I have a habit of setting myself up. Those reading this, who know me well, just rolled their eyes or mumbled something like, "Ya' think?" I know my husband did both of those things. Anyway, my passion for animals has brought me lots of love, joy and laughter. It has also brought me a few things I do not necessarily - shall we say - appreciate - or need.
1) I must take care of them. No matter how bad I feel, and would rather stay in bed, they need me to get up and be mom. Some days I am in a fog and mess up. Like forgetting to feed Jack and Rooney breakfast the other morning. Now, they could stand to lose a few pounds, but starving them is not the way to do it. Fortunately they did get treats when I had to lure them into the bedroom when the contractor arrived, because who in their right mind wouldn't be afraid of Jack?
2) I am constantly counting to six. I sound like the Rain Man. Sometimes it goes like this, "One, two, three...four, five...oh crap...where's (such and such)!?" Other times it's, "Two, four, six, eight....Wait a minute!"
3) I am the designated "Pooper Scooper." I deal with more poop and pee on a daily basis than the City of Orlando's Sanitation Department. I am either emptying litter boxes or scooping the backyard. Then there's Jack, who makes enormous deposits - wherever he wants. He has a habit of going out one side of the backyard to pee, then back in and over to the other side to poop. If I don't get to the other door fast enough, he just dumps a load on the pool deck - in front of the door. I'm sure he's thinking, while I'm jumping up and down yelling and flapping my arms, "Well, if you moved your lazy ass faster I wouldn't have to do this."
(Do you honestly think I would insert a picture of litter boxes or giant poop?)
4) I get startled - a lot. As in: heart stopping crashes, bangs, and other odd sounds that just aren't normal. For example, the cats are always incredibly interested in new deliveries. I know they think the nice delivery folks bring them new boxes every few days. Today's delivery was something I needed to inspect, so I took out the mile of paper packing and let them have at it. It bought me some time (actually very little) to check the contents of the box - which I had to do outside because Dash and Boo! WOULD NOT LEAVE ME ALONE! Anyway, I'm too
5) I cannot go anywhere for more than a few hours at a time. I do not trust anyone to watch over the whole crew. I barely trust myself! I mean, who would repeatedly count to six? Andy sure can't. Who would remember the visitor in the forbidden room? (Wait until Dec. 26 when I can tell you everything that is involved in taking care of that houseguest!) I would have to write something the size of the Magna Carta to detail all that is involved in feeding this zoo! Who would take the time to remind Chance to use the litter box. I ask you - who? And I am the "onlyliest" one who understands Fancy's chirps and meeps. Just me. (Heavy sigh.)
6) It's conflicting. I know it sounds like I'm complaining. I am. But one (me) doesn't think of the downside to living with those cuddly darlings. It's kind of the same way with human children. The one and only time I fell down the stairs carrying a loaded diaper pail, filled with dirty cloth diapers, (because I thought those newfangled paper diapers (Pampers) would cause my baby boy's penis to shrivel and fall off,) made me change my point of view right then and there. Caregiving (of any species) is not for the feint of heart. Which leads me to:
(Once again. What picture would I put here for your viewing pleasure?)
7) The intense pain and grief when their little life is over. I am still missing Petey, the hamster. They leave such a hole in your heart when they're gone. This is why I actually enjoy the mess and chaos they create. It means they're healthy and happy and enjoying life. And when they're happy, it's all worth it.
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