Pets

I'm not really a "dog person." I suppose that's fairly obvious--I've always had cats. We had a succession of cocker spaniels when I was growing up; only two, I guess. Charlie, a black one, and Daniel, blond, both killed by cars, I think, and it doesn't seem like they were around long enough to make much of an impression on me. I'm guessing they were bought mostly for my brother.

I remember that they were pretty hyper, and my sisters were always a little afraid of them since they kept jumping on them. And I remember my father burying them out in back of the house.

We had several cats, too: Smoky, a gray long-haired one who was poisoned, we think (accidently, I'm sure--she probably ate some rat bait or something), and Percy, the big black tom who died of old age, are the ones I remember most vividly. There was a little kitten, too, for a couple of days. I was sitting out in the garage holding it right after we got it, and our neighbor's big dog came in and snatched it out of my hands and snapped its neck, thinking, I'm sure, that he was doing me a favor. "Kill the devil kitten!!" That was pretty traumatic, although all I really remember about it was the shock. It happened so fast.

I remember getting on my bicycle and going around to the neighbors' to tell them when Smoky died--the drama of it affecting me more, it seems, than her death. When the mirror on my bicycle broke, I put a photograph of her in it in place of the glass. I was a strange child . . .

I love the dogs here at work, of course. Simon and Diehard are friends. Specific dogs. I just don't pay much attention to dogs in general.

The past couple of nights I've been bored, though--nothing to read--and I've been watching the Winchester dog show. Monday night I caught the toy breeds, and last night was the judging for Best of Show. A big terrier won it, although I was convinced that the little Pekinese was going to, the one that looked like a waddling mop. He made me laugh.

My sister called this morning and said she'd seen a television show about how to care for pets, and there was an Irish Setter on it who was named Willa. She said, "You have a dog named after you!"

If I was going to have a dog, I suppose my choice would be a BIG dog, something easy and satisfying to hug. My mother always wanted a St. Bernard--that's a little too big, in my opinion.

My yummy lunch today, which I am eating as I write this, is black olive hummus on French bread, carrot sticks with Ranch dressing, and cantaloupe. As I was getting the carrots and cantaloupe out of the refrigerator, I thought, "Ooh! Very orange!"

It was actually cantaloupe from the grocery store salad bar. I'd stopped at the store on the way home hoping to get a whole melon, but they were all really small, hard, and expensive ($2.50). It's always a gamble anyway whether you get one that's any good, and I just didn't feel like risking it. And of course, these didn't look/feel/smell like they'd be ready to eat before the weekend, anyway. So I got a small container of cut-up melon from the salad bar. I don't know whether they put preservatives in it or anything, but it tasted okay. I guess anything like that in the middle of winter is good, as Bob reminded me as he explained why they were so expensive.

Bob went to the grocery store Monday night--rather than doing one big shopping trip, we tend to go every day--very European!--and when I got home from work there was a heart-shaped candle on my desk. A pre-Valentine.