What makes that special pet?

Well there is that connection held between one's furry friend and oneself. It goes beyond mere dependence and survival. I'll try to percolate a few anecdotes to tell after work.

It was 19 something or other and I lay there peacefully sleeping. It was then that the cat Mr.Gray scratched me to bits, I knew then he was special. I was soon saved from his amorous moves when my sister was discovered to have an allergy and her hair was falling out. I think she was faking it in order to get a turtle; because, years later she had 9 cats and her hair didn't fall out. My brother was disappointed because he like putting the cat in the kitchen cabinets. There was another cat as well with us at the time, Tony or Spumoni, he was an orangey cat, and I didn't have a very high opinion of him. We got rid of him too.

I was oddly attached to Mr.Gray and it some 20 years before I was willing to allow another cat access to my home. At that time I got a basement cat...he was born in a basement. He was an interesting cat, easy going, protective of me, and into garlic. We spent several years together until he went to Catnip and String World. I haven't gotten another cat and don't intend to, they'd never measure up to King Arthur (a.k.a. Sweet Begonia, My Little Boulliabaisse...because a cat needs and deserves nicknames). I still think about him and often sigh, knowing he won't get hairs all over my black trousers ever again or jump on the table and start eating my food before I do.

Along the way there were a few dogs, only 1 of which stood out above the rest. She was a stray and had been emotionally damaged by a lunatic man on the next block. I can't remember the exact year, just the day that she became part of my life, it was Halloween. She was a lovely dog, a mutt, unknown breeding, always with a sparkle in her eyes and the most adorable ears. She was just a spectacular dog, not sure what it was, it just was and it was there.

Cool!

Awwwwwwwwwww!

My special cat is Phoebe.

She was a seal point Siamese and she and her beautiful, but witless blue sister, Emma, were bought when my dear, but Wuthering Heightsishly intense, Miranda I died.

With Phoebe it was her INTELLIGENCE, sweetness of personality and intrinsic happiness, extreme feistiness, and the magical communication we had. Friends would say our understanding was uncanny....this was partly easily explicable by her large vocabulary, for a cat....and the fact that I just naturally included her understood words and gestures into complete sentences, which made people think she understood complex sentences!


She was also the perfect and sweetest host, unless overtaken by her love of potato chips, which she would launch herself into then air TH grab from the hands of startled guests.

I'll talk more about her later..its late. I still miss her lovely presence.

My special dog is Marcus Eugene, chocolate standard poodle who graced my life for 14 years. He chose me as a puppy, frantically racing around the picnic table where I was sitting, then jumping into my lap and licking my face. He was smart and funny. He adored chocolate (a huge nono) and would go to any lengths to get it, including going through a houseguest's luggage to unearth a chocolate bar. He also unwrapped a gift under the Christmas tree which contained expensive cocoa, and had it half-eaten when I got home from church. He mourned when I went on vacation, and had to be hand-fed by dog sitters. He loved to play catch with my brother, who cheated and only pretended to throw the ball. Marcus only fell for that once. After that, he sat and barked until my brother did the right thing. When he grew very frail at the end, a group of my friends (and his) went with me to the vet when it was time to see him off. We each said goodbye, and then I held him as he drifted away.
That's him as my avatar.

Lovely to have him as an avatar.