by Donna Andrews of the Femmes Fatales.
I love our human tendency to divide the world into two opposite—and, often, presumably hostile—parts. Windows vs. Mac. Iphone vs. Android. Introverts vs. extroverts. Left brain vs. right brain. This time of year, fruitcake haters vs. fruitcake lovers, though the latter seem to be a dwindling minority. We snipe at each other across these divides, sometimes genially and sometimes with surprising heat.
Perhaps most contentious of all: cats vs. dogs.
I should note that in the latter category, I'm a non-combatant. I have neither cats nor dogs. My natural inclination favors cats, partly because they'd suit my lifestyle better—I'm not a fan of early morning walks—and partly because when I was growing up my family had one dog and a lengthy series of cats. I hesitate to say that I understand cats, because they would look on that as a challenge and do appalling things to prove me wrong—but for the most part I enjoy them.
Unfortunately, I'm also allergic to them. Not so badly that I can't visit people with cats. But my allergist has warned me that I'd seriously regret it if one took up residence with me full time.
So I've also come to appreciate dogs. Not to the point that I want to adopt one, mind you. But I do enjoy visiting my friends' dogs as well as their cats. And I post pictures of my canine and feline friends. This sometimes leads to confusion when my friends see a cute critter shot and exclaim, “I didn't know you had a dog/cat.” No, I still don't. But I greatly enjoy the loaner dogs and cats, as I call them. And I thought I'd offer a directory of the other people's pets whom you might see posing in my pictures.
The photo at the top of the page and the one at left are both of Maple and Ginger, my nephews' dogs—aka the Lady and the Tramp. Ginger, the Shih-tzu--on the right in both pictures--is around five, which means she is now a sedate, ladylike dog of early middle age. I suspect Ginger was perfectly contented with her status as an only dog, but the nephews thought she needed company. So the family acquired Maple. Rumor has it she's a Pomeranian/Bichon frisee mix. I think there's a little Tasmanian devil in her somewhere. She is about a year old, which makes her still the canine equivalent of a carefree, rambunctious pre-teen. She likes nipping fingers. She will chew up anything you leave within reach. Her housebreaking is still a work in progress. It's a good thing she's cute as the Dickens. I can make allowances for any creature that photogenic.
Those of you who know Barb Goffman have already met Jingle. I used to see a lot more of Jingle when Barb lived closer to me. (And of Barb, too, of course, but we're talking cats and dogs here.) I miss seeing them more often, but I am delighted that Barb has finally found a fence that can keep Jingle from roaming. It used to be a regular feature of life, going over to help Barb catch him, then trying to figure out how he'd gotten out of her fence and patching whatever hole I'd found. I finally came to the conclusion that I was wasting my time looking for holes--he was actually climbing over the fence. You think I'm kidding? Google “Beagles climbing fences.” But he seems to have met his match in the current eight foot privacy fence, and while I'm sure he'd rather be roaming, I'm relieved, because he's a pretty nice dog and I think Barb wants to keep him safe.
This it the late Wesley, who belonged to my friends and neighbors, Kathy and David. Wesley was a probable Norwegian elkhound/German shepherd mix. We lost him to cancer earlier this year, and I still can't get used to driving up to their house and not seeing him standing at the gate of the fenced-in portion of their back yard, waiting for me to come over and scratch his ears. At around fifty pounds, he was a little large to be a lap dog, but that didn't stop him. I was one of his favorite people, so clearly he had good taste in humans. We miss you, Wesley.
This is Gypsy, who is now occupying the resident canine position vacated by Wesley. She's technically a foster—when her elderly owner got sick, Kathy and David agreed to keep her for as long as needed until her owner got better. Sadly, it's looking as if the owner won't be able to go home and resume her life, so at some point Gypsy will be officially adopted instead of fostered. I hope her owner can take comfort in knowing that Gypsy has found a very happy new home. She's about ten years old and very mellow--tolerates the two pre-existing cats just fine, which is a requirement for filling any canine position at Kathy and David's Also a little large for a lap dog, but who cares. No idea what breed or breeds she is, but they think there's some Australian shepherd in the mix.
At right you'll find Buster, one of Gypsy's feline housemates. Buster is one of the smallest cats I've ever met, but he doesn't let that slow him down. He is the boss cat of his household, and a mighty hunter. On those rare occasions when I've seen him apparently asleep, he always manages to give the impression that he's actually lying in wait for something. Possibly me.
This is Eddie, the other household cat at Kathy and David's—Buster's brother by adoption. Where Buster is lean, lithe and sinuous, Eddie is . . . large and curiously rectangular. Large, but not in charge—he's very mellow. Although he catches his share of rodents, enough to undermine the diet they keep having to put him on. (It's for your own good, Eddie. Really it is.)
And at right is Shadow, senior provider of feline supervision to my friend Dina. You would not be seeing this picture if I didn't own a telephoto lens, because while Shadow enjoys posing when she's in the mood, her mood can change in an instant, and her claws are very, very sharp. Even with the zoom lens, if you see a picture of Shadow, there's a good chance I'm wearing bandages. Worth it, though, for such a photogenic feline. Her junior companion, Maddie, has yet to emerge from hiding long enough to take a decent picture, but I live in hope.
And there you have it . . . the cats and dogs whose photos appear on my posts. How lucky I am that I get to enjoy them . . . and give them back when they're naughty.
How about you--are you a cat person? A dog person? Or do you maintain a bipartisan household?