Dogs- The Sequel to Cats

Previously, I made a post about my current beloved cats. Everything in that post is true, but it makes me come off as an all-cat kind of person. This is very much not the case.

I’ve loved cats longer than I have loved dogs, but I love them equally, just for different reasons.

Cats can be playful and cuddly, but oftentimes that is a dog’s job. In general they are very loyal, sweet, affectionate, and very playful.

However, I have had a somewhat disturbing past with dogs. When I was younger, about ten years old, my biological raised and bred pit bulls. He has some hoarder tendencies since he was adding all the dogs to all the cats and all the snakes. I’ll never understand that man. Regardless, the dogs were very sweet and loving, but as you know, the males can be very territorial. The first killing occurred one day when I was at school. The bus dropped me off, and I walked up my gravel driveway to my porch, as usual. I noticed blood spots here and there on the steps and the wood of the porch. I went inside, and my father informed me one male had broken out of his kennel and killed another. A few weeks later, a male and female killed the female’s sister fighting over food. My mother tried to break up the fight, but it was too late.

Of the many pit bulls we owned, only two are surviving today.

Now that the sad story is out of the way, let me make it up to you by telling you about my two lazy yet loving dogs.

The first dog is one of the two surviving pit bulls. His name is Boscoe, and he believes he is a lap dog who has to be touched constantly. We received him as a 6-month old puppy, and he is now an old man, gray-face and all. He was always the favorite of my mum’s during my childhood. When we moved to our current house in Tuscumbia, most of my animals were either deceased or thrown out by my biological father. We only saved two cats, my favorite of the two later ran away, and Boscoe. Now that she didn’t have a million other animals to feed, she could actually take good care of Boscoe and even train him to behave. He can sit, stay, and roll over. As he’s gotten older and my stepdad has spoiled him, Boscoe’s patience for treats has diminished. Overall, he is a terrific dog. He sets the perfect example to what pit bulls and other dog breeds could be if they are taken care of and properly trained.

Lastly, we have Duncan, our Yorkie/Schnauzer mix. He is only a few years old. His story is an odd one, actually. He came from the mom of one of my best friends. We did not intend to keep him when she and my friend Hillary brought him over to our house. His original name was Zeus, but that did not suit him at all. He is very timid unless you’re knocking on the other side of a door; then, he barks and barks until you come in and greet him. He is only comfortable when he is smothered in pillows, as you can see to the right. No one did that to him as a joke, he digs under the pillows on the couch until he is completely or partially hidden. We kept Duncan with the intention of having a playmate dog for Boscoe. Since he loves pillow smothering, he and Boscoe are couch potatoes more so than ever. Every now and then, though, Duncan will get in these moods of running back and forth from the kitchen through the dining room to the living room where we all just sit and watch him go.

I shall leave you with the moral of this story: do NOT, under any circumstances, own more animals than you can care for.

They suffer needlessly because we find them “cute” and feel we need all of them.

You don’t.

Also, don’t fight dogs. Don’t train dogs to be mean. Don’t treat them like toys that you can just throw around.

Keep your animals happy and behaved. Spay and neuter them, too, if you can.

*all photos taken by my mum

Cats

I love animals. I always have, and I always will. There has not been a day in my life that I haven’t had some form of an animal. I’ve had various types throughout my days, including snakes, hamsters, goats, dogs, rabbits, and even gerbils.

However, I will always have a special place in my heart for all of my cats.

My past family went through cats like used toys. The Maxwell members would run over my cats during my childhood into early adolescence. It honestly almost became a routine; my mother would sit me down, because she was the only one who cared about the cats like I do, and I would ask which cat. We would proceed with our mourning, the Maxwell members giving no thought to the creature they killed and focusing more on my “unhappiness.”

Anyway, my current cats are one of the small joys that keep me going. I have four, all boys, oddly enough.

The first two cats are Prozac and Sue. Prozac came with that name, and he actually needs some. He acts like an old lady, always yelling at no one in particular about his being alone or just in another room from you.

Sue was named after the great Johnny Cash’s A Boy Named Sue and A Man in Black. Ergo, Sue is the black one, and Prozac is the gray one.

Sue is very alien-like. What I mean by that is he watches our movements and actions as if he wants to perform them for himself to somehow help conquer the world. He also gets on the counter and table and knocks things over to receive some form of attention from my mother. He’s somehow her favorite, despite being the one who messes up everything and makes himself look innocent when picking fights with the other cats.

Next is Vincent. He is actually quite large, it’s not just the picture. My dad had him before he moved in with us. His new landlord didn’t approve of the cats he was oddly enough keeping for someone else, so he was soon after evicted. You know a man is a keeper when he brings his own cat when he moves in with you.

Sorry for the random side notes, they just happen.

Vincent is about 10 years old, and he is always grumpy. My dad had him since he was a newborn kitten, and he grew up with a Labrador as a friend. He is quite dog-like, often charging at people who ignore him. He can be cuddly every blue moon or so, especially with my dad in his man-chair.

Finally, there’s Butters. He is basically younger Simba from Lion King. We actually got Butters from the local animal shelter in hopes of getting a different cat named Sherlock. Not that I don’t love Butters with all of my being, but how perfect it would have been to have that  beautifully-named cat. -heavy sigh.

Butters is an orange-creamy tabby who can go from super cuddly to “I wanna bite your fingers off for play time” within minutes. He is your typical kitten, playing and cuddling and biting everything. He is so very cute, and I may just take him with me whenever I move out for good. He makes this adorable chirping noise when he is sleepy and/or being messed with while trying to sleep.

This is said noise with my friend Hillary in the background.

To all the cats who couldn’t be in this post, you are fondly remembered and I’ll love you all until I join you someday.

Then you all can go back to ignoring me until I feed and/or pet you.

*all photos and video taken by me, except the last one being taken by my mum