I know. I admit it. I have before. I am obsessed with animals. I take too many pictures of them, I talk too much about them, they are too often the subjects of my mind’s meanderings. But c’mon they are hilarious. My animals. They are hilarious and naughty and sweet and crazy (especially the cats) and cuddly and fascinating, really.
Plus, I don’t have kids, so what else am I supposed to obsess over?
My eccentric tendencies on this subject became more evident last night when I was on the front porch talking on the phone with my best friend. We were trying to catch up on the latests: TV shows, her brother’s wedding, who is having or just had babies, what’s for dinner. And in between movie critiques and recipes my best friend would pause to save her three year old child from tumbling down the steps, driving his toy tractor in the street, slamming his fingers in the door and certain death. You know, important, motherly things.
And in between those pauses, I was yelling at the dogs.
You know, trying to save the cats from certain death…
Well, we can all see here whose responsibilities might save the world some day. Or at least have a chance to become president.
I don’t think they are electing pugs to office, although some have tried their hand…er, I mean…paw.
My best friend and I laughed together at the chaos, each one of us enjoying the heck out of the life that surrounds us. I love hearing about how my friend had to duct tape her three year old’s tux at the wedding, how he loves tractors so much it’s the only word he uses and I absolutely melt when he gets on the phone to say “hi Dessy” (that’s how he says my name…ahh, so cute.)
I’m not so sure my best friend is equally impressed with the stories about how my pug sleeps with the cats and then proceeds to chase them up the tree–so I spare her the phone chat with him.
Anyway, my conversation with her got me thinking about what it is that makes me keep these animals around. Because they are naughty (did I say that already?) and dirty, like the furniture way too much and, occasionally, they smell a lot like poop.
But sometimes they are so much like humans it blows my mind.
So come along with me here to explore the multiple personalities of the animals that make their homes at the funny farm.
Let us begin with the horses:
This is Tucker. He only loves us for the treats. He follows me around the barnyard with his mouth like this, checking my pockets and taking little nibbles. Yes, every pocket.
Can you say “goose?”
No, Tucker again. Tucker and the burs he got into, most likely on his scavenger hunt for treats.
And kinda pathetic.
Stormy. He might look bored, and that’s because he is. Bored with life, no matter the weather, no matter the job, his pace doesn’t exceed what you see here.
The mule. She’s old too. She runs into things…and people.
Now for the cats, who have yet to be named. I’ll take any suggestions. Right now they are affectionately referred to as “Don’t” and “Get Down.”
Here they are climbing into a boot.
This is mischief.
This is not helpful, thanks anyway. This is disruption…and disobedience.
Climbing the walls. Monkey business.
Tipping the vase, knocking over the frame to use it for his own personal stepping stool in order to reach the only sparkly decoration in the entire house. This is sure to end in disaster.
This is damage.
And after all of that chaos and damage done, this is finally…peace.
On to my beloved lab, who has one emotion that seeps out of his soul…
Pure, unfiltered, untouchable…
And last but not least, the pug, who has saved me from a life without drama, snoring, curly tails and every expression an old man would convey.
He has taught me what it really means to….
…relax with such passion your face skin sags…
…never back down…
…smile so wide it consumes your entire face…
…really not give a damn…
…sport an attitude…
…have your best friend’s back…even if it means getting your paws wet…
…and love with all you’ve got inside that furry chest…
May we all live with the same passion our pets possess.
Now go scratch a belly or two.