So where were we? Ah, yes…continuing the countdown introducing you to my 4-legged menagerie and their various personality traits that either drive me nuts or endear me to them even more. We’ve finished with Skip, Oliver and Fat Jack. So let’s tackle Savannah and Dash next, shall we? (Yes, we shall).
Three weeks ago I blogged about my dog Skip’s quirks and endearing idiosyncrasies when I actually intended to mention all 10 of my animals…the good, the bad and the ugly. So much for brevity. I guess you can say it’s not one of my strong suits. So I’ll try again.
Let’s see…Oliver is my oldest pet. I don’t know exactly how old because he was found as an injured adult taking refuge in a dog house in someone’s backyard in early 2011. Marin Humane asked me to foster him. Thus I inherited my first failed foster.
(This blog was originally posted on October 6, 2013 and Oliver is still as chatty as ever.)
There’s a snake loose in my home. I know this because my chatty cat, Oliver, informed me. I heard him calling me from clear across the house. So naturally, I went to see what all the chatter was about.
Actually, Oliver brought me two snakes, but luckily I managed to grab one and rush it across the street to “Rodent Knoll.” That’s the area where I generally release the gifts my cat so graciously brings me. Math is not my strong suit but I believe that means one snake is still slithering aimlessly inside my house.
I’ve been making meals for myself for 15 years now. No more planning dinners for my significant other since I no longer have one. My ex was a meat eater and I’m not, so I cooked him a typical Midwest meal of meat and potatoes with a side of vegetables thrown in for good measure. I, on the other hand, enjoy anything without a face, like my roasted tomato-vegetable casserole, salad on the side.
Oh, how times have changed. Once I’d acclimated to cooking dinner only when I felt like it (even though my ex never expected me to cook for him), I’d just wing it. For instance, I’d simply enjoy cheese and crackers followed by fruit with yogurt. Or maybe I’d have breakfast for dinner, something my dad always enjoyed.
So now I’m back to cooking for those in my home who depend on me for their daily sustenance — my 10 pets. They’re the opposite of my ex in that they expect and actually insist I make their meals. It better be ready at 9 a.m. and 6 p.m., respectively, or I’m gonna hear about it. Most of my pets aren’t much larger than a bread box (am I dating myself?) and since I definitely am larger, one would imagine they’d think twice before being so demanding.
By now you know I live with 10 pets — three dogs and seven cats.
Notice I didn’t say they live with ME because in reality I live with THEM. And boy do they know it. I’m a bit outnumbered, especially with my cats. So consequently, what I want is of no interest to them. My purpose in their eyes? Make sure their bellies are full, and to accommodate them, use no more than the very edge of my king size bed.
Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not complaining. And lest you think otherwise, I’m actually sane (although it may not seem that way to petless people). But that’s fine with me. You’re entitled to your opinion, however erroneous it may be. Fortunately, I don’t fault you for it.
I’ve lived alone now for nearly 15 years, if having a ton of pets can be considered living alone. I guess I should say I’m the only human in my house. It was my first time going solo since I left my parents home to share a rental with Sharon.
Now Don't Get Me Wrong 