Pet Peeves

Growing up, my brother and I were always wanting pets. Living in an apartment for the first few years of childhood -- 8 for me, and and three for him -- we were forced to be happy with carnival goldfish, eventually convincing the parents to buy an actual bowl and store-bought goldfish. None of which ever lived past 30 days or so.

Then one day, we graduated to a parakeet. We had Duchess for quite a few years until one day, she literally fell off her perch, dead, during dinner.

Of course, we used getting Duchess as a springboard for a dog. Mom had no more excuses -- we were old enough to help take care of it and we had moved into a house. And a bird just didn't cut it -- you couldn't play catch with, or walk, a parakeet. So my brother and I whined and begged and graduated to actual hard-core negotiations. "I'll walk the new dog." "He'll make sure to feed it and keep the water bowl filled."

Eventually we won out and wore mom down. Her sister's sister-in-law's dog had just had puppies and we were more than welcome to them.

Cuddles entered the house like a little lamb, but left a little over a year later like the Tasmanian Devil.

Her path of destruction included chewing the entire cord off of my father's brand new power saw; countless shoes and socks that were unwearable or never to be found; digging up a hornet's nest under the porch; chewing through at least half a dozen spokes on the back porch banister; greeting us every morning with a little "present" at the foot of the front stairs, no matter how late we had walked her; tearing up a corner of the carpeting on the back porch, and lots more that I've since forgotten.

All I know, is she was unbelievably cute, and friendly and we all loved her, but....my parents could no longer handle the destruction. No matter how closely we watched her, the minute she had any length of time without us being right there to watch her every move, she destroyed something else.

I remember holding her and crying the night before we gave her away, but I also knew my parents could not be talked out of it.

A year or so later, we got another dog, Brandy, who we then had for over 10 years. He was obviously calmer and way less destructive than Cuddles had been. When Brandy was about 3 or 4, Rebel entered our lives. My brother and his friends, walking home from softball practice had stopped at the edge of someone's backyard to play with these kittens they had seen. The owner came out and offered them one, if they wanted. No one did.

"Gee, that's too bad," she said. "I can't keep them all. I guess I"ll have to drown them in the river." Or, at least that's the story my brother and his friends told.

Every kid took a kitten home that day, relieving the woman of the entire litter. Every kid also got in trouble for bringing said kittens home, but no one returned any of them. Rebel, who had been the runt of the litter, irritated our dog, introduced fleas into the house that summer, which were only eliminated after a professional flea bath and several "flea bombs" being used in the house, and a prescription salve for my mom who got so many flea bites on her shins her legs looked like a war zone; ate like a pig, and was one of the most affectionate cats I'd ever encountered. She died just a few short years ago, at the ripe old age of 21.

I had long been gone from my parents home by then, living in an apartment with a no pets lease. After she died, I felt the longing for a pet of my own, now that I could no longer get my pet fix at Mom and Dad's.

Last year, I bought my own house and adopted a cat. Cleo has been with me over a year, and it is truly a love-hate relationship. The first few months I had her, she cost me hundreds of dollars in vet bills as we tried to determine why she was losing weight. X-rays, blood tests, thyroid tests, you name it, she had it done. The vet eventually found a slight heart murmur, and decided her finicky eating habits were more to blame for her skinniness, than anything else. BTW -- she also has excellent cholesterol and lipid levels, high energy, great lungs, and all her other organs are in tip-top shape.

With that scare behind me, I spent two months trying out different cat foods and people foods on her until I finally found the few flavors of the one brand of food, she'll eat and supplement that with the one treat she likes, and a daily slice of turkey breast. Problem semi-solved. She's gained a pound or two, and cleans her plates so I"m happy. Although, every few weeks, she mysteriously just stops eating one of the above mentioned foods for maybe a week or so, gets a bit skinny, then voila, one day I come home from work, and she eats whatever selection I then give her and she's back to normal. I just don't get it. I think she might be an anorexic supermodel.

I've now moved onto furniture repair -- she's a scratcher, but only when I"m not there. Oh, and she's a jumper, which means I sometimes come home to knocked over items on a good day, broken ones on a bad day.

Thing is, I couldn't imagine life without her and I think that's why pet people put up with so much. We whine and complain about our animals' negative behavior, but in the end, wouldn't give them up. They add something to our lives that at times, is intangible, but definitely worth more than we put out for them in return.

Each nite, as Cleo jumps onto the bed and snuggles in behind my knees to sleep, or curls up on my lap as I type away on PC, I don't even care about the vet bills, the scratched furniture or any of the other things I often find myself complaining about.

She's as much a part of my life as my family and friends.