Thursday, March 27, 2008

Maggie, Bart, Sam, Louie, and Night

We have three dogs and two cats. My family thinks that anyone who has FIVE animals in the house is batty, and they're probably right. The thing is, when you spend much of your day at home, it is nice to have friends around.  

When my symptoms are at their worst, my pets seem to be at their best. I can always count on them for company, comfort, and entertainment. They also keep me from becoming completely focused on myself. Their simple needs during the day provide motivation for me to get my butt off the couch, even on my worst days. 

Maggie, Bart, and Sam are dogs.  Sam, the mystery man, was adopted from the humane society. The day we picked out Sam, a remarkable coincidence took place -  all the dogs there were two years old and lab mixes. In other words, someone working at the humane society got tired of guessing ages and breeds. We've had him for at least ten years. He's unbelievably mellow, patient, and loves to throw himself under my feet. 

Maggie and Bart are Mini Schnauzers. Mags is just four months old and Bart two years. They are full of energy and intelligence, which is a nice contrast to Sam's intellectual abilities. Poor Sam is as dumb as a rock. He has absolutely no sense of object permanence, which can be a fun concept to play around with.

My dogs are a pack of rowdy, poorly trained canines. There's no other way to describe them. I love watching dog training shows and the Animal Planet channel. I marvel at the beautifully behaved dogs that Caesar whips into shape on The Dog Whisperer. But in spite of my best intentions, I just don't seem to have the energy to follow through with all that discipline.  So whenever the doorbell rings panic and havoc ensue. Pretty entertaining stuff. 

Louie and Night are my kitties. I love the fact that cats are relatively low maintenance animals. Scoop the poop, pour the food, and that's that. When they choose, the cats provide excellent petting opportunities. They observe the doggie hysterics from the windowsill and try to look disdainful. 

I recently read an article in the local paper which described a study of pet owners. It seems that if you own a dog or cat, your life expectancy is longer. Did anyone else see that? My husband insists that if you own a pet, you don't actually live longer. He says that after cleaning cat boxes, and picking up dog poop in the back yard, and bathing and brushing, and lugging around 35 pound bags of pet don't actually live longer.......

It just feels like you do. 

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Tell your husband to give the dogs glow in dark chew toys. Our kids gave our german shepherd one once, she chewed it up and ate it. Looking out into yard one night, you could have "scooped poop" by moonlight.

You house sounds like mine use to be when the kids were home. We literally looked like "Noah's Ark". Dogs, rabbits, guinea pigs, gerbils, white mice, parakeet, chesapeake bay crab, snake of unknown origin, tropical fish, a turtle, 4 kids, my husband and myself.

I wouldn't have missed it for the world.