Cats Rule, Dogs Drool

My youngest posted last night so I am back in to blogging. If you haven't seen the post I was waiting for, check out http://aebub.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-horrid-childhood.html.

Over my lifetime I have owned several pets. The first was a dog named Sparky. My parents gave me that dog around my second or third birthday. Sparky was the only dog that ever walked the earth that was not a waste of skin. We grew up together and were best pals. Sparky was a terrier mix and looked much like the dog in the RCA trademark - the one looking into the cone of a phonograph with it's head cocked. Sparky died when I was in my early teens. I think he succumbed to old age.

My second pet was a free cat that we added to the family on the day The Beatles played a concert in Kansas City at the old Municipal Ballpark. The year was 1969. We named the cat Ringo. The name was partially after the Beatles drummer, Ringo Starr, and partially because Ringo the cat was all black other than a white ring around one rear leg. Ringo started life as a house cat, but was soon banished out of doors by my mother. Ringo became the definition of a Tom Cat. Over the years, we began to notice other cats in the neighborhood with that distinctive white ring on a rear leg. You can still drive through the old neighborhood and spot a few descendants of Ringo.

Around 1974, I moved away from home. Within a few weeks I had taken in a new pet. His name was Chumley (the first). My roommate and I found a litter dumped in our apartment dumpster, all far too young to survive. I selected the all black cat for my own pet. Since he was so young, we fed him via a bottle for a few weeks until he could feed himself. Being the pet of an older teenager meant that Chumley had a few rough experiences especially during parties. He handled it well, never became mean and was a very playful cat. He would not need much encouragement to begin a fight with your hand or foot, and would bite just hard enough to prove a point without drawing blood.

Chumley remained a pet after Terri an I were married. He had a distinctive personality that was characterized by one example. Terri and I went on a vacation one year early in our marriage. We were away from home for around 10 days. Chumley was cared for each day by a parent or neighbor, but obviously did not get his daily requirement of attention. When we returned from vacation and began unpacking from the trip, a pile of dirty clothes were placed on our bed for sorting. Chumley decided to let us know his thoughts on the lack of attention, and jumped onto the pile of clothes, looked right at us and peed on them. It was the only time he ever peed anywhere other than the litter box.

Shortly after that, Chumley became an outdoor cat. For several years he ruled the neighborhood. We saw him jump 8 feet vertically to catch a bird, come home with mice, rabbits or other critters in his mouth, and even hold his ground against dogs 4 or 5 times his size. Chumley lived for 18 years. He died in 1992 while laying out in the warm Spring sunshine behind a neighbor's home.

My next pet was a dog. Terri and I were given a black Labrador. We were young and stupid. Since we both worked, the dog had to be penned up during the day. Labrador's are very energetic dogs that do not react well to confinement. Within the first week, the dog had chewed the window sill off a window, scratched a door and trim, eaten part of a mattress, and caused other miscellaneous damage. Without constant supervision, the dog was a destructive machine. Fortunately for us, that dog's mother died the week we became dog owners. The mother's owners were devastated and wanted to keep one of their dog's puppies, but all had been given away. Like angels of mercy, they came by our house, knocked on the front door, and asked us if we would consider giving back our puppy. Yes! We got rid of the dog, but did not learn our lesson well.

I will finish up on my pet history tomorrow and make the undeniable case that Cats Rule, and Dogs Drool.