My first dog was a black Cocker Spaniel appropriately named Blackie. She was my dog. I sang to her, talked to her, put on shows for her. She was my captive audience, but I have to believe she adored me. When I was ten years old, she died. I laid down beside her body on the ground, put my head on her side, and cried my heart out. I don't think anyone ever knew.
We also had a wonderful Siamese cat named Lady. Although I loved her, she slept with my sister and was really my mother's cat.
Fast forward to my adult life. I bought another Cocker Spaniel- a buff this time. I named her Megan Marie Bennett. That was her AKC registered name. I could never get Megan to calm down. In those years, I wore panty hose and dresses or skirts nearly every day to work and when I returned home, Megan would jump on me and tear my stockings. She would also run away from me. She might chase a bunny or hear some children playing in the distance or get a whiff of a trash can. And she was gone. Each time, someone would find her, read her tags and return her to my veterinarian. I would get a phone call and go pick her up. Finally, she ran off and I didn't get her back. I placed an ad in the newspaper, offering a cash reward. My daughter was two and a half and it was winter. I got all sorts of phone calls from people who had "found my dog." I bundled my daughter into her snowsuit, strapped her into her car seat and off we would go on a wild goose chase. I was amazed at how many people didn't know what a Cocker Spaniel was. All it took was two words, cash and reward. I never got her back. Whenever I would see a buff Cocker with a white blaze on its chest I would wonder if it was Megan.
I cried for three weeks. My then-husband said "For God's sake, it is a dog." (Please see the word then.)
I had her before I had my daughter and Megan had been my little girl. I was heart broken.
When I moved to Bloomington I decided I wanted to get another dog. I studied every breed. When I mentioned getting a dog, someone wanted a large dog. I wanted a small dog. I decided upon a Corgi. Finding a breeder in a nearby small town, I drove out to the farm to take a "look" at the puppies. They were three weeks old and couldn't walk. Someone suggested something was wrong with them because they couldn't walk. I retorted "Oh, could you walk on your knees and elbows when you were a little baby on gravel in a farm lot? That hushed someone up. By the time I left, I had paid a deposit on the smallest of the litter. I named her Chelsea Kabob Bennett. Once again, this was her registered AKC name. I'm certain someone at the AKC said "oh, that Bennett woman has bought herself another dog."
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Isn't she lovely? Chelsea Kabob 4.5 years old |
I love how Corgis put their chin out flat when they lie down. She will cuddle up with me and put her chin on my leg.
Typical Corgi |
My cat, Milo, was an indoor cat before moving here. In my hometown I lived on a busy street and never imagined he would ever go outdoors. When I first moved here, every door had a sign Orange Cat Does Not Go Out! Then the orange cat started to see the other cat and the dog going out and you could see him thinking...hey, why don't I get to go out? I was worried at first but now I know he is fine being outdoors. Milo is fourteen years old and if he wants to do anything other than lie around and sleep, I am going to allow it.
This is why we cover the sofa. left to right: Tree, Chelsea Kabob and Milo |
How do they know, I wonder. How do they know when I don't feel well or I am feeling blue? They seem to know and give me lots of love and affection. Chelsea and Milo greet me every morning and I pet them simultaneously saying "there is enough love...there is enough love for everyone."