TOD:
Dinky-Boo -- an Eskimo Spitz my dad thought would be a great pet for me at age 2 or 3. As it turns out, Dinky-Boo (his name was "Dinky", but I used to walk up and try to scare him by saying "Dinky! BOO!" and it stuck) wasn't too fond of other people, but he was devoted to me. My mom was afraid he'd attack/bite other kids (and there were a lot of 'em in our neighborhood) so my father gave him away circa 1952.
Toby -- a blond Cocker Spaniel. Santa Claus brought him when I was four or five, I think (circa 1952/53). He was just a puppy. I had Toby about 11 years or so. He was always an outdoors pet, and I think that has a lot to do with longevity. Poor thing was deaf and nearly blind when my father had him put down. He did this the day before we were to leave on family vacation. I was led to believe he was going to the vets for the week. When my father got home he was wretched -- kept sobbing. My mom finally told me why. I felt so bad for my father that I kept to myself that I was terribly hurt I wasn't given the chance to say a proper goodbye.
Maggie -- white cat, medium-length hair. This was my third pet, but it was 10 years after Toby. I was in the Navy and living in Naples, Italy, 1975-77. One of my neighbors had too many cats for him (his girlfriend had even more) and he offered me one he called "Bianca". She didn't look Italian to me, and I called her Maggie. She was a great cat, loved chasing an aluminum foil ball I made and absolutely loved me. Trouble was, I lived in a ground floor apartment that was only "secure" when the Roman persiana (wooden blinds on doors and windows) were closed. It meant she was cooped up all day in the dark, and I eventually came to believe it wasn't a great thing for her, even though I enjoyed her immensely. I spoke with my neighbor and he spoke with his girlfiend (who had the penthouse apartment with most of the building's rooftop as a balcony). She was very happy to add Maggie to her brood, and I got to visit any time I wanted (I even cats-sat when she and my neighbor would go away on weekends).
Dickens -- male tiger-Persian mix. LOVE of my life! He was a gift to me from my landlady's daughter in 1987 when I was again in Naples, Italy (ten years later). He was a kitty when I got him, and a vet later told me he couldn't have been more than 4 weeks old at the time. I bought books on cats to teach me things I thought I needed to know. I learned much more just watching him develop. He was an amazing creature.
Vickie (aka Miss Vickie, Vickie Lester and Vickitoria) -- adopted in 1988 to be company/companion for Dickens. There was an ordeal! Both cats hated one another on sight. Or so I thought. They put me through all sorts of hell. I had to feed them on different sides of the kitchen. I had to give them "time outs"...from time to time, giving each freedom from the other by letting one outside a day at a time while keeping the other inside and devoting loads of attention to him or her.
I had to go away for a weekend and a co-worker who lived nearby offered to feed and play with the cats. I fully briefed her on the routine I had so she'd understand why these cats seemed to hate one another. When I returned and went to get my keys, she had a curious smile on her face. She told me that when she went into the house both cats greeted her. When she began preparing food, they were both at her feet, rubbing up against her and one another. She put their food in separate dishes next to one another. They both dived in, ate a while, and then they swapped bowls. She said she talked to them while they ate. Later, she said, they groomed one another.
I was dumbfounded. I rushed home to witness this extraordinary sight. What I found was what I left -- exactly the same animosity and hissing, etc. It was then that it dawned on me. They both liked one another, they just didn't want to "share" me.
I took some corrective measures including not petting them separately but together. Instead of giving each separate-but-equal doses of my time, I gave "both" the same measure of attention "together."
This ultimately worked out just fine. Vickie was a bit clingier/needier than Dickens was, and she often overdid her attentions to him, including grooming. Dickens would cooperate only to a point, and then he would swat at her.
There was never a question of whether both of these creatures would leave Italy with me. My parents agreed to care for them during my last tour in the Navy. They lived in Virginia at the time. Later, they moved to South Carolina where my mom now lives. Both cats had travelled extensively by the time they got to Johnston SC. At that time, I was out of the Navy but living in a place where pets weren't allowed. In 1995, I was anticipating being in a cat-friendly apartment by the end of the year and I'd have my two children with me. Sadly, Dickens wouldn't make it through that year as he was struck by a speeding car on a backroad on which the speed limit was 5 mph. Anyone doing the limit would easily have missed any animal in the road.
I did bring Miss Vickie back to Oakland when I returned from my Christmas vacation with my folks. It was the first time in her life that she had been the "only kitty". Her little personality flourished and she was with me until August in her 22nd year.
I have no immediate plans to adopt another until my future plans are more clear to me. I'm retirement-eligible (again) and I hope to continue working at least two more years before packing up and moving back east to be closer to my mom. Then, it may be time to consider....another dog!
