You know, it’s hard being an older sibling. Not that I have any personal experience in that regard, mind you. I don’t. But I imagine it must occasionally feel like a weighty burden to shoulder.
I watch the sibling relationships between the felines and canines in this household and marvel at how much they ‘get’ each other. The whole cat/dog mythology is mostly, in my opinion, an extension of the male/female propaganda box we put ourselves into. There’s a lot more playfulness and actual caring going on between species than we care to admit.
Just this morning I was treated to a prolonged interaction between Cletus and Brutus. It probably seemed longer to me because at any moment I expected Cletus to haul off and whack Brutus into next week. And it’s in those moments when I’ve witnessed the most startling acts of gentleness.
But there are also some nuts and bolts training going on as well.
“I love you, Cletus!” – Photo: L. Weikel
Knock It Off
I led this blog post off with the photo above because it made me laugh. I hope it had a similar effect on you as you begin this mid-week of December. There’s a lot going on in the world. We need to remain limber and loose as we head into the final few weeks of 2021.
Of course, Brutus thinks Cletus is an icon. Perhaps someday Brutus can aspire to grow his black and white hair as long and luxurious as Cletus grows his. Of course, when he realizes his idol isn’t running away from him for once, he leans in to give him an impulsive, if utterly sincere, smooch.
Cletus, shocked by the youngster’s lack of decorum exercises restraint, but can’t help but whisper some advice into young Brutus’s ear. Whether it’s appropriate for the rest of the world to hear is debatable.
“I’ll tell you what…” – Photo: L. Weikel
The Way of the World
Judging by the expression on Brutus’s face, I have a feeling Cletus schooled the pup in some classic naughty words. It’s the way of the world. That’s what older siblings do. They pave the way for our growth, intentionally or otherwise. A well-placed claw can be one of the first hard lessons of the cruelties facing us in the outside world.
All in all, though, watching their relationship develop is an absolute delight. And I love imagining their conversations.
I was in the parking lot of our local health food store recently and did a double-take as I walked to my car. Who was that bulldog/boxer-faced individual sitting behind the wheel of that Jeep? And you know, some people actually resemble their pets (a lot), so my internal question was not facetious. (Yes, I just made that statement with full awareness that I have Boston Terriers. Hush.)
I just love it when our pets act like us by exhibiting human characteristics or expressions. They’re way funnier than we are. Sometimes it’s a close tie between whether they’re funny, adorable, or just eerily clever.
You have to wonder if the dog in the Jeep has any inkling that it’s acting like its person. Surely it must be engaging in some form of imitation.
Early Night
Tonight’s post is short. My eye is hurting me and it’s probably best if I just give it a rest. I had a most unpleasant encounter a few days ago with the leaf of a bamboo plant on the edge of our property. I was mowing the lawn and this leaf became aggrieved by my efforts and whipped itself underneath my sunglasses, lacerating my eye.
It hurt. A lot.
Luckily, I was almost certain this aggressive greenery hadn’t cut my cornea, but rather limited its aggressive lashing out to the white of my eye. Nevertheless, it hurt (as I said before) and I wasn’t going to mess with risking infection.
Luckily, I was able to get in to see an ophthalmologist that afternoon. I’ve been using the antibiotic/steroid mixture in my eye for a few days now, but it’s hurting again tonight. So I’m going to rest my eye for now and leave you with this image of a dog driving a Jeep. I hope it makes you chuckle.
This is not the subject I intended to write about tonight, but I find myself too distracted not to just share my thoughts and feelings.
You guessed it: I was sitting here on the couch after eating dinner tonight when I noticed a tickle on my neck. After quickly checking to make sure Karl was safely ensconced on the other couch, and not making wayward advances (ha), I put my fingers gently up to my neck to carefully pluck whatever was crawling there off my neck and bring it into the light.
I assure you, I let out a loud and plaintive moan. Hoping fruitlessly that maybe it was an ant, or a moth, or just one of those odd little black beetle-like bugs that can sometimes get caught flying ‘into’ you and then crawling ‘on’ you (but which are usually more common in the summer, honestly), my heart sank just feeling its unmistakable tick body and the way their legs just keep moving, moving, moving.
UGH.
This one turned out to be your everyday dog tick, not a deer tick. But those damn deer ticks are so incredibly small, they’re nearly impossible to detect unless you have premier, top-of-the-line heightened skin sensitivity. Which, for the most part, I think I have (at least for those things that cause a crawling sensation). Again, <<shudder>>.
Evolving My Consciousness
I’ve tried to curb my prejudiced feelings about certain types of creatures, and for the most part, I’d like to think I’ve come a long way for someone whose dad would go after snakes with a spade to ‘cut off their head.’ (I was just thinking about that yesterday and how horrific and unnecessary that knee-jerk reaction was.) My musing was brought on by our discovery of a snake on our walk that had been hit by a car. It had only recently happened, as it was not a ‘zen’ snake (i.e., ‘one with the road’). It was still very flexible and lifelike, so I picked it up and moved it to the side of the road, curled it up, and offered it a couple strands of my hair as an offering for its life.
So, yeah. I’ve evolved significantly when it comes to snakes.
Ticks Are the Ultimate Challenge
But ticks? I cannot paint a squinty, sour, distasteful look more clearly than to simply say I loathe them.
Not only do I loathe the fact that all they do is bite and suck your (or your beloved pets’) blood, but I also abhor them for the diseases they carry. Both Karl and my youngest son, Sage, have contracted Lyme as a result of these vile arachnids. So, too, have both our Boston Terriers. And the toll taken on both humans was exponentially worse than that suffered by our pups – probably because I caught it in my dogs almost immediately upon onset of symptoms. My guys? Not so easily diagnosed.
It is difficult for me to comprehend the grand ‘point’ of ticks. They are parasites – in the worse sense of the word. I suppose there’s a good chance I’m being short-sighted. Or just ignorant. Maybe they exist to provide delicious meals to chickens and opossums, both of which enjoy eating them immensely. But surely they could subsist on grubs or other delicacies?
The Diseases They Carry Make Me Want to Invest in a Flamethrower
But for me, after seeing my husband act like he was having a seizure and suddenly become so sick that he could not stand up, and my son lose an entire season of track (twice – a couple years apart) and be knocked flat and nearly convulse when his blood was drawn, I draw the line.
Not Your Father’s Ticks
The dogs are the biggest culprits in bringing them into the house or getting them on us, and that’s true in spite of how careful we are about not letting them venture into the weeds. Ticks in recent years have become insanely adept at hitching rides home. It is as if the ticks quite literally jump from the grasses lining our country roads onto our dogs.
If Spartacus goes over to the side of the road to mark his territory in the springtime, I can immediately pull him close and pick off two, three, six, seven ticks off him. Just from veering toward the grasses! These devil beasts are hard to see on the pups’ dark coats. But I cannot imagine how awful it must be for people whose dogs have long coats. Oh man. Just the thought grosses me out.
I am making a visit to our veterinarian tomorrow and investing in those collars that came out about two years ago. I think they’re called Seresto? We tried everything to keep the ticks off the dogs, to no avail. Every natural, non-chemical, non-toxic remedy or prophylactic we could try. But nothing worked. So, while reluctant, I am going nuclear.
I feel bad putting those chemicals into our dogs (and Cletus – the one cat who insists on going outside). But I cannot abide the risk of Lyme or the associated co-infections that can be spread through ticks.
I’m bummed. But with all the recent warm weather we’ve enjoyed, I knew the day of reckoning was at hand.
I can always tell when Spartacus is stressing out. He shreds tissues.
As far as obnoxious dog habits are concerned, I think we won big-time. There is no chewing. No swallowing of articles of clothing. No pooping in the house.
Just a raided bathroom garbage can, with evidence of the purloined contents strewn across their hearthside pillow/bed, with maybe a few extra shreds in a pile in front of the couch.
“Mommy. Where were you?” these strips of Kleenex communicate. “I was worried. I thought you’d never come home again,” they whine.
The difference between dogs and cats never ceases to amaze me.
It’s been written about ad nauseum, so I won’t go there tonight, other than to say I adore the palpable emotional connection I share with my two Boston Terriers.
I love my cats. I cannot imagine living without having at least one or two cats in my household. But dogs truly add a dimension to life that is precious and endearing. Not only do they seem to notice when you’re not around or when your routine changes, they also make their observation abundantly clear.
I wasn’t gone that long this evening, so I was surprised that my absence had engendered a couple piles of shredded anxiety.
Part of the problem is undoubtedly that Karl has been traveling. Another, though, could perhaps be a deeper issue.
I have to wonder if Spartacus can detect the decline in his mother, Sheila’s, health.
Karl and I certainly notice. And we’re worried.
She’s been with us for 15 years and has been the most surprising, delightful addition to our lives that we ever could have imagined. She sets the bar for all our pets – and it’s a darn high one, in spite of her slight stature. (She was the runt of the litter.)
I’m thinking I may need to write about her some more. Maybe tomorrow.
In the meantime, as I consider the prospect of losing her, I feel a need to shred some tissues.
