Reminiscing with pets of the past
Over the weekend, community blogger Perrin Cornell wrote a post about the pets of his life. It was a funny, and interesting, read. And it got me thinking. We all have stories of our various pets, from dogs to horses, and every type of rodent in-between. I don’t think any of us would be the same were it not for our pets.
I know I learned plenty of lessons about friendship, fairness and loss as a child, and I’ve learned even more lessons of anger management, responsibility, and family as an adult from my long list of pets. I’ve loved every one, but my first pet is what this story is about.
I am telling this via the story my parents have told me, since I was too young to remember the incident. It makes it no less accurate, however, but beware my father likes to spin a yarn, so it might be a bit exaggerated:
Before I was born, my parents had a dog, Biffer, or Biff for short. He was half heeler, half bull terrier, and looked a lot like that Spuds McKenzie dog from the commercials. Biffer was a loving dog, loyal and friendly. But he loved nothing more than to scare the living daylights out of strangers by barking madly whenever they approached. The local dogcatcher knew Biff by name, and the mailman had developed a working relationship with him.
What Biff loved more than anything else, however, was food time. Never has a dog devoured his food so quickly. Any time he ate, it was less than 15 seconds (my parents actually timed him), and he’d always leave the bowl spinning on the floor.
When I was born, my parents weren’t sure how Biff would react. I was the first baby he’d seen. But, not to worry, Biff loved me as his own. I was his playmate, he was my pillow. And no one came close to me unless they were vetted by Biffer.
But the food bowl. That was a different matter. That was Biff’s domain, never to be invaded by another, even his favorite baby.
So the evening that my mother turned around in the kitchen to see me slowly lowering my hand into the melee of Biff’s food bowl, as he was gobbling, she was sure all I’d pull out was a bloody stump. As she ran across the room to grab me up, though, she realized that the dog was eating around my fist, and eating even faster, as I seemed intent on snacking myself.
I came out without a scratch on me, and Biffer came out with most of his meal in his belly (I did manage to grab a couple kibbles and throw ‘em in my mouth before Mom got there).
At that point, my parents realized that Biff may have been a fierce, frightening dog, but he was more bark than bite. And his loyalty to his baby was stronger than any other aspect of his personality, including his appetite.
Biff was with us until I was about 10 years old, and was my and my sister’s best friend. I can’t tell you how many times he endured playing the prince to our princess, or the groom to our bride, without even one whine of embarrassment.
A good dog is an important part of a child’s growing up, in my opinion, and we had one of the best. I just hope that when the time comes for my family to expand, I find a playmate, protector and pillow for my kids.
How about you? Was your childhood pet special? Did they teach you any life lessons? I’d love to hear in the comments below!
7 Comments
When I was a baby, we had a dog named Showpan. Not Chopin, but Showpan. IDK why.
Anyway, one day my mom came out and I was yelling, “Shut up (expletive) dog.” I was 2. After that, my dad got a stern talking to about how to treat animals.
But most of all, I miss when we had four guinea pigs. Stinky!
I think I missed out on the childhood pet bonding experience. My family had lots of pets growing up, but I rarely had any sort of deep connection with them (though I did love many of them). I’ve never lived a day without a cat at home. My brother and I would always bring home pets, too. We’d catch snakes, lizards, frogs, salamanders, mice, and sometimes even rescue birds. My brother once rescued a litter of opossums from the creek in our backyard. They were all very sick, and most didn’t survive. We also rescued a baby quail who had been left behind. So, I guess, if animals taught me anything, it was compassion.
I’ve never been so bonded with a pet though than I am with my kitty. She is the first pet that I acquired after reaching adulthood, and she definitely means the most to me of any of the pets I’ve had.
Growing up I had always wanted a dog. My mom was not into animals so when wanting a dog I got a goldfish….they’re hard to walk. At one point I was allowed a four footed pet but the turtle was really slow at fetching.
Currently I have my four big guys which mom is afraid of…keeps her from stopping by unexpectly. “woof!”
My first pet was Oshkosh “Rusty” Stevens. She was a beautiful Siamese kitten delivered to me (by Santa, of course) on Christmas day. She was so dainty and very loving (for a cat). She had a litter of kittens with her baby-daddy “Thomas” who lived next door. We kept one of the kittens and I named her “Cat”. It was the ’80’s and I thought myself so clever to have named her Cat Stevens. Ultimately, the pets in my life have taught me that we should take pleasure in the little things (cat and dog naps–in the sunny spot on the living room floor; a strrrr-e-tccch after the cat (or dog) nap; a big slurp of cool water after a long run) and be happy to have taken part in that little moment.
wouldn’t thomas be a kitty-daddy, instead of a baby-daddy?
rik: if you’re a true cat person, it would be a baby-daddy. Do you know how nutty some dog people are about their dogs? Well, cat people are just the same.
We didn’t have dogs for a very long time, because my dad (claimed) he didn’t like them. When I was in high school, my parents picked me up early from school one wintry day. I climbed into our minivan and Mom was holding a tiny, scrawny gray poodle. I was so happy I cried. That night, he slept with his head on my elbow, and we were all really attached to him. He became my dad’s baby, and Dad would wrap him in a litle blanket and carry him around like an infant. He was an extremely mellow little dog, but children made him very nervous. We had him for six months until he was hit by a car. I came home from vacation to find my parents and my brother sitting on the couch, and my dad said we had to talk. That’s when he broke the news. All of us bawled for days. We soon got a new poodle (who has new been with us for 8 years), but nothing can replace that first little dog or how he brought us all together.