When I was a small child I wanted a pet just like any other kid…until I was attacked and bitten by our neighbor’s dog. What prompted this animal to charge me and clamp on my butt (yes, just like in the cartoons…I hear you giggling) was beyond me. I was in our yard minding my own business when I heard this dog barking and turned to see it charging me. I did what any macho little man would do, I turned tail and ran screaming in terror towards our house. This was when my dream of running the 100 meter dash in the Olympics was crushed (hey, you have no idea what my dreams were…it could have been). I had about a 50 yard head start and our door was only about 20 yards away and the dog still caught me and clamped on. It was embarrassing. Not the part of being caught by the dog. No, being taken to the doctor with a big hole in the back of my pants and undershorts. The pain of the bite was nothing compared to having my backside exposed to the world. I was given a shot and a Tootsie Pop by Dr. Ferricks and sent home to wait out the dog’s 14 day quarantine to see if it had rabies. Of course I had some fun with that. While brushing my teeth, I would come out of the bathroom, growling, mouth full of foam and chasing after my siblings. My mother didn’t find that funny for some reason. I thought it was hilarious.
Over the years, I have been attacked and bitten many times by dogs. Some are worse than others. It always ended in a visit to the doctor, a shot and the 14 day wait to see if the dog was rabid. One dog did die of some mysterious disease while being quarantined causing a bit of panic. I was thinking I may have to go through rabies treatment. Fortunately, after another week, it was determined that the dog had some other illness and I was in the clear. No more chasing my brothers around with toothpaste foam all over my face.
As a result of my experience with dogs, I have never had a desire to own a dog. In spite of that, I have had to take care of the family dogs for most of my life. Trust me, having dogs was not my idea. I was once talked into rescuing a couple of puppies that were being abused by the kids that owned them and they ended up staying with us for years. After they were gone, my oldest brought his basset hound home from college because he couldn’t keep it in the dorm anymore. When that dog passed away, my wife was distraught by the loss and being the loving husband I was, we rescued another basset hound to fill the void. After years, I eventually had a house that was dog free and I thought I was free of pets…I thought!
I have never been a cat guy. Why? Because I have never really been around cats. The only time I had to deal with a cat was at the car dealership my son works for. They have a stray cat that now roams their facility and its job is to keep the place vermin free. It sleeps anywhere it wants, even if it means a customer waiting for their car to be serviced will not have a chair to sit in (I was standing for hours). It’s in charge, but isn’t that what cats do? They move in, expect to be waited on and do whatever they want. Kind of like my brother-in-law…except the cat is cleaner.
Not very long ago my wife said she wanted a cat. I told her I would never say no but, I would never say yes. I did not want another pet I would end up taking care of but at the same time, I could never tell my wife that she couldn’t have a pet. The upside of having a cat, while I watch my football and baseball games, my wife would have someone to keep her company…and a body who would pay attention to what she was saying (She’s not reading this is she?).
We ended up rescuing a Siamese Cat that had been left on the side of the road in a box. As soon as we got home and released the cat, it ran under a large ottoman in the living room and that was the last time I saw it until the middle of the night.
The cat was a no show the first day, so my wife and I headed to bed. We also left the bedroom door open. A big mistake. I guess when the lights went out, the cat’s confidence went up. While I was drifting off into slumber land, all of a sudden the cat leaped up onto my face and had its four legs wrapped around my head. No need to go to a doctor to make sure my heart is strong. It was a miracle I didn’t have a heart attack at that very moment. I’m not quite sure what I did after removing the animal but I’m pretty sure I “didn’t” rip it off my face and throw it across the room. Just checked, still married. I must not have done that.
My next experience with the cat was to discover, I am allergic to cats. My understanding wife really felt sorry for me and told me I could pick up some allergy medicine at the local drug store, while she was stroking her new cat like an evil genius in a James Bond movie.
The sniffles and coughs are better and the cat is starting to grow on me. For some reason the cat has adopted me as its servant. At a certain time in the morning, I will wake to find the cat with its nose in my face. This means it’s time for me to get up and feed it. While I work-out in the living room, the cat joins in and crawls all over me while I’m doing my push-ups and sit-ups. After I come back from my bike ride, it will be sitting patiently in my chair waiting for me to sit down so it can jump in my lap and be stroked. It has gotten so bad, when we go to bed, the cat joins us and sleeps on me. I guess I’m its bed. So, yes, it is growing on me, like a tumor.
To conclude, I really don’t hate cats. I don’t have to walk it or clean up after it. That works for me. It’s also demanding, arrogant, and fully in charge of my life. I guess I can deal with that too. It kind of reminds me of my last boss. Gotta go, I have to dangle a string in front of the cat because it’s his play time.
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