Pet Therapy: and shamless excuse to show pics of my pets

Let’s talk about pets.





I grew up in a house with pets and I’ve never had a moment in my life when pets were not a central part of my life. I shudder at the thought of not having these scaled, shelled, feathered, or furry friends within arms reach.


The great thing about pets is that all the clichés are absolutely true. They are always right there for you.

Dog’s are always thrilled to see you come home and they never judge. The dog owner is forever and always A#1 in somebody’s heart.

Cats are soft and gentle, fierce and commanding all in the same moment. However unlike a dog, a feline will weigh and judge their people. But they will also forgive and tolerate our inferiorities. Because we are after all, only human.

A fish will always relax someone focused on their world. A bird will inevitably lead a person to ponder the fragility and the moral complications of caging wild animals, and a turtle’s perseverance will get it to the finish line, even if it takes a really long time.

My best therapy inevitably pushes me toward my pets. Happy times are shared with yips and purrs, while sad times with nuzzles and more purrs.
Nothing takes the bite out of a sapien insult quite like a canine nose under the elbow followed by the recipiratory belly scratch.

Nothing chases away the cobwebs of a nightmare like a cat on the pillow,

and nothing can compare to the rebound from rejection like a pack of dogs competing for one persons attention because you’re just the coolest person ever.



To them I’m always interesting, intelligent and fun to hang out with.

This is Sigh. Named, I’m told, for sighing a lot when he was a puppy. Still a very apt name. He’s my eighty-five pound gentle giant. My angel, sent here by happen chance just for me. Shortly after we had lost our Toby, the dog that came with the property, a man at my brother’s church had just married. Sigh had a record with the police for escaping his cell and trolling our small town for ladies every night. So his single owner kept him indoors most of the time. Marriage to a non-dog person earned Sigh a reprieve as long as he go to a home out of town with more room to run. My brother heard through the grape-vine that Sigh was looking for a new home and thought of his favorite sucker. His little sister.

Now Sigh already had a reputation among the faithful.
Parked alongside the tiny little church for two services a week, Sigh had made lots of friends as they passed his friendly mug to and from services and this gentle giant is much loved in town and word quickly spread. My brother took over temporary custody and headed here.

I was so offended. We had just lost Toby. I thought it rude to come around trying to cheer us up with a big brute of a dog that would surely just get us in trouble with the neighbors. It was simply too soon to fill that gap with a big snow dog who already had a wrap sheet. But then through the door, led by a brown rope and followed by a proudly feathered tail came the biggest brown eyes you ever saw. Sitting there pouting over my loss and a perceived insult I looked into those brown eyes and melted like a stick of butter in the microwave.

I don’t know how they do it. They just know who needs them. The moment the rope came off he crossed a room full of people and came over to me. He put his big foot up in the air like a mooch and sighed. “What’s your name?” I said. “Sigh.” came my brother's reply and I reached out and felt that thick fur and “Reach Out and Touch Somebody’s Hand” started playing in some faraway distant theater. LOL

He sheds on everything, is unfixed and knows it.


He behaves better off leash than on and never ever, for any reason should he be left alone with an unopened meat lovers pizza on the deck.

Unsure of his paternal parentage, he certainly looks like a great Pyrenees and he cuddles with snow like my cat cuddles with fleece. We know his mother was an Akita and while he certainly doesn’t look it, he sure has all the personality of an Akita. He talks a lot, never hesitant to share his opinion, and he’s fiercely loyal to me above all others. He follows me around, but is never “in my face” unless we have company. Then he stays right on me like a secret service agent.

He earned himself a doggy run when we learned just how good he was at escaping, but spends little time on it as everyone is always willing to let him go about with them in the yard. He spends most of his time under my desk or on my bed and his BFF is Dax, my cat. He resisted her attentions at first, stepping away from her if we caught him paying attention to her. Apparently being a cat lover is not considered “cool” amongst dog-kind. But she was persistent. Now she’s his favorite cuddle partner when I’m busy.


He takes up to thirty minutes to try new foods. First setting it down, then looking away for several minutes. A bit later he’ll glance at it and touch it with a paw. Eventually he goes through an elaborate series of holding it in his mouth for ever increasing lengths of time until he's determined it's edible and finally, down it goes. It took us several days to figure out he wasn’t just a picky eater. Obviously, we suspect at some point someone gave him something that was too hot or, I hope not, used food to pick on him. Or he could just be weird. He also won’t take food from people he doesn’t know. He knows the people who he can get “safe” food from and if someone is new, he waits until family take and offer it to him.


He’s my Big Yellow Dog, my four-footed angel, my gentle defender, my compassionate comrade and my cuddle bear. He responds immediately to my moods and a raised voice, a sniffle or a gasp are all calls to action. Any sign of upset and he’s at my side in a flash.

Oh, and he sighs, a lot.

This pet profile has been brought to you by Sigh, Peaches, Dax, Junior, Julie May, Charity, Tiger, Sugar and Joey. ;-D