Youths

As if adopting a new puppy wasn't enough, I went and did something.

I think I need my head examined.

Or else I've just given up on all my dreams and decided to make myself a full time steward of animals (well, and plants, but that doesn't happen until spring).

I blame Joy. Completely. It's all her fault. I take no responsibility for my actions. I also blame the Dog and Cat Shelter. They know a sucker when they see one, and they somehow manage to find those suckers even when the suckers don't come to them.

They will find you.

The other night at puppy class, Joy was doing her exercises and suddenly this little black head with two big green eyes popped up from one of the cages at the back of the Petco store. This small black kitten fixed its eyes on Joy and watched her with such intent while Joy worked her class, he seemed almost mesmerized. Joy finally noticed him too and was equally interested. They sat and stared at each other.

I almost saw heart bubbles popping between them.

I may not have thought much about it, had the little beast not stuck his tiny paws through the holes of his cage and waved them at us. He was all black with green eyes.

And I thought, Percy 2.0.

Of course I had to check him out. I love dogs, but cats are a different story with me. I can walk through the kennels at the animal shelter, and while I will pet a few noses and sympathize with the plight of homeless dogs, I can walk away. Shepherds are my Kryptonite, but even them, if they seem like they won't fit in with my life, I can walk away. Mewing, homeless, pathetic looking cats just break my heart. This is why I don't go into the cat room at the Dog and Cat Shelter anymore. That's how I ended up with Puckett and Willow.

It was the perfect storm. The kitten, being all black with green eyes, filled two criteria already, and when I checked his card to see if he was male or female (hoping he was a female because I don't need any more girls in my house), I groaned. He was male. Four months old, neutered already, all his shots, ready to go home.

I mean, he wouldn't cost me a dime except for the adoption fee which wasn't very much. And I already had all the food and toys and treats and bowls and litter necessary for a cat his size.

So that week we acquired Spencer, the new little brother no one but Joy wanted.

It actually didn't go as badly as I thought it might. Introducing a new cat to two others is always tricky. I didn't worry too much about Puckett. She doesn't care as long as everyone understands and accepts that she is queen. Willow I was a bit more worried about. She's gone through bullying from Percy and being picked on by Joy. I was worried maybe I'd pushed her too far. But both girls hissed and swatted a few times upon meeting Spencer. They watched him as long as he kept his distance, but they didn't seem bothered. At first he spent most days in the guest room while I was at work, and at night when I was asleep. He couldn't be unsupervised. He tried to eat my yarn, climb on the wine rack, and Joy (who had just been spayed and needed to stay inside on a velvet cushion) just could not seem to sit still around him. She followed him around and rolled him across the floor with her nose. This kitten is completely fearless, just like Percy was. Dogs don't bother him. The vacuum cleaner doesn't bother him. Even Puckett doesn't intimidate him, though he has learned to keep his distance.

So while there was some growling and swatting and hissing, nothing too dramatic. He and Puckett have become friends. They play together just like she and Percy used to. He follows Willow around like she is the most fascinating creature in the world and tries to engage her in play. That ticks her off and she hisses and jumps on the cat tree. I think if Spencer wasn't so pushy, Willow might eventually warm up to play with him. He was a bit apprehensive about Joy at first since she was so pushy, but now they've become good friends and play together every night. Joy chases Spencer who chases Willow who throws a fit and chaos ensues. Meanwhile Puckett and Tess watch them with the look I usually reserve for twenty-year-olds.

To quote Schmidt from The New Girl, "Youths!"

Grief and disappointment will do strange things to a person. For eight months it was four old ladies sitting around feeling sorry for themselves. Well, three old ladies, and Willow, who I guess is middle-aged. Maybe I'm middle-aged too. Who knows at this point. Then we got Joy, and then we got Spencer. Boy do they spice up life. They are so full of life and energy and joy (Joy!) they kind of remind me what that used to be like.

It's too soon to tell if this was the biggest mistake of my life. Spencer is now five months old, but still a baby by kitty standards. I hope when he grows up he doesn't take everyone out. And Joy is a teenager by dog standards, and most nights I feel like I'm fighting with my teenage daughter. I can almost see her stomping her feet and screaming "You're ruining my life!" I know this too shall pass, and when she hits 18 months she'll be as good a dog as Tess. She has the temperament. I don't think cats go through bratty teenage phases, but males do go through bossy britches phases, and as much as I loved Percy he was a nasty little bully. I hope Spencer won't take on that personality trait. He's already getting bolder, and his new thing lately is stealing my makeup brushes and knocking his food bowls over so he can play with the kibble.

It's easy forget as one ages the utter joy and carefree wonderment of youth. And it's easy to be contemptuous of that youth. Contrary to what the kids think, it isn't jealousy that drives older people and animals to despise them. Jealousy? Really? Go through all that again on purpose? Not on your life. No, it's arrogance. Sure, we all used to act that way when we were that age, but it's easy to forget as the wisdom of age takes over. It's easy to get annoyed, and think, "Jesus, why don't you use your brain, think a little, don't act so stupid!"

But sometimes I look at Joy and Spencer and I just have to smile. They are so cute. They are two balls bouncing through life with exuberance. They haven't had a chance to develop idiosyncrasies or anxieties. They haven't yet learned that some may not like them or judge them or, Heaven forbid, would hurt them given the chance (Spencer is a black cat after all). They are silly and irrational, but they are innocent, and their innocence makes them happy.

If youth has no other use, it at least has the joy of innocence and the excitement of new discoveries. And I definitely miss that sometimes.

And here he is, the new little beast. Spencer was named during a Criminal Minds marathon. I named him for Dr. Spencer Reid.

New Little Sister

It's been eight months. Eight months since I lost Percy, and ended this blog about codependent animals.

Then I went and acquired another codependent animal.

Last August, I got Joy, a two month old German shepherd puppy that I never really wanted. Tess never wanted a little sister. And Puckett and Willow had no intention of dealing with another dog, especially a puppy who thinks of them as live squeaky toys. Joy stampeded into the lives of four old ladies with nothing much left to live for, and turned our lives upside down.

It's been a shit year, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I ended my engagement (for good reason, and no regrets), I lost my Percy, and fell into despair. As the months passed, I tried several things to lift my spirits, change my life, do something anything different. I attempted to buy a coffee shop and bakery to showcase my new talent of creating macarons. Now, they say money isn't everything, but unfortunately it is something. I couldn't afford it, not even the down payment. I'm fairly confident that once I purchased the business I'd have been able to keep it successful, make it even better than it is, but if one doesn't have the funds to get started, there isn't much else one can do. The only way I could do it is if my father invested and he didn't want to. Then I thought, well, fine, I'll start applying for jobs in other places, because I have to get out of this town. I applied for so many jobs and received so many rejections it was almost like submitting my writing. One place that interviewed me raved about my qualifications, gushed about how impressed they were with me, and paid for me to drive down and interview in person. After nearly dying on the mountain pass in a crazy snowstorm, a three hour interview and tour of the town, and meeting everyone and their brother at the library, they decided I wasn't what they wanted after all and left a rather cold, informal message on my house phone that I only check once a week telling me that they weren't going to offer me the job, and good luck in my endeavors.

As if that wasn't cheerful enough, I got rejected for my dream job in my dream town, and by two more places in the same town, telling me I wasn't quite what they wanted.

I've wanted so badly to get the hell out of this town where nothing good ever happens anymore and that has nothing left to offer me for the last two years, that I was ready to move into my best friend's basement.

Through it all the one bright spot that remains is my pets, and then here comes Joy.

And a joy she is. This is the happiest, most delightful dog I've ever had the pleasure of being around. Tess looks at her with the contempt that only an older being can have for a youthful one (sort of how I look at people in their twenties), and the cats want to kill her. But she bounces around like a little black ball, vibrant with the joy of life, fearful of nothing, ready to take on the world.

I didn't want another puppy. I toyed with the idea after Percy died mostly because I was terrified that Tess might be next and maybe it was time to start looking so that I would have something to act as a balm for when that horrific event happens. Percy was a wake up call. I did not expect to lose him as soon and as quickly as I did, and when it happened I realized that any of them could go at any moment. Tess will be twelve in March. That is old for a shepherd. And while she is very healthy barring some arthritis that slows her down a bit, she is still old. She won't live forever. I can't imagine a life without her, but I'm going to have to start.

One day not long after Percy passed, I was at the Verizon store at the same time as a lady was visiting with her beautiful black German shepherd. As shepherds are my Kryptonite, I immediately forgot the reason I was at the Verizon store and made an ass of myself over the dog. The lady told me she was pregnant, and if I was interested in a puppy, to let her know. At the time, I wasn't. But after thinking about it, I stopped by the store a week later and dropped off my card letting them know if their friend was still interested in selling me a puppy, I'd be interested in buying one.

I never heard from her and I was fine with that. Until the end of July when I got a random text from one of my best friends in town, a woman who seems to collect stray animals. She sent me a picture of herself holding a little black puppy with the caption “Look what I have for you.”

A week later I had adopted a little black and tan German shepherd puppy.

It was a rough start. I was not prepared for a puppy. I had no kennel, no idea how to raise a puppy. I always had older dogs. Tess was a year old when I adopted her. I've never had to deal with something younger. But Joy is a very good puppy. She's very smart. She learns quickly. She was housebroken quickly. I've been taking her to puppy class, and she loves the exercises. She's so different from Tess. Tess, who needed three hours of walking a day just to be a little tired, but could go all day if she needed to. Tess who isn't food motivated, who never had any interest in rally or obstacle courses, who is loyal and territorial and dominant and crazy attached to me. Joy is food motivated, will do anything for a treat, even a bit of kibble. I have to feed her with one of those special slow feeder bowls to slow her down or she'll have gas all night long and keep us awake with the stench. She loves training classes and an hour of work wears her out that she'll sleep the rest of the day. She's lazy, not nearly as energetic as Tess was at her age. She doesn't care for walks, but she wants to use her nose, and she loves obstacle courses. Her new favorite thing is to roll over. Where Tess is protective of me and will throw a fit should anyone suspicious come near me, Joy will hand over the silver if you give her a piece of bacon. Where Tess is dominant and full of herself, Joy is submissive, happy to play the omega as long as everyone is nice to her. Where Tess is aggressive towards other dogs from being attacked one too many times, Joy still sees the good in all other dogs, seeing a friend in each one. Tess is anxious in the car and hates being taken from her home, and Joy loves to go, loves to experience new places, and has no fear of anything. She challenges me and Tess, in the thick of her adolescent phase. She's only eight months old. But when Tess shows her teeth and snarls, Joy hits the ground, groveling, and licking beneath Tess' chin. If I make my voice firm and put my hands on my hips, her butt hits the floor and she stares at me, waiting for her treat.

She is the cutest little thing.

The other night after puppy class I took her to the grassy area in the parking lot to go potty and she burrowed her nose in the snow, tunneling through it like a mole. She buried herself so deep all I saw was her backside and her tail sticking out of the pile of snow. The mound of snow moved as she tunneled forward. I laughed so hard. Harder than I have in a long time.

Rejection sucks. I've had the trifecta. My career, my writing, and my relationships. I can't seem to move on in my career, I can't seem to finish a writing project. And I definitely can't seem to make a relationship work. I can't forgive myself for making the wrong decision the last time, and I can't blame the good men for not wanting someone like me. But when it comes to animals, they don't reject. At the end of the day, I am Tess' world.

And somehow I've become Joy's. I didn't ask for her. And she didn't ask for me. Heaven knows she deserves better. Tess did too, this beautiful intelligent dog who was wasted on someone like me. Joy could do any kind of work suited for a dog of her intelligence, trainability and temperament. I look ten years back in time and I know. Tess should have been a drug sniffer, a search and rescue dog, or at the very least a herder as her instinct was very strong when she was young. Joy should have that chance as well.

In puppy class we worked on recall. I had to leave her with the trainer and hide in the aisles, then call her. She freaked out. Lost her shit when I walked away from her. Whining, scrabbling along the floor, pulling on her leash as she tried to race after me. Somewhere in the last six months, this puppy became so attached to me that she doesn't like letting me out of her sight.

Just like Tess.

The whole world might reject you. But dogs never will. Maybe Tess is wasted on me. But no one could love that dog as much as I do. And maybe Joy deserves the chance to do meaningful work. But someone abandoned her at two months old and I have a very good friend who knew that I'd take her in. Joy will be loved just as much as Tess.

She's already spoiled rotten, sacked out in front of a warm heater, a full belly, and a big sister she absolutely worships. Maybe I've had the trifecta of rejections, but Joy accepted me as her protector and friend.

That's worth more than the other jobs, the writing rejections, and the relationships rejections.

 

She thinks she's beautiful.

And this is the look of guilt from stealing three bowls of cat food.