PAST LIVES

We have had a series of animals since we moved to Park Forest. When my daughter was about three she developed an overwhelming need to have a kitty. Any cat loose in the neighborhood was fair game, and I would look out the window to see my child dragging some unfortunate cat, usually by the neck, towards the house. It really is a wonder she never got sliced: the cats seemed to understand somehow that she was harmless, but pesty.

But I knew DH would not want a cat. So I did what any normal Mother would do. I scoured the papers until I found an ad for free kittens. (Please, this was in 1973 or 74.) I called. Two tabbys ( short haired) one long haired black and white. I knew I did NOT want a long haired cat. A friend drove us over. Sitting beneath a bush, scowling like an owl, was a tiny fuzzball of black and white. The shorthairs were tumbling over each other and here was was tiny ball of resentful fur. We took him home. We named him Ambulance.

Here is Ambulance, my very happy daughter, my son and yes, that's me.
When John came home from work that day I sent his darling little three-year old out to the car with the news "Daddy! We got a kitten!" What could he say? NO?  Not likely.

Ambulance lived to be 17. He was the greatest cat ever. I still miss him. He was an indoor outdoor cat and grew up eventually accepting dogs, children and other cats. He instilled in me a lasting respect for felines and  a devotion to long-haired kitties.

When this was taken he was getting along in years and had renal failure. We had to decide whether to keep him inside and feed him food he hated, or let him be.

We let him be, and one day a neighbor who I will never forgive (he had a collar and Identification) took off his collar and called the Humane society. I think, I believe, that they put him to sleep because he was old and obviously in end=stage renal failure. They said they did not, but when I got there to pick him up he was on a heating pad but dead, as if they had tried to warm him up. I know that sounds really paranoid, but we had had to do the same thing for some owners who were coming to view their deceased pet in a few hours. Keeping the pet warm kept it pliable and lifelike. I'm not stupid, and I was furious.

This is Warf, and Me. Warf was our very first Basset hound. And I really did look like that.
He was from a very reputable show breeder. He eventually turned into one of THE most vicious dogs I have ever known. He was so bad I wanted to euthanize him, but John would not hear of it.
He lived to be twelve, biting the hands that fed him. I never knew why. We were very inexperienced but I don't believe we were mean.
We never understood him. One minute he was fine and the next he was after you. And he was serious.

Sometimes we could even play a little bit with him. He and Ambulance got along just fine. Then, I got Quiller, my first Belgian Sheepdog and then, my daughter moved in with her  Keeshond, Kailey. Amazingly, everyone got along just fine.

Eventually, we added Arsenal and Beemr to the mix. Ambulance put up with Arsenal, the only shorthaired cat we ever had, but after Ambulance died, we got Beemr. She was a woebegone little long-haired tabby kitten at the clinic (which is where Arsenal came from.)







Kailey the Keeshond moved out: Warf died and we got Walker. We never talk about Walker. He only lived a couple of years and died a horrible death from Lymphoma.

He was a beautiful puppy and had  the best temperament of any dog I have ever know. Quiller was diagnosed in August with Chondrosarcoma and had a third of his jaw removed. Walker was diagnosed in November with Lymphoma and died a week later. Quiller lived another two year.

Someplace in there we got Mitchell. Quiller passed away and we got Cooper. Arsenal and Beemr died within about three months of each other: Beemr of cancer and Ars had a stroke.

And then we got Zelda.

And now we have her two sons, Nigel and Llewis, and Conley and Cooper.

No more cats right now.

That's it.