I have a pair of cats, about 4 years old, named Cleo and Angel.
Cleo's a lanky, short-haired hyperactive little tortie who will give you the sweetest, most innocent look while she jumps on the counter and steals your lunch. Energetic, loves to play, but not to be held. She'll come up to you wile you're in the kitchen and start licking your legs, only to start chewing on them a moment later. She'll also pretend to get annoyed with you while you pet her just so she has an excuse to bat at you.
Angel is a little more laid back. She's Cleo's sister, but looks totally different; a long-haired, white, derpy little puffball who has taken a liking to cuddling up tightly against my left pectoral. When she was a kitten, she got really sick and I would cradle her against that very spot, so I guess that's kind of our thing now.
I raised them both from when their eyes opened and I love them more than words can express.
I used to treat our previous pets horribly. Those days are over. If I could go back and meet my younger self, I'd beat the living daylights out of myself, especially for tormenting my old dog Murray.
Murray was our dog- a border-collie mix with a golden coat. He was a good dog. Loyal, energetic, and he'd run away sometimes, but he meant well.
Looking back, it doesn't surprise me that he ran away as often as he did. I didn't realize when I was young how terrible some of the things I did to him were. I pushed him into the water a few times. He developed a phobia of water because of that. I dragged him along by his collar, I pulled at his tail, I actually bit him on the neck a few times. Hard.
He always flinched when I tried to pet him.
Like I said, if I could go back and meet the little shit I used to be, I'd cause a time paradox because I'd murder that fucker so quick...and take Murray.
And give him lots of dog treats, and treat him better than I ever did as a kid.
Murray passed away when he developed kidney problems. He always had problems throwing up, but they started to get worse, and... well, he passed on. That's the short and long of it- we watched Murray slowly worsen, and there came a time when euthanizing him was the most humane thing to do.
I'm finding it hard to fight back the tears as I type this.
We spread his ashes on an island beach called Boca Grande, where he loved to run. He'd chase seagulls all day if he could.
Sometimes it sucks being an atheist. I wish I could think he went to a better place.
I've had more pets, but I don't really have it in me to write any more. Poor, sweet Murray. I've learned a lot about how to take care of pets since we adopted Cleo and Angel. They've taught me a lot. I can't change the way I treated my pets as a kid, but I can make sure I never put another pet through that kind of treatment again.
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Last edited by Dipstikk; 06-12-2011 at 01:07 AM..
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