Pets

I have always had a pet, whether it be a cat or a bird growing up. Then it all happened again as an adult, a cat and a bird.

One cat was not enough though, as I found two were better than one. It’s true, they have each other to play, sleep and aggravate each other.

It is when two turns into eight, I about lost it, especially when my husband had to move over to take care of his mother. I was feeding eight cats morning, noon and night it felt like. Don’t get me going on the litter boxes, that’s just a load of crap.

I did this for several months, which took up a lot of my time. They knew I was home from work or it was time for bed, as they knew that meant a treat or food. Looking down and seeing all those eyes and feet was overwhelming.

Bedtime was great. They all found their little favorite place and settled in. When they are inside at night, they did not roam or cause havoc, it was a safe place for them. I was and still amazed at their obedience. Every now and then, there is one that needs attention.

These cats, that started at two, then eight, each have a story and different personalities. The six came from the previous owners that moved and left them. They would visit but when it came to complete abandonment, they adopted us. In return, we adopted them.

Taking them to the vet, I usually make a day of it, since we live close. It’s two by two, four times. The vet loves us, as the tab builds for each one.

With the responsibility falling on my shoulder, I had to make a decision of moving a couple of them to a no-kill shelter. It was hard. I felt like a failure but I had to do so. One has already been adopted out while the other still has his bully attitude and will remain in the shelter a little longer.

Now I have five. Yes, I lost another one. One of my original two. She had been sick and lost use of her back legs, which meant she had to have personal hygiene care. Knowing at the end, she and I were both miserable, I made one last trip to the vet with her, holding her until the end. No animal should suffer and be in quiet pain.

Now the five. The one original I had with the one I lost, his personality changed. Usually, he was her companion and best buddies, which is why we had them. He became like a different cat and no longer aloof but one that needed attention. Cats know and grieve, too. He is often by my side, helps me go to the bathroom, he knows my every turn. He has buddied up with the other cats, well two of them. The other two are old, cranky and set in their ways. Still, he has been a delightful cat. Most are.

My youngest, found on the side of the road as a kitten with broken pelvis was cared for and doing great. She will eat some and get a burst of energy. So funny.

No matter what they do or not do, they have their own way of stealing my heart. Sometimes I just laugh and usually say, you Crazy Cats, on a daily basis, as I wait for their beckon call to go in, out or be held. I have two that stay in, the other adopted cats have trained me to open doors.

No matter, I have learned them and they have learned me. We manage and while they bring joy and work, I love each one.

No more crazy cats though, I need a life.

I am unsure why I thought of this but I know in the past, I have enjoyed hearing pet names that a spouse may give or say to their spouse, a parent to their child(ren), an owner of a pet of their pet(s), etc. I have never had that in life so it was something I would pick up on while listening.

My boys, I always use Sweetie. Now my dog when she was alive, her name was Baby. The previous foster mother named her and sure enough she was a sweet Baby, so I normally called her Baby Dog. With our cats, which we tend to have one too many. Okay, like five too many, as the apartment dwellers nearby seem to leave their cats and well, it happens, and they add up. Guess I could be called the Old Cat Lady and probably am. The cats each have their names, of course, but usually whatever comes to mind (today was Frootloop) when I am letting one in, one out and realizing they have me trained. We have two cats (brothers) that look like bookends and I refer to them as such. The only way to tell them apart is by the nose). No matter, they are a lot of company and each one has their own unique personality. The veterinarian loves when we make a day of appointments. Thankfully, we live about two miles away, so I take them two by two. Just like Noah and the Ark.

When I had cockatiel, our solid white one, called Annie, she was hand grown by my father-in-law, and she was the sweetest bird and loved to be out of the cage and with us. Sadly, she passed. I tried my hand at another one. I am not a elaborate person with names, so she became Annie 2. This bird lived a long time and would chase the cats. We had a handyman at our house doing some remodeling and he called me at work in a panic. The bird was out of her cage and the cats went under the bed. Typical, but he did not enjoy the chaos and fear of what could happen. I knew they were fine. Annie 2 was the boss.

Many months ago, I was with my son and his wife when I first heard them talking and then I heard him say, Babe, asking her a question. It made me stop and smile, thinking that is my son and loving his wife, using a pet name for her. It made me feel proud, as his mom. Still when I hear them together, he says Babe. I wondered where and why because his dad never called me anything, that I know of, except Hey. Never my name, never a sweet pet name, just Hey. Isn’t it romantic?

We had some new neighbors move into the house across the street, a young couple many, many years ago. We did not know them at first until they settled in but soon I enjoyed talking with them. I would be working out in my flowers (aka weeds) and I would hear her say, Honey or Hey Honey, Honey come here and Honey this or that. At first I thought how sweet but somewhat nauseating and realized I was just jealous. They are all honeying it up over there and then I hear mine calling me, Hey. Just great.

To find out, Honey was their cat. I felt better. In time I told them about my thoughts and feeling jealous of them saying Honey and we all laughed. I have not forgotten their cat named Honey and often cared for her when they were out of town. Honey was to have the television turned on of a special cat show during the day. Whatever Honey.

Still, going on thirty-two years, I am still called, Hey. When I do hear my name said by him, which is seldom, I sometimes am startled. So my quick trip down memory lane today was just nice and made me smile, even the fact of I am still Hey. I am just so proud of my son who can call his wife Babe and not Hey.