Precious's Mom's posting made me think about how I first met Daisy. I thought it might be nice if some of us told the stories of how we came to be with our beloved pets. If anyone is interested, just add on.
Here is how I met Daisy, the love of my life.
A local vet, whom I know, called me to tell me that a Yorkie had been abandoned by its owner because the dog seemed sick and was high strung. The dog, already called Daisy, was at the vet's office. He was planning to turn her over to the animal shelter, but was hesitant to do this because she was so very nervous and something was wrong with her. He wanted to help, but he did not want to keep her indefinitely, as a "charity case," since he was a private vet. He told me that she was having bloody stools and was vomiting and was taking valium. It didn't sound all that inviting, but I had a feeling that it was meant to be, so I went to his office and he told his assistant "bring out the Yorkie."
Suddenly, a tiny Daisy, 9 months old, came racing out of the back room. She seemed hysterical, searching for someone she knew. I picked her up and after awhile she seemed to relax a little. I brought her home, knowing that follow-up for diagnosis was needed. I went to another vet, a lovely man, who was both a great doctor and surgeon Well, it turned out that she has a portal-systemic liver shunt, a congenital defect that usually kills a dog before they are 3 or 4 years old. That was a painful diagnosis. I was hoping for something a little less serious.
In consultation with the vet, I decided against surgery to try to correct the defect since the risk of death following the surgery was great in those days. I decided to try to give her the best life possible, no matter what its length.
At first, my husband, a true animal lover, was not thrilled with the addition of Daisy to our family since he didn't want to go through the pain of losing a dog early. For a very short period of time, he tried to maintain a little distance, but it was useless. He fell in love with her just as I had and she lived on and on (with no valium needed) in relative good health, for almost 12 years. I think it was our love and her healthy, low protein Hills diet that contributed to her longevity.
So, I will always remember our first meeting. "The first time ever I saw her face, I felt the earth move beneath my feet." Sadly, I will always remember our last good-bye - my holding her in my arms, telling her that Daddy and I loved her very much.
I will always remember the many happy days in between those two defining events - her endless greetings when I came home, her barking me into the kitchen to get her yet another treat, her psychic tie with my husband. So many little things, that are nice to remember, but also poignant now that she is gone.
For me, there will never be another dog like Daisy. But, when the time is right, we will all go to the shelter and get the worst off dog and give him or her the best life possible, in memory of Daisy, who surprised us all.
Daisy's Mommy
Full Version: How Did You Meet Your Beloved Pet?
I have a slightly different story about Magic, who left us physically in December. My sons and I took turns taking walks together at night in our neighborhood, when around the corner we met a little black and white cat who rubbed against us and meowed persistently. At that time I used to always keep a bag of cat treats in my pockets, so I gave her a few, and she was so starved for food and attention she followed us all the way down the street, meowing pitifully. My son had to pick her up and take her back to her house on the corner 3 or 4 times (we had 4 cats and I was pretty sure my hubby would say "NO MORE" if another followed us home. But after that, we walked by her house everyday and she always came out for treats - I think I used to see a bowl on the porch but never actually saw anything in it. She became part of our routine - the appearance of her, the pile of treats on the ground for her, her briefly following us but eventually turning back. We actually met her owner one night, but shortly after that the owner moved out, leaving the cat to live in the sewer in front. Well, that did it, and one night when it was pouring rain/snow, I told my son who was with me "She can't live like this, she's coming home with us now". So I bundled her up in my coat and brought her home, and that was that. You just can't let a cat live in a sewer, my gosh. Every so often she'd escape, and no matter what the time or weather, she went back to her sewer, and we would faithfully follow her and walk up and down the street till she came running out. Sometimes it took awhile, and we went back and forth several times till the neighbors would give us funny looks (they must have thought we were casing the neighborhood). It still hurts after 10 months to think of walking by that corner and knowing Magic won't come trotting out - it brings me to tears sometimes. That's the memory I'll always have of her - crossing the street to meet us as if to say "So where have you guys been?" Oh, I miss her. Lately she hadn't seemed interested in leaving, and I thought she'd given up that sewer habit. I'd give anything to see her little head emerge from that sewer. My sweet, funny, hide-and-seek playing Magic - it will be a wonderful day to be with you again.
My story isn't as spectacular as anyone's here but I will share anyway.
My parents had just bought their first house, and my sister begged and begged to have a cat. One morning in March of 85 one of my parents friends came to the house with a cardboard box with 2 little kittens inside (if my sister got a cat it was only fair that I got one too, though at that age I didn't really like them).
I remember them opening the box and their little heads popping out. My sister picked her kitty so the other was mine by default. She was already named, Annie, so I kept her name.
It took me less than a day to completely fall in love. I carried her around for weeks and weeks with me everywhere, until she was old enough to realize that she could be independant I guess.
I always remember her there through my ****age years (the hardest of my life) to comfort me.
When my daughter was born she was already an old girl. She would lay on the floor under her crib and come dashing out meowing whenever she woke up to let us know. It was adorable.
When my daughter learned to talk her name somehow changed from Annie to Kitty. I guess maybe because it was easier for her to say.
Through the years occasionally I would hear my daughter talking to the cat, having tea parties with her. It was incredible how strong their bond was. She was still mine though, and as soon as my daughter was asleep she was with me.
My boyfriend came into her life last, but she was pretty smitten with him as well. She did wierd little "tricks" for him, he would mouth meow to her and she would meow back as silently as possible to him. It was adorable. In her last year when she switched to canned food because of her teeth she would stick her paws under the door to the bedroom to wake us up for breakfast. Sometimes they would sit on the floor, one on each side of the door, playing through the little space.
In the end I think she only recognized him, but I think that she knew that he needed it more than I did and it's comforting to know that she didn't feel alone because she knew him.
My parents had just bought their first house, and my sister begged and begged to have a cat. One morning in March of 85 one of my parents friends came to the house with a cardboard box with 2 little kittens inside (if my sister got a cat it was only fair that I got one too, though at that age I didn't really like them).
I remember them opening the box and their little heads popping out. My sister picked her kitty so the other was mine by default. She was already named, Annie, so I kept her name.
It took me less than a day to completely fall in love. I carried her around for weeks and weeks with me everywhere, until she was old enough to realize that she could be independant I guess.
I always remember her there through my ****age years (the hardest of my life) to comfort me.
When my daughter was born she was already an old girl. She would lay on the floor under her crib and come dashing out meowing whenever she woke up to let us know. It was adorable.
When my daughter learned to talk her name somehow changed from Annie to Kitty. I guess maybe because it was easier for her to say.
Through the years occasionally I would hear my daughter talking to the cat, having tea parties with her. It was incredible how strong their bond was. She was still mine though, and as soon as my daughter was asleep she was with me.
My boyfriend came into her life last, but she was pretty smitten with him as well. She did wierd little "tricks" for him, he would mouth meow to her and she would meow back as silently as possible to him. It was adorable. In her last year when she switched to canned food because of her teeth she would stick her paws under the door to the bedroom to wake us up for breakfast. Sometimes they would sit on the floor, one on each side of the door, playing through the little space.
In the end I think she only recognized him, but I think that she knew that he needed it more than I did and it's comforting to know that she didn't feel alone because she knew him.
mine isn't spectacular....
We went to a couples house who had a load of pups, and Meg jumped out at me as playful....
She was the size of my hand and you could sit her in your palm....
I have a picture of that on my wall.....she was beautiful....
Even until the final weeks she was just as beautiful.....
I miss you dearly Meg....
We went to a couples house who had a load of pups, and Meg jumped out at me as playful....
She was the size of my hand and you could sit her in your palm....
I have a picture of that on my wall.....she was beautiful....
Even until the final weeks she was just as beautiful.....
I miss you dearly Meg....
To those who think that their meeting stories aren't spectacular. They are, because they are about the time you met your soulmate for the first time. No matter how simple the story, it is spectacular and wonderful.
Daisy's Mommy
Daisy's Mommy
[quote]To those who think that their meeting stories aren't spectacular. They are, because they are about the time you met your soulmate for the first time. No matter how simple the story, it is spectacular and wonderful.
I agree with that...
The way you meet your companions are meant to be...
I meat "Simba I" the day he was born. His mother kitty had her liter up in my brothers garage rafters (still don't know how she got up there) and as I was taking them down one by one Simba was the only one to cling onto me with his claws and fight to hang on. He would manage to get out of the box all the kittens were staying in and find me out of a room full of people.
I found "Simba II" the day "Simba I" was pts. Something drew me to petfinder.com and out of about 800 cat listings the very first one was a cat named Simba and he was only about 25 miles from me waiting for me to go pick him up.
The person that put Simba II on petfinder told me she just had put him up right before I called, and she always changes the names of the cats she fosters but for some reason she felt the urge to keep his name as Simba.
So no matter how little spetacular your first meeting may seem, it surely is something very spectular and meant to be.
I agree with that...
The way you meet your companions are meant to be...
I meat "Simba I" the day he was born. His mother kitty had her liter up in my brothers garage rafters (still don't know how she got up there) and as I was taking them down one by one Simba was the only one to cling onto me with his claws and fight to hang on. He would manage to get out of the box all the kittens were staying in and find me out of a room full of people.
I found "Simba II" the day "Simba I" was pts. Something drew me to petfinder.com and out of about 800 cat listings the very first one was a cat named Simba and he was only about 25 miles from me waiting for me to go pick him up.
The person that put Simba II on petfinder told me she just had put him up right before I called, and she always changes the names of the cats she fosters but for some reason she felt the urge to keep his name as Simba.
So no matter how little spetacular your first meeting may seem, it surely is something very spectular and meant to be.
I agree about the spectacular part of what several of you have said. It doesn't need to be a dramatic, throwing yourself in front of a bus, saving from a mauling, or anything else, to be a spectacular meeting of soulmates. Anytime we can bond with another animal, it's another beautiful and worthy story, and while it can be bittersweet to remember, it's never anything less than a spectacular event. In this world, when humanity sometimes seems to be losing all reason and worthiness, and there's so much strife, our animals are spectacular simply by being who they are and how they find us or are guided to us by a higher power. It's something we never forget, and that makes it spectacular simply by being what it is. What's always been amazing to me is that these souls somehow know we need them when they arrive in our lives. If that's not incredible, I don't know what is!
Our story is what I would call entirely spiritual and because it was so defining by itself, has had a major impact on my life, my beliefs and absolutely everything else that has transpired since then. It still just blows me away and I love telling it.
Shortly after my husband and I had started da*ting, I'd finally begun to have a desire to get a cat as a loved one in my life. The last being I'd had in my world had been my 2nd budgie, who'd died quite traumatically when I was 14 and I'd suffered with much guilt and remorse over his passing for many, many years. But now, at age 29 I felt ready to love and deeply bond again, and start my own little family. I'd not wanted children, and intended only to have animals instead...and I'd always felt a particular kinship with and understanding of felines, so cats it was gonna be.
One weekend my husband (then boyfriend) spontaneously suggested we stop at the Humane Society in our city, just so I could start checking for a cat. I'd gotten it in my head already, largely from having reread Anne of Green Gables, that I really wanted a grey cat...."the only true cat is a grey cat...." I'd read. Somehow, this appealed to me...don't really know why. I was still willing to change my mind, though, depending. The only thing that was set in stone in my mind was that I didn't want a black cat. I was under the mistaken assumption that solid black cats were very common and I was trying to think ahead (being a worrywart) to a time when my cat might go missing somehow, and I wanted to be able to readily distinguish mine from others and had thought that too many black cats' faces looked too much alike! (yes, I'm embarrassed about my stupidity back then!) And I wanted young cats, preferably kittens. Now I'm embarrassed about that, too, but I didn't know squat then about the plight of shelter animals, so have had to forgive myself my past ignorance. But, I also wanted someone young enough to have a long, long relationship with, to increase that time between getting them and having to watch them die...still afraid of witnessing that since my budgie...plus I had hopes of training them to "come when called" and the like. (this did actually pan out later, but I gave it up voluntarily soon thereafter) I was still rather nervous about the whole idea and kept repeating "I'm just going to look, not adopt yet."
We arrived at the Society and I began looking at the relatively few cats there that day, thinking I'd have to be facing those sad eyes for many trips yet. My husband soon called me to a cage on the opposite side from where I'd been looking first. "Look!" he said. "Kittens....and one of them is grey!" I came over and found myself staring at 2 weenie little cats sitting side by side, all wide-eyed, with huge ears yet the tiniest of faces...so sweet. My eyes riveted on the little grey one on the right. Oh, she looked so scared! On the left, however, was who I assumed was her sibling...a black cat! Well, I wouldn't be taking that one! Another couple arrived and began their own search, and soon also spotted 'our' cage, the only cage that day with kittens. My husband went to get the cage opened for us, so we could take a closer look. I'd read all about how to choose a healthy cat and although I hadn't decided anything yet, well...I might as well investigate, just in case. Besides, this other couple were eyeing these 2 and although I wasn't sure yet, I didn't want to lose out, either...just in case.
We found out they were brother and sister. They'd had another sibling (a sister) but someone had already adopted her. I immediately felt terrible for them. Someone had broken this already-formed family up! But then, I was only going to take one, too...the guilt started creeping in.
The door was opened and I reached in to pick up the grey one, who I just felt was the female. She was SOOO tiny, so fragile-seeming, but so adorable with those oversized ears that I always preferred in a cat, and such big, round amber-green eyes, also the size I preferred. But she was scared and was trying to hide, back with her brother, the black one, also so beautiful, though I was trying not to notice. I didn't even want my husband picking him up, because there was NO WAY I was going to take a black cat! Too late...this little guy was already mewling non-stop and reaching his arms upward, really yearning to be picked up, unlike his timid sister. My husband readily complied with his demands and soon we each had these 2 little wonders cupped in our hands.
Then I discovered that this grey girl had...uh-oh...some diarrhea, and soon thereafter, a sneeze, too! Well, NOW I was in a bind. Not really healthy. Hmm...but that couple was still hanging around, awaiting their turn to check these 2 out. Well, this wasn't fair! She'd already stolen my heart, she was grey, she had features I couldn't resist...what to do? My husband, also noticing the other couple, strongly suggested I just take one today and not wait...we'd deal with the diarrhea and sniffles later...no big deal. After all, I'd found my dream cat, hadn't I? Why wait? There may not BE another chance to find a grey kitten, just like I'd wanted.
After a few minutes debating it, I realized I had a new problem, too. How in the world would I ever live with myself if I split these 2 up? The grey one, so frightened...how would she survive without her brother?....he so bold, now stretching out his arms to me, too, just wanted SO much to be cuddled.......no, taken HOME! But he was black....but he was so spunky and charming and had even greener eyes than her...but he was black...but just LOOK at him pleading with us! He'd already changed my heart, but my head was still trying to rule. But I hadn't planned on 2! But then they'd stay together, and they'd both have more company. But...this would be a spontaneous decision, and I don't DO spontaneity!
My husband suddenly informed me that the doors would be closing soon, and it was the end of the wknd, so we wouldn't be able to return until the next weekend, so I'd better make up my mind FAST! Needless to say, I caved. Okay, 2 cats it would be. Brother and sister. Not torn apart. One black, but hey, at least one was grey. (I always wondered….was their missing sister white?)
We took them to 'Grandma and Grandpa's' house, close by, so that supplies could be bought before we headed home. The grey one was still very scared, needed that new litterbox quick....but couldn't wait for it. Oh well...carpet can be cleaned. Grandma didn't care...she was too busy already falling in love with her new 'grandcats'. Awhile later we were home. I couldn't really even believe I'd taken the plunge. I was suddenly a mom! And I had my grey cat! But it wasn't long...like within minutes, that this girl's brother had taken over everything, including my heart. Bolder, sassier, more affectionate...I didn't stand a chance. HE'D picked US, for the both of them...that was already apparent, even from the time at the shelter. And then we discovered that he had a small, white tip on the very end of his tail…so he wasn’t totally solid black and wouldn’t be ‘unlucky’, either! (I used to mistakenly try to pick this piece of ‘fluff’ off him when he’d be curled up in a ball, thinking it was lint)
It took me a couple of weeks just to name them. I wanted something out of the ordinary, something that suited the way they looked, the ‘style’ of their personalities. I finally looked in human name books, and tried what I’d found on for size. Sabin...sounding sleek to me, to match his glossy short fur, meaning ‘loyal one’. Nissa…soft, dainty sounding, like a little sprite, meaning ‘friendly elf’. Sabin ended up with 36 nicknames; Nissa with 63! (notice the reverse numbers?)
Within about a week, they were already teaching me…in particular, not to believe much about cat-care books of the day…the ones they’d never written! I’d tried, for a few days, to make them sleep in their own bed, like the books suggested. They knew better. Hence, began close to 20 years of the inability to move at night because of cats. One time Sabin stretched out so far across the bed, he pushed his Daddy right onto the floor! (did I howl!) And when Sabin crossed, Nissa immediately filled his usual spot, but even better, as she’d hunker in so close to my heart and face that I could bury my nose in her sweet fur all night if I wanted and she’d stay or return there always, never finding it too warm for comfort.
I discovered over time, in ways both obvious and subtle, that each of them carried pieces of my own self, on every level; like my 2 halves, both of them joining to make up who I was, and am, and who I will yet become because of them. A match made in Heaven, that’s what we’ve always been together. And then some…
I always tried to treat them with the great respect, awe and reverence they deserved, never limiting them to what books and people expected of cats, allowing them to go far beyond those standards. What they lacked in better health, they more than made up for in deeply devoted love, wisdom and huge life lessons. Sabin taught me that the mind/thought is not limited by the body, that death isn’t real, that love never dies and only grows, that auras and minds can truly commune and merge, to live boldly with gusto and without fear, nor apology for being oneself, to BE young-at-heart and to trust myself and my natural intuitive abilities, and what that esoteric Knowing feels like. Nissa taught me that to give is indeed to receive, that in Love there is no such thing as ‘sacrifice’, that thought alone does create one’s reality and is the most powerful force in the Universe, that one can change for the better, that mistakes are unavoidable yet forgivable, that we are energy, not matter, that we were predestined to be together (always) and that dreams and intentions can come true…because they made one of mine a reality, right down to the details. And while I already knew that nonhuman species could love unconditionally, they both taught me that I, too, was capable of loving the same way and that it was merely a choice. We were meant to be together, as soulmates. Of that I'm certain. It had already been written in the stars.
Shortly after my husband and I had started da*ting, I'd finally begun to have a desire to get a cat as a loved one in my life. The last being I'd had in my world had been my 2nd budgie, who'd died quite traumatically when I was 14 and I'd suffered with much guilt and remorse over his passing for many, many years. But now, at age 29 I felt ready to love and deeply bond again, and start my own little family. I'd not wanted children, and intended only to have animals instead...and I'd always felt a particular kinship with and understanding of felines, so cats it was gonna be.
One weekend my husband (then boyfriend) spontaneously suggested we stop at the Humane Society in our city, just so I could start checking for a cat. I'd gotten it in my head already, largely from having reread Anne of Green Gables, that I really wanted a grey cat...."the only true cat is a grey cat...." I'd read. Somehow, this appealed to me...don't really know why. I was still willing to change my mind, though, depending. The only thing that was set in stone in my mind was that I didn't want a black cat. I was under the mistaken assumption that solid black cats were very common and I was trying to think ahead (being a worrywart) to a time when my cat might go missing somehow, and I wanted to be able to readily distinguish mine from others and had thought that too many black cats' faces looked too much alike! (yes, I'm embarrassed about my stupidity back then!) And I wanted young cats, preferably kittens. Now I'm embarrassed about that, too, but I didn't know squat then about the plight of shelter animals, so have had to forgive myself my past ignorance. But, I also wanted someone young enough to have a long, long relationship with, to increase that time between getting them and having to watch them die...still afraid of witnessing that since my budgie...plus I had hopes of training them to "come when called" and the like. (this did actually pan out later, but I gave it up voluntarily soon thereafter) I was still rather nervous about the whole idea and kept repeating "I'm just going to look, not adopt yet."
We arrived at the Society and I began looking at the relatively few cats there that day, thinking I'd have to be facing those sad eyes for many trips yet. My husband soon called me to a cage on the opposite side from where I'd been looking first. "Look!" he said. "Kittens....and one of them is grey!" I came over and found myself staring at 2 weenie little cats sitting side by side, all wide-eyed, with huge ears yet the tiniest of faces...so sweet. My eyes riveted on the little grey one on the right. Oh, she looked so scared! On the left, however, was who I assumed was her sibling...a black cat! Well, I wouldn't be taking that one! Another couple arrived and began their own search, and soon also spotted 'our' cage, the only cage that day with kittens. My husband went to get the cage opened for us, so we could take a closer look. I'd read all about how to choose a healthy cat and although I hadn't decided anything yet, well...I might as well investigate, just in case. Besides, this other couple were eyeing these 2 and although I wasn't sure yet, I didn't want to lose out, either...just in case.
We found out they were brother and sister. They'd had another sibling (a sister) but someone had already adopted her. I immediately felt terrible for them. Someone had broken this already-formed family up! But then, I was only going to take one, too...the guilt started creeping in.
The door was opened and I reached in to pick up the grey one, who I just felt was the female. She was SOOO tiny, so fragile-seeming, but so adorable with those oversized ears that I always preferred in a cat, and such big, round amber-green eyes, also the size I preferred. But she was scared and was trying to hide, back with her brother, the black one, also so beautiful, though I was trying not to notice. I didn't even want my husband picking him up, because there was NO WAY I was going to take a black cat! Too late...this little guy was already mewling non-stop and reaching his arms upward, really yearning to be picked up, unlike his timid sister. My husband readily complied with his demands and soon we each had these 2 little wonders cupped in our hands.
Then I discovered that this grey girl had...uh-oh...some diarrhea, and soon thereafter, a sneeze, too! Well, NOW I was in a bind. Not really healthy. Hmm...but that couple was still hanging around, awaiting their turn to check these 2 out. Well, this wasn't fair! She'd already stolen my heart, she was grey, she had features I couldn't resist...what to do? My husband, also noticing the other couple, strongly suggested I just take one today and not wait...we'd deal with the diarrhea and sniffles later...no big deal. After all, I'd found my dream cat, hadn't I? Why wait? There may not BE another chance to find a grey kitten, just like I'd wanted.
After a few minutes debating it, I realized I had a new problem, too. How in the world would I ever live with myself if I split these 2 up? The grey one, so frightened...how would she survive without her brother?....he so bold, now stretching out his arms to me, too, just wanted SO much to be cuddled.......no, taken HOME! But he was black....but he was so spunky and charming and had even greener eyes than her...but he was black...but just LOOK at him pleading with us! He'd already changed my heart, but my head was still trying to rule. But I hadn't planned on 2! But then they'd stay together, and they'd both have more company. But...this would be a spontaneous decision, and I don't DO spontaneity!
My husband suddenly informed me that the doors would be closing soon, and it was the end of the wknd, so we wouldn't be able to return until the next weekend, so I'd better make up my mind FAST! Needless to say, I caved. Okay, 2 cats it would be. Brother and sister. Not torn apart. One black, but hey, at least one was grey. (I always wondered….was their missing sister white?)
We took them to 'Grandma and Grandpa's' house, close by, so that supplies could be bought before we headed home. The grey one was still very scared, needed that new litterbox quick....but couldn't wait for it. Oh well...carpet can be cleaned. Grandma didn't care...she was too busy already falling in love with her new 'grandcats'. Awhile later we were home. I couldn't really even believe I'd taken the plunge. I was suddenly a mom! And I had my grey cat! But it wasn't long...like within minutes, that this girl's brother had taken over everything, including my heart. Bolder, sassier, more affectionate...I didn't stand a chance. HE'D picked US, for the both of them...that was already apparent, even from the time at the shelter. And then we discovered that he had a small, white tip on the very end of his tail…so he wasn’t totally solid black and wouldn’t be ‘unlucky’, either! (I used to mistakenly try to pick this piece of ‘fluff’ off him when he’d be curled up in a ball, thinking it was lint)
It took me a couple of weeks just to name them. I wanted something out of the ordinary, something that suited the way they looked, the ‘style’ of their personalities. I finally looked in human name books, and tried what I’d found on for size. Sabin...sounding sleek to me, to match his glossy short fur, meaning ‘loyal one’. Nissa…soft, dainty sounding, like a little sprite, meaning ‘friendly elf’. Sabin ended up with 36 nicknames; Nissa with 63! (notice the reverse numbers?)
Within about a week, they were already teaching me…in particular, not to believe much about cat-care books of the day…the ones they’d never written! I’d tried, for a few days, to make them sleep in their own bed, like the books suggested. They knew better. Hence, began close to 20 years of the inability to move at night because of cats. One time Sabin stretched out so far across the bed, he pushed his Daddy right onto the floor! (did I howl!) And when Sabin crossed, Nissa immediately filled his usual spot, but even better, as she’d hunker in so close to my heart and face that I could bury my nose in her sweet fur all night if I wanted and she’d stay or return there always, never finding it too warm for comfort.
I discovered over time, in ways both obvious and subtle, that each of them carried pieces of my own self, on every level; like my 2 halves, both of them joining to make up who I was, and am, and who I will yet become because of them. A match made in Heaven, that’s what we’ve always been together. And then some…
I always tried to treat them with the great respect, awe and reverence they deserved, never limiting them to what books and people expected of cats, allowing them to go far beyond those standards. What they lacked in better health, they more than made up for in deeply devoted love, wisdom and huge life lessons. Sabin taught me that the mind/thought is not limited by the body, that death isn’t real, that love never dies and only grows, that auras and minds can truly commune and merge, to live boldly with gusto and without fear, nor apology for being oneself, to BE young-at-heart and to trust myself and my natural intuitive abilities, and what that esoteric Knowing feels like. Nissa taught me that to give is indeed to receive, that in Love there is no such thing as ‘sacrifice’, that thought alone does create one’s reality and is the most powerful force in the Universe, that one can change for the better, that mistakes are unavoidable yet forgivable, that we are energy, not matter, that we were predestined to be together (always) and that dreams and intentions can come true…because they made one of mine a reality, right down to the details. And while I already knew that nonhuman species could love unconditionally, they both taught me that I, too, was capable of loving the same way and that it was merely a choice. We were meant to be together, as soulmates. Of that I'm certain. It had already been written in the stars.
Oh, I love reading all of these! How wonderful. Let me add mine:
I was married and living in an apartment complex in 1987. Precious was the fifth of seven kittens born to my manager's cat Kim (a chocolate-point Siamese). The kittens had been promised to different residents and I had missed out...or so I thought! Someone had taken Precious from the office and set him loose in a small wooded area in the complex. One night, I heard a fierce meowing and thought it was a big cat stuck in a tree so I put on my (ex) husband's flak jacket and boots in case of ticks, took a flashlight and went into the woods...and found a tiny white and beige kitten! I scooped him into my jacket and took him to my apartment. He was a bit scared but looked at me with those incredible blue eyes thanking me for saving him! I called my manager and she told me he had been promised to a woman with a small son...and I very reluctantly gave him up, but not for long. She brought him right back and told me he was mine! He was so pretty I thought he was a girl but found out three months later he was a boy (cryptorchid). He grew into a gorgeous cat and remained with me almost 19 years. He went through a marriage, divorce, several moves and a mother's death with me. I often wondered what life was like before he took over mine!!
Patches is developing into a very sweet baby. He has a lot of Precious' sweetness and is beginning to grow attached to my hip. (LOL) He is quite a joy and has helped me through a very difficult time. Precious would have definitely approved him as a younger brother!
Lisa
I was married and living in an apartment complex in 1987. Precious was the fifth of seven kittens born to my manager's cat Kim (a chocolate-point Siamese). The kittens had been promised to different residents and I had missed out...or so I thought! Someone had taken Precious from the office and set him loose in a small wooded area in the complex. One night, I heard a fierce meowing and thought it was a big cat stuck in a tree so I put on my (ex) husband's flak jacket and boots in case of ticks, took a flashlight and went into the woods...and found a tiny white and beige kitten! I scooped him into my jacket and took him to my apartment. He was a bit scared but looked at me with those incredible blue eyes thanking me for saving him! I called my manager and she told me he had been promised to a woman with a small son...and I very reluctantly gave him up, but not for long. She brought him right back and told me he was mine! He was so pretty I thought he was a girl but found out three months later he was a boy (cryptorchid). He grew into a gorgeous cat and remained with me almost 19 years. He went through a marriage, divorce, several moves and a mother's death with me. I often wondered what life was like before he took over mine!!
Patches is developing into a very sweet baby. He has a lot of Precious' sweetness and is beginning to grow attached to my hip. (LOL) He is quite a joy and has helped me through a very difficult time. Precious would have definitely approved him as a younger brother!
Lisa
I hope more people post their stories. They are really beautiful to read.
I just wanted to share how I met the dogs of my childhood. I was six and my sister was eight and we desparately wanted a dog. My mother, knowing that she would end up doing most of the work and being a little nervous around dogs, was opposed. One day, my father came home from work, and my sister and I rushed to the door to greet him. He brushed passed us and made his way to our room. It was clear something was in his pocket. In our room, he took a tiny black puppy out of his pocket. It was a little poodle, named Debbie. My mother came in and said "Rob, what did you do?" My mother was right, she did do most of the care, but what she didn't expect happened - she too fell in love with Debbie, probably the smartest, most sensitive dog I have ever met. When I was eight, Debbie had puppies, whom my father named Rebecca, Zoe, Rodney and Robbie. We kept Zoe and gave the rest to close friends. So, the first time I saw Zoe, was the moment she was born. (Rebecca became Taffy; Rodney became Maurice and Robbie stayed Robbie) All of these dogs are long gone, but all remain in my heart. The loss of Zoe, who died before her mother, of misdiagnosed heart disease, was the first great loss of my life. Debbie lived until after I had left for college, but when she passed away, it was the second great loss of my life. These dogs of my childhood taught me so much about unconditional love, trust and devotion, that I wanted to mention them.
Daisy's Mommy
aka Debbie and Zoe's sister
I just wanted to share how I met the dogs of my childhood. I was six and my sister was eight and we desparately wanted a dog. My mother, knowing that she would end up doing most of the work and being a little nervous around dogs, was opposed. One day, my father came home from work, and my sister and I rushed to the door to greet him. He brushed passed us and made his way to our room. It was clear something was in his pocket. In our room, he took a tiny black puppy out of his pocket. It was a little poodle, named Debbie. My mother came in and said "Rob, what did you do?" My mother was right, she did do most of the care, but what she didn't expect happened - she too fell in love with Debbie, probably the smartest, most sensitive dog I have ever met. When I was eight, Debbie had puppies, whom my father named Rebecca, Zoe, Rodney and Robbie. We kept Zoe and gave the rest to close friends. So, the first time I saw Zoe, was the moment she was born. (Rebecca became Taffy; Rodney became Maurice and Robbie stayed Robbie) All of these dogs are long gone, but all remain in my heart. The loss of Zoe, who died before her mother, of misdiagnosed heart disease, was the first great loss of my life. Debbie lived until after I had left for college, but when she passed away, it was the second great loss of my life. These dogs of my childhood taught me so much about unconditional love, trust and devotion, that I wanted to mention them.
Daisy's Mommy
aka Debbie and Zoe's sister
i remember walking down the street (several miles, i was in college then and in better shape 
) with tribble on my shoulder mewing the entire way. he was the RUNT of the litter (and turned out to be 13+ lbs of solid kitty). we stopped downtown (Kent, Ohio) and went into a few shops together to show the noisey little puffball off. obviously, after all these years remembering, it was a memorable occasion. and i dont remember much else from my college days. lol.
) with tribble on my shoulder mewing the entire way. he was the RUNT of the litter (and turned out to be 13+ lbs of solid kitty). we stopped downtown (Kent, Ohio) and went into a few shops together to show the noisey little puffball off. obviously, after all these years remembering, it was a memorable occasion. and i dont remember much else from my college days. lol.
In saying that our meeting wasn't spectacular, I only meant that I didn't rescue her or save her life... She just came to me. The part that was spectacular was all the years between that day and her last. She was a very special girl .
.
lovelost,
Oh, we do know that. The special years between meeting and saying good-bye are the ones that make all the difference. The odd thing is that so many of those years don't come back to us till afterwards, but the memories - ah, yes, those are the spectacular and unforgettable times of our lives. Please take care and let us know how you're getting along - Barbara
Oh, we do know that. The special years between meeting and saying good-bye are the ones that make all the difference. The odd thing is that so many of those years don't come back to us till afterwards, but the memories - ah, yes, those are the spectacular and unforgettable times of our lives. Please take care and let us know how you're getting along - Barbara
I was only 9 years old when I met Tia but I remember bits and pieces of it. First off I want to say before I had Tia I was terrified of animals. All animals scared me to death from the smallest little kitten to the biggest fiercest dog. I would literally try to climb my parents if an animal approached me...I don't really know why..I just had this irrational fear of animals.
My parents wanted to get me a dog and they brought a black colored lab puppy home one day as a tester (they didn't buy him they just borrowed him from a neighbor) and I was so scared of him even though he was a cute little puppy. Not too much later my parents suggested a little dog to me...perhaps a chihuahua. We drove out to the country to the home of some people my parents knew who bred dogs. They had lots of big kennels outside around their house full of momma dogs and puppies...I remember hearing lots of happy barking greeting us when we got there. I don't remember much about this time other than a screen door opening and someone putting into my open palms the most beautiful little creature. It was Tia. She was fawn colored with a little white spot of fur on her head and she had a tiny body and big ears. She trembled in my hands.
At that moment I felt no fear at all...just love and the overwhelming desire to protect her and take care of her always. We bought her from the breeder and signed some papres and took her home. I remember she peed in the car on the drive home and we just laughed about it cuz she was making herself comfortable. We stopped somewhere and my dad got out of the car (perhaps to get some puppy food and supplies) and my mom and I stayed in. While we were waiting in the car we decided to name her Tia..my mom's idea was Tortilla and I said how about "Tia" for short...and it stuck.
My parents wanted to get me a dog and they brought a black colored lab puppy home one day as a tester (they didn't buy him they just borrowed him from a neighbor) and I was so scared of him even though he was a cute little puppy. Not too much later my parents suggested a little dog to me...perhaps a chihuahua. We drove out to the country to the home of some people my parents knew who bred dogs. They had lots of big kennels outside around their house full of momma dogs and puppies...I remember hearing lots of happy barking greeting us when we got there. I don't remember much about this time other than a screen door opening and someone putting into my open palms the most beautiful little creature. It was Tia. She was fawn colored with a little white spot of fur on her head and she had a tiny body and big ears. She trembled in my hands.
At that moment I felt no fear at all...just love and the overwhelming desire to protect her and take care of her always. We bought her from the breeder and signed some papres and took her home. I remember she peed in the car on the drive home and we just laughed about it cuz she was making herself comfortable. We stopped somewhere and my dad got out of the car (perhaps to get some puppy food and supplies) and my mom and I stayed in. While we were waiting in the car we decided to name her Tia..my mom's idea was Tortilla and I said how about "Tia" for short...and it stuck.
I had just started travel nursing and took a job in a little hospital on the Eastern Shore. I had my own apt and didn't really know anyone. I decided I needed a companion to keep me company on my travels. I had always wanted a Yorkie as I thought they were absolutely adorable little dogs. Plus a Yorkie would be easy to travel with. I researched Yorkies online and educated myself on them so I could make sure this was the choice for me. I found a breeder about 2 hrs from my home and we talked via phone and she told me she had a litter that was 4 wks old, not quite ready to leave yet. She sent me pics via email and I picked out my baby, Kurby. He was the runt of the litter and absolutely gorgeous! I knew he was the one the minute I saw his picture! She sent me updated pics weekly and then I made the 4 hr trip back home....only to travel 2 more hours the next day to pick him up. She handed him to me and he kissed me all over my face and the rest is history! Love at first sight! Man I miss him.....
He traveled with me for the next 3 years, up and down the east coast. He made many friends. I called him my "little traveling dog". I could go near his crate and he ran in it and refused to come out. He knew when it was time to pack up for another adventure and he was SURE I wasn't leaving him!!!!!
He traveled with me for the next 3 years, up and down the east coast. He made many friends. I called him my "little traveling dog". I could go near his crate and he ran in it and refused to come out. He knew when it was time to pack up for another adventure and he was SURE I wasn't leaving him!!!!!
My beloved Ginger had been gone for 3 years and I knew it was time for a new dog. For years I had wanted a Bichon and the search began. In my area there were not many Bichon breeders (16yrs ago). I got a list from my vet that had AKC breeders and found 2. That led me to Virginia Beach to Mary Vogel. I did not know but she had been a very early supporter of the breed and had won and still does best in class at Westminister. This was December and she said she had 3 newborn pups but she did not let them go untill 3mos because it took that long to tell if they were show or pet quality. Well I waited like an expectant mother untill the call came end of Feb and my daughter and I went to pick him up (about an hour away). We had to sit at a table and talk with her for about an hour I guess she was checking to see if i was going to be a good parent. Finally she brought Raggs out the most precious puppy I had ever seen(Of course it is like our children we all thinks ours is the cutest). He of course was not show quality he had overbite but otherwise perfect. So that day began my journey of love. How in heaven's earth did the time go by so fast. From picking up my precious pup to all I have is his ashes in his urn. I will try to attach pic of first day home. I do so enjoy everyone's stories and seeing your precious departed ones
Raggs Mom Joanne
Raggs Mom Joanne
I remember meeting Scooter. We already had one cat Boo, and my son thought that Boo needed a playmate. So, he adopted Scooter at a shelter where he lived. He dropped him off to my husband while I was at work. I kept calling to fine out how he was doing with Boo, and what did this new little guy look like. He was black and white, with the cutest little black beard on his chin. I remember seeing him for the first time and it was love at first site. Boo had been a birthday present from my husband, and Scooter, was my Christmas present. I will never forget how Boo and Scooter played together. They were only 6 month apart in age, and grew together. I remember Scooter was fearless. He would just stand there, then just jump at Boo, like wrestling. They would break apart, then jump at each other again, just kitten play and so funny to watch. Even growing up, they both continued to play with each other like this. When Scooter would eat, it was so funny, because he used his little mouth like a steam shovel, scooping up the food. I remember, when Scooter was a kitten my husband came out of the bedroom, saying he thought Scooter had dislocated his jaw. He was holding his mouth funny, so I called the vet. She had just gotten home, but agreed to meet us at the office. We got there and she examined him, and all seemed to be ok. It turns out that little Scooter had gotten a taste of some Blue Cheese dressing and apparently didnt like the taste, so was making faces (I felt like such an idiot, but you never know). Scooter had a few nicknames, Scootman, and Scootboot. After we moved into our house, Boo and Scooter continued to be best buddies. Scooter used to climb up onto my lap and wrap his legs around my arm and rest his head on my arm, and just purr away. I would be so content with him like that. He used to sleep on my side at night with his legs wrapped around my arm again. This was a nightly routine. Everytime we would turn on a water fawcet, he was there to get a drink of water. And, everytime I took a shower, he would wait on the toilet seat for me to get out. At 4 we noticed he lost a lot of weight, and well, it was his kidneys. For 18 months we treated him. He did rebound and gained all his weight back, and was just like a kitten, playing with Boo like he used to. He never failed to sleep on my side at night, always there through good times and bad for me, when difficulties with my husband arose. Scooter seemed to know my every mood, and would always be there for me, to dry my salty tears. I miss everything about him.. He had this cute cat "bark". He really didn't meow at all, but would just do this little bark. He loved looking at the birds, squirrels and would really get excited when he'd see the chipmunks that live under our deck.
I have only just recently seen the chipmunks again. They seemed go to away after Scooter passed. But, they are back again, and I can picture Scooter all hunched down close to the floor, cat barking at them. I miss him so much. Just when I was waking up this morning, I thought I felt a cat walking behind me on the bed, I put my hand there, and there was not one of our other cats there. I like to think that it was Scooter, come for a visit, knowing that my heart is aching for him. Scooter, you were my close buddy, there for me, and you still are. You will live on forever in my heart, never forgotten.
Thank you for letting me talk about my baby.
Scooter's Mom
I have only just recently seen the chipmunks again. They seemed go to away after Scooter passed. But, they are back again, and I can picture Scooter all hunched down close to the floor, cat barking at them. I miss him so much. Just when I was waking up this morning, I thought I felt a cat walking behind me on the bed, I put my hand there, and there was not one of our other cats there. I like to think that it was Scooter, come for a visit, knowing that my heart is aching for him. Scooter, you were my close buddy, there for me, and you still are. You will live on forever in my heart, never forgotten.
Thank you for letting me talk about my baby.
Scooter's Mom
Hi all, It is wonderful to know there are so many true pet lovers out there, who have "that special bond' with their furry one.
I adopted Yoda through a local breeder after the loss of my previous cat Sissy. Her son was lonely and he and myself both needed the companionship. When I went to pick out a kitten, he and his Dad were on my shoulders and very insistent in gaining my attention. There were other kittens in the litter, but he picked me out. Not I him.
I took him home and he decided I was his Mommy and didn't leave my side until I met my husband who became as smitten with him as I was.(He claimed he didn't like cats) He was quite the character and I will never forget him. He will always have a special place in my heart.
Theresa
I adopted Yoda through a local breeder after the loss of my previous cat Sissy. Her son was lonely and he and myself both needed the companionship. When I went to pick out a kitten, he and his Dad were on my shoulders and very insistent in gaining my attention. There were other kittens in the litter, but he picked me out. Not I him.
I took him home and he decided I was his Mommy and didn't leave my side until I met my husband who became as smitten with him as I was.(He claimed he didn't like cats) He was quite the character and I will never forget him. He will always have a special place in my heart.
Theresa
My beloved pet was actually a gift to me from my boyfriend (now husband of 15 years) for Easter 1990.We were living in a condo at the beach at the time and I came home from work one night (I was working as a waitress) and he said,I have a surprize for you,it's in the bedroom.So,I go into the bedroom and I don't see anything except for some cat toys sitting in an easter basket with blue ribbons on the top.So,I yell out into the living room,hey,what's supposed to be in here anyway??He comes into the room,looks around,says,well,there's supposed to be a little kitten in here somewhere! So,I look around and sure enough,hiding way back inside my closet there's this tiny little kitten,black and white tuxedo manx he was,and I yell,here he is! I pulled him out of the closet and picked him up and looked at my man and said,why'd you get me a kitten? And he said,because you need someone to love whenever I'm not around.So,from that day on Sox lived with us.We got married,move several times over the years,but he always went with us.It was always the three of us,we were a family!We've now been married for 15 years and we had 16 wonderful years with our beloved Sox before he had to be put to sleep just this past friday.We had 16 wonderful years with him,full of happy times,good memories,lots of love,loads of laughs,plently of snuggle time,until he got sick.Now it's just the two of us again and we are lonely without him.We miss him so much but I will always have so many memories to keep in my heart and my soul.What a wonderful companion he was to both of us for so long.......it was and still is the very best gift I ever got from my husband!!!!!!
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