Pet Peeves....or Peeved about Pets

So, this is not a list of pet peeves, but a rant of ways my family has peeved me about pets. I am, or was, an animal lover. When Pete and I married, we each had a dog. Our dogs were older and mature and it wasn't too long before we lost them.

His brother Tommy had a batch of Doberman Pincher puppies. Pete wanted one and I was on board for us to get a dog together. So, into our lives came Maggie Mae. I did over half of the potty training, the feeding, the bathing, the hauling to the vet, etc. But that was okay. She was like our first child. We loved and adored her, and she loved and adored us.

Over time, we added many other various dogs, just outside pets, so they weren't much trouble for me at first. Pete got hogs. And chickens. The bad part was that all too often feeding and tending to the outside animals fell to me, as I was home earliest in the evenings. When I was pregnant with Bubba I'd cry when I fed the hogs, as I had to get in the pen to do it, and hogs are one of the few animals you can catch things from that will harm an unborn child.

One of the outside dogs had a litter of hounds. Ten puppies. And parvo was a new disease here. And they got it. The vet said separating sick from well ones and giving them Gatorade was the only hope. So, as one showed signs of being sick, I took them from their dog yard and put them on the back porch. I forced Gatorade down them several times a day. Each had their own syringe and cup. I'd rock them, and cry and pray over them. (I was pregnant with Bubba and my mother instincts were kicking into high gear!) As they'd start to eat food again, I'd turn them loose in the yard. Eventually, all ten made it through!! It was truly a miracle!

We eventually lost Maggie Mae when Bubba was a toddler. I tried having a cat. At first in the house, but when litter box issues just became too much, I let her be an outside cat. Pete got Hank the horse.

This is one animal he really did the lion's share of tending to. He spent long hours outside with his horse. Even slept with him on occasion. Building a camaraderie between them many were envious of.

We finally got a Boston Terrier named Xena to replace Maggie Mae's spot in our home. I was fairly on board for that. After all, a little boy needs a dog around. Again, I did most of the potty training, feeding, bathing, etc. Everyone we knew wanted a Xena. So Pete let her have puppies. Problem was, we'd end up keeping one or two each time. And all too often I found myself having to do things for them.

And an endless procession of yard dogs and hunting dogs came through our home. Well, outside. Fast forward eight years. Xena is sick with heart failure. I give her meds and take her to the vet. Bug has kept one of her grand-puppies for herself, Blackie. And we get one of her puppies back from a couple who couldn't handle her, Matilda. Now there are three Boston Terriers in our home and I do almost all of the feeding, bathing, etc.

Several years go by and then they begin to die off. One by one for various reasons. I'm heartbroke and older and tired and would much prefer to simply love on one of the cats that live outside when I want an animal's touch. But Pete's sister insists on giving him her dog, Lucy for company. Now, Lucy is an alright dog, but I definitely did not want her here, as I knew who'd be responsible for most of her upkeep. But he ignored me and got her. And I do love her.

Bubba married and Candy Girl became part of our family. One day she tells Pete about two miniature Chihuahuas that needs a home. Pete wants them. I say NO! No way. They ignore me and Bonnie & Clyde invade our home. I refuse to help with them. Pete does fairly well taking care of them for about six months.

Then he has to go into the hospital this past February. So of course I tend them while he is there. And I carry on for the first few days that he is back home. Then when I try to hand the responsibility back over to him, he has a snit fit. He does a few things for them, but most of it is left up to me. And I do it. Because I have a soft heart for animals and because I'm too dang responsible a person.

But if anyone other than me tries to bring another animal into our home to live, there's either gonna be a killing or I'm packing and leaving.

Sometimes I really resent the fact that Mother & Daddy raised me to be responsible. For teaching me you could measure much of a person's heart by how they treated their animals. Sometimes I wish I could be an irresponsible, selfish soul who left everything a mess for someone else to clean up.