This morning I stepped on a tack in the kitchen while feeding my cats. It hurt of course, but it also lead me to start a new short story after I had my wound properly disinfected and bandaged. I am a writer. That’s how things happen. I am also easily distracted which is how shortly after 300+ words on the new story I suddenly found myself sewing our shivering Chihuahua a shirt out of a bit of leftover fleece.
Anyway, I am now currently researching superstitions to help with the new story because stepping on a tack sounds like something that should be involved with a superstition. I don’t really know what the story is about completely. I have a general idea and it will have the feeling of cool October days to it, I hope. Sort of a seasonal type story or something. I’m still working on it.
I really should have a degree in folklore rather than science, with a focus on history and literature. I certainly research folklore enough.
Last week I wrote about the loss of my cat Max. I still miss him. This week I want to write about someone else.
This is Molly.
She is two and a half years old German Sheperd/Husky mix and, until recently, belonged to an 85-year-old woman in Georgia. Molly spent her days loved but on a chain in the backyard. Then her owner got sick and couldn’t take care of her anymore. Her owner’s son tried for a bit but he had health problems too. Soon Miss Molly was at the animal shelter and slated to be put to sleep.
Both her owner and her son were heartbroken. Molly was such a sweet girl and deserved better. So they reached out to friends and family on facebook, begging someone to adopt her before it was too late. Time was running out.
Then a distant cousin reposted their desperate plea. (Try to follow me on this connection, I know I should have created a flow chart but I didn’t think about it until now.) This distant cousin was my cousin’s best friend growing up. My cousin passed away at least 18 years ago. (We were very close but she had CF and was limited in what she could do. I grew up with asthma and so we bonded over our closeness in age and inability to breath.)
So here it is, a very long time since I have set eyes on this person, and I see a facebook post about this adorable dog about to be put to sleep just because she doesn’t have anyone to take care of her. I would have happily continued to care for my Max, but there was only pain waiting for him and eventually death. His was a hopeless situation. Molly’s was not.
I have never really been a dog person. We have Duke but he hardly qualifies because he
is so small. (But don’t tell him I said that.) However, my heartstrings were plucked as I looked at the post. I wasn’t ready for another cat, but maybe I could take in this dog who needed someone. We could sort of help each other.
I messaged my cousin’s friend, who messaged her cousin, and the race was on. We had to get her before the execution could be carried out. Sabrina’s (my cousin’s friend) cousin got her from the pound that night. Sabrina and her son drove down the next day. (My kid had a doctor’s appointment so we couldn’t go pick her up directly.) Then they brought her straight to my house.
At first, Molly was nervous and shy, though she quickly adapted. We’ve learned a lot about each other in the week or so that she has been here. She has learned that if I am writing at my computer and she lays directly behind the chair, I have to give her tummy rubs before I can get up. I have learned she has a mischievous personality and knows exactly how cute she is, and uses it to her advantage when she gets in trouble or doesn’t want to go outside. Molly is very sweet and loves attention. I am still not sure that I am a dog person, but I do know that I am this dog’s person.
My ex-husband and his wife are moving west. In preparation of their move they are condensing their worldly belongings and looking for homes for the pets they can’t take with them. That is how I ended up with a teacup Chihuahua. To be honest I am not really a dog person.
I isn’t that I don’t like dogs. I do. I love to play with other people’s dogs. I just don’t really see myself as a dog parent. Especially when I have seen guinea pigs bigger that the dog in question.
In my experience little dogs tend to be yappy needy things I don’t have the patience for. Yet, when my son looked up at me with those big blue eyes; I caved and agreed that it would be best for the dog to go to someone he was already familiar with. (Yes I am a sucker. That is how I ended up with three cats rather than just the one I planned on.)
So far Duke Tiberus, a.k.a the dog, hasn’t been too much trouble. He likes to sit close to whomever is home and he shivers a lot but he doesn’t argue when I give him a bath and he allowed me to attach a bow tie to his collar. (Because bow ties are cool.) He lets me know when he needs to go out and he eats very little.
However, all is not peaceful in my house. I have three cats. They were not happy about the
introduction of a dog into their household, especially my son’s cat Casper.
I expected more trouble from Panda, the eldest of the three and self appointed queen of all she surveys. She responds to Duke more along the lines of “What the heck is that?! Keep it away from me!”
Max, our blind kitten and youngest, just keeps his distance and sneaks up for a sniff when the dog is asleep. Casper on the other hand is not happy. My son is his person and now his place on the bed and in cuddles has been taken by this tiny thing that isn’t even as long as his tail. He hisses and spits and chases the poor dog up and down the hall. Whenever he notices Duke attempting to get close to me, he quickly claims my lap.
(Neither one ask for my opinion.)
Duke Tiberus has only been living with us for a little while. I am hoping things will settle down and they all learn to get along. Since he lived with a cat before, Duke is fine with his feline brothers and sister. He used to sleep and cuddle with the cat he lived with. I am sure he would do the same here if they give him the chance.