My pet therapists are doing a very good job with me. All three are conscientious in providing my daily therapies
Daisy, my younger cat weighs 25 pounds and she is my official Massage Therapist. She is a white cat with one blue eye and one yellow eye. She gives me a daily massage and I wish you could see her expression. She really throws herself into her work.
My older cat is a 17 year old Manx tabby with multiple health problems, the first of which is an enlarged heart. I could have told you that Emily has a great big heart. Look at the way she adopted me. She has taken on the role of my Occupational Therapist. She makes sure that I spend plenty of time cleaning up after her so taking care of her has become a full time occupation. She sheds copious amounts of fur, so I spend time every day vacuuming it off the pale beige carpet. Emily is also my acupuncturist, for her talon-like claws are frequently glommed onto my forearm or thigh through my clothes. I try to convince her that I don’t need acupuncture, but she loves me sooooo good she has to hang on tight. Big emerald green eyes assure me that it will only hurt for a little while, so I try to hang in and endure the treatment stoically.
My Physical Therapist is Minx, the half rat terrier/half
mix I adopted. She has more energy than a bushel of ferrets and is twice as
playful. Minx is an eternal optimist. She is always convinced that I am ready
to play. I am always certain that I am NOT ready to play, but she convinces me
otherwise. It’s hard to say no when she presents with her little smiling face
and lays a toy at my feet. When she looks at me with her ‘I love you’ face, I’m
a goner and I pick up the darned toy. We head for the door and once in the back
yard, I throw said darned toy until my arm falls off. Minx, for her part, is
willing to fetch long after my arm has fallen off, but that’s as far as I’m
willing to go. I pick up my fallen arm and go inside, leaving a disappointed
doggie face and a wagging tail behind. Chihuahua
Minx also provides Speech Therapy. Being a tiny black wolfish type dog with a snout, she ‘talks’ incessantly. When I return from work, she is barking from the second I come in the door. In fact, she can hear me pull up in the driveway and sets up her litany of welcome home barks. “Please don’t yell at me,” I say, but she keeps it up until we are in the back yard once again with darned toys. Her vocabulary is such that I’m certain she will one day soon be fluent in my language. She has a crisp, yappy bark and a wowowowow-type howl, as well as many other sounds. I know she’s speaking volumes to me but I’m too obtuse to understand. Fortunately, she remains positive and continues to provide therapy whether I need it or not.
Between the three, I think I also receive plenty of psych therapy. Yes, they're always able to provide their furry psychological counseling. Wasn't it Charlie Brown who said, "Happiness is a warm puppy...or was it a kitty?"