From Home To House

Today I couldn’t help but think about my grandmom’s old house in Ocean City, New Jersey. I remember visiting her multiple times every summer and, on occasion, staying in the extra bedroom. When time came to sell the house, I remember not wanting to even drive by there anymore. It wasn’t the same without her there. It was nothing more than a simple structure. The memories are what made a special place.

While today was a completely different situation altogether, I couldn’t keep that memory from coming to the surface. I also couldn’t help but think about the many times my wife and I would drive up the hill to her mother’s house and begin walking down the path waiting for the dogs to start barking. It is interesting the memories that are the most vivid. Of course there are others but some memories need to be kept inside for a while before sharing them as stories.  

This was just my thought process. Throughout my work day I kept thinking about my wife and all that she has had to deal with over these last several months. I can’t imagine what was going through my wife’s mind today. It is one of those times when saying “I know how it feels” or “I know what you are going through” would be wildly inappropriate. I have no idea what this has been like and I have no inkling of what memories have been brought to the surface today.

The only think that I know is that a place that was once part of our normal weekly routine has become a memory. What made that place special lives on in our minds but, for me, the place itself is now just a house. Maybe this seems cold to some but it is how I deal with it. It is a process that works for me regardless of how imperfect it may be. It is also one that I can’t expect will work for others. This is why I will not drive by the house just for the heck of it.

With that said, I look at that house in my mind and wish that our son was able to experience the same happiness that once filled the vast space within those walls. However, those memories will certainly live on in the stories that we will be telling our son throughout his life. But, for now, those memories will remain in my mind as we continue through this whole process. Besides, I’m not the right person to be telling him those stories anyway.

Remembering Speed Bump, Cujo, and Munchkin…

On my way home from the office this evening I got a call from my wife who was sobbing on the other end of the line. Now, given the fact that she is pregnant, this doesn’t necessarily mean that there is something wrong. However, tonight she had a darn good reason as she had just learned that her beloved little doggy was gone.

She got Little Prince at a time in her life when she needed a furry companion (long before I filled that role) and while she hadn’t lived with the dog for many years, it was still her dog. He had been struggling for some time now so, while sad, it was probably the best thing that could have happened to the partially blind, diabetic, little Munchkin. While it has been a long time coming, it was still a sudden turn of events and it got me thinking about the pets I have had and lost during my life.

I have had a lot of pets during my life from cats and dogs to birds, goldfish, and a hamster. Heck, we even had a pig. While I enjoyed having each one of these animals especially when I was growing up, I had a particularly affinity for the two dogs that have come and gone. Those were the two that were particularly hard to lose and I still think about each of them from time to time.

The first was Laddy (also known as ‘Speed Bump’). This is the dog that I have written about before that completely lost the use of its tail (this was at the same time he became a barking speed bump). This was my first dog and I can still remember coming down the stairs in the morning and seeing him lying on the family room floor. My parents were away and my grandmother was watching us at the time. While she thought the dog was just sleeping we knew that it was time to call my uncle as that speed bump was no longer moving.

Hally followed soon after and while she might have seemed like Cujo to the little kids in the neighborhood, she was the nicest dog and always knew when I wasn’t feeling good or if I was in pain. Both times that I had my knee cleaned out I remember the dog following me around the house and jumping onto my, at the time, slim stomach as soon as I would lay down on the couch. Of course, the funniest thing was that during my healthier times when I would be running outside she would join me only taking a break to run over to the neighbor’s yard to take a crap. She wasn’t the same dog toward the end, which she seemed to know was near, and while it was sad I was glad to see her no longer struggling.

Now my parents no longer have a dog and instead have a cat with an odd obsession with concussions and an abnormal aversion to nature. She continues to live up to the name we gave her as a kitten, Nada, because there is little going on between those ears and behind that Scooby like expression. And while I do not have the same connection with this animal, it will still be sad when her single synapse stops transmitting.

For now we say so long to the little doggy that got my wife through a hard time without which we may have never met. He is no longer enduring his daily struggle and will now, finally, be able to rest. His worries are gone and my wife’s constant worries about his well-being can now cease occupying her mind. And with a baby on the way she will soon have another furry munchkin to love.

The Castration Of America

I grew up in a house with pets. I always remember having a dog and a couple of cats running around from room to room, up the stairs and down, and off into the corner of the living room not stopping until the fat cat meowed for mercy. I have a lot of great memories of my childhood pets and I still like pets. However there are limits that when exceeded I cease to understand the people that coddle their animals.

Now, this whole post was sparked by a story I read about an Oregon couple that called 911 when their cat chased them into a bedroom. Here is the series of events as recorded by the Associated Press (and the 911 recording which is included in the Good Morning America clip):

Palmer says the animal attacked his 7-month-old child after the baby pulled its tail. The child suffered a few scratches on the forehead.

On the 911 call, Palmer tells the dispatcher he kicked the cat "in the rear" to protect his child. Palmer says the animal then "just went off over the edge" — leading Palmer and his girlfriend to barricade themselves, their baby and the family dog in the bedroom for safety.

The cat can be heard screeching in the background of the call as Palmer says in a panicked voice: "He's charging us. He's at our bedroom door." Palmer also tells the dispatcher the cat has been violent in the past.

But here is the real “I s**t you not” aspect of this whole thing, now they are going to hire a therapist for the cat. It wasn’t bad enough that you don’t have the sack to take care of the problem yourself and had to call 911 but now, instead of getting rid of the animal that attacked your child, you are going to pay a therapist to threat the cat for its aggression. I am certain that a therapist is needed in that house and it is definitely not for the cat.

This might be worse than the people who spends thousands and thousands of dollars to extend an animal’s life a few weeks or those that insist on cooking for their pet when they can’t even cook for themselves. This raises the WTF bar in the pet category to a height that I don’t think will be surpassed for a very long time. While this may be acceptable to the fur loving PETA people living in a bubby floating about ten thousand miles to the left of Obama.

This is not normal people. If you sink that much of your financial security into a pet, you have too much money. When you find yourself spending a half our cooking a balanced meal for your cat while you hammer down a Big Mac please see a therapist. If you think spending thousands upon thousands of dollars on your dog so that it will have an additional miserable month of life is normal please do not get another pet. The only thing worse than seeing a pet die is seeing the look in their eyes like they want to die.

But if you need to call 911 because your cat is charging you and hissing at you, you need to grow a set and stop relying on authorities to take care of all your problems for you. Your problems are much deeper than the threat a 22 pound animal poses. Your problem is that ‘you have no marble’ and have no idea what it is like to be self-reliant. You have a serious issue and should probably consider the fact that your actions (or lack thereof) are occupying the time of people who are employed to help others in need not serve the needs of the nutless.

Remember, Bob Barker told you have your pet spayed or neutered. He didn’t tell you to get neutered. Listen a little closer next time and we might not have these kinds of problems.