Torn between Pets
By Debra Holland Sometimes I feel like I’m a bad pet mom, mostly because I live in two places—my home and my boyfriend’s house. At my home, I have two cats, Nicky and Pippin. At my boyfriend’s house, we have two dogs, Missy and Oreo.
Each set of animals has one who’s particularly attached to me, and I know misses me a lot w
hen I’m not with them. Of my cats, my fat, odd-eyed Pippin, will love anyone who feeds him. But Nicky is a one woman guy, although I think he’s finally warmed up to my roommate, fellow WNP member, Jennifer Smith. 
Nicky was one of an abandoned litter raised by one of my friends at the Orange County Chapter of RWA. She brought the bunch in a cat carrier to our chapter meeting. They were barely a month old. I opened the carrier and passed out kittens to my cooing friends, but kept one for myself, meaning to hold him for a while, then give him back. NOT!!! Nicky slept in my lap the whole meeting, good as gold. From then on, I carried him everywhere with me, even to work. Then he became too big to stay quietly in my lap, and I had to leave him at home. But he’d still remain near me. As he got older, he became neurotic, and so I adopted a second cat to keep him company. That seems to have worked.
At Don’s house, he already had a collie, Missy, who’s the sweetest dog, always willing to lick the face of anyone who’ll give her some attention. She loves me, but Don is her special parent. After we’d been dating a few months, Don decided to get a second dog, and I suggested a Shetland sheepdog. One night I came home and the doors to the family room were closed. Wondering why, I opened them, and a beautiful sheltie sitting near the couch perked up. She took one look at me and raced over, instantly adopting me. My Oreo, although we usually call her Orie.
For months she followed me everywere I went, even crawling under my desk when I wrote or sleeping next to my bed at night. It took Don nine months and liberal bribes of treats before she warmed up to him. Now, of course, she loves him. But I’m her primary love.So, as you can see, at either house, I have happy animals or animals who miss me when I’m not there. So I’m a perpetually guilty pet mom.
Labels: Dr. Debra Holland, torn between pets
posted by Mo H @ 6:36 AM
9 Comments:
Your pets sound and look adorable! Lucky you, Debra! And pets will make you feel guilt for simply walking out the door, even if it's only to grab the mail and come back. They must have a guilt gene. :-)
That's true, Judy. Plus, they are so hard to leave!
Every day I leave to go to work I feel guilty. Of course I mitigate it by saying "Mama has to go to work to make dog food money." I don't mention the cat food or cat litter money as the cats really do think anything I do for them is simply as it should be. Dogs are grateful for a bowl of water. My cats are insulted if there is even ONE piece of poop in their litter box. Mom scoops litter boxes three and four times a day. I have very loud, vocal cats.
Louisa,
At least your cats talk to you about their box. Nicky will just pee on the rug. So now I have puppy pee pads out in his favorite spots just in case I don't clean out the box on his schedule.
Deb,
I have a cat who cries when I go to get the mail. I swear she's more like a dog than a cat!
So true, Judy. My dog does the sad-eyed guilt trip so well that I swear he's about to cry when I go out without him.
Lucky pets, Debra. They're all adorable.
I love it, Debra. A dog house and a cat house!
I have one cat who is bereft if I leave (Mr. Perfect from my Aug 18 blog). He is around me most of the day and sleeps near me at night (but not on the bed)
Debra, your pets are all beautiful. So sweet--thanks for sharing :-).
LOL at the guilt gene theory, Judy :-)!
I don't feel guilty about leaving (I simply don't look back). But I often feel guilty when I realize I haven't appreciated the confetti-and-streamers celebration that greets my return as much as I should have.
Terry,
Nicky actually runs to greet me when I come home, just like a dog. Pippin comes around, too. He just doesn't run.
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