Week 18 – Pets

 

I honestly don’t know what this week’s topic has to do with my ancestors, but I have dredged up a few memories to share…

I am a dog person. We almost always had a dog when I was growing up. There was “Puddles” (never managed to housebreak that one); “Boris” (my brother named him after Boris Karloff because he looked a little scary); and “Buttons” (who was named by the previous owners – who were never able to control this hyper active Sheltie which is how he came to live with us.)

Looking back on the pets that belonged to my ancestors, the earliest I can find any information on is “Buster”. Buster was a pit bull who belonged to my grandparents in the late 1920’s and 1930’s. My Uncle Joe loved old Buster but it seemed ever so often, the mail man would run Buster over and he would hide under the house for a week or so until he recuperated. Buster lived a long and happy life on the farm in Western Oklahoma and according to Uncle Joe, he was the best dog in the history of the world.

After retirement, my grandparents adopted a little gray poodle named “Pierre”. I was probably in my early teens when they brought Pierre home. Pierre and I never got along. He was always snipping at everyone, barked like a banshee, and was just an all-around obnoxious creature. Up until this time, my grandparents had traveled, but once Pierre became a member of their family, they couldn’t go anywhere because they “don’t want to leave Pierre with anyone else.” My guess is they couldn’t find anyone brave enough to deal with this small four-legged horror.

Even though my mother was raised on a farm, she didn’t like animals of any kind because, well, they were animals. Dirty animals. And cats? They were the worst and carried awful diseases so I was instructed never to touch one. This was indelibly ingrained in me as I still don’t care to pet a cat. At some point in my childhood, I managed to convince my mother that I needed a hamster. A hamster is kept in a cage, and a rather small cage at that. She was willing to let me have one provided she didn’t have to change the litter, feed or touch it in any way. My dad, on the other hand, couldn’t let poor “Casper” stay in the cage. He tamed my hamster so that it would hang out in his pocket, or he could put Casper on the floor and then scratch the carpet and my little hamster would run directly to his hand and up his arm. Needless to say, this horrified my mother. When my mother wasn’t looking, daddy would set Casper on my head so he could wrestle around in my long blonde hair. This always made me giggle. I loved that little feller.

My oldest daughter is a wife, a mother, a grandmother, and a Navy veteran. She is beautiful, smart…I could go on but I don’t want her to get the big head. Although she is all of these things, I guarantee you the thing she will be most remembered for is being an Old Cat Lady. Her home is huge, pristine (just as my mother’s was), and full of four legged furry things that meow. If reincarnation is real, I’d like to come back as one of her cats. Her brood has a “catio” that is about the size of a large walk-in closet where they can go outside at their leisure. Each has a food bowl that is regulated by a collar they wear that opens up their specific feeder. They have the full run of the house and she can bring a new one home and my son-in-law is never the wiser. My daughter has turned him into a Cat Dad. One of the adult cats, although really small, is terrified when visitors come so she hides under the bed in my daughters’ room. Apparently, this cat thinks I like her because every morning when I’m visiting, she comes and climbs into my bed. Lucky me…(yes, you did hear a note of sarcasm)

My middle and youngest daughters, are also dog people. One has a pack of French Bulldogs; the other has a pair of Weiner dogs. I have had Labrador Retrievers for most of my adult life, but after the last two died in the early 2000’s, my husband and I decided we wouldn’t have any more. Then, our black lab mix grand-dog came for a visit in 2018 when her family went on vacation. She liked it so much at our house that she just stayed. Uncle Joe was wrong – our Sugar is the best dog in the history of the world.

I guess that having pets may give some insight into the type of person you are. Maybe this does have something to do with our ancestors. Traits you were taught as a child stay with you, just like my mother instilled the belief in me that cats were not to be petted. I apparently did not pass this trait on my daughter, so these cycles can be changed. If that’s the case, then maybe we can break the chains for any inherited behavior – good or bad – so that we pass only the best of us to future generations.