I am a Pet Servant

Hi!

It’s my turn to BLOG – and since I’m now a full-time writer, my world revolves around putting words on screen/paper, changing those words, reading those words, putting more words out there, dreaming about words, wondering about those words…in other words: my life is all about words.

I have the perfect life – I know.

But, this perfect life includes something I didn't count on. I have three pets. I don't own them. They are in charge. Fully. And they know it. They're all male. Perhaps that’s why they all seem to believe my purpose in this house is to feed, shelter, serve, protect, and let’s face it, entertain them.


I’ll start with the cat. He thinks he’s in charge. And I’ll just state the obvious - he is. He’s very pretty. Very obstinate. Very stubborn. Very curious. He’s called a tuxedo cat – for his black and white markings. Oh! And lest I forget – he’s incredibly smart. He just cost us a pretty penny to save him because he didn’t want to go to the vet anyway. Apparently, he’s not only overweight, but he has asthma. One crisis later, and I’m now tasked to get a little steroid pill into him twice a day. Trust me – just giving them via his mouth doesn’t work anymore (it did, at first). Last time I tried that approach, I got it in eight times, and he spit it out all eight times. This is definitely taking time from my writing. I then tried the stubborn method. I powdered the pill, mixed it in with his food – I figured he’s fat, he will eat it sooner or later – right? What happened? He tipped the meal out, and put his bowl atop the mess, face-down. Jerk. I have now resorting to trickery. I am his drug pusher. He loves catnip. I crush that little pill, mix it with catnip, and voila! I got one very mellow and dosed cat. Exactly twice. Today he turned his nose up at his catnip and went back into his cat carrier box. He just got that carrier box for the vet trip. He hated it…until I left it in his room with the door open. Now, he lives in there and watches me with golden green eyes while he awaits my next move.


Then there are the dogs. I have a big Labrador named Coal. He started off black, but we call him gray-beard now because he’s…well, graying quite nicely. He’s a good time kind of guy, who gets a half mile walk every day. In the morning. At six am. In all kinds of weather. Even with a mama moose and her calf officially blocking the road and snorting at him – he still gets his walk. He’s oblivious to them. I had to walk him back to the truck because I then have to drive past moose in order to re-start our walk – Coal was annoyed and barking at me for curtailing his excursion. Not the big tree things in the road. Oh, no. It’s my fault. It’s obvious. The dog is in charge, too. He does not take no for an answer, and he’s got me trained. And now that I’m a full-time writer again, he is getting TWO walks a day. At least, the second walk is in nice, sunny weather, and I take Bosco, because he’s getting plump, too.


Bosco is our Boston Terrier. Adorable guy. He is definitely in charge, too. He tells Coal all the time. No matter how many dog toys I bring into the house, Bosco owns them all. That last one was a big fat head thing that squeaks. (I love to grab that one because I can get his goat just by squeezing it and he comes from wherever he is to challenge me for possession) There’s even a large rubber bone thing that weighs a quarter of what Bosco does. Doesn’t matter. Whatever the toy – it’s under my dining room table, which is his “stash”. That’s how I get his goat. I start a raid, and he can’t possibly get them all in his mouth at one time. It’s his fault, though. He starts it. If he sees me, he’ll grab whatever toy is handy and run circles around me with it, just daring me to try and take it.

Now, I realize I’m supposed to provide the food, shelter, health care, and the life style these pets seem to deserve, but I didn’t realize I was entertainment, too. But, I have to admit all it takes is one crisis at the vets to make me realize exactly why I have them and what they mean to me.

I love them all. Yes. Even the cat….who is onto me.


Jackie