Last week, I told readers about my Covid-19 project of converting all of our slides to digital files. I completed the project (applause here) and uncovered a few jewels among the images. I want to focus on a few of those this week. In order to post something timely, I will share some pictures of the pets that have been a part of our household through the years. My apologies for the grainy pictures–I was going for subject matter over quality.
Conveniently, last Sunday was National Pet Parents Day, something I learned by reading Terri Webster Schrandt’s blog, Second Wind Leisure Perspectives. After converting my pet pictures, I decided to share them in Terri’s Sunday Stills Challenge. Once readers complete this week’s Easin’ Along, I encourage everyone to use this link to visit Terri’s very well-written and very entertaining website.
First, I should let everyone know that Helen and I are no longer pet parents. At the time we downsized, we had two dogs and one cat in our household that you will meet in a few paragraphs. The dogs were primarily outside pets and had complete freedom to roam the eleven acres we owned at the time. We had not yet retired when we moved into our neighborhood, and I just couldn’t bear the thought of keeping them cooped up in a garage. We found good homes for them on a large farm where they could continue to roam at will. The cat, no longer with us, was perfectly content to watch over the new house.
I miss having a pet around, but pets are not a perfect fit for us and our RV lifestyle of moving around every few days. Nevertheless, as soon as we change our pace and remain in destinations for more extended periods, I’m eager to “re-dog.” First, I have to convince Helen it’s a good idea.
Now…back to the pictures.
Our first pet was a Long-Haired Dachshund that we named Bruno. We lived in Wurzburg, Germany at the time, and some friends told us about a breeder, living out in the Bavarian countryside, who raised champions of the breed. Helen had grown up with dachshunds and wanted one badly. We visited the breeder, and it was love at first sight. The picture above is the moment we met.
Sadly, Bruno was killed by a car about a year and a half later. We were devastated and immediately adopted another dachshund we named Hansi. He was not as even-tempered as Bruno and not at all good with children.
Our second dog was a beautiful Golden Retriever we adopted when she was about a year old. Maggie was sweet, unbelievably good with young children, and loved Helen. Maggie gave birth to two litters. We kept the pick of the second litter, a male named Grits.
The only picture I can find of Grits is this one. I don’t know which one he is, but he’s in there somewhere. Grits was a very handsome dog, with slightly more reddish coloring than Maggie. Both only lived to be about seven years old, and both died from pancreas failure. I suppose it was a genetic thing.
After the Retrievers, we had a cat named Percy (no picture), who went to live with my Mom, a cat lover.
Next was a tiny teacup Poodle we named Pogo. He never weighed more than four pounds, probably because he expended so much energy barking at me…constantly. Pogo was Helen’s dog exclusively, and he was very protective. Pogo lived with us for fourteen very…long…years.
About the time we moved into our lake home, Buddy, one of the masons on my brick crew, told me he was feeding about fifty cats in the trailer park where he lived. I said to Buddy that if he had an orange and white one (Tennessee colors) that might grow into a big cat, I would lighten his feed load by one cat. The next Sunday, Helen and I came home from church to find a pet crate with one orange and white cat inside. A note, taped to the container, said, “My name is Tom, and I’m yours!”
Tom, renamed Wilbur, moved in…slowly. Wilbur weighed somewhere around ten pounds, had mange and something dreadful oozing from his nose. He needed neutering. Wilbur had six toes on his front paws so, after a $400 vet bill, I instructed Wilbur to rid our newly built home of all the mice that moved in during construction. It took him one day to find the first rodent. It was my turn to fall in love.
Wilbur soon ballooned up to twenty-six pounds and became a delightful, people-loving pet. He followed me around like a love-sick puppy dog. Wilbur lived with us for seventeen years. I cried when he crossed the rainbow bridge, and I miss him every day.
Soon after Wilbur arrived, we adopted Chuck, an Australian Shepherd/Golden Retriever mix that could run like the wind and loved exploring our property. Chuck had a lovely disposition and would chase a ball for as long as I would throw it to him.
Almost simultaneously with Chuck’s arrival, we rescued Max, a Shih Tzu, and Bootsie, a petite Calico cat. I was building a house in a rural area and learned from a nearby property owner that both animals recently appeared on the scene, probably abandoned. Bootsie was a skittish, sickly little thing, and did not live long.
Max was more than likely severely abused. He would not let anyone put their hands near his face, or they would pay. Our vet would sedate Max to shave him and we let him live with Chuck outdoors. They were constant companions and got along splendidly. I said that Max was probably the world’s only outdoor Shih Tzu. Max was a voracious eater. I feel confident that he had faced long periods without food and, every time I placed a food bowl in front of him, I could see the gratitude in his eyes.
Thanks to Terri, I had the opportunity to spend some with our pets again, if only digitally. So glad I got to introduce them to you. I dearly miss every one of these creatures…including Pogo.
With blurry eyes, it’s time I was Easin’ Along.
