Pets in our lives

My new rescued cat, Baby Girl, purred early one morning for me for the first time since I brought her home from the shelter late in June. That’s how I knew she believed she had arrived at her (forgive me), fur-ever home.

My rescued greyhound, BeBe, was sitting up and attentive as Baby Girl, after she purred, whipped around the house, stoned on the catnip from the scratching post.

She’s a dark grey and black tiger-stripe one-year-old loving not-so-little 9.25 pound girl who is co-existing with the dog, so there are no battles, no hissing. And I suspect, by winter’s time, when Baby Girl realizes BeBe has fleece blankets on both his beds, she’ll end up sleeping next to him.

I have had many pets over the years and most were rescues. Except for one out-of-control kitten, they have always been the loves of my life.

Indiana Jones, Rebel, Mac and Meyer, the cat that ate popcorn and watched movies with me….even Nippy, my cat in the rural town of Berry, Ky.,  when I was in the second grade,  and the kitty whose name I can’t remember who rode with me on my tricycle, when I was three years old.

In my married days, brief as they were, we had two black labs, Jason, who had been severely abused before he came to us, and the little, lovely Felicia (oh, it was all about Jason and the Golden Fleece), who also came to us, but not abused.

As a couple, we already had a cat, Pywacket, and a rabbit named Napolean. And then one day, completely unrelated, we took in two beagles. One, an older female, wandered into our front yard. No collar, no tag. And she looked hungry and thirsty, so I put water and food out for her.

My husband came home that afternoon with a young male beagle who had wandered into his job site. No collar, no tag. We called all of the area dog officers and no one had reported these dogs missing.

So, they stayed with us, Benny and Bernice, we called them. And not realizing they hadn’t been neutered, pretty soon we had a litter of five beagle pups, all most likely purebreds but with no papers for the parents, we happily gave each away.

There is something so special about pets, whether, like me, you live alone or not. They love you unconditionally. They are happy when you come home, they rarely scold you for being late, they are grateful you feed them and walk them and scratch behind their ears.

My current two, BeBe and Baby Girl, are gentle, loving, great with children. Sofia and Mitchell from next door, 8 and 10 respectively, come to visit Baby Girl every afternoon or evening since the day after she arrived. Then they ask if they can give BeBe a treat.

Pets can make a family, and can make a family better.

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About Cissy Taylor

Cissy is a retired journalist who spent any number of years reporting and writing about crimes in New Hampshire, seeing up close and personally just how much harm one human being can inflict on another. Those are not the things she intends to write about here. A Southern Belle, born and raised in Kentucky, she has lived in the frigid north for nearly 39 years. Her faithful companion, Bebe, is a black rescued greyhound who, enviously, sleeps 20 hours a day.
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