I GUESS THEY’RE WORTH IT

This is Abigail.

She’s about nine years old. The shelter guessed her age at three or four, and I’ve had her for five years. She still has a good deal of puppy energy and does zoomies around the house when friends arrive. Her happy-to-see-you attitude does not extend to the United Parcel man or the Fed-ex man, both of whom visit my house regularly. She acts as if she’d eat them alive if she could get her teeth around their ankles.

Excellent watchdog. Good Girl!

She does, however, make a number of demands on me. In the morning, she often needs to go “outside” at four a.m. Like the mother training a toddler, you do not ignore a request. At sunrise, she demands her morning walk. Often, I find the next chapter of whatever book I’m writing while we walk.

Mid-afternoon, she demands her Dentastik, the only treat I give her because it keeps her teeth clean.

At twilight, she demands her evening walk.

Sometimes, I tell her my problems, and she looks back at me with those big, brown eyes and seems very wise. She never gives me advice, but eventually, I get the solution.

I can go to bed knowing she would protect me from intruders, so I suppose she’s worth it.

This is Sonny.

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He’s seventeen, and was only two months old when I brought him home. If his food bowl is low–not empty, mind you, just low, he will wake me up in the middle of the night demanding a refill. His only other demand is attention. When he’s in the mood for love, which seems to be hourly, he gets up in my face, bumps my head with his, kisses my forehead until I make him stop, and then snuggles in my lap, nudging my hand for stroking until one or the other of us falls asleep. Doctors say petting a fur-baby is better than an anti-anxiety pill, and he seems to know when I need his soothing, so I guess he’s worth it.

This is Vinnie.

He’s my oldest, eighteen, and like Sonny, I’ve had him since he was a baby. I’m not ashamed to admit–he’s my favorite. I know, moms aren’t supposed to have a favorite. Can’t help it.

He gets his breakfast and dinner, chopped turkey only, at the same time every day. In between, he noshes on cat food, but I’m pretty sure he see’s that as back-up.  The only thing he demands is whipped cream, a treat his dad hooked him on. He has to have three or four squirts during the day or he won’t shut up.

A while back, I made the mistake of putting a squirt on my fingertip and giving it to Abigail and now—you guessed it.

But I digress.

Whipped cream is the only thing Vinnie demands, but he’s also my favorite because of the way he says goodnight.

Every night, he lies at the foot of my bed until I turn off the TV or close my book and turn off the light. Then he comes up to my face, gives me a cheek-kiss goodnight, and snuggles against my side.

SO worth it.