When I was twelve, my father took me for a ride and we came back with Dixie. I had grown up
with dogs my whole life. They were mostly hunting dogs and Dixie was supposed to be the same, but...well... Click
on her photo for the full story.
Anyway, the next pet I encountered was Weiland, my sister's cat. I lived with him and my sister
for a couple of years and he was the meanest thing I had ever encountered (apart from my sister) so I never liked cats and
went so far as to fear them.
Then a girlfriend of mine asked me to take care of a dog named Sheba. I renamed her Papoops
and we got along great. She would come to the bar with me and get up on the bar and visit with anyone who would give
her attention and then come back to me. It was a match made in heaven. But as with all relationships, it's always
the children who suffer and my exgirlfriend claimed custody.
I didn't want another pet after that but then my sister moved away and left me with Wei. I
have paid lots of money for his care because he is diabetic and has had other problems, but I like him, which I find ironic
because he is the reason for me disliking cats in the first place.
The other cat is the Squeaky Freaky Cheeky Monky, who my neighbor asked me to watch temporarily and
who injured Wei so I gave her back. Kicked her out, essentially. She was really sweet to people but not to any
other animal, so I kicked her to the curb.
There will be more commentary on the behavior of these animals later.