The Pet Discussion Thread

[Mutatis-Mutandis]

On a forum where we discuss just about anything, I suddenly realized we've never talked about pets, at least not that I'm aware of. So, I'm making this thread for just that--a completely general discussion for anything pet-related. Talk about your pet dogs, cats, birds, fish, pigs, lizards, alpacas, etc.; why you love your pet dogs, cats, birds, fish, pigs, lizards, alpacas, etc.; why you don't love pet dogs, cats, birds, fish, pigs, lizards, alpacas, etc.; your funny stories about pet dogs, cats, birds, fish, pigs, lizards, alpacas, etc.; questions about pet dogs, cats, birds, fish, pigs, lizards, alpacas, etc.; post pictures of your pet dogs, cats, birds, fish, pigs, lizards, alpacas, etc.; and etc etc etc.

I have two dogs, a beagle and a beagle/Jack-Russel terrier mix. They're great. Our (as in me and my parents) beagle, Willow, is a sweet, happy dog who's only fault is a love of barking at absolutely nothing. Our beagle/Jack Russel mix is probably the most entertaining dog in the world; he's very energetic, goofy, and I've never seen a dog love toys so much, or wag a tail so much. There really isn't anything I can think of that puts a smile on my face quicker than a dog with a wagging tail that is just genuinely happy to see you. I can't imagine living without dogs.

[Helga]

I love talking about my dogs! I have two dogs Spock is a border collie / icelandic sheepdog mix with a hint of something else. he is 10 years old and he is the smartest dog I know. he knows so many words it can be hard just talking around him and all the names of the people around me he knows can make discussions difficult. I know exactly what he means with every bark or look in his eyes and if his dinner is not ready at 6 o'clock he will drag his bowl around my apartment until I feed him.

Sisko is mainly icelandic sheepdog with some mix I don't know what is he is smaller than Spock and younger just 3 years old and very cheerful, he can chase his own tail all night long. He always follows me around the apartment and if he can't nap on my chest he is by my feet, he sleeps next to me every night and just wants to be in my face all the time.

I used to have a problem when people came over cause then they would fight like crazy and bark constantly but then I bought something called 'pet corrector' it is compressed air and it makes the same sound as a soda bottle when you open it. I made sure they never saw the spray can and when they started fighting I pressed it so they made a connection between fighting and the sound and they just stopped! now I have the best dogs I could imagine!

this 'pet corrector' can be used to make them stop barking or stealing food or jumping at people and a few other things too and it is probably the best purchase I have made when it comes to my dogs and their small but annoying problems.

[Mutatis-Mutandis]

Our dogs are pretty good around company. Willow can be stand offish and bark--there are certain people she just doesn't like--and our biggest problem with Jack is that he's too friendly, and he always seems to want to make friends the most with people who don't like dogs, of course.

They're the same way when it comes to supper-time. They don't let you forget, that's for sure.

[Helga]

Sisko is also too friendly, when people leave and bend down to tie their shoes he always comes running and licks them all over, and not everybody wants to kiss my dog for some reason...

[iamnobody]

I have a cat right now. I've had various pets my entire adult life. Interesting thing, I've never set out to get a pet. Every animal I've ever had, including the aforementioned cat, was something someone needed/wanted to get rid of. Dogs, cats, guinea pigs, lizards, even a snake..all from people who didn't want them any more. I guess the moral of the story is, be very sure you can keep and care for an animal before you take it home.

[MystyrMystyry]

I have a couple of pet blue tongued dragons, and until last week I had about 500 tiny Golden Syrup slurping sea monsters when I put most of them into the sea where they belong. Now I only have a few.

In the past I've had a cat called Mitzi Gaynor, a cat called Grunty, a cat called Purple Arse, a cat called Blindo, a cat called Sasha, and a cat called Creamo.

I've had a poodle called Pierre, and an Old English Sheepdog called Monty.

There have been a few spiders, inch ants and crickets (if arachnids and insects count), a couple of budgies, a couple of chooks, a couple of butterflies (yeah they're insects, but beyond), and lately a few Australian cockroaches have moved into my backyard - these are about two metres wide and four metres long and look like Jay Leno on a bad day.

[Helga]

as a kid I had five parrots Kaki, tweety (guess his color) Timothy and Rita and then when I was 14 I got the first animal I named after a star trek character Tiberius. I also had two rats named after ST, 7/9 and Chakotay and then my dog Spock and later Sisko like I mentioned before. I also had fish as a kid but I never really wanted them it was just the only animal my mom would let me have...

[Whifflingpin]

"I also had fish as a kid but I never really wanted them it was just the only animal my mom would let me have..."
A woman after my own heart.
Pets are a pain. They are smelly, dirty, expensive to feed and keep healthy, lousy conversationalists and, by definition no use to anyone. They cause endless effort, and there is no hope whatever that they might keep you in your old age. And when they get old there's that long period while you have to decide whether to keep them alive in misery or kill them off, and the guilt whem you finally decide to do the latter. Why would any sane person want one?

[Mutatis-Mutandis]

I have a cat right now. I've had various pets my entire adult life. Interesting thing, I've never set out to get a pet. Every animal I've ever had, including the aforementioned cat, was something someone needed/wanted to get rid of. Dogs, cats, guinea pigs, lizards, even a snake..all from people who didn't want them any more. I guess the moral of the story is, be very sure you can keep and care for an animal before you take it home.
Kind of along the same lines, a buddy of mine's girlfriend "collects" stray cats. I believe she has 11 of them. They come and go as they please, and she just leaves food out for them. Some stay more and are actually pets in the more traditional sense, while a couple are pretty feral.

I have a couple of pet blue tongued dragons, and until last week I had about 500 tiny Golden Syrup slurping sea monsters when I put most of them into the sea where they belong. Now I only have a few.

In the past I've had a cat called Mitzi Gaynor, a cat called Grunty, a cat called Purple Arse, a cat called Blindo, a cat called Sasha, and a cat called Creamo.

I've had a poodle called Pierre, and an Old English Sheepdog called Monty.

There have been a few spiders, inch ants and crickets (if arachnids and insects count), a couple of budgies, a couple of chooks, a couple of butterflies (yeah they're insects, but beyond), and lately a few Australian cockroaches have moved into my backyard - these are about two metres wide and four metres long and look like Jay Leno on a bad day.
MM, the names and eclectic mix of pets you've had is exactly what I would expect from you, and I mean that as a complement. And, as far as I'm concerned, if it's alive, it's a pet . . . plants excluded.

as a kid I had five parrots Kaki, tweety (guess his color) Timothy and Rita and then when I was 14 I got the first animal I named after a star trek character Tiberius. I also had two rats named after ST, 7/9 and Chakotay and then my dog Spock and later Sisko like I mentioned before. I also had fish as a kid but I never really wanted them it was just the only animal my mom would let me have...
Star Trek names FTW.

"I also had fish as a kid but I never really wanted them it was just the only animal my mom would let me have..."
A woman after my own heart.
Pets are a pain. They are smelly, dirty, expensive to feed and keep healthy, lousy conversationalists and, by definition no use to anyone. They cause endless effort, and there is no hope whatever that they might keep you in your old age. And when they get old there's that long period while you have to decide whether to keep them alive in misery or kill them off, and the guilt whem you finally decide to do the latter. Why would any sane person want one?
They make me happy.

[Helga]

"I also had fish as a kid but I never really wanted them it was just the only animal my mom would let me have..."
A woman after my own heart.
Pets are a pain. They are smelly, dirty, expensive to feed and keep healthy, lousy conversationalists and, by definition no use to anyone. They cause endless effort, and there is no hope whatever that they might keep you in your old age. And when they get old there's that long period while you have to decide whether to keep them alive in misery or kill them off, and the guilt whem you finally decide to do the latter. Why would any sane person want one?

If you are not willing to take care of them then don't get one. I can't imagine my life without them and as for them not being of any use that is not true, they may not speak but they do listen and they bring you so much joy and I can honestly say that Spock brought so much to my life and I wouldn't be the same or anyone without him.

Also my mom gave me the five parrots and Spock and let me keep the two rats.

[Lokasenna]

I've never had a pet (my father dislikes them and what they do to his house), though I often used to help our elderly neighbour look after her goat, Mildred.

At the moment, I quite often dog-sit for my supervisor, who has a nine-month old Cocker Spaniel called Denny. He's absolutely adorable, though more than a little bitey. I'll admit I'm not much of a dog lover, but I have a great deal of affection for Denny.

When I finally own my own home, I fully intend to get a cat. It will be called Loki. Unless it is white, in which case it will be called Pangur Bán.

[Emil Miller]

"I also had fish as a kid but I never really wanted them it was just the only animal my mom would let me have..."
A woman after my own heart.
Pets are a pain. They are smelly, dirty, expensive to feed and keep healthy, lousy conversationalists and, by definition no use to anyone. They cause endless effort, and there is no hope whatever that they might keep you in your old age. And when they get old there's that long period while you have to decide whether to keep them alive in misery or kill them off, and the guilt whem you finally decide to do the latter. Why would any sane person want one?

From a purely rational standpoint you are right but, no matter how irrational it may be, humans have an innate relationship with animals, notwithstanding the fact that we kill and eat some of them. When I was a child, we had a cat, and when it was run over by a car and killed I cried for days: why? Because it was like losing a part of myself. Recently I was in a veterinary surgeon's and a women of about 50, came out from the consulting room with an empty cat basket and she was crying; I didn't need to ask why.
On another occasion a woman in the vet's was presented with a box in which were the ashes of her cat. She looked at me and said:"They break your heart don't they?" Yes they do, but they also give such joy that people are prepared to take on board the problems and the sadness of losing them.
In my own case at present, I spend a good deal of money on my cat's health and well being because she is a wonderful creature I never tire of watching and is very good company even when she is pushing away the book I'm trying to read in order to gain my attention.
Being from England, and having studied them for years, I have a good deal of scepticism towards the English, but if they have a soul saving grace it is their love of animals.

[Mutatis-Mutandis]

Losing a pet is horrible. We had to put down our one dog due to old age, and our dachshund passed away in his sleep at the age of ten--he had a ton of back problems and two surgeries. I think his body just wore out on him.

But, you're right, Emil, the happiness and memories they have you far outweighs the sadness that must come at the end.

Personally, I've never been a cat person--dogs for me--but I don't mind them. My friend has a pretty cool cat that's really sociable. I don't like the cats that always stay away from you. They creep me out.

[Whifflingpin]

"If you are not willing to take care of them then don't get one."
I wouldn't dream of getting one - but I made the mistake of getting a wife, and she gets them.
She's away this week-end, and I thought I might put up some bookshelves - Oh, no, it's feed the cat, feed the rabbit, feed the dogs, exercise the lively one, dump the other one on the lawn, clear up the mess they always leave indoors when she's away, either put up with the lively one bouncing around amongst the drills and the screws, or listen to him scratching and whinging outside - and then have him jumping and bouncing around when I go outside to find the rawplugs, or whatever it was I've forgotten, and now can't remember 'cos he's jumping and bouncing around.
I should give up the shelves and take the lively one for a walk, but standing in the street picking up dog poo is not how I see myself, thanks. So I'll come and moan at you lot instead.
Oh, and I have been seen coming red-eyed out of the vet's, cos it's always me who has to take them there on their last visit.

[MarkBastable]

Twenty years ago I had two cats - mother and son - called Morden and Kerouac. Kerouac was a dozy, spaced-out animal, though a better writer than his namesake. He got hit by a car and his front left leg was shattered. The vet told me that he could be put back together again with platinum rods to hold his bones rigid, but that it'd cost four or five hundred pounds - about seven hundred bucks. I paid up.

Six or seven months later the mother, Morden, got sick. She moped about the house, wouldn't eat, couldn't even bring herself to go outside to pee. I took her to the vet and she was diagnosed with FAIDS - feline AIDS, which, I was told, was epidemic in our area. Morden was dying and there was nothing to do but have her put down.

"Do you have any other cats?" the vet asked.

"You know I do. You put five hundred quid's worth of platinum into his leg last spring."

"Bring him in."

Kerouac's tests came back positive for FAIDS, although he seemed completely healthy and happy.

"So how long does he have?" I asked.

"Difficult to say. Months. Maybe a year. If you take him home, you'll have to keep him in the house all the time - he can't go out and infect other cats. And as soon as he starts showing symptoms, bring him in and we'll put him down. Or.."

Or they could do it right away. I thought about taking him home, trapping him in the house, on which arrangement he wouldn't be at all keen. And I knew I'd be looking at him every morning, checking for signs of listlessness or rheumy eyes or loss of appetite - wondering if this was the day I'd have to have him killed.

"I think we have to do it now," I said, stroking Kerouac. "What will happen to him?"

"We'll give him an injection and he'll just drift off to sleep, quite peacefully. You can stay with him if you like."

I shook my head. "I'd rather not. And then what?"

"Well, either you can have him buried at the pet cemetery in Streatham, or he could be cremated, which is cheaper. You can have the ashes. Some people like to scatter them in the garden at home."

Kerouac purred and pressed his head up into my hand. I looked at him, tears in my eyes. But I always like to find something positive in every experience.

"If you cremate him," I said to the vet, "is there any chance of retrieving the platinum rods? I'd sell them back to you at, what, fifty percent?"

Vets, I have to tell you, have no sense of humour.

__________________

[OrphanPip]

From working in the veterinary field you notice that almost everyone takes the death of a pet pretty rough. I remember once, when I was working as a receptionist in college, having a woman literally on the reception room floor in hysterics. We went through a rough patch when our German Shepherd got cancer at around 9, a tumour had crushed her urethra making her incontinent and requiring a surgical tube to her bladder that had to be emptied manually. We did that for several months, then she contracted a bladder infection, an unfortunate possible side effect of the bladder tube. I got the antibiotics, fluids, and needles from work at cost, and was doing all the injections and treatments at home to help avoid the hefty veterinary fees. This lasted another two months until she finally succumbed to kidney failure due to complications from the medications. I found that particularly crushing, after going through the grind of the treatment.

I have an oriental short hair cat (acquired at a decent price from a breeder because of a flaw with his tail), and a rabbit rescued from the CSPCA when I worked there.

[kensington]

My mother named my cat Ruthie after me, (my middle name being Ruth), because of her odd disposition when we got her.

She is the fluffiest cat that I've ever seen. She has very thick, and very, very fine hair, like an angora rabbit. Her hair looks straight, but if you hold up a single hair, you can see that it has tiny kinks in it. Her hair has a "z" pattern. Because her hairs are kinky, they don't lie flat together, and so she puffs out. She doesn't shed much or get hairballs, though, because I use the Furminator on her.

My kitty has brain damage of some kind, I've come to realize. When I got her at the animal shelter, she had been dropped off by a woman with a bunch of kids, who was moving out of state. When people dump off animals at the shelter, they are asked to fill out a sort of "resume" to explain the animal's temperament and habits so they can be placed appropriately in another home. Turns out, Ruthie's former owner had described her as "antisocial." The lady had written that Ruthie was not good with kids, and her best feature is that she's a good mouser!

So for 2 years before I got my kitty, she had lived in a cold barn hunting mice. And her front paws are declawed, which I have discovered is a brutal procedure. And who declaws a cat and then sticks it outside to fend for itself?

My belief is that the former owner tried to destroy my kitty's reputation, describing her as "antisocial" and not nice to children. And I believe that Ruthie was horribly mistreated by that family, from the time she was a kitten until they dumped her at the animal shelter.

When I first got Ruthie, for the longest time, she didn't want to be held, and she's still somewhat that way. She is affectionate in her own way, though. She can get high-strung, and she bites sometimes, as a reflex. But I never scold her. And the thing is, that once you know her, you see that she's very sweet and lovable. She doesn't like to eat when she's left alone. I sit on the floor with her when I feed her, and then she will eat.

My kitty loves to lie on her back, and stretch her legs out, and sometimes she stretches her arms over her head, and she looks like a baby. She is lying next to me now, purring her heart out. Watching a cat is the most meditative experience in the world. They are always so content. My cat gets expressions of pure bliss on her face.

My cat is getting older now, and so I worry. I've gone through so many losses. I had a cat die from FAIDS, and I had one die from diabetes. I've had many cats in my lifetime, and it's impossible to describe how it feels when they pass away.

[Emil Miller]

"If you are not willing to take care of them then don't get one."
I wouldn't dream of getting one - but I made the mistake of getting a wife, and she gets them.
She's away this week-end, and I thought I might put up some bookshelves - Oh, no, it's feed the cat, feed the rabbit, feed the dogs, exercise the lively one, dump the other one on the lawn, clear up the mess they always leave indoors when she's away, either put up with the lively one bouncing around amongst the drills and the screws, or listen to him scratching and whinging outside - and then have him jumping and bouncing around when I go outside to find the rawplugs, or whatever it was I've forgotten, and now can't remember 'cos he's jumping and bouncing around.
I should give up the shelves and take the lively one for a walk, but standing in the street picking up dog poo is not how I see myself, thanks. So I'll come and moan at you lot instead.
Oh, and I have been seen coming red-eyed out of the vet's, cos it's always me who has to take them there on their last visit.

I do see why you feel harassed by having a wife who has brought too many animals in the home. In your case I think I would keep the pets and get rid of the wife before she decides to bring in another addition to the menagerie.

[Mutatis-Mutandis]

"If you are not willing to take care of them then don't get one."
I wouldn't dream of getting one - but I made the mistake of getting a wife, and she gets them.
She's away this week-end, and I thought I might put up some bookshelves - Oh, no, it's feed the cat, feed the rabbit, feed the dogs, exercise the lively one, dump the other one on the lawn, clear up the mess they always leave indoors when she's away, either put up with the lively one bouncing around amongst the drills and the screws, or listen to him scratching and whinging outside - and then have him jumping and bouncing around when I go outside to find the rawplugs, or whatever it was I've forgotten, and now can't remember 'cos he's jumping and bouncing around.
I should give up the shelves and take the lively one for a walk, but standing in the street picking up dog poo is not how I see myself, thanks. So I'll come and moan at you lot instead.
Oh, and I have been seen coming red-eyed out of the vet's, cos it's always me who has to take them there on their last visit.
Emil touched on this already, but it sounds as if the problem may lie more with the wife than the animals. :nod:

Twenty years ago I had two cats - mother and son - called Morden and Kerouac. Kerouac was a dozy, spaced-out animal, though a better writer than his namesake. He got hit by a car and his front left leg was shattered. The vet told me that he could be put back together again with platinum rods to hold his bones rigid, but that it'd cost four or five hundred pounds - about seven hundred bucks. I paid up.

Six or seven months later the mother, Morden, got sick. She moped about the house, wouldn't eat, couldn't even bring herself to go outside to pee. I took her to the vet and she was diagnosed with FAIDS - feline AIDS, which, I was told, was epidemic in our area. Morden was dying and there was nothing to do but have her put down.

"Do you have any other cats?" the vet asked.

"You know I do. You put five hundred quid's worth of platinum into his leg last spring."

"Bring him in."

Kerouac's tests came back positive for FAIDS, although he seemed completely healthy and happy.

"So how long does he have?" I asked.

"Difficult to say. Months. Maybe a year. If you take him home, you'll have to keep him in the house all the time - he can't go out and infect other cats. And as soon as he starts showing symptoms, bring him in and we'll put him down. Or.."

Or they could do it right away. I thought about taking him home, trapping him in the house, on which arrangement he wouldn't be at all keen. And I knew I'd be looking at him every morning, checking for signs of listlessness or rheumy eyes or loss of appetite - wondering if this was the day I'd have to have him killed.

"I think we have to do it now," I said, stroking Kerouac. "What will happen to him?"

"We'll give him an injection and he'll just drift off to sleep, quite peacefully. You can stay with him if you like."

I shook my head. "I'd rather not. And then what?"

"Well, either you can have him buried at the pet cemetery in Streatham, or he could be cremated, which is cheaper. You can have the ashes. Some people like to scatter them in the garden at home."

Kerouac purred and pressed his head up into my hand. I looked at him, tears in my eyes. But I always like to find something positive in every experience.

"If you cremate him," I said to the vet, "is there any chance of retrieving the platinum rods? I'd sell them back to you at, what, fifty percent?"

Vets, I have to tell you, have no sense of humour.

__________________
I knew that was going to end on a joke. 700 bucks is rookie, though. Our dachshund had to have two back surgeries that totaled about 5000 dollars. We really, really loved that dog.

When we had to put our one dog down, we had him cremated also, but the cheapest thing to do was a sort of group cremation they do, so we didn't get any ashes. We felt the memories were enough . . . I feel the same way when it comes to humans, honestly.

From working in the veterinary field you notice that almost everyone takes the death of a pet pretty rough. I remember once, when I was working as a receptionist in college, having a woman literally on the reception room floor in hysterics. We went through a rough patch when our German Shepherd got cancer at around 9, a tumour had crushed her urethra making her incontinent and requiring a surgical tube to her bladder that had to be emptied manually. We did that for several months, then she contracted a bladder infection, an unfortunate possible side effect of the bladder tube. I got the antibiotics, fluids, and needles from work at cost, and was doing all the injections and treatments at home to help avoid the hefty veterinary fees. This lasted another two months until she finally succumbed to kidney failure due to complications from the medications. I found that particularly crushing, after going through the grind of the treatment.

I have an oriental short hair cat (acquired at a decent price from a breeder because of a flaw with his tail), and a rabbit rescued from the CSPCA when I worked there.
I never knew there was a feline aids. That's a bummer.

We also had to express our aforementioned dachshund's bladder after his second back surgery, only temporarily, though--he luckily regained control. He never did regain full use of his back legs (he had to use one of those doggy-wheelchairs for his back legs, which was a pain because it'd always snag on corners), but he did enough that he learned to do what we were told is called spinal walking, where he can't feel his back legs, but he can still use them to walk, albeit in a very unusual way. When he'd been sleeping for a long time, they'd kind of drag before he'd get them under him. He also lost bowel control, so he'd just poop at random, usually while walking, which was kind of funny until the stink hit you and you had to travel several places in the house to clean it up. Did I mention we really loved that dog?

My mother named my cat Ruthie after me, (my middle name being Ruth), because of her odd disposition when we got her.

She is the fluffiest cat that I've ever seen. She has very thick, and very, very fine hair, like an angora rabbit. Her hair looks straight, but if you hold up a single hair, you can see that it has tiny kinks in it. Her hair has a "z" pattern. Because her hairs are kinky, they don't lie flat together, and so she puffs out. She doesn't shed much or get hairballs, though, because I use the Furminator on her.

My kitty has brain damage of some kind, I've come to realize. When I got her at the animal shelter, she had been dropped off by a woman with a bunch of kids, who was moving out of state. When people dump off animals at the shelter, they are asked to fill out a sort of "resume" to explain the animal's temperament and habits so they can be placed appropriately in another home. Turns out, Ruthie's former owner had described her as "antisocial." The lady had written that Ruthie was not good with kids, and her best feature is that she's a good mouser!

So for 2 years before I got my kitty, she had lived in a cold barn hunting mice. And her front paws are declawed, which I have discovered is a brutal procedure. And who declaws a cat and then sticks it outside to fend for itself?

My belief is that the former owner tried to destroy my kitty's reputation, describing her as "antisocial" and not nice to children. And I believe that Ruthie was horribly mistreated by that family, from the time she was a kitten until they dumped her at the animal shelter.

When I first got Ruthie, for the longest time, she didn't want to be held, and she's still somewhat that way. She is affectionate in her own way, though. She can get high-strung, and she bites sometimes, as a reflex. But I never scold her. And the thing is, that once you know her, you see that she's very sweet and lovable. She doesn't like to eat when she's left alone. I sit on the floor with her when I feed her, and then she will eat.

My kitty loves to lie on her back, and stretch her legs out, and sometimes she stretches her arms over her head, and she looks like a baby. She is lying next to me now, purring her heart out. Watching a cat is the most meditative experience in the world. They are always so content. My cat gets expressions of pure bliss on her face.

My cat is getting older now, and so I worry. I've gone through so many losses. I had a cat die from FAIDS, and I had one die from diabetes. I've had many cats in my lifetime, and it's impossible to describe how it feels when they pass away.
Our Beagle/Jack-Russel mix was a shelter dog, and he really doesn't like being yelled at loudly, more than most dogs. We don't know if he's just sensitive, or if he was a bit mistreated. He's awfully clingy, but that just may be his personality.

I've also noticed a lot of cat owners. I wonder if there's a correlation between literature fans and cat owners?

[MarkBastable]

I knew that was going to end on a joke.

Depends what you mean by 'joke'. The story is completely true. And it's both sad and funny. Which is what I mean by 'joke'.

[Emil Miller]

I've also noticed a lot of cat owners. I wonder if there's a correlation between literature fans and cat owners?

I think you will find more dog owners on the forum, but they haven't responded to this particular thread which in some ways duplicates a similar thread regarding the posting of pictures of pets.

[Mutatis-Mutandis]

Depends what you mean by 'joke'. The story is completely true. And it's both sad and funny. Which is what I mean by 'joke'.
I just meant joke in the sense that there was no way your story was going to end without there being some sort of humorous element, even though the story was quite sad. It just wouldn't have been a MarkBastable post otherwise.

I think you will find more dog owners on the forum, but they haven't responded to this particular thread which in some ways duplicates a similar thread regarding the posting of pictures of pets.
I'd post pictures, but I don't have any on my computer at the moment and I'm lazy.

[stlukesguild]

I'm a "dog-person". Always have been. I don't really like cats. Indeed, I rather dislike them, but then I am also highly allergic so that might explain some. We have a 15-year old mix: German Shepherd and Shar-Pei. She looks mostly like a shepherd, but has these wrinkles on her face that allow her to strike an incredible array of facial expressions.

We got her from the pound as a puppy. She was not yet weaned. I bought her as a Christmas present for my wife. At the same time I purchased a big bed, cushions, bones, the whole shebang. She would have nothing to do with this. From the moment we turned out the lights, she began crying in the most pathetic manner until we finally let her up on the bed between us. She fell immediately to sleep, and has stayed there ever since.

In spite of her age, she is still quite active and ready to run around the back yard or wrestle with me on a moments notice... and yet she is obviously approaching the end. She struggles at times to get into the bed, and she gets pain in her hips after a lot of playing or when the weather changes. She loves nothing more than to sleep in late at my wife's feet (preferably with the electric blanket on). When she she finally dies I have little doubt we... and especially my wife... will be absolutely heartbroken.

I remember coming across a post from a veterinarian or a kennel or some such thing in which it was suggested that dogs were God's greatest blessing and curse upon mankind. The curse lay in the fact that they live as long as they do so that they become beloved as much as any one of the family... and yet their lifespan is such that the dog-lover might live through the death of any number of beloved dogs.

[Mutatis-Mutandis]

We got her from the pound as a puppy. She was not yet weaned. I bought her as a Christmas present for my wife. At the same time I purchased a big bed, cushions, bones, the whole shebang. She would have nothing to do with this. From the moment we turned out the lights, she began crying in the most pathetic manner until we finally let her up on the bed between us. She fell immediately to sleep, and has stayed there ever since.
That made me laugh. I tried letting my dachshund sleep in bed with me (before his spontaneous pooping stage of life, of course), and ended as every time I woke up, my legs would be off the bed, and he would be smack dab in the middle--he'd inch his way over so slowly it was nearly imperceptible.

In spite of her age, she is still quite active and ready to run around the back yard or wrestle with me on a moments notice... and yet she is obviously approaching the end. She struggles at times to get into the bed, and she gets pain in her hips after a lot of playing or when the weather changes. She loves nothing more than to sleep in late at my wife's feet (preferably with the electric blanket on). When she she finally dies I have little doubt we... and especially my wife... will be absolutely heartbroken.
Yep. Watching a dog get old is hard. Best thing to do is get a new one, really, after a couple weeks or so. We've always felt a need to fill the void that is inevitable there.

I remember coming across a post from a veterinarian or a kennel or some such thing in which it was suggested that dogs were God's greatest blessing and curse upon mankind. The curse lay in the fact that they live as long as they do so that they become beloved as much as any one of the family... and yet their lifespan is such that the dog-lover might live through the death of any number of beloved dogs.
I got a chain email once that told a story to explain why dogs live so short. It was set in the form of a little kid talking to his mom (as I guess the little kid making this statement made it all the more heartwarming), and he asks his mom something like, "Mom, humans live to understand God, and God is unconditional love, right?" The mom says yes. Then the kid says, "Well, maybe that's why dogs don't live long, because they can love unconditionally all the time," or some sappy **** like that, but I kind of liked it, for some inexplicable reason.

[Varenne Rodin]

I've never had a pet (my father dislikes them and what they do to his house), though I often used to help our elderly neighbour look after her goat, Mildred.

At the moment, I quite often dog-sit for my supervisor, who has a nine-month old Cocker Spaniel called Denny. He's absolutely adorable, though more than a little bitey. I'll admit I'm not much of a dog lover, but I have a great deal of affection for Denny.

When I finally own my own home, I fully intend to get a cat. It will be called Loki. Unless it is white, in which case it will be called Pangur Bán.

Those ideas are very nice. :)

[Varenne Rodin]

I had a dingo named Princess when I was little, then a German Shepherd called Shiloh. Princess was very smart. Shiloh would repeatedly slam herself against a sliding glass door for hours on end, whether inside or out. My mom had a friend who lost a dog to illness, and the friend ended up getting Shiloh as a gift. I always wondered how that worked out.

I had a hamster named Pudgemuck. She was pregnant when my mom bought her (we didn't know) and she had what seemed like one hundred babies that we gave to many happy friends.

Three cockatiels named Kiwi, Fabio (I didn't name him) and Baby. Kiwi had a vocabulary of over 60 words. Fabio spoke nearly 40 but then flew into window glass and broke his neck. He had surgery and lived and was happy, but he had brain damage and said things in a confused manner from then on. Instead of "Fabio loves Baby" or "Baby is a pretty bird" he would say "Fabio loves Fabio" and "Baby is a Fabio."

I had an anole lizard named Neon, a rat named Natty, an Oscar fish named Oscar. A dog named Benji, cats named Tiger, Tiger Lily, Sassy, Garfield, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Wolfy), Bagel Boy, Dough Boy, Misty Mittens, Brandy, and Sugar Bear. I had two horses, Pablo and Dollar Bill.

As an adult I had a mouse named Buttercup. She was the sweetest thing in the world. She never bit me. She was a clean animal. She lived to a very old age for a mouse, but I still miss her. Now I have two cats. Beauty and Monkey. Beauty is a great friend. Monkey has mental problems. She'll put her foot in her water dish and hold it there, mouth hanging open, eyes dazed. Then she holds the wet foot up to me like she doesn't understand what she has done or why.

[Helga]

Spock has slept in my bed since he was a pup, I got him when I was 15 and I bought a bigger bed because mine was to small for us. He would push me up against the wall. then I moved in with my (now ex) boyfriend and he did not want a dog in our bed but he had to work late a lot and sometimes leave for work very early and Spock just knew that he could stay in the bed if he wasn't at home so the minuet he left Spock was in the bed. Now a few days ago I bought myself a new bed and thought to myself 'maybe it's time to let the dogs sleep on the floor?' Sisko tried a few times to climb up but I told him to stay and OK he hasn't been in the new bed but Spock on the other hand waits until I am asleep and then he very slowly climbs up at the foot of the bed. he is a very smart dog!

I am gonna add a few pics to my album cause my boys are getting so big and there is one pic of Spock and my son in my old bed and if you notice the 10 cm or so next to my son, that is the space I had that night in my own bed.

[MarkBastable]

I just meant joke in the sense that there was no way your story was going to end without there being some sort of humorous element, even though the story was quite sad. It just wouldn't have been a MarkBastable post otherwise.


Fair enough.

[prendrelemick]

Shooting old sheepdogs is the way round here, I have done it three times, when there was no hope left - bed ridden, incontinent and in pain. (I am considered soft because I allow my dogs a long retirement - as long as it takes.) What I won't do is take an old dog to the vets at the end. I see to them myself, I have no problem with this if I am sure the time is right, I think it is the better for the dog to be in my hands rather than a strangers. They are then buried in the field in front of the house.

However, then there was Ruby. She was my once in a lifetime dog. That was hard. I still can,t talk about her,

[Sancho]

Well said, Mick.

I think your Ruby may have been my Molly.

[Sancho]

Twenty years ago I had two cats - mother and son - called Morden and Kerouac.

...Vets, I have to tell you, have no sense of humour.

Nice story, Mark.


I wouldn't dream of getting one - but I made the mistake of getting a wife, and she gets them.

Whiff/Niccolo, I’ve got sympathy. My wife has a kind heart and is forever bringing home critters who need a home, and yet it wasn’t a mistake, I love her dearly.

And it was her that introduced me to the concept of a dog as an indoor pet. When I was growing up, we always had dogs, but they were an outdoor phenomena, with strong self-preservation instincts. Also I think they were responsible for us missing a lot of our mail - our mailman choosing to toss our stuff in the dumpster rather than join the melee in the front yard. Anyway, we had to use descriptive names to keep track of them: The Black, The Red, Freckles; or if they’d been maimed through their own impetuousness: Scar face, Ole One Eye, and Tripod (in fact, at one point we had two three-legged dogs, so to distinguish between them, we called one, Tripod and the other one, Lucky.); or they earned a name through force of personality: Sargent-Major, General George C. Patton, Colonel Sanders (Okay, the last one didn’t have a strong personality, but he really liked fried chicken); then there were dogs who just distinguished themselves: Drool, Booger, and Sir Farts-a-Lot (my sister named the last one).

But that was back then, and now is now. Those dogs were more-or-less wild and free, and came and went as they pleased, and mostly watched out for themselves. Nowadays I (we) have well-inoculated, well-fed, indoor/outdoor dogs, all with Banfield Veterinary policies… but they’re still just dogs – impulsive, impetuous, and intrepid animals.

I was on a long trip in October, and when I got home, I got to counting dogs out in my back pasture. I said to my wife, “Hon, I think we’ve got an extra.”

She looked at her shoes and said, “Yeah.”

I gazed back out there and said, “Well, Okay.”

So, our new dog, a puppy really, is sort of an English Springer Spaniel. She has this crazy puppy-energy and she goes at full throttle until she crashes-n-burns on the rug in front of the fireplace, with legs in the air, tongue hanging out, snoring deeply and profoundly. She doesn’t have a rheostat – she has a toggle switch: ON/OFF, or in fighter-pilot lingo: Full Burner/Idle Boards, or in rockabilly lingo: My foot was blue, like lead to the floor, that’s all there is, and there ain’t no more.* She can build up enough centripetal force to run 4 or 5 laps around our living room without ever touching the floor, which says something about her velocity, or the radius of our living room, or both.

*From Hot Rod Lincoln, by Commander Cody
(an entire day in the life of Sanchito was spent learning this song on his guitar)

Now the boys all thought I’d lost my sense
And telephone poles looked like a picket fence
They said, “Slow down, I see spots”
The lines on the road just look like dots

We took a corner, sideswiped a truck
I crossed my fingers, just for luck
My fenders was clickin’ the guard-rail posts
The guy beside me was white as a ghost

[kiki1982]

Oh, that's so sad, Mark. I am sorry...

We have three cats. Two eight-year-olds (Emma and Baldrick, yes after Blackadder's mate ;)) and one Prunel after the Belgian alcohol. :D

I can tell you something about vets too... When we kept Prunel, a daughter of our Emma, we decided to have her spayed, because we didn't want two breeding cats. So, we call the vet up the street and we get it done. As it is about 100 EUR (she didn't give a formal price) I prefer to pay over invoice because then I can have something in paper better than such a flimsy piece of paper. I ask her whether I can have an account number... I tell you, she went balistic. Free translated, 'Oh, it is like that with you is it?' (assuming I would not pay, it is apparently a problem in Germany, not where we come from in Belgium it's not. I told her that but got an inconsiderate reply that it was always the same with foreigners...). She even threatened to put my cat down if I didn't turn up with the money in a few hours. Seriously. There was my cat, peeing in her box because she couldn't contain herself, poor thing, in pain obviously, drowsy because of the anasthetic and my vet is threatening to put her down for 100 EUR. In which case she would have had to pay for that herself as well. And she smoked in her office. I got my cat out of there and left my ID card. We will never ever go there again.

But the cat is great though. She is such a lovely girl. :)

Does anyone know whether cats have menopause or not? Our Emma is getting too old for babies, but I just can't see her being spayed and sitting with a collar on for ten days, inside... I know there is a hormonal injection they can give these days, but if she is going to have to have that every year for 10 more years, it is better to get her spayed in terms of cost, isn't it?

[Sancho]

Does anyone know whether cats have menopause or not? Our Emma is getting too old for babies, but I just can't see her being spayed and sitting with a collar on for ten days, inside... I know there is a hormonal injection they can give these days, but if she is going to have to have that every year for 10 more years, it is better to get her spayed in terms of cost, isn't it?

I could be mistaken (I frequently am), but I think menopause is unique to the human species. I think lady-kitties cycle 'till they die.

[prendrelemick]

Sancho: My daughter has a springer, and when he comes to stay "walkies" takes on a whole new dimension, especially in the bottom field where the rabbits are. Manic but fun.

[Sancho]

The Springers we’ve had through the years have seemed fairly keen on ground critters, and I always thought they were supposed to be bird dogs. A few years back we were living in a place near St. Louis that had a problem with moles or gophers or some darned subterranean pest. We had a Springer then too; he took one look (or sniff) in the backyard, looked at me, and said, “I smell varmit poontang!”* And then he proceeded to tirelessly plow up our back yard for the next several weeks. But it kept him busy and happy, and I think all the gophers that he didn’t catch moved next door.

Our place here in Georgia has a few pecan trees, so our Springers are employed as squirrel chasers – and sometimes squirrel catchers.

*I could be anthropomorphizing there.