LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
FIRST Hand |
by Marion McGrath |
Oh, They Call It Puppy Love
Aw. Aww. Awww. He's sooo cute! That's about all you hear around here these days. Well, okay, that and, "You pee OUTSIDE and NOT on the rug!" In case you haven't put two and two together, yes, Susan and I have a new puppy. The first five years we were together we swore we would not be Lesbians With Animals. Then, for our fifth anniversary Susan gave me a pet. It wasn't the usual fur bearing, cuddly variety, but a baby red-banded king snake. Yep. A snake. Now I wasn't too sure how to read that, but decided to focus on the care and feeding of same. Our friendly, neighborhood herpetologist told us it was a female. First things firsta name for the reptile in my life. There was a mighty temptation to name her Eve, but I've never quite gotten into the Garden thing especially the part where a woman takes the blame for the fall of mankind, Hmmm. Aha, Salomethe perfect name. Alright, she had a name, next came the part of feeding her. Feed her WHAT?? Mice? The thought of handling a snake (albeit one only six inches long) didn't bother me, but to deal with living, breathing, squirming mice really kicked my yuck quotient into high gear. Then a friend of mine told me to try frozen mice. Frozen mice? Who knew? But the pet store actually kept a supply in their freezer, so we decided to give it a whirl. Dangling a frozen mouse, although thawed out, in front of a snake is a ridiculous way to kill an hour or two, but it finally worked, and suddenly life with a snake got a lot easier and a little less gruesome. Salome grew and grew. At about a length of four feet she became quite a party trick. It became a point of fascination to introduce her to people and watch their reactions. The range was generally from the slightly timid; once in a while someone was bold, to those who all but fainted when we even suggested taking her out of her terrarium. All, in all, Salome was my kind of galshe slept all day and slithered all night. It must be said, however, that, in general, snakes aren't a very interactive pet. So when a friend of ours who already had three snakes, an iguana, and a tortoise looked into Salome's slitted, lidless eyes she fell madly in love. What can you do? We sent her off to a new home where she could settle into reptilian rapture. So, we were once again petless and feeling not at all deprived. The only time we felt any sort of vacuum was when all of our friends got together and the topic inevitably turned to cats and dogs. Sometimes ad nauseum. Plus, there was always the unspoken question, how come you two don't have any furry friends? I now know how all those childless women feel when their peers start giving them that, "what, no kids? Are you that selfish?" Then about two years ago Susan and I fell in love with a little Cairn Terrier that belonged to our neighbors at the beach. He was so sweet and so good that we thought, "Hey, this wouldn't be so bad." Then we started to look around a little. In past lives I had had two West Highland White Terriers and loved the breed. Susan started to dig her heels in because I left both of the relationships I was in and left the dog with my exes. I could understand her reluctance. But I started leaving pictures of Westie puppies on her pillow and pointed out every picture of every Westie that appeared in a catalog. (Believe me, there are lots of them.) Gradually I wore her down and we started to contact breeders about a year ago. Breeders are, well, a different breed. It took months of calling and e-mailing only to miss litters by a few days or so. Then about three months ago we had a little luck when we learned there was a woman who had a bitch (love that term) who had just dropped a litter of six males. We contacted her and raced to put a deposit on a puppy. Then the waiting. We couldn't even see him until he was eight weeks old, and could not bring him home until he was twelve weeks old. All that had to do with distemper shots and other medication. But when we finally saw him, instant love. Three weeks ago we brought Gillie home, and I know our lives will never be the same. He is undoubtedly precious, and so good natured. Watching Susan bond with him has been one of the big pleasures of my life. She gets up with him every morning, takes him out of his crate, and actually cuddles with him on the floor. Believe it or not, they spoon while he gets his belly rubbed. Should I be jealous? Me? I'm exhausted. This is like dealing with a two year old. A couple of times I've looked him in the eye and told him that for what we paid for him we could have had a plasma television. Then he'll do something incredibly cute and the puddle on the floor is me, melting under his charm. Marion McGrath is a regular contributor to Letters from CAMP Rehoboth. She can be reached at attagirl10@aol.com. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 16, No. 9 July 14, 2006 |