderful, especially Tabbers, who thinks he's a dog, but no need to write a book in your comments. :-)

Wow. Melanie just made me have pussy envy. And since mine is perfect, I've never had that before. Huh.

Stinkerbell-I totally agree, there are different companions who have different meanings for us. Some of them just never leave the upper layer of the sub-conscious, I guess!

mine is Mosi. she's a one person cat if ever there was one.

mine was the first dog I ever had that was just mine (see I am not a cat person).
I was 7 I got to pick her out and she was teh best dog a girl could ask for. My mother named her (Ching Ching- dont ask) but that dog was my baby. She put up with all the stupid stuff I did and I loved her even though she ate the first cassette I ever bought myself (footloose- no less!). It KILLED me when we had to put her to sleep (Pancreatitis) and I never really recovered any till I got my first adult dog- Monsterboy, otherwise known as Liam. He is with his breeder while I move every three months, but he is my baby.

I guess there is no ONE for me but ones with different meanings.