Friday, October 23, 2009

Pet owners we will be

My mother wasn't one for having animals in her house. My brother and I would beg and beg for some type of pet but she would shudder to think of a stinky house with animal hair. Our one pet consisted of a turtle my brother pulled out Kentucky Lake while fishing and boy, should I blog about that animal!

Maybe it was my mother's reaction to animals, but for some reason, I was scared of dogs. We once took in a stray cat we found in the woods behind our house in North Carolina (she lived in the garage), but I avoided dogs at all costs. Which wasn't easy seeing as how in those days no one kept their animals leashed unless they were guard dogs or vicious. Dogs roamed the neighborhood at will and neighbors knew their names and who owned them. These dogs were quite gentle and great with kids and I usually just looked at them and said, "pet, pet" before moving on.

One night I babysat for a family related to my next-door neighbors. They had spent the day at one of their kids' sporting events where they opted to take in a stray mutt who was headed for the humane society if no one stepped in. Because they were unsure of how the animal would behave in their home, they kept her cordoned off in the kitchen where she growled every time I would enter. As if she sensed my fear. I was never so glad as to see those parents return.

Then, as luck would have it, that family purchased the house next door to me from their relatives. They, and the dog, moved in. By then, I was more used to her having babysat several times prior. Her name was Cary Jane and she quickly ensconced herself into the neighborhood.

She knew all of the kids and the adults and she knew things about each of them. My dad was who she went to when she was hurting or sick. My mother grilling steaks outside meant bones later in the evening. She knew which boys were the runners she could chase, and she knew that my friend Michelle and I were good for hugs, scratches, and love.

She was such a part of our life that I forgot that I was afraid of dogs.

Then, one day a stray dog appeared in the hood. He arrived in the morning and he would disappear at night. It was odd and no one knew who he belonged to. We tried following him, but he was very sneaky and he always outmaneuvered us and we lost him. Yet, he kept returning day after day until he stopped leaving at night and lived in our garage.

We named him Oscar, and we paired him with Cary Jane. In our minds, he stayed because he had fallen in love with her. My father administered his doggy shots, tagged him, and registered him in our name, although my mother pretended he didn't exist and called him the neighborhood dog.

When Cary Jane became pregnant, we held a little marriage ceremony for her and Oscar so the puppies would have a last name. Cary Jane gave birth to three puppies on the floor of her owner's garage and I watched her deliver them with my dad.

It was a sad time when we realized the puppies would not be staying with their parents. Each one went to a good home, but Cary Jane never got over losing them. She aged before our eyes, slept quite a bit, and she could've cared less about engaging with Oscar. The honeymoon stage ended before it had really begun.



A few years later, Oscar didn't come when I called him. I can still remember the odd feeling I had that something wasn't right. I'll never forget how my mother told us he had been hit by the paperman. She waited until after my basketball game when we were driving home. My brother and I were both in the front seat with her and we were gong on and on about how touch we were. Some competitive game, I'm sure, but my mother latched on to those words.

Her: "Are you tough?"

Us: "Yes. We are the toughest kids ever."

Her: "How tough are you?"

Us: "Tough enough to handle anything!"

Her: "Are you sure?"

Us: "We're sure!"

Then she proceeded to tell us that Oscar had been found by my dad in the street. He'd been hit by the man who delivered the evening paper. He didn't make it.

I held in the tears until we got home. My dad met us at the front door and both of us dissolved in his arms in tears. We buried him at our farm. And made sure to love on Cary Jane every day.

She lived a long, long life. She eventually moved with her family, but by that time all the neighborhood children had grown and left. I think of her sometimes. She was the greatest dog ever and I suppose she, coupled with the loss of Oscar, is one of the real reasons why I've never wanted another dog. When you've had perfection, why settle for anything less?

My girls have been begging for a dog for over a year now. Like my mother, I have said no. I wasn't interested in having a smelly, hairy beast in my home. I didn't think it would be fair to a dog to live in Florida in the heat. Gone are the days of free, roaming, neighboorhood dogs. Now it is a law to have dogs leashed and owners must be on poop patrol 24/7 or risk the wrath of angry neighbors. It just wasn't for me. Suddenly my fear of dogs had returned.

To counter my fears and objections, my husband sneakily volunteered us for dog-sitting his co-workers Sheltie, Piper. We took care of her for a week. She was a great dog. She hardly barked, hardly shed, and she was sweet and kind to everyone.

By the end of the week, I was in love and willing to adopt a dog. Her. Unfortunately her owners would not part with her. She went back home but my husband and Darcy did not let up on the can we get a dog mantra.

One day he took the girls and visited the very breeder who had bred Piper. They played with her newest litter and learned about Shelties. Then he took me.  Where I admitted the newest litter was cute. Slowly, day by day my objections weren't as loud or as strong as they had once been. When the breeder had another litter, off went Darcy and Tom. Where they picked out a newborn male Sheltie.

This puppy arrives at my house tomorrow. I'm worried and nervous, but secretly, I'm sort of excited. I want my girls to have their turn. I want them to have the experiences I had with our neighborhood dogs. I only hope that he will be as great as the three dogs I've dealt with so far. I'm channeling Cary Jane and Oscar.

3 comments:

  1. You will be fine...you have the support of your hubby!

    Hey, your new posts aren't showing up on my blog...its still on whats in there wednesday????

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  2. Good luck and enjoy. I have been fortunate with my new girl. She is a great dog.

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  3. I love the pictures of Oscar and Cary Jane. What great memories. I know if Elliot is the right dog for your family you will love having him around. They can be lots of work but it's worth it for all the love they give. I never thought I would have another dog after our first one, Dauber. But here we are now with Gordy and he is totally one of the family! Good Luck!

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