Like I said: I don't know how my mother could stand it.
One one side of the shed in our back yard, there was a little house and fenced off "run" for the ducks and the geese. They even had their own in-ground swimming pool. My brother had dug a small hole, and sunk in a plastic kiddie pool.
Do you know anything about ducks and geese? Yes, then you know that they crap CONSTANTLY. That pool reeked, and was slime green within a day. Teenage brother didn't haul that thing up out of the ground and give it a scrub as often as he should have.
On the other side of the shed we had a rabbit hutch, with a little indoor "apartment" for them to sleep. The outdoor hutch was built on to the side of the shed, and suspended above the ground, with the idea being the rabbits would poop and it would fall through the grate of the outdoor part. They were dum-dums though, and they pooped in their indoor sleeping area. Shoveling that out sucked large.
Our dog Spookie, was a mixed breed, but supposedly he was predominately Terrier-Poodle. We had him when my brother and I were young. My sister, who is six years younger than I am, and 11 years younger than our brother, only knew that dog when she was a really little kid. She freaking loved that dog.
She wouldn't leave poor Spook alone. She was constantly hauling him up onto the couch and wrapping him in a blankie. I can still remember that long-suffering look he'd get on his face as he was trapped there on the chair beside her, wrapped in her abundant, clumsy, preschooler love. The look said; "Please. SAVE ME."
Then, certain events transpired, and time passed, and we had NO pets. My sister WANTED a dog. She loved dogs. She watched those Humane Society programs all the time about abused and abandoned dogs. She'd cry and cry, but she wouldn't stop watching them.
She read THIS BOOK all the time:
She wanted a dog. BAD.
Me? I was always more of a CAT PERSON. Dogs yapped too much, and they stuffed their snouts in your crotch or butt. Most of my friends had a dog that was obnoxious: you couldn't pet them because they were "grumpy," and might bite you.
My cat, named "Kitty" (yes, very original) came to us a stray when I was about 13. She was my girl!
(THAT'S RIGHT, DAMN IT--YOU'RE GONNA LOOK AT SOME PHOTIES OF MY CAT, AND YOU'RE GONNA LIKE IT)
|look at the priceless look of horror on my Mom's face.|
She was a little leery of cats ever since she was a kid and
psycho neighbourhood cat from hell leapt out of a bush
and latched onto her arm. With its teeth.
|RIP Kitty! SNIFF!|
My sister was an animal lover, so she loved Kitty too, but she loved dogs best of all. And when my sister wants something, she will have it. Oh yes, she will. But, my Mom didn't want any more pets. We'd had some bad things happen to our pets, and Mom didn't want to go through any more heartache. But Aim still frigging wanted that dog.
So, she wrote a letter to my Mom and Dad. She wrote THE MOST MELODRAMATIC, RIDICULOUS, OVER THE TOP PLEA FOR A DOG that you have ever read.
Here--see for yourself:
Dear Mom + Dad...
In this note or letter I am speaking my mind. If only you knew what I am going through. You probably don't even know the pain I am in for the fact I probably will never get a dog.
If only you could imagin [sic] how HAPPY I would be if I did get a dog!
You probably are getting sick of all this dog bussiness [sic] but you see its just one of those things.
Everyone remembers Spooky but I can't remember much. I want a dog to remember. O won't you please give me a chance! I know this letter may seem sad, but that's how I'm feeling.
Shouldn't every child have a true companion. It would make me soooo happy.
Please, just imagin me happily running along with a dog.
If they say dreams can come true.
Please just say you will SERIOUSLY think about it.
A dog is a child's best friend.
P.S. I could not have said these things in person because it would only make me more upset. Trust me. You won't regret it.
Well, she got her dog! Woody was a purebred Shetland Sheepdog from a real frou-frou dog breeder and everything. And yeah, he was yappy and never stopped barking when someone would visit. And yeah, he was obnoxious and would stuff his snout in your butt. He also liked to suck on sucks, and my dad wasn't too pleased one morning when he stuck his foot into his sopping work sock.
He'd snack on the occasional cat turd from the litter box, and the evidence would be on his breath. He'd wolf down the cat's food when we turned our backs. He'd dance around Kitty with delight, pestering her and trying to play with her as she sat replete with annoyance and hissing like mad. But he'd scratch at the door to tell us when she wanted to come inside, and even though she was mostly disapproving, that Cat actually liked him, and though she'd give him the odd swat, she never had her claws out when she did it.
He was Woody. He was "hooney." He was "dogga." He let us grab and smooch that snout. He slept on my sister's bed with her. He followed Dad out into the yard every day and hung out with him. He sniffed every twig, tree and fire hydrant to death when he went for a walk. He'd get burrs stuck in the fluffy fur of his back legs.
|new puppy comes home!|
|they're on MY bed, with his leg thrown over MY teddy bear.|
He was a good, good boy, and he lived to be nearly 16. I'm still not a dog person, but I definitely was a Woody person.