I have already written a post about Snippy, which was my mom’s dog. He was, however, not the only dog we had.
Our other dog as a German shepherd, or as we said back then, an Alsation. I have no idea whether that’s the same breed then. Nevertheless, Rex was a darling, but also a wuss. He was maybe twenty times bigger than Snippy, but Snippy was ‘the boss’. Rex was the submissive one.
He was also the one that ever really grew up. He fell over his own feet, sometimes when he only walked, but always when he chased his own tail. Even when he wasn’t a pup anymore.
He was still a pup when my daughter was born, and they sort of grew up together. He allowed her to crawl over him, pull his ears, kiss his nose… nothing was too much, and nothing aggravated him. We – my parents and I – were always aware that he might snap at her, but he never did. Those two, my daughter and Rex, absolutely adored each other.
At the same time we had Snippy and Rex, I had rats. Two of them – white, with those beady red eyes. Gosh, I really loved them. For the love of me, I can’t remember their names, but I do remember how I used wood my father couldn’t use anymore and built them a cage. And how I took them out of their cage in the evening when I was in bed, and loved for them to run free in my bed, and snuggle with me.
Many, many years later my daughter had a rat, and I never dared touching it, or letting it run on my shoulders as I did with my own rats.
We had a dog
When my daughter was seven, and my son two, we went to a pet shop to get a puppy. I can’t remember which breed it was, only that it was a beautiful black, friendly little thing and we were all crazy about him. The pet shop assured us he had all his shots and a worm treatment. Three months after we got him, he fell ill. By the time we realized how serious it was, it was too late. He died. It turned out the pet shop had lied to us. We were devastated, and I never had the guts to get a new pet.
Some years ago – I think about five now – this little beauty knocked on our door, and decided to become our part-time cat. He lives somewhere in the neighborhood (we have still not figured out exactly where). He is healthy, and sometimes when he comes here in the mornings, he is still warm from sleeping inside, probably with his owners.
When he first came here, it was summer, and I didn’t want him inside. A previous ‘walk-in-cat’ was perfectly okay just sitting at the backdoor, waiting for something to eat, and when he was inside, he came no further than the mat at the back door. Not this one. He decided he want to come inside, and so he did. And he still does. On colder days he will come inside, eat (nowadays we have cat food, specially for him) and then he would either sleep on the couch the rest of the day, or upstairs in one of the bedrooms.
He hasn’t only found himself a place in our home, but also in our hearts. If he doesn’t ‘visit’ for a couple of days, I am always worried that something has happened to him. Thankfully, the longest he has stayed away was five days.
And of course, he makes for a lovely subject for my camera!
© Rebel’s Notes