A few years ago a had pnemonia. My doctor wanted me to go into the hospital but I had 2 eight year olds who would have been unsupervised from 3 pm until 6 when my husband came home from work.
Well, I was pretty much incapacitated and my kids actually supervised me. They were warned to stay away from me, so everyday they would make me ramen noodles and orange juice and threatened to kiss me on the lips if I didn’t try to eat some.
And then there was Stupid. She was my cat. She spent 23 out of 24 hours curled beside me, liking me, purring into my chest and stroking me. She’d follow me to the bathroom and stand guard and ran for my husband the one time I fell (husband was already on the way-- I made a big sound worthy of the big girl that I am.)
I was very, very ill that first week. My kids and my cat reminded me that I was actually human. She was a good cat and I cried when she passed at 16.
Have you had a pet that went beyond the call of duty? It doesn’t have to be a story about how your dog pulled you out of a well or how your cockatiel saved 100 miners from asphyxiation (although that would be cool), just cool stories about pet love. And take your minds out of the gutter RIGHT NOW!
My dog puts a smile on my face whenever I see him. I adopted him a little over a year ago and could not have been happier to have him in my family. Cowboy only has three legs. He was not born this way. He had a neglectant owner as a pup. He broke his leg as a little puppy (don’t know how, don’t want to think about it!) and was never taken to a vet. His owner let him walk on the broken leg (which might have been saved, had it been cared for) for over a year before he decided that he didn’t want the dog and dumped poor Cowboy at the animal shelter. When Cowboy came to the shelter, he couldn’t use the leg and limped in pain because the bones has healed together incorrectly. Cowboy would have been put to sleep for sure, had a wonderful woman who runs a rescue group out of Santa Cruz not saved him. Her, and her group, took him in, and, after long talks with the vet about what was best for him, got his leg amputated. I met him one day and knew that he had to come home with me forever! Seriously, I was in the last couple months of college and wasn’t even allowed to have a dog in my apartment, yet I knew that he was my dog. His rescuer fostered him until I graduated and could bring him home because she just knew that he had found his forever home with me. My parent’s, at first bothered that I brought a 45 pound dog home with me the summer after I graduated, now love the dog as much as I do! My mom calls him her ‘grand-dog!’ I am always amazed with this animal and his love for life, especially since his early years were filled with such pain and neglect. Nothing can stop Cowboy from prancing down the beach with a big smile on his face (and yes, dogs can smile-just look at the picture!).
Nothing spectacular, but my kitty, if I’m feeling low when I go to bed will sit on my shoulder and pet my cheek, she just seems to know.
Going beyond the call of duty would be the old mutt that was 2 years older then me and died when I was 14. She followed me everywhere, 20 miles away on my bike and she was there. Absolutely wonderful dog, when I was REALLY Little she wouldn’t even let my old man come near me. I still get teary eyed when I think of her.
I find a long hot bath relaxing, and turning over and “floating” eases an old back injury. My Cat Maxx trys to "save " me every time he catches me. If I talk to him he’s fine, but if he can’t see my face, he will meow loudly, then jump onto my shoulders. He risks the dreaded bath water to keep me from drowning!.
He also is the household nurse. If anyone, Human or animal, isn’t up to par, he spends all the time it takes, purring, licking or just cuddling until his patient is up and around.
When he as a kitten I would say “No claws” whenever he grabbed on. He still follows that command, even if it means falling or being bathed.
To me, one of the Great Mysteries of Life is whether or not our pets love us. I’m guessing they don’t love us in the same way we love them (and most likely that’s a good thing), but there is without a doubt a bond that can be very strong.
My old hound Roman attached himself to me the minute we met, and in the 4 years that I had him he was literally never more than an arm’s length away whenever we were together. I remember the last time I left him to visit my parents for a few days, just a week or so after he turned 14. I missed him so much, and I thought about him the whole time I was gone. When I came back in the door, he immediately ran up to me and buried his head in my lap and stayed that way for many minutes while I told him how much I had missed him and how much I loved him. I genuinely felt at that time that he really did love me, and that he didn’t just hang with me because I fed him or walked him or because dogs are social and that’s what they do.
That night he slept with his back flat against me and his head up on the pillow with mine. I promised him I’d never leave him behind again. He died only 2 months later. He was never a loud or boisterous dog, but the house seemed so empty and quiet after he was gone, even though we had a second younger dog at the time.
I’ve had other dogs before and since and I’ve loved them all, but Roman was really special and if it’s possible, I think he felt the same way about me. It was very neat to have that kind of relationship with an animal and I’m glad it was meant to be, even though I still miss him to this day. I’d give anything to hug him just one more time.
My dogs are stock-dogs- they work livestock in practical work and competition. A few weeks ago, my Nellie (the Elephant showed herself to have alot of heart. She is not the toughest cow dog in the world, but has a load of try. We had a trial in N. Nevada and it was raining. Right as our trial run started, it started to hail- badly. Livestock folks are pretty stoic- weather is never an excuse so we carried on our run. Nellie couldn’t hear my directions, the cows were less than happy - but she still managed to get them around most of the course. At one point she went to grip a heel to get the cows moving and got a mouthful of mud. Her enthusiasm never flagged and we managed to score well enough to be in the money. She has a lot of heart. Her mother Rhett is the same- tougher but both have a tremendous amount of courage and try. I’ve seen Rhett get trampled and get up PISSED OFF and teach some bovines a few things about manners.
Dogs are just the greatest thing, there is so much they will do for you if you let them.
My dogs are stock-dogs- they work livestock in practical work and competition. A few weeks ago, my Nellie (the Elephant showed herself to have alot of heart. She is not the toughest cow dog in the world, but has a load of try. We had a trial in N. Nevada and it was raining. Right as our trial run started, it started to hail- badly. Livestock folks are pretty stoic- weather is never an excuse so we carried on our run. Nellie couldn’t hear my directions, the cows were less than happy - but she still managed to get them around most of the course. At one point she went to grip a heel to get the cows moving and got a mouthful of mud. Her enthusiasm never flagged and we managed to score well enough to be in the money. She has a lot of heart. Her mother Rhett is the same- tougher but both have a tremendous amount of courage and try. I’ve seen Rhett get trampled and get up PISSED OFF and teach some bovines a few things about manners.
Dogs are just the greatest thing, there is so much they will do for you if you let them.
Our Irish Setter mix not only knew when I had a migraine, she would sniff around my head, figure out which side it was on and lick me.
I figure since I often mash my fingers into my temple when the thing hits, it isn’t as mysterious as it sounds. She was probably licking the traces of salt or food left by my fingers. But damn! At the time it was astounding.
Romansperson that was a beautiful story, it gave me goosebumps, nearly made me cry.
I’m a dog person too and stories of love for a dog always get stuck in my throat.
You were lucky to have had him. I hope you have a picture of him in your house somewhere. I lost a dog too, and I keep a framed picture of him on the mantle. I still find myself saying "that’s my dog “Pavlov” to guests. I still consider him my dog even though we left 7 years ago.
I guess that’s not so strange. If your mother died and you put a picture up you wouldn’t say “that’s a Mother I used to have” would you?
I had my afghan hound Siddhartha for 14 years. True to his name, he was a pacifist. The birds could bathe in his water dish and the squirrels could come up and eat from his food bowl. He adored my siamese cat. Our neighbor had a white german shepherd who was incredibly strong and meaner thana snake. He’d bitten his family several times. Another neighbor was afraid to work in her garden because she worried he’d get lose. One day my sister had her toddler son strapped in his stroller getting ready for a walk. That day, Bear the shepherd broke out the door and ran straight for the baby, barking and growling. Siddhartha intercepted him and held him off, taking several bad bites in the process. I’m sure he saved the baby from being mauled. The neighbor’s response? “If you want to keep him out of your yard, you should fence it.”
I’ve only had my cats for a little over two weeks - Jake and Scout were adopted from a friend who can’t keep them after she’s married because it turns out that her fiance is allergic.
I’ve got a cold, and spent most of yesterday and today sleeping on the sofa. Jake spent most of yesterday just curled up next to me. He’d get up and leave for a minute or two, then come back, knead the pillow (or my arm) a little, then curl up and sleep some more. It was sweet - like he was trying to take care of me. Scout, on the other hand, sort of ignored me and occasionally tried to get Jake to come play, but he was having none of that.
Back in the 70’s a friend got an Irish setter pup. Jane & Bob lived in a house on a quiet street. I, on the other hand, lived in a tiny apt that didn’t allow pets. I had lived in a house with 4 roommates, but that didn’t work out, there was ha housing shortageat the time and finding that little apartment was great, except for Spot, my siamese mix tom. Jane came to the rescue. Spot became Spot Brown, because it was just foster care (Brown was my name at the time.)
So, Jane needs help picking up the new puppy. In my 280Z off we go to the puppy place. Riley rides on Jane’s lap and all is well, until he throws up a block from the house. Poor puppy… Poor Jane Poor car…We take shaking frightened Riley into the house, clean him up, put him down & Spot Brown flies in out of nowhere, and smacks poor, traumatized puppy on the nose, drawing blood. I sat on the floor with him holding his nose to stop the bleeding. Face lick of gratitude, fade to black. Many many more stories of Me and not my dog Riley. But then I have to move away. B’bye Riley.
Fast forward 14 years. I’ve come back to my home city as a travel nurse. Jane asks if I’ll house sit. Riley is old. He has arthritis and a tumor not yet discovered.
I knocked on the door, but go right in as I had for so many years. There stands Riley, as he always had, to greet me. tail going so fast its a blur.
I give him my best neck ruffle and turn to Jane. She’s standing with her mouth open and tears in her eyes. Riley hadn’t greeted anyone at the door for almost a year… not even her. Riley died the next spring when the cancer made itself undeniable.
That was 1993. I never was a dog person, but I still miss that old redhead.
(sorry for being so long… it felt good.)
Back in the 70’s a friend got an Irish setter pup. Jane & Bob lived in a house on a quiet street. I, on the other hand, lived in a tiny apt that didn’t allow pets. I had lived in a house with 4 roommates, but that didn’t work out, there was ha housing shortageat the time and finding that little apartment was great, except for Spot, my siamese mix tom. Jane came to the rescue. Spot became Spot Brown, because it was just foster care (Brown was my name at the time.)
So, Jane needs help picking up the new puppy. In my 280Z off we go to the puppy place. Riley rides on Jane’s lap and all is well, until he throws up a block from the house. Poor puppy… Poor Jane Poor car…We take shaking frightened Riley into the house, clean him up, put him down & Spot Brown flies in out of nowhere, and smacks poor, traumatized puppy on the nose, drawing blood. I sat on the floor with him holding his nose to stop the bleeding. Face lick of gratitude, fade to black. Many many more stories of Me and not my dog Riley. But then I have to move away. B’bye Riley.
Fast forward 14 years. I’ve come back to my home city as a travel nurse. Jane asks if I’ll house sit. Riley is old. He has arthritis and a tumor not yet discovered.
I knocked on the door, but go right in as I had for so many years. There stands Riley, as he always had, to greet me. tail going so fast its a blur.
I give him my best neck ruffle and turn to Jane. She’s standing with her mouth open and tears in her eyes. Riley hadn’t greeted anyone at the door for almost a year… not even her. Riley died the next spring when the cancer made itself undeniable.
That was 1993. I never was a dog person, but I still miss that old redhead.
(sorry for being so long… it felt good.)
showed herself to have alot of heart. She is not the toughest cow dog in the world, but has a load of try. We had a trial in N. Nevada and it was raining. Right as our trial run started, it started to hail- badly. Livestock folks are pretty stoic- weather is never an excuse so we carried on our run. Nellie couldn’t hear my directions, the cows were less than happy - but she still managed to get them around most of the course. At one point she went to grip a heel to get the cows moving and got a mouthful of mud. Her enthusiasm never flagged and we managed to score well enough to be in the money. She has a lot of heart. Her mother Rhett is the same- tougher but both have a tremendous amount of courage and try. I’ve seen Rhett get trampled and get up PISSED OFF and teach some bovines a few things about manners.