Anyone who has read just a couple of my articles will have guessed correctly that my childhood wasn?t one big extended hug filled demonstrative love fest. I really don?t feel that I missed anything.
It should cause no surprise, then, that the only way for a neighborhood stray to make the jump to included family pet was to survive the plastic bag exhaust pipe fest (my sister insists that the same went for all of us siblings).
Sure, the cat would continue to give my dad dirty looks, but in the end they all proved to be very loyal pets. You can be sure the cat doesn?t waste time acting aloof if you have experienced it coming to you when called.
Perhaps that is why I was so shocked when I encountered my first pet as life partner surrogate. It really must be a big city thing.
I don?t know if Vancouver is typical of other, larger, urban centers, but here it seems that the size and number of pets actually increases the closer one gets to the city center. There seems to be a direct inverse size to available practical space ratio in effect.
Man?s best friend, indeed.
I?m sure that many of you are asking, ?Ray, how can I achieve this nirvana-like state?? Don?t know, don?t care, but hopefully you can learn from your encounters with these unrepentant romantics.
I mean, not everyone will be as relieved as my sister was when I told her that I had killed her dog whilst house-sitting. To be fair, the dog was very old and very infirm and extremely neurotic. Luckily, it did look for all the world like a suicide (Genius!) I?m sure that was a key reason I was never asked to babysit my nieces and nephews.
Things went much worse for my good friend, a completely different ?Not-Karin? than I mentioned in a previous article, when the 16-year-old, diabetic cat ceased to be while in her care. To compound the issue, the cat?s owner was Not-Karin?s ex-boyfriend?s fiance.
I guess you just can?t do favors for some people.
Sometime in the mid-eighties, I read some tremendous advice in the Playboy Advisor. Something along the lines of, ?? Five weeks or so after your break-up you will find the strong urge to call her. Don?t!? Sage advice but rarely needed when a pet owner relationship ends. Perhaps that is part of the appeal.
You almost never hear anyone talking about the pet ?that got away? and we are rarely happy to hear of our exes living their final days on a farm.
Fear not, even if you are hopelessly embroiled in an endless and seemingly unendable priority-one person-pet relationship. There is hope.
Many a happy, lasting, person-person-pet-pet relationship has been forged by simply combining two separate, like-minded, person-pet relationships (I mean, within the bounds of reasonable pet-pet compatibility) Oh, the hijinks.
Twelve years ago I found myself unceremoniously ousted from a perfectly feasible part-time working relationship by the simple act of lifting a cat from my lap and dropping it feet first twelve inches down on the carpeted floor. In retrospect, if it was a real canary in a coal mine moment (I guess for all three of us) and I know that I got off lucky.
I?m sure that the two of them are still talking about it.
Source: http://www.straightuplove.com/article-9-love-me-love-my-dog-pass/
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