100 WHEN I WAS GROWING UP STORIES
Prompt #4 Cats & Dogs
Growing up, I never had a pet dog or cat. We had unfriendly barn cats whose job was to catch mice in the barn. My sister and brother each had a dog. The dogs were totally attached to my siblings, and they never gave me the time of day. Because of this, I will write about dogs that I have come to know as an adult.
Dogs vs. Cats I have friends who still engage in this debate. It is difficult for me to choose one over the other. However, if pressed to weigh in on the discussion, I would have to cast my vote in favor of dogs. I offer you three stories to support my opinion.
Daisy: Years ago, Daisy was a dog who lived along my running route on an old county road. I came to love Daisy, and I was often tempted to dognap her and keep her for my own. But unfortunately, there was also an aggressive dachshund living in that house who wanted to eat me for lunch whenever I ran by.
When Daisy heard me approaching, she would run out to greet me. However, if the dachshund was in one of his moods, Daisy would stand between him and me, growling and snarling, effectively keeping him at bay while I ran safely past. Thank you, Daisy.
Maggie: I promised my youngest daughter that she could have a puppy when we left California and moved back to the East Coast. She chose a sweet little Shih Tzu puppy whom she named Maggie. Maggie, my two daughters, and I quickly settled into harmonious life together.
At the time, my husband worked in San Francisco and flew home most weekends. Maggie could sense the shift in dynamics, or energy, in the house when he came home. The introduction of a male into the house did not sit well with Maggie.
She decided to voice her unhappiness about the situation in a true doglike fashion. From time to time, Maggie began sneaking into our bedroom at night and pooping on the carpet beside my husband’s side of the bed.
Switching sides of the bed after my husband hurt his shoulder dispelled any doubts about her intentions. Because, on a night when he least expected it, she came into our bedroom and pooped on the side of the bed where he now slept.
This was not the most endearing display of Maggie’s ability to read the people’s energy in the house. (Especially when it was I who cleaned up her mess.) That demonstration came when my dad unexpectedly died after routine surgery. After his death, Maggie rarely left my side during those initial difficult days. Thank you, Maggie.
Third and final reason…Henry:
Henry is the sweetest dog. He has resided with my youngest daughter for thirteen years. Henry gracefully accepted the series of babies brought home from the hospital. He never bit or snapped at a toddler during their annoying stages of learning not to pull his ears and tail, poke his eyes, or try to ride him like a pony. We all knew that Henry was incapable of hurting anyone.
Or so we thought.
Last fall, I stayed with my daughter to help with her four kids when her husband was away. We awoke around 1:00 am when Henry let out a loud and scary attack growl. It was a sound that he had never made in all of his thirteen years. My daughter and I cautiously went into the living room with our hearts pounding. There we found Henry standing by an open front door. We tried to go back to sleep, but we could hear Henry pacing back and forth. Eventually, we opened the door and let Henry outside. He stood on the step and looked around. Then, satisfied, he came back into the house and settled down on the couch.
Home invasions are not unheard of in her city neighborhood, and
I’m convinced that is what was happening that night. I also believe that Henry, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, would have torn an intruder from limb to limb to protect his family.
Muffin, Jesse, and Emily, please know that I have appreciated your feline presence in my adult life. Very sorry, cats, but my vote has to go to dogs.
With Love & Energy by the Pond,
Laurel
