The Curse of the Pets Get your kids some pets, they said. It will be fun, they said. And while that statement may very well be true let me tell you what else having pets does for your family. A few years after we sold the farm and moved back to the city we got the kids a dog. Now keep in mind we already had a little house dog and why we decided to get an outside dog, too, is beyond me. His name was Zeke and he was going to be a big dog, a very big dog. Things were going great for ole Zeke until the night I eased my big suburban into the garage and ran over the big dog. Insert excessive screams from my kids riding in the car with me. “You killed my dog, Mom!” I was horrified. I had run over the dog and not to mention I have now traumatized the kids. How do I recover from this? Although my husband had a suggestion about what to do, it was sending the kids into some kind of meltdown that only a trained professional would be able fix. I could just see being called in for all the counseling sessions, “Could you tell me what did you had against the dog?” Now before anyone calls PETA on me, let me explain that we did not, repeat did not, opt for my husband’s twenty-five cent solution. The only thing left to do was call the Veterinarian. “Well, let me do a little research,” said the doctor because he had not seen this type of injury before. “How fast were you going anyway, ma’am?” Rolling eyes. Seriously, I was easing into the garage with the foot on the brakes the whole time. And you know what the researched revealed—a big dog surgery and one maxed-out credit card. Yes sir, it took many years but I paid that bill in full. I will be honest and say when it was time for the big dog to be discharged from the pet hospital I had a very hard time giving that cashier my credit card. While the kids were on the floor of the lobby just hugging their big dog for they were so happy to see him, I am ashamed to say, I was not feeling the love. Now, don’t get me wrong, I am certainly glad the experimental surgery on his jar bone was a success and all, but this bill was three pages long and my credit card was only going to hold so much. And when the veterinarian said, “Just keep him inside and very calm for the next few weeks until the metal rods are able to come out of his leg,” I shed a few tears. Let’s just say, if I hadn’t been a Baptist, I would have needed AA meetings when it was all over. Soon, it was time for ole Zeke to return to the outside world. We all watched as he jumped and ran and wallowed in the grass until he finally settled down. You want to know what that big old dog did next. He went into the neighbor’s garage and ate their rat poison he found located behind their freezer. I kid you not. Insert another trip to the veterinarian’s office for an emergency medical call and a very disappointing look from our veterinarian. One of the kids talked me into getting the family a hamster. “Please, Mom, it will be fun.” It turned out that the inside dog, the Chihuahua, did not care for the newest member of the family as was evident by the…well, let’s just say, RIP, little hamster, RIP. Insert excessive tears from the children as I cleaned up the crime scene. Now, before anyone calls PETA on us again, let me tell you what happened next. Two weeks later we renamed the little hamster, Lazarus, because Jesus had somehow raised him from the dead. I kid you not. The little hamster was back and playing on the floor of the sunroom. Sweet stars! Time to sell this haunted house. Although the kids were happy to see him they were now too scared to touch Lazarus because they thought he was a ghost. I did too, and frankly I was worried he may seek revenge because I was the one who tossed his deceased body into the garbage can weeks ago. “Chris, are you sure that dang thing can’t get out of his cage?” Of course, Chris did not help my feelings any by saying, “Well, if he can raise himself from the dead, I guess opening the cage door would probably be a breeze.” Last year the local animal shelter sent out a plea for everyone to help. They had animals running out their ears and since I was having a little ‘empty nest’ syndrome, I went and found Sam, the German Sheppard mix puppy. When I took our newest family member to the doctor for his’ little surgery’ I came back home with Heidi, too. Insert the look my husband always gives me when he knows I am making a big mistake. And you know what happened next? I found spiders on my front porch. Somehow, this revelation led to a trip down to the shelter for a cat, because I did not like spiders on my porch. Go ahead and say it—I have lost my mind, right? Lucky for me it just so happened that the shelter had an abundance of kittens and I loved on them all until I found the perfect one. In hindsight, I should have suspected something when the one I chose was up by the front desk and not in the room with the other fifty kittens. Somehow, out of all those darling kittens, I managed to bring home Satan’s spawn. Before we got that kitten big enough to go outside, he had destroyed my house, my new leather couch, and single-handedly caused my husband to use all of his allotted curse words. In fact, the day that kitten got a running start through the house and climbed all the way up my husband’s body, I thought Chris was being attacked by criminals. By the time I got into the living room, the cat was sitting in recliner and my husband was standing half-naked, dripping blood all over the floor. “Get that dang cat out of my recliner!” Well, those were not his exact words, but you get the picture. From then on we threaded lightly around the little evil one. The good news is I don’t have spiders on my front porch. And from the looks of all the remains on my welcome mat, that cat is wreaking havoc on the insect world. In addition to the many inserts, there have been six confirmed moles kills, countless small birds, and one bird that could have actually toted my cat off. Now I tell you all that, to tell you this. My mother received a gift from my daughter—a cat. She loved that cat. In fact, chances are my brother and I are probably no longer in her Will. Anyway, one Sunday morning as we are getting ready for church, I received a call, “A dog chased Walter up a tree last night and he is stuck up there. I can’t go to church until he is down.” Insert Chris hauling the big ladder over to Mother’s house. Soon my mother was given step-by-step instructions on how to get her precious baby down. Only problem there was with this picture is my husband ran out of ladder before actually reaching the cat. What happened next, I would not wish on anyone. Remember little Walter had been up in that tree all night. And just when Chris had stepped as far as he could go without the limb breaking and reached as high as his arms would reach, Walter got nervous and…well, let’s just say, it rained all over my husband and Walter no longer needed his litter box. Folks, if I ever turn up missing, chances are that a cat was somehow involved. While we are talking about things that animals do, let me finish with this. If you are awakened by your barking dogs at 2 am, it is best not to swing open the back porch door and cuss at them. Apparently, curse words are what is needed to make skunks do what they are known for. Yep, I eased my stinking self back into the house, quietly crawled back into bed and began to feel terrible for the choices I had just made. Apparently, the strong smell of skunk will awaken a snoring man out of a deep sleep as my husband yelled, “What the heck is that smell?” Well, those were not his exact words but you get the picture. Oddly enough, skunk smell sticks around for a few days…just saying. From that stinking moment on if the dogs bark at night, he is the one that goes outside. I’ll do everything once and well…once was all I needed when it comes to skunks.
Posted on: Fri, 02 Aug 2013 20:01:30 +0000
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