The Hole in my Heart

by J.D. Faver

Having a quiet, sad, reflective few days after spending a week comforting my old dying cat. She wasn't in pain and spent most of that week in my lap or on my bed. I tried to rub her ears off and she rewarded me with lots of purring. Em

ily has been my loyal companion for 17 years, which was amazing since she had an enlarged heart and a vet told me she shouldn't have lived more than a few years. I can agree that she was a kitty with a big heart and a big attitude. My wonderful son-in-law came over (they all did) to make sure she got a proper burial. Glad I have a family that understands the importance of the furry family members. So, I have a hole in my heart, but Daisy, my other cat is trying to make up for my loss by becoming a cat-version of Velcro. Life goes on...

This is Emily, the small, bossy Manx that was my long time companion. What she lacked in tail she made up in attitude. She was able to express her wishes quite eloquently. 

Emily was the official greeter. Anyone who entered our house would immediately have an opportunity to pay homage to the cat...the whole cat...and nothing but the cat. Since she was gray and white, you were always outfitted with cat hair to coordinate with any outfit. She had white socks with one little striped paw on her left forepaw which you can see in this picture. Yes, I miss my kitty. I keep expecting to see her on my bed or in her favorite window spot. As I write this, Daisy (my 25-lb white cat) is plastered against my thigh, delivering a massage and purring. I'm sure we both need the comfort. ~J.D. Faver

PET THERAPY

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 Chihuahua 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.

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?"

J.D. Faver

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Catwoman Takes a Dog!

I have always had cats. I seem to be a cat magnet. They find me and know just how to approach me to be assured they will be taken inside, fed and spoiled.

How, you ask, would a certified cat lover be able to lose her heart to a small, stinky and yappy dog? Let me just say, it was by degrees. You know...Like how you fell in love with your kids, because, let's face it. They stink. They turn your life upside down. They want to eat when you want to sleep, and vice-versa. You have to spend all your money on them and more than that...all your time.

I'll start at the beginning: I was having a day with my younger granddaughter, who is great fun to run away with. Shannon and I had been having an adventure and were at the Sonic, where we had just loaded up on large ice cream shakes. We were headed across the parking lot when two teen girls came walking toward us holding this tiny little black puppy. And my lovely Shannon said, "Look at the little puppy." She said it in that tone of voice that conveys such intense want and need that the grandparent is forced to respond. Shannon, of course, reached for the puppy and the girl, of course, handed it to her. <sigh!> See where this is going? I called my daughter and described said puppy and she replied, yes to Shannon's request. So when I dropped my granddaughter off, she was with pup.

Very shortly after that, I was with pup. Daughter and family live on several unfenced acres and small pup required frequent walking. Pup was also prone to chew...not on anything specific, but on everything she encountered. After listening to much complaining, I heard the news that they planned to take her to a shelter because she was just too energetic and was wrecking their household. <sigh!>

Let me just say that my daughter is a very smart person and she's known me all of her life. She knows all my hot buttons and how to punch them with great finesse. Yes, I drove out to the boondocks and back, said puppy in tow. I told myself, "Don't get attached. You have a full time job and work long hours. Dogs are not self-sufficient like cats. Just find a nice home for this little beastie. That was the plan.

I shopped for her. We have toys. We have small tennis balls. We have a Frisbee. We have a braided rope toy. I have to take her out in the fenced back yard to potty and for me to give her some exercise (and me as well) I have to throw her toys. She is so small that she trips when retrieving a regular Frisbee. And her energy level is endless. Side note: Her one trick is to fetch. This is because she has learned that if she does not bring the thrown object back and drop it at my feet, I will go inside. No, I do not fetch.

All this time, I kept telling myself, "I'm too old for a dog with this much energy. She needs a family with a six-year old boy to play with her."

The first thing I did was to invest huge wads of cash in small yappy dog. I paid for a year of vet care at Pet Smart which included all her shots and spaying and free visits. That was a chunk of money to invest in a free dog.  The vets fell in love with her and so did the very handsome young vet-tech who kept referring to her as my "Little Girl" and telling me stories about his "Little Boy".  I swear, Dog People are twice as crazy as Cat People.

It was on one of her visits to Pet Smart that I made a startling discovery. I was leaving Pet Smart one sunny afternoon on my day off with small dog on her leash. A thirty-something daddy was walking across the parking lot with a cute little boy about 6 years of age. My dog went into her adorable act and the little boy fell on his knees to pet her. It was love at first sight. The dad said, "That is the cutest little dog." To which I replied, "Want her?" The dad got down on his knees and was very agreeable to taking her right then and there. This was exactly what I had been praying for. Right in front of me, the very fulfillment of the prayers was manifested.

And then my dog turned and looked up at me with her little beady eyes. Those little beady "I love you" eyes.

Oh my God!!! I LOVE HER! I gave myself a pep talk about how this was the perfect opportunity to rid myself of this little pest forever...but she gazed up at me with such love and trust, and furious tail-wagging. I took a deep breath and picked up MY dog before wishing the man and his son good luck in finding a suitable pet. I got in the car and just held her for a long time before starting it up and driving us home.

~JD Faver