Lent Day 30 - Pets

I’m having trouble coming up with content. I didn’t post anything yesterday. Partly, it was because I had a busy day. Lots of running around, transporting children, church concert on the lawn, holding a baby. But I also couldn’t think of anything to write. I had the same problem on Wednesday (having trouble thinking of something to write, not holding a baby). That generated the super happy post about my old house. Heather had suggested that I write about our dogs. I told her that was a silly idea. But I haven’t been able to think of anything to write since then. So, today I’m going to do a DOUBLE POST about our pets. Well, about the pets that I have been a part of owning. I have to restrict this somewhat, or else it will end up being dumber than my usual offering. I’m not counting things that aren’t really pets - like my brother’s pet silver dollar turtle. It was a very sad story, anyway. But it’s a stupid turtle with no personality. I had very minimal interactions with it, so I really don’t know how I feel about it. I also am not going to include the disastrous round of goldfish our children owned and we (I) killed. I’m also leaving out the hamster I had in college. Trust me, the less I talk about that trauma, the better. So I’m going to restrict it to dogs and cats, basically. There have been a few times where we were a sort-of foster to someone else’s animal. I’ll probably include them because they ended up being important for future decisions. So here we go,  in chronological order. 

KIKI - Dark Brown Burmese that I thought was a black cat - I don’t remember a ton about Kiki. Most of what I know about her was from old pictures that my mom showed me. I know that she liked me. She was often found sleeping in my crib. People would try to get my mom to not let her do that - what with cats stealing baby’s breath and all that. Whatever. Kiki hung out with me. Then she went to the vet one day and didn’t come back. I’m not sure all of the details, other than it sounded like the vet decided to put her down without complete consent. My mom always seemed bitter about the whole experience, and we didn’t have a cat again for a while.

  

MICAH - Husty/German Shepherd mix dog - Ahhh, Micah. She was an interesting dog. I don’t remember getting her; she just was always there in my awareness. She was an outside dog, as most of our dogs were. As the story goes, the neighborhood kids would torment her through the gate. So she really got to hate anyone who wasn't our family. She was pretty cool. We played with her outside. She came inside when it was really cold, but she stunk really really really badly. She had to get a bath before she could come in. There are a lot of good stories with Micah - a lot of them are pretty disturbing. She was a stone cold killa. Literally. She took out so many vermin over the years. She almost couldn’t be bothered with things like rats and squirrels. She wanted bigger things. Like opossums. She hated those suckers. They would get into our garage and our back yard. We would hear a big kerfuffle going on at night. Then we would go outside and Micah would be going after something. She was tenacious. Soon enough, my dad or brother would be able to separate her and her prey - and then put the victim out of its misery. One time she took out a ferret that made the mistake of getting into our yard. And one time she ripped a blue jay out of the air. Read that again. She jumped up … and caught a blue jay … that was flying through the yard. Killed it instantly. Craziest thing I ever saw. Her love of hunting also included toads. We had giant cane toads that would get in our yard. You can look that up … I’ll wait. Yup. Disgusting. They were huge. They would go swimming in her water pail. We would hear a kerfuffle out back, then we would have to chase her away from the poisonous toad. She would be foaming at the mouth, and we’d have to rinse it out while someone put the toad out of its misery. She also hunted food. A few great stories. One, the three kids were all sitting in our plastic kiddie pool one day. That makes it sound like we were small kids; we were not. My brother was a teenager, I was the size of a teenager, and then my sister completed the trio. My brother was eating a hot dog without the bun. He had it in his hand as he was bloviating about something. He would gesture with it, pulling his hand back over his shoulder and then bringing it down like a gavel. One time, when it came back down, the hot dog was just a nub. Micah had snuck up behind him and quietly put her mouth over the hot dog and bit it off while he had his hand back. It was brilliant. Another time, we had only recently gotten our microwave. My mom wanted to see if she could melt marshmallows in it - either for fudge or Rice Krispie bars. No. No, you cannot do that. They poofed all up like The Blob. So she took them out and offered the marshsludgo to Micah. She tried to eat it, but it glued her mouth shut. So she ran around going “Morf morf” until we could clean it out. The other great story was that one time my mom made monkey bread - which is a bunch of balls of sweet dough baked in a bundt pan with sugar and cinnamon. She did this multiple times, but this time it was a disaster. No clue what she did wrong, but it was disgusting. Naturally, she offered it to Micah. The dog who would eat anything. Including animals and exploded marshmallows. She took a bite, and then she went and buried it in the back yard. Her version of “nope.” She was a good dog. She died when she was 13. Probably my third favorite dog.

SHADOW - Black German Shepherd Demon - My dad had this dream of having a black German Shepherd and having it sleep by the fire. This was his big plan. So one day, he scored a black German Shepherd puppy. Thus began the nightmare. This thing was a monster. We had him concurrently with Micah, except my dad allowed Shadow to stay in the house. This was a mistake. The dog ate everything. I mean ev-er-y-thing. Including the pipes in the bathroom. Not joking. He ate the pipes under the bathroom sink when he would get locked in there - because he was being a menace elsewhere. We had to duct tape up the pipes, and then he still chewed on them. Then my mom heard you could make a cayenne pepper paste to keep dogs from eating things. He just thought it made Cajun pipes. He ate the paste and the tape off. He was huge and impossible to control. And his … um … lipstick … always was out of the tube. It was hard to get a picture of him without it sticking out. Weird and creepy. We all hated him. My dad defended him … UNTIL. For Christmas, my mom always made a big roast beef. It was way bigger than we could possibly eat because my dad loved the leftovers. So we had eaten and moved the leftover roast and sides onto the kitchen. We left the vicinity. Big mistake. Next thing we know, my mom is losing her mind. Shadow had jumped up and pulled the roast down and eaten it. All of it. She was furious. My dad was furious. They pushed him into the bathroom so they could deal with the wreckage.  And he proceeded to paint the entire bathroom brown with the after effects of eating an entire roast. He was gone fairly soon after that. 

GRACE - Brown Tabby cat - My mom had missed having a cat. And the second dog experiment was clearly a fiasco. My half-sister located a sweet cat for my mom. Grace was very nice. She would sleep on us. She loved sleeping on my dad when he was in his chair - proof of the whole “cats know who hates cats and torment them” theory in action. We all loved her. She was sweet. Notice that I keep mentioning how sweet she was. WAS. She went to the vet and … we don’t know what happened. But apparently he smacked her upside the head at some point? She was never the same. She became crabby and ornery. Hated being held, rarely laid on people, bit everyone. We had her for a while, just a malcontent cat. We did switch vets after that, though. Not a lot of great stories with Grace. There was one memorable one, which could be funny or terrible - depending on your view. Once the grocery stores started using plastic bags instead of paper, people weren’t always sure what to do with the leftover bags. My mom would stuff a bunch of bags into one plastic bag and hang it on a doorknob in the kitchen. One morning, it had fallen off. Grace was sniffing around and somehow got her head through the handle. She started walked away, but the bag was laying on her back. It would bounce up and down as she walked. She tried walking faster, to get away from the rustling monster on her back. The bag rustled more. Then she started running. The wind opened the bag up and so it was flying around behind her like a cape while also banging on her back. The bags inside of the bag also were rustling around. When we finally got to her, she was very upset. We were mean kids, so we thought it was funny. My mom and Grace did NOT. She also would try to escape into the backyard, which would lead to her getting chased by Micah - who thought she was just another opossum. She wasn't the brightest animal.

JOY - Tiny Gray Tabby cat - We were at Steve Moore Chevrolet, getting my dad a new station wagon. Heck yeah! Remember station wagons? He had a green one with wood paneling on it, but he was upgrading to a brownish one. While we were there, we found a little gray kitten. Apparently the people next door had a cat who had kittens. This one was the runt. My sister fell in love with it and begged our parents to let her have it. It was very sweet, and it cuddled with my sister. And it had a white number “10” on its side. The parents agreed, and we brought the cat home. And she never acted like my sister’s cat again. Instead, she acted like she was my cat. She slept with me, sat on me, laid on the piano when I was practicing. My sister was very salty about this whole thing. I thought it was funny. And I loved the cat. She had some unique qualities. For one, she had the worst gas of anyone in the house. And that was saying something. She would be laying there, then everyone would be gagging. It was something awful. There was one day when my mom said something I didn’t like. I was arguing with her, but it was kind of playful. I grabbed Joy off the couch and squeezed her with her rear facing my mom. This was the only time this ever worked, but she actually farted right then. Right in my mom’s face. It was too perfect. Everyone laughed so hard, except my mom - who was spluttering at the toxic cloud in her face. The second thing is that … she was a little accident prone. She liked to sleep on the banister in the upstairs hallway. We think she fell off one time while asleep. She was laid up for a bit after that. She would let her tail drift into the kerosene heater in our living room. Then she would have burnt tail hair after that. She too liked to try to escape outside. And she would get under people’s feet. Which means she got stepped on a few times. Once on her head. By me. She was okay … mostly. She survived for a while. She hated when I went away to college. She missed me. But when I came home for a weekend, she would completely ignore me for at least a day. Then she would be all over me until I left. Then the cycle repeated. Overall, she was a great cat. 

  

RED - The Red Stupid Golden Retriever - We would go to the pound sometimes on the weekends. You know, how people do. This was how we came back with Red. He was a red golden retriever. And his name was Red. I think he named himself. He was … one of the dumbest animals … I have ever seen. We got him when Micah was six or seven. So we had four animals at this point. Red was the dumbest of them all. He was my mom’s dog, and she defended him. He was scared of everything. GREAT quality for an outside watchdog. Once he was barking like crazy by the side of our house. He was aiming at the front yard of our neighbor’s house. They were an older couple who spent the summers in Cape Cod. We watched their house while they were gone, and we tried to be attentive when they were in town. So we took notice of Red’s behavior, worrying someone was snooping around the house. Turns out, he was barking at … GARBAGE BAGS! Their garbage was out by the curb. The cans were full, and there was a bag on top of one can. The wind was blowing the bag, and he was barking like crazy at this bag. We razzed my mom so badly about that. Because he would bark at other bags; it wasn’t a one time thing. He was a big dog, and he would lean up against us to get us to pet him. That wasn’t great when I was on crutches after a knee surgery, and he knocked me over by leaning on me.  He redeemed himself one night, though. Our neighbors had sold their house and moved to Massachusetts permanently. The weirdos who bought it from them … so so so odd. Well, the garage “caught on fire” one night. The only way we knew was because Red was barking so much it made us look out back. We had all been asleep. We saw the fire, called 911. My brother went out and started spraying their garage with the hose, and also our garage so the flames wouldn’t leap over. My mom was convinced Red was a hero. We all swore he just thought it was a big plastic bag. When he got older, my mom got him a lavender sweatshirt to wear when it was chilly. Man, did he look like an idiot. 

SHEBA the Rottweiler and WOLF the Husky - On two other occasions after Micah passed, my mom brought home dogs from the pound. Neither of them stayed long. Turns out, most of the time when dogs are sent to the pound by someone, it is because they are not well-behaved dogs. Sheba dug … all the time.  Dug up my mom’s garden, dug under the fence, dug up most of the backyard. My mom returned her when we were gone at youth camp. That went over as well as you might expect. Wolf was just a dick. He had it out for Red. He kept attacking him, trying to become Alpha. Red had no interest in being Alpha. He was happy to be dumb and lay there. Wolf wouldn’t stop. Finally one time, he was messing with Red and the big goof whipped his face around so quickly we couldn’t believe it. He bit Wolf right on the lip - his tooth went straight through. Wolf let Red be Alpha. But he still was very wild and destructive. We were told to take a soda can, put some pennies inside, and tape it up. Then shake it when he was doing something wrong to get him to stop. Didn't work. It worked a lot better when you chucked the can of pennies AT him. He never got the hint, and he got sent back too. 

TAFFY the Mini Poodle - When I married Heather, she came with a miniature poodle. Taffy still lived with Heather’s parents. But we also lived with Heather’s parents for about 18 months shortly after we were married. So I got to know Taffy. By that point, she was older and not as cool as Heather swears she had been. Mostly, she was a somewhat crotchety older dog. She loved Heather because she was her baby. UNTIL … Heather had an actual baby. Then Taffy became second banana, which she didn’t like. This fact was rudely explained to her when our oldest, who reached physical milestones at a FREAKISHLY rapid rate, was crawling around the living room. Taffy was sleeping on the recliner. Our son reached the recliner, pulled himself up, and … terrified Taffy by popping his head up over the seat. He wasn’t there, then he was, smiling at the doggie. She barked aggressively at him. And received the wrath of Heather in a manner the dog had never experienced before. If you really want to see Heather angry, mess with her kids. She has always been a vicious Mama Bear. Taffy looked over mournfully at me; I nodded in sympathetic understanding. She started having seizures before too long. (Unrelated to the demotion.) It was very sad to see her go. I hate how these stories always end that way. Pets are too good for their humans. 

PEACHES the Big Fat Orange Cat - We inherited Peaches from Heather’s younger brother. He couldn’t have her in his apartment, so we took her. I loved cats, and we didn't have any pets. So we thought it would be a good experiment. Peaches also had discovered her place on the totem pole once our baby had come home. She found out the literal day we came home from the hospital. We had brought him in the house in his carrier and set him down on the recliner. Peaches hopped up on the couch and started to head over to sniff the new arrival. Then she was on the floor after Mama Bear knocked her away from the baby. She understood really quickly. So we figured her living with us in our tiny apartment would be fine. Damn, she was annoying. At night, we would close our door with Peaches out in the hallway. She had access to her food, water, and littler box there. We would wake up to meowing and BAM BAM BAM BAM on the door. I would jump up to let her in before she woke up the baby. She would lay in our room or on our bed for a while. Then we would wake up to meowing and BAM BAM BAM BAM on the door. I would have to get up to let her out. Between a child who still woke up at night and the dumb cat, we were having some sleeping issues. One night I remember throwing a shoe at her. She got locked in the office a lot after that. That was kind of her room. She shed like nobody’s business.  Oh my gosh. I’m not allergic to cats; I grew up with cats. But when I went in the office, I would itch all over. The bed in there was just covered with a layer of orange cat fur like another blanket. This was a short-lived experiment. She ended up back with Heather’s brother. This was when we realized that Heather is allergic to cats. And later we found out two of our kids are allergic to cats. So we have never had another cat. Much to our youngest son’s chagrin. He desperately wants a cat. He’ll have to wait until he has his own place, I guess. 

 

KATIE the Black Chiweenie - And lo, there were many a moon where there doth be nary a pet in the Staples’ house. Despite the two parents being animal lovers, we had no pets. I believed I was a cat person, largely because I didn’t like larger dogs - which is what we always had at home. They were like another person taking up space. Heather and two kids were allergic to cats. AND, the true determining factor, our youngest was absolutely TERRIFIED of dogs. Like crying, running away, hiding over the sweetest dog. My in-laws had two dogs. Our son still didn't like dogs. So one Saturday we were at the Oviedo Mall to get lunch. I went to the ATM to get some cash, and it was empty. So I had to truck it down to Dillards to use their ATM. Heather and the kids spotted a Rescue Pets by Judy in one of the store slots, so she was going to take the kids there to wait. I laughed because I knew that it would just lead to the older two begging for a dog and the youngest crying. Sure enough, when I strolled up after going to Dillards, the little guy was crying. “He’s scared of the dogs?” I asked. “No,” Heather answered. “He’s sad we had to leave this one dog in there.” I made sure I heard that correctly. He had loved this one dog, and was indeed crying because they had left. I said I needed to see this dog. We walked back in and there she was. A tiny five month or so black half chihuahua, half dachshund. She was unbelievably cute. So we made it happen, and Katie Belle (named after the Gryffindor seeker) joined our family. At first, she glommed onto me - probably because I was the biggest person and made her feel the safest. She technically belonged to our oldest son because he paid for 2/3 of her with money he had been saving for a Lego Death Star. She was naughty, at first. She chewed up all of the Hotel for Dogs stuffed dogs the kids had gotten from McDonalds. That soon followed by eating all of the Hallmark Snoopys we had. And the little UF Gators Heather had gotten at her interview there. She also chewed up our oldest’s Sonic action figures and our youngest’s Mr Potato Head pieces. The worst thing she ate was Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. We forgave her. She is playful. She has a Wow Wow Wubzy ball that she stole from the kids years ago. It is too big for her, but she manages to get it in her mouth. She’ll drag it up to someone and want them to throw it for her. Or throw it at her, so she can bounce it off her nose like a seal. She is VERY smart. Sometimes TOO smart for her own good. She loves chocolate. We know! She isn’t supposed to have it.

But she has been to the doggie ER FIVE TIMES for eating chocolate. We keep it away from her, but she manages to find it. She ate an entire chocolate cocoa bomb. She ate a king size Reese’s Fast Break bar. She ate a chocolate bunny. She ate fancy chocolates Heather brought back from Las Vegas. Every time, the doctor shakes their head and laughs at the medical records. She saw the same guy twice! She has an iron gut. Once some friends were watching her for us, and she ate a bowl of corn they had left on the table. Their kids thought it was great when it all came out in the back yard later. Another friend watched her and she ATE HIS STEAK! He had it on the table and went outside. When he came back in, it was gone. She had gotten up there and eaten it. I asked what kind it was, and he said he didn’t know. He didn’t have a chance to really look at it. She also has an iron will. While only about 12 pounds, she thinks she is in charge of everything. When she goes to a new house, she immediately believes she is the Alpha. She also is ridiculously sweet - nobody is a stranger. But her small size makes her hate festivals and such. Two different times we tried to take her to community street fairs. The first time she got scares by the geese; the second she got scared of being trampled. She has been a comfort to all three kids at different times. Our daughter needed her to be able to sleep for the longest time. Now she always wants in our daughter’s room at night, marching up to her spot amongst the stuffed animals on her own blanket. We have to bring that blanket into our room on the nights our daughter sleeps elsewhere. She is an amazing dog. She’s 11 now. Her muzzle is mostly white. She can’t jump as high, so we have ramps in different rooms. But she still plays with her ball, cuddles with her people, and tries to get into trouble. 

JASKEY the Australian Shepherd - Another time that we had a dog live with us for a while. One of Heather’s cousins moved and couldn’t take Jaskey with them, so we had him for about six months. He was a very sweet, very smart dog. But he was big. The move to our house was a huge change for him. He had been an outside dog for the most part. Now he lived inside. We quickly corrupted him; he was laying on our laps on the couch within a week. He had a Staples Easy Button by the back door he would step on when he needed to go potty. (Katie tried to do that, but she was too small to make it go off.) He would come and stand by me, and stare right at me. He had been trained to not bark much. So instead he would make this noise that I said was his version of “’Sup ‘Sup.” He was a really cool dog. But he was just too big and he shed too much. He ended up having to be in his crate more than we wanted. We joked that he thought his name was“Jaskey Crate.” Our house was small, the kids were getting bigger. We just didn’t have room for a big dog. So we had to send him to another family. BUT, it made us realize we did want another dog. And Katie had loved him. She got depressed when he left. Which led to…

 

MINNIE the Blonde Cockapoo - Minerva Muffin - named after Minerva McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House. And the complete opposite of Minnie. Our Minnie is clearly a Hufflepuff. (Katie is a Slytherin) We had been thinking about getting a dog since Jaskey left. One of Heather’s friends had gotten a goldendoodle from a place in Columbia. I went on their website to look around. We knew the goldendoodle would be too big. But they had cockapoos also. I always loved cocker spaniels; Heather loved poodles. There was a litter that had just been born. We thought about it, but we passed. About six weeks later, I went back on just to see if any dogs were left. There was one ball of fluff still available. We went to see it, and the second she came tearing into the living room we were stuck. Minnie joined the crew. She has grown up since then, but she is still only 15 or 16 pounds. She looks bigger because f her fur. She is a beautiful dog - pretty enough for commercials. But she is sooooo dumb. It is endearing, but it is very true. She will often be sitting on the ground with nothing going on behind her eyes. There is just carnival music playing in her head. But she is sweet … to people she knows. She is terrified of new people. So she barks … a lot! She barks at noises outside. Cars driving by. Wind blowing. People dragging their garbage to the curb. Anybody new who comes to the house has to deal with her barking. And once she is used to someone, if they leave the room, she barks when they re-enter. We think she doesn’t have object permanence. She doesn’t seem to understand time either. I’ll leave to take a kid to school and come back. She will run up to me like I have been gone to war. She’ll jump up to get pets, run and jump on the couch so I can pet her some more. The thing is, she absolutely loves her people. She wants to be ON us all the time. She sleeps with me and Heather. If we ever do have to have someone watch her, once she is comfortable, she sleeps with them. She lays on or next to one of us on the couch. One time Heather was gone on a trip and Minnie just wasn’t acting right. We ended up taking her to the doggie ER. (Seriously, they built a second wing with our bills.) Turns out … she was depressed because Heather was gone! That was the diagnosis. She is very anxious, which makes her hard to embrace right away. But she is so stinking sweet once she gets to know someone. And, she has such an empathetic streak. After my mom died, I went into some serious depression. I was suffering so much. I wanted to sleep so I didn’t have to feel so bad, but I couldn’t sleep. For weeks, the way I fell asleep was petting Minnie and holding her paw.

She isn’t a big fan of having her paws messed with, but she never pulled away that whole time. I really believe she is one of the reasons I made it through that tough stretch. When one of us is sick, she hangs around that person until they are okay. She isn’t the brightest; we joke that she doesn’t know how to dog. She rarely plays with toys; she doesn’t chew on bones; she doesn’t always understand how to eat treats. She does love running around. Our bedroom is one of her favorite places to get the zoomies because it has carpet. She will chase Katie and try to get her to wrestle. When they do wrestle, it is like two tiny dinosaurs going at it. She adores Katie, and the feeling is mutual. Minnie is 9 now, but she still seems like a puppy. Maybe it is because she is only as smart as a puppy. It may be silly that she gets so excited to see us when we come home, but - let’s face it - is there a better feeling than to have somebody so happy to see us? Sometimes she can be a little smothering, but it is truly only because of how much she loves us and needs us. Yes, it took her years to get potty trained. She did ruin some wood in our kitchen due to her constant peeing on the floor. We have had to throw out three different rugs due to her urination - including on last week that we realized she was sneaking in and peeing on. (Seriously, dog. You’re NINE. Get the hint.) And, maybe, I mentioned that I wanted to get rid of her when she was about one because I was SO TIRED OF GETTING UP DURING THE NIGHT TO LET HER OUT AND THEN STILL CLEANING UP PEE IN THE MORNING. But there was no way I could have gotten rid of her. She was already our baby. And the rest of the family would have killed me. She’s our little floofers. 

Pets are amazing. I think that they are one of the ways that God shows us how much He loves us. They are just so good and kind and sweet. Even when they make me get up to let them outside when I JUST let them outside. Or when they wait until I have sat down and started doing something to scratch at their bowls. Or when they crawl all over me begging for bites of whatever I’m eating - especially pizza or French fries. Or when they BARK BARK BARK and will not shut up. Then they will walk over and curl up in my lap, or climb up onto my chest and ask for scratches, or act so excited to see me because I came out of the bathroom. You can’t beat that. Good dogs. 

BONUS PET PICS!!!

Minnie has apparently always liked to lay like this.

Me and my sister with Kiki

Micah the fierce and mighty hunter.

Grace and Joy. I'm not strangling her.

Red the colossal idiot.

Taffy in her younger years

Katie snuggling me. Heather and our oldest with Penny - she was my parents' dog after I moved away to college. So she didn't get counted in the story. You can see our son was already enamored with dogs.