There’s an old Danish proverb* “Dine vægge og dine kæledyr bør tælle det samme,” “Your walls and your pets should number the same.” If this is the ancient wisdom of my ancestors** then no matter how you count, I have brought shame to my Scandinavian heritage.
If you count only the outer walls of my house I have three too many animals, and should have stopped before the dogs made themselves at home. If you count the inner walls as well then I need to get…..pardon me a moment…(1,2,3,4,5……) 19 more animals to truly make my house a home to make a viking proud, and make a health inspector call in air support.
First were the cats. When I moved into my house 16 years ago I brought with me a cat family: mama Kali, and kittens Ivy, Morph, and Perch. Six years ago came Flick, and about six months later, Hershey, my first dog. Four years ago I lost Kali. Three years, Graham came into the picture. About 2 years ago I got Eris and later that year lost Ivy. And about a year ago came Marsha.
When I say Hershey was my first dog, I don’t mean the first dog in this house, or the first dog of my adult life. I mean my FIRST dog, as in ever.
I know that 181 (dog years, you do the math) is a bit late in life to start hanging out with a new species, but I have a perfectly reasonable explanation, I didn’t like dogs.
But then something happened. I met someone, we started spending a lot of time together, and a lot of that time revolved around dogs. We walked her dog, took her dog to the dog park, signed up to volunteer at the local bully breed rescue, and so on.
Ultimately what I’d hoped for from all this hanging out didn’t happen; she went on to marry a very nice guy. However, I did gain first an appreciation of, then a love for, and finally my very own dog. I’ve never looked back, and never regretted it.
So welcome to my blog about dealing with these wonderful creatures, the cats they share their lives with, and whatever else crosses my mind.
*no, there isn’t.