Reply #9: The Zoo

[MountainLaurel]

California Sunset (Cali): 15-year-old orange tabby girl. I adopted her when she was 7, because her owner's asthma and allergies had worsened. That was her story at least; I had a feeling her husband had more to do with it than her respiratory issues. She is a ball of contradictions: bossy and shy, loud and timid, loving and aloof. She loves sunbaths, ice cream, and naps. She doesn't like traveling, being picked up, or when my golden retriever fluffs her in the face with his tail (this last one usually gets her spitting and batting at him). She has gone from being an only cat with a single mama to having three step-dogs and a male human. In her dotage, she has become a kissy face girl. She loves kitty jokes, like just barely touching my face with her whiskers in the middle of the night so that I jump up screeching and trying to trip me. She likes to cuddle, but only on her terms, and to sleep on whatever newspaper or book I'm trying to read. She has a holler that could cut glass. She's gotten thinner and older in recent years, but she still likes to chase shadowpuppets and occasionally play with a ball.

Molly: 4-yo English springer spaniel, liver and white. Also known as Molly, Warrior Princess and the Springer of War. The daughter of a dog who would become Westminster Best in Show, she ended up in our lives as a fluke of fate. The breeder who came most highly recommended to us happened to be the one closest to where we were living. The breeder's comment about her was "she's so cute when she's sleeping." As a puppy, she feared almost nothing, walking up to a golden retriever probably 10 times her size and saying hello, playing with the big dogs at the park, running through the forest, jumping into creeks and oceans without a pause, howling as did it all. Her first day at home by herself, we put her in the kitchen and secured it with a baby gate. We came home that day to find the baby gate still up and her on the outside of it, pleased as punch. When she was a few months old and probably 20 pounds, she managed to unscrew the lid to the kibble bin and drag it 10 feet into the living room. Our neighbors described her as exuberant, which was a code for hell dog. But she was smart as a whip, and trained relatively easily, except when her will got in the way. (She still jumps up on people and tugs on the leash.) She loved her big golden brother and slept snuggled against him every night until the day he died, when she sensed our pain and cuddled up between my husband and myself, licking away our tears. She still curls up to me when I cry. Many months later, she welcomed a new brother. She has shown him the ropes of dogdom, taught him the ocean was nothing to be afraid of, teased him mercilessly by stealing his toys or chewing a nice stick just outside the range of his backyard lead. She takes more naps than she used to but she is still a playing demon, dropping her tug toy in our laps and staring up at us with those knowing eyes.

Tristan, 2yo golden retriever. Named Bruiser by his breeder, Tris has always been a bit of a rough customer and a conundrum, with a bit of frat boy mixed in. Despite proper training, he has a tough time with self-control, wanting to run out the door the minute it opens, eat anything that might possibly be edible (he considers paper towels and ear plugs to be food groups), and beg for human food. He's a bit dog aggressive, though he's never met a human he didn't like. Despite being double coated, he likes to sleep in the New Orleans summer sun. Like most goldens, he is a tennis ball fanatic. He is an exceptionally fast runner. He is a guard dog, standing at the window and barking at most passersby along with his siblings. This is especially true when his male human is gone, when he seems to think that as the only male in the house, he has to protect all his ladies. He loves to cuddle and snuggle, roils on his back when happy, and sticks his head between humans legs so they know to scritch his butt. He has never seen a puddle he didn't want to walk, swim, or roll in. He is a serious mama's boy.

Mischa, 11-yo coton de tulear (Madagascar white fluffball of doom): Mischa came into our household after my husband's parents died over a 3-year period. Believes she is a much larger dog than her 11 lbs would show. She is trying to teach Molly and Tris that she is the alpha and has taught them to bark at every noise outside. A bit of a loner right now, getting used to her new home and siblings, but she loves getting strokes. Plays ball and tug like the big guys, although she'll back off if they come around lest she get stepped on. On walks, she loves to sniff and will often linger over a spot for 10 minutes or more. She and Cali have recognized one another as fellow geriatrics and leave one another alone.