I’m not really going to talk about the fish, other than to say that E.T. was an ugly black buggeyed one, and we currently have a shark-type fish that just refuses to die.
Our first cat was a grey short-haried cat with white belly, chest and paws. I named him Nipper, since he liked to nip at your hands when he was a kitten. I loved that cat so much! I had been begging my parents for YEARS to let me have a cat, and then at Christmas, when I was 6, they let my godfather surprise me with one! Up until that very day they had been saying No! When we moved to Germany in 1990, we gave the cat to my aunt while we went up to visit my grandmother one last time. I remember leaving the house to go see grandmaman, and saying “I’ll see you when I get back!” Sadly, the cat ran away from my aunt’s place, and I’ve never seen him again. I was 9, I am now 22, and I still hate that I “lied” to the cat about seeing him again.
After three years in Germany, we moved back, and my parents had in the meantime promised that I could get another cat as soon as we moved back. My sister got in on the deal too, and less than a week after landing back in Canada, we went to the local SPCA with my mom and two aunts, and we chose cats right away. My sister chose a cat similar to Nipper, and named her Mittens, while I chose a scrawny little black kitten and named her the very original name of Midnight. Mittens sadly ran away a few months later - thereby convincing us that grey and white cats are just unlucky for us, and we would never get one again. Midnight became not-so-scrawny and it is safe to say that she owns the house.
That Christmas, my parents decided to get a second cat for my sister, and went and adopted Levis from the SPCA. My aunt kept her at her place until Christmas eve, at which point we presented the little terror to my sister. Levis is an incredibly large and stupid tabby with the most pathetic, high pitched meow I’ve ever heard. She has trouble jumping onto the counter where her food is; she needs several booster attempts before she feels comfortable actually jumping. We also strongly suspect that she was weaned too early, since she eats only tiny food pieces, and does so really slowly. Cute cat, but stupid.
That year, my cousin was given a Golden Retriever for Christmas. This resulted in a fit of jealous rage in my sister, which led to the convincing of my parents that SHE wanted one more than my cousin did, and therefore we HAD to have one. Later that year we got a Golden Retriever of our very own, which my sister named Nike. He was a boy, and before people point out that Nike was the GODDESS of Victory, let me just say that, like Levis, the dog was actually named after the clothing company, not any great mythological knowldge that my sister had! (Levis had been so named because on the day of her adoption, Midnight was found playing in a paper bag from the Levis store - it became the code-name, and it stuck).
So, anyways, Nike was a fantastic dog, very calm and gentle, but sadly he had bone inflammation problems in his legs, and was diagnosed with mild hip dysplasia, which shouldn’t effect him until he was about 6 or 7. The breeder refused to believe us, even after we provided medical proof of this. We recommend AGAINST that breeder now. During the time that we had Nike, my sister developed a form of juvenile arthritis in her legs, and he was always there with her in her pain, and you could almost see a mutual understanding of what life was like for them. I’ve posted about it on the boards before, so I won’t go into details, but when Nike was 2.5 years old, my brother came home and found him in the basement, tongue lolling out, eyes rolled back, not moving his hind legs, etc. Treatment by our local vets, and then the vets at the teaching hospital in St. Hyacinthe were ineffective, and our beloved Nike-boy died early the next morning. We never were able to determine what caused it, even after his autopsy.
Nike’s death nearly destroyed my sister - I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more heart-felt and painful scream in my life. The neighbours came over early in the morning, knowing based on her screams from across the street that the poor dog had died. Sis latched on to the neighbour’s dog, then my cousin’s, and even came home one night with a family-friend’s dog which my aunt had been babysitting. It became VERY clear very quickly that she needed a dog in her life, she needed that attachment and that companionship. Having a dog also guaranteed some physical activity, which she needed due to her physical condition.
We contacted the same breeder that my aunt had gotten her dog from (one which we recommend whole-heartedly) and as luck would have it, there were two male puppies just waiting to be adopted. My parents and sister went to see them, and came back and made the decision that night. So, three days after Nike’s death, we were the proud owners of Sully, a playful, hyperactive puppy which had been returned twice (by uninformed people) since he was a LOT to handle! Sully is going on 6 years old, and is in perfect health. He has always been more of a handful than Nike was, though we now believe that Nike’s mellow nature was partially due to ill health. Nike was a good first dog, and it’s nice to think that he left, knowing that Sully needed a home.
(I’m crying now)
And last but certainly not least, is the Breester. Bree (her actual name) is the cat my SO and I adopted together, and she is currently sleeping on his computer chair, a habit which irritates him to no end since she leaves long white and black cat hair all over it! She’s nearly 2 years old, but still is as soft as a kitten and as bizarre and energetic as she was then!
Although I said “last” for Bree, there is a very good chance that we will adopt another cat in the next year or so, and I definitely have future plans for a dog!
::mnemosyne goes off to give her kitty a big hug::
And I think that a cat-fetching dog is priceless.
