Tuesday, September 4, 2012

My animals.

I love my pets.

I love my pets will all my heart. Before my daughter was born, they were my "babies." Not a day went by when I did not hug and pet each and every one of them, and told each one how much I loved them, and cared for them... and would always be their "mommy." I have a farm... or at least some times it feels that way: 3 cats, 2 dogs, and approximately a zillion dust-bunnies/balls of hair that make their way through my house like a three ring circus every day. (The dust bunnies/balls of hair are mainly courtesy of my St. Bernard who sheds like it's going out of style.) This used to not bother me. I'd grab a dust bunny as it scrambled past me and put it in it's final resting place... (the garbage can) and I would make sure to let every one of my animals know how much I cared for them every day.

Now I have a beautiful 9 month old daughter whom I want nothing more than to spend every single waking second with. So... the dust bunnies now rest in the corner's of every room... and some are even brave enough to stay out in the open... my animals get shooed away from me more often than not... and the two dogs I once called "my babies" I more often than not walk around the house cursing.

I have found myself contemplating even "getting rid" of one... or some of them recently. Something that would have never come out of my mouth before. But my patience has worn thin for them and I feel like it's not fair to them. But then I feel really guilty... how could I choose who to get rid of? I mean... I have my adorable deaf white cat Skittles, who is actually the reason for this entry due to her 1:00am antics last night that woke the baby... but I could never get rid of her. Who could give her as good a home as I have? No one. She is adorable and precious and has one hell of a personality that we just understand. Then there is my other cat Pepper... who somewhere in her so far short little lifetime has fallen a few cards short of a full deck. Actually - I think half the deck is probably missing. But I love her all the same... even when her obsessive compulsive disorder kicks into high gear and she just wants to *hug* me - constantly... all night long and keeps me awake. No one else would deal with that... so I have to, because no one else would care for her as good as I do. Then I have my other cat Jeter. The only male cat - and the sweetest one yet. I can't say anything more about my Jeter. He used to be by my side at every second... now he is by the baby's side... and takes time from "mommy" when he can. So no way would I ever get rid of him.

Onto my dogs... Cooper, our little mutt... has already been abandoned by someone... we rescued him - he had been abused, and has come a very, very long way. My husband adores this dog and through my pleas every night to make him stay on the floor... I wake up with that dog inevitably on the bed... right at my husbands feet. Which I've got to say - is really cute. He does his share of grinding through my nerves... but it just goes with having a dog. So that brings me to my St. Bernard Bailey. I love this dog so much. *He* has become the one I look at as the cause of most of my animal stress. But I adore him. When we got him I was very down... we had just lost our German Shepherd in a terrible car accident that somehow amazingly spared the lives of my husband and myself. He is a sweet dog with a wonderful disposition - he just has a hard head. When he wants to come in the house, he barks at the door... unlike most dogs that bark at the door..... he barks, and barks, and barks.. and will probably bark hours straight (though I have never let him) and that sometimes makes me crazy. He drools... lots... and shakes his head and it splats onto the wall... generally with a little hair in it too... (yuck) so we have "drool bombs" on the walls that beg us to wipe them away... but I knew that when we got him. I've dealt with it till now... he is 3 years old... and probably won't live much past 8 - so another 5 years is not that long. And all I want to do is give him the best doggy life possible... who else would take him, and treat him as well as we do? He has hip dysplasia... and is cow hocked so he sure isn't show quality. He just wants to love... and I love him.

Geez - I didn't mean to write a book. I guess the moral is my animals have been making me crazy recently. But I can't part with any of them. I love them all too much.

1:56 p.m.

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