What follows is a light and fun post, which is not how I am feeling. I have a very heavy heart after reading the truly terrible news that Susan from The Great Balancing Act just shared (“A long, hard road.”) She’s reading all of the comments that people are leaving her, and if you have a moment, I encourage you to stop by and let her know that she’s in your thoughts. She’s much too young to get such a difficult diagnosis, but if anyone can rally and recover, it’s a member of the #Fitblog community. Thanks in advance that take the time to stop by Susan’s blog.
Lucas and I don’t have the smartest pets in the world, but we do have the more personable pets.
All four of our animals are special in their own way.
We gave Travers the nickname “malfeasant,” because he somehow makes evil lovable.
We should have known we were in for trouble when we spent $1,000 of our very hard-earned dollars (we’d just graduated) to save his sorry butt. At the time, I was into quilting, and had a bad habit of collecting the tiny thread ends that I’d snipped, and rolling them into a ball. One night, I forgot to throw that ball out and we later woke up to a cat who had eaten it, gotten all of those little threads wrapped around his internal organs and was within hours of dying.
Surgery — a very spendy surgery — saved him.
What does he give us in return? He picks fights, chews up paper towel rolls, sneaks out of the house and causes all sorts of mayhem.
But I love him.
Laila is Travers’ sister (named after Laila Ali because she has an extra toe on each front paw, making them look like boxing gloves) and she is a headcase of her own.
Timid, afraid of every little sound, a major shedder and basically alive to eat and hide, Laila does have one major redeeming quality. When you get her alone, she has the sweetest buzz and will even roll all over when you scratch her.
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So I love her.
But my dogs are my real pals…they listen when I talk to them, and I swear they understand. This morning, as I was getting ready, Junior dogged my heels (as he always does) and every time I’d stop moving, I’d say, “Junior — you are the best sitter I know. And you look very handsome with your little nose spots.”
It reminded me of those high school superlatives that they hand out…the ones where everyone has to get something? Junior is not the most handsome or most likely to succeed but he is the very best dog friend I could ask for. He comes running when I seem upset, and sleeps at my feet while I work. He parks himself on the kitchen rug when I’m cooking and he sits and stays despite a total lack of obedience training.
So I really love him.
And then there’s Faegan. We got the cats first but I really consider this guy the first “child” that Lucas and I got together. As a puppy, he drove me up a wall — almost literally. He used to nip at my feet, bite the hems of my pants, bark until I couldn’t take it anymore and found escape by sitting on our kitchen counter.
He loves me, but he loves Lucas more…which in turn makes me love both of them to pieces. Faegan and I talk about deep things — I tell him how soft he is, and how much I appreciate the way he lets me clear his eye boogies out, and he looks past me to his papa. That’s OK with me. When Lucas isn’t in the house, Faegan makes sure to bark at every squirrel and animal that runs by our house, to warn and protect me. He loves swimming and will wait until he’s given permission to get in the water. And when he does, he stands on the steps until I cheer him on: “goFaeganyouaresocuteandsuchagoodswimmer … that’s my little alligator!”
So yes, I really love him, too.
I know that these guys keep me sane, even as much as they exasperate me. Having that conversation with Junior this morning really helped set me up for a calm, happy day.