The Secret Lives of Dogs and Cats
I'm a cat person. Period. Don't care for rowdy, rambunctious, drooling dogs. Never have. But my husband, on the other hand, always wanted a dog. Not just any dog, but a Chocolate Lab. No pedigree needed. He didn't hunt and didn't want the dog to play fetch or retrieve dead waterfowl. He wanted a companion for himself and for me when he worked the night shift. Enter Bear. Our neighbor had a female black lab who had roamed the neighborhood and had litter after little of puppies of all creeds and colors but about 4 years ago she managed to hook up with the big yellow lab down the street and produced the most beautiful litter of brown and black puppies ever known to man. Knowing her dad wanted a puppy but never followed through, my daughter Cindy went and fetched one home. Being the kind hearted soul she is she chose the runt, a little male who looked like he was on his last legs, and brought him home in the front pocket of her sweat shirt hoodie. The big guy was hooked and Bear became our latest family member.
Sassy, my old cat, wasn't exactly on the same page. He was declawed and this house had been his domain for years. He roamed upstairs and down, day and night, howling to his heart's content, sleeping wrapped around my head every night, enjoying being king of the proverbial jungle. He kept watch in the widow sills, missing nothing that came across the front yard. In time, once the hyper, bounciness of the puppy wound down, the two became friends and began to entertain one another during the day while we were at work.
Bear became my husband's dearest friend and companion. You hardly saw one without the other. At full grown (I hope!) and 110 pounds the two were big and rowdy and made for each other. Every day Bear sat at the back door and waited for his "daddy" to come home and the toot of the horn when he locked the truck sent him into fits of barking until the door opened and the big man stepped inside.
The big man died a few days ago and Bear has been inconsolable. He lays inside the back door, still waiting to hear the toot of the horn that indicates "daddy" is home. He's slept on daddy's side of the bed the past three nights and has been a comfort to me, beyond anything I could have imagined. Guess I'm a dog person after all.
Sassy, my old cat, wasn't exactly on the same page. He was declawed and this house had been his domain for years. He roamed upstairs and down, day and night, howling to his heart's content, sleeping wrapped around my head every night, enjoying being king of the proverbial jungle. He kept watch in the widow sills, missing nothing that came across the front yard. In time, once the hyper, bounciness of the puppy wound down, the two became friends and began to entertain one another during the day while we were at work.
Bear became my husband's dearest friend and companion. You hardly saw one without the other. At full grown (I hope!) and 110 pounds the two were big and rowdy and made for each other. Every day Bear sat at the back door and waited for his "daddy" to come home and the toot of the horn when he locked the truck sent him into fits of barking until the door opened and the big man stepped inside.
The big man died a few days ago and Bear has been inconsolable. He lays inside the back door, still waiting to hear the toot of the horn that indicates "daddy" is home. He's slept on daddy's side of the bed the past three nights and has been a comfort to me, beyond anything I could have imagined. Guess I'm a dog person after all.