Unlike previous posts, I have decided to add my own thoughts about our pets to Kelli’s post. It seemed easier than reviewing each pet on my own.
In a subsequent post I will add in pets that she has forgotten.
My comments are indented throughout the post.
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There is not one time in my childhood that I can remember when we did not have a pet.
The first pet I remember was a newt. I don't remember the name of it or even what it was. I just remember saying “I have a newt.”
I think it was a fish or a lizard. I'm not quite sure. Maybe I should Google it.
Our newt’s name was Newt. A newt is a type of salamander that is occasionally kept as a pet, so my parents were not completely insane in giving us one.
I had completely forgotten about Newt until Kelli mentioned him. Or it. I have no recollection about what happened to Newt, but apparently these little creatures can live for up to 60 years.
I doubt Newt is still alive (though theoretically he could be). We probably killed him by accident.
We had several hamsters. All of them were named Chubby Whiskers. Each of them died some a brutal death. It is a bad name. I have bought my daughters hamsters and I never named one Chubby Whiskers. It is a bad name that can never lead to anything good.
Everything that Kelli said here is true.
The first dog I remember having was Bruin. I don't remember what he looked like or what kind of dog he was, I just remember his name because it matched the Bruins ashtray we kept on the coffee table in the living room. After those two pets, my memory is much better.
Bruin was a small, black and brown dog who was perpetually happy until the day he was killed in the road by a car. My parents sucked when it came to caring for pets. Dog after dog after dog was killed in the road, and yet no effort was made to keep them safe.
I also oddly remember that Bruin’s astray well.
Holly was our main dog. She was a mutt. She had white curly fur and had a couple litters of puppies. One of them we kept, but I'll get to him later. Holly had a tendency to cross the street to our neighbors house who had a Pomeranian. She also had her own fun with the male dogs that lived in our house. She was my mother's favorite.
I don’t remember my mother every crying as much as the day Holly died. Even with her frequent trips across the street to have sex with the Pomeranian, she managed to avoid dying in the road. She was one of the few dogs to die of natural causes.
Measelman was a dog we had for years. He was a mutt also. He was a big dog who was black, brown, and white. There was no leash law back then so we let the dogs out on their own. He was hit by a car by my friend, Chris Stone, who unfortunately has since passed away.
Measelman was named after a family doctor. On the morning that he died, Chris knocked on our door. It was a Saturday. I answered.
“I think I just hit your dog,” he said.
I looked, saw Poco in the house, and told him that it wasn’t our dog. I don’t know what I was thinking.
He came back ten minutes later and said that he was sure it was our dog.
It was. Measelman was still alive when I reached him. I was devastated. It is not an exaggeration to say I remain devastated to this day. I know it wasn’t Chris Stone’s fault for hitting our dog, but I have always hated him since that day.
I had no idea that he passed away.
Molly was a dog we had but not for too long. She looked like Holly but she was black, hence the name. She had long curls though and wasn't the cutest dog out there.
I have no recollection of what happened to Molly.
I also don’t remember her being as ugly as Kelli seems to imply.
Copper, aka Copper Sox was a cute dog. He was an Irish Springer and he was adorable. I'm pretty sure Copper Sox was hit by a car. If memory serves me right, he was hit by my father who I had not seen or heard from in years.
It’s true that Copper was killed by our father, who we had not seen in at least five years. We didn’t see him on the day that Copper died either. We learned about the his participation in Copper’s death from our mother later on.
Rags was not a good dog or a cute one. His name totally described him. He was a sheepdog. His long white and gray hair covered his eyes and he did not like being walked. For some reason, we didn't have a leash so we used a white rope to walk him. He had about 30 pounds on me so when I tried to take him for a nice leisurely walk, I came home with rope burn. As with a few of our dogs, I can't remember what happened to Rags.
We already owned five dogs when my stepfather brought Rags home, which put us over the town limit. Our grandfather (my father’s father), who lived next door and was not a fan of Neil and probably not a fan of the way my parents allowed our dogs to roam free, reported us to the town, and Rags was eventually given away.
I remember the white rope well. We would tie Rags up to a tree stump in the backyard by that rope. Why we didn’t have a leash I’ll never know.
Pirate was a cute dog. He was small and tan and loveable. I was outside with my brothers waiting to go to Sunday school when Pirate came outside and was hit by a car in front of us. As awful as that was, the worse part was that we were forced to go to Sunday school ten minutes after we saw our beloved pet die.
I am responsible for Pirate’s death. He ran across the street and I instinctively called him back into the path of an oncoming car. I have never forgiven myself for that. It breaks my heart again and again every time I think about that morning.
And yeah, I parents sent us to Sunday school anyway.
Pac-Man was a long time pet. He lasted with us for years. He, like many of our dogs, was a mutt. He was a big black dog with tan eyebrows. He also had a tendency to hump me. Being so young, I thought he was trying to give me a hug. I know better now. Pac-Man, like many of our pets, was hit by a car.
Pac-Man’s longevity was a miracle, as he could be found all over Blackstone at any given time. I would see him at the park, miles from our home, while I was playing basketball.
He was named after my mother’s favorite game on our Atari 5200.
Our Uncle Paul and Aunt Nancy hit and killed one of our dogs with their car, and Pac-Man might have been the one.
Dee-Dee was not the best dog. She was actually scary. She was a pure bred Doberman Pincher with cancer. She was very mean. One day I was watching TV and she started growling at me for no reason. I was frozen in fear in the chair until my parents came home. She was put down shortly after that. To this day, I would love to know why my parents agreed to take this dog in.
I had forgotten about Dee Dee. I don’t know how. She was mean as hell.
Poco was the favorite dog, loved by all. My brother's and I watched Poco being born near the couch in our den. He was the son of Holly, my mother's favorite.
Poco was our family dog for 13 years. When my mother and I moved to an apartment in Woonsocket after Neil left and we lost the house, Poco got out and ran away. My friend Bethany and I walked around for hours looking for him. We even went down and walked the train tracks searching. When we finally gave up, my mother came outside. She called his name once and he came running home.
When he was 12, he had a seizure which left him with a limp and a tilted head. When my mother would walk him, children at the bus stop would make fun of them. She asked my boyfriend and me to walk him one morning and put a scare into the kids. They never made fun of him after that day.
When he was 13 he had to be put down. I watched him come into this world and I held him when he left it. It was one of the saddest days of my life. I left the vet’s office with a lock of his fur and his collar and tags.
I remember Poco well. The sweetest dog I have ever known.
We had a few litters of puppies from Holly that we got attached to while they were with us. Lady and Duke were from Poco's litter, and we loved them. Sandra and Meatloaf were from her second litter. My mother named Sandra and was devastated when we let her go. Meatloaf looked like a little Pac-Man. He was named Meatloaf because his breath always smelled like meatloaf.
I remember watching Holly give birth to her babies, but I have no memory of the specifics of each puppy except they were so much fun to play with.
It wasn't just dogs we had. My parents came home one day with guinea pigs. We named them Q-Tip and Squeaky. Q-Tip was an albino Guinea pig. He was all white with red eyes. Squeaky was brown tan and white. We used to take them out on the couch in the den.
One night, someone forgot to put them back and chewed the fingers off of my beloved doll, Baby Feels So Real. Her name was Jodie. She was filled with a gel so it made her feel squishy and heavy. The gel was leaking out and her fingers had to be burned closed to prevent further leaking. A hard day for me.
I remember that the guinea pigs would keep my parents awake at night with their incessant squeaking. Eventually we gave them away for this reason.
I never liked them very much. Too much like rats.
I was walking home from school off the late bus one day and a kitten followed me home. My mother, the self proclaimed cat hater, saw him and insisted I bring him back where I found him. I did and he followed me again with a second cat. She told me not to go back in fear of another following me. She had me keep them in the cellar. I named them Ham and Cheese. A few months later, Ham ran away. Cheese stayed for over a year.
One day he was hit by a car. My mom, the cat hater, was the only one who cried. She was sobbing saying “Cheesy” over and over again.
I'm guessing she wasn't as much of a cat hater as she said.
I had completely forgotten about Ham and Cheese, and though I have a vague recollection of them, I cannot even formulate an image of them in my mind.
Perhaps I was older and spending more time out of the house by then? Though I slept in an unheated basement bedroom, so you’d think I would know about two cats living down there with me.
Maybe they joined the family after I moved out completely?
So many pets, so many deaths. Almost always by a car. You would think my parents would have learned to tie the dogs up.
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