If you knew me when I was growing up, I don't have to remind you that I LOVED my pets. I was rarely not outside with my dogs, pretending they were my horses and the leash was my reins on a wagon. I considered my horse my best friend, rode her every chance I got and spent the rest of my free time just in her presence. There were always at least a couple of cats at any given time, who would cuddle up next to me and sleep every night. I learned early-on that animals are a source of unconditional love and devotion. They are so quick to forgive and their company truly is theraputic.
It's funny how I changed as I grew up. I knew I wanted pets again in an effort to recreate those bonds I grew up with. Mark and I went through a couple dogs after buying our first home until we settled on our two grown mutts, Sasha and Dinka. They were as close to perfect (ugly, yes, but well behaved) as dogs can be, I have no complaints. Still, with two babies and other obligations, the dogs and our cats automatically slipped to the backburner. It only makes sense and is natural that things are placed in perspective once there is a little human being to take care of. But, it always baffled me that I could lack attachment with my pets when I used to be such an animal lover.
We gave away one of our cats a couple years ago and one of our dogs ran away. Although they were missed, we felt somewhat relieved to have less of a load in the pet department. So, we managed the last while with one cat and one dog. Dinka has battled an ear infection off and on for two years and lately, it was getting out of control. She would be scratching at it constantly and get it bloody and sore. I felt like looking out at her was a knife of guilt in the gut, but I knew there was nothing we could do that we hadn't already tried and we had zero money to devote to her antibiotics anymore (which didn't seem to work anyway). Mark took her to the shelter in Meridian earlier this week, knowing that they would do what they could to give her the care she deserved, and that worst case- she'd be out of her pain. Then, only days later, our cat got into another cat fight and came home with a major gash in his face and swelling. This had happened twice before and cost us $490 last time, so we both knew we could not do that again.
Bringing "The Quod" to the pound today was so much harder than I would have expected. Mark couldn't go in, so I did- thinking I had no real bond and could be stoic about it. Not the case. I saw Mark get emotional and I lost it. We don't know if they'll determine that his injuries are worth treating or not. We're hoping they will see what a sweetie he is and give him a chance, but we're realistic, too.
Under my pressure, Mark and I went to the pound when we were dating and found a teeny five-week old kitten for his apartment. The little thing crawled up Mark's shirt and started sucking on his earlobe, clearly, he'd been weaned too early. Mark knew that was the one for him. In Mark's nasty apartment, Quodus (named by his roommate) got severe ringworm and an anal infection right from the get go. Mark spent his money and time nursing that helpless thing back to health. A real bond was formed. We moved to New Jersey, Flagstaff, Scottsdale, and Boise with him in tow. He was always especially loyal to Mark, still attempting to suck on his collar or neck or earlobe (slightly more disturbing with a grown cat). It was clear, all the times we brought him to the vet and spent money we didn't have, that Mark was willing to do what it took to keep his bud.
Animals truly are an example of loyalty and forgiveness. I don't know how many times I threw Quodus out the door in frustration or yelled at Dinka for something, just to have them nuzzle up to me at the next opportunity. People just aren't like that. It's so sad to think about how disposable they became to us this week after everything was said and done. I hate that.
I hope that someday we'll be in a position (in life and with money) where we can be devoted and responsible pet owners. I want my kids to have that like I did.