I can’t imagine living the rest of my life without having a dog, or other animal for that matter. I don’t mean I’m one of those freaks who want to take possession of any and all exotic animals just because I can. Wildlife should stay right where it is, in the wild. Even parrots, they should be flying wild with their flocks, not stuck in cages. I’m talking about a cat or something else small, furry, and domesticated. People who know me, and my pets intimately would say I was nuts for that thought. You may say, Why? Is she a hoarder, does she have 10 dogs and 43 cats roaming her house? No, because THAT would be nuts. But what I do have is a bi-polar cat and a separation anxiety suffering dog and both at some time, make me want to rip my hair out.
Peter our cat, (a rescue) came to us via my husband, then almost fiance, about 6 years ago. He was a 5 week old adorable ball of tiger striped fur. He went though all of the typical kitten stages. He was lovable and also a complete hyperactive beast at the same time. He’s a bit more sedentary nowadays, but his wild streak has not wavered, nor has his “it’s all about me” attitude. He cuddles and sleeps in bed politely all night long. If I with some stroke of luck am still sleeping at 5:30am, he is there to wake me up for breakfast. If I don’t get up, he takes to knocking items off of tables or countertops relentlessly. If I push him off the bed, I have to prepare for an attack if it has ticked him off. He also takes advantage of our dog, teasing him until he can take it no more.
Which brings me to our Beau, the reason why most people would think that I would want a break from caring for canines. Beau, a lab/shepard/? mix came from the North Shore Animal League, again via my husband (then boyfriend) He has been with us for 14.5 long years. If anyone knows or has heard about what dogs suffering from separation anxiety are capable of when they are having their panic attacks, and how hard it can me to make sure they stay safe, and that they are not suffering. We have had to replaced several crates that he broke out of, carpeting after it was pulled off the floor, tacking and all, doorknobs, shredded bedding, a hole in linoleum. He’s eaten a number of things we preferred he didn’t. Never mind a dog getting into the garbage. He’d practically climb the counters for a cooling birthday cake on numerous occasions, bags of rabbit food, door molding, window blinds. You name it. Don’t get me started of the thunderstorm phobia he had. That at least just meant he had to get in bed with us so we could spoon him, and hope to get some sleep if the storm was a night. I say had because he is now deaf, which I couldn’t be more thankful for for him when its comes to storms or fireworks.
Sadly I know, especially for Beau, his time will come to an end sooner rather than later. And because it has become such a part of the routine, I don’t think I will know what to do with myself when he is gone. Yea it’ll be a bit quieter, less dog hair, dog drool, time spent cleaning up after him. But I think about how much time I will be able to go without another. So, at some point, it’ll be off to search rescues for the next perfect fit for our family. I don’t think I’ll let me husband do the picking this time, and I certainly can’t let Peter get on his high horse thinking he rules the roost then either.
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