You ain't nothing but a hounddog...

While many of you are aware of my mother's hatred of cats, and our inability to ever have one (I'll not go into my babysitting of a brand new baby cat for one long weekend because to the best of my knowledge she managed just fine when returned to her owner), you may not be aware of the plethora of pets we had throughout my child and young adulthood.  We were the proud owners of a number of dogs, reptiles, amphibians and even a rodent or two.

My parents marriage began accompanied by dog by the name of Sniffles; a big German Sheppard type animal who lived in my parents three room apartment with them before I was born.  While I never knew Sniffles, I heard tales of his shenanigans when I was small.  He ate frozen pork chops, roast beefs and had an affinity for jumping out of their second story windows after a duck who lived in a neighboring yard; remarkably, I've known of a number of people in New York City who kept ducks in their backyards.  What became of Sniffles is quite unknown to me, but it occurs to me that his absence in my childhood could be seen as a harbinger of doomed pets to come.  As a small child, I was kept from my rendevous with furred animals due to allergies including but not limited to milk and animals.  I suppose this I why I never had a pet cow.

Around the age of four or five, I was allowed to have a beta fish (also known as a Japanese fighting fish) and I named him Harry. He sure was swell.  He did what most fish are known to do, swim endlessly, but he'd mix it up every now and again by puffing out his fins when shown a mirror.  Warrior fish.  Harry's only trial on this green Earth was the bearing up of my uncles' inability to walk past his fishbowl without throwing in some beer or salted nuts.  Harry handled this harassment with grace and good will, although I suspect that this treatment led to his desire to jump out of the bowl every few months.  Not even a dime store fish would like to be seen as a side show.  On one such occasion, Harry spent a number of hours behind the breakfront in the dining room coated in dust (the best of housekeepers my mother was not).  Assumed dead, he was placed in the toilet for his watery interment.  Right before being flushed, he came back to life and swam his little heart out right there in the can.  Harry held on as a member of my family for much longer than I think most pets who only cost a dollar would, and I still think of him fondly.  He was the only pet I had until my dear brother decided we needed a hamster.

Hamsters are fun, especially ones named Popcorn - which incidentally makes a great porn name for my brother.  You know the one where you take your first pet's name and the street you lived on?  My brother is Popcorn 69 when you play this game and this tickles me to no end.  Popcorn seemed to be a happy little creature running crazily on a wheel that went nowhere.  The wheel was composed of cheap metal and squeaked like mad.  While this was no deterrent to Popcorn, the noise drove my mother crazy.  She decided to remedy the situation by oiling the wheel.  Since she didn't have any WD-40, she figured vegetable oil would work just as well.  And, it did.  What it also did was make Popcorn's fur quite greasy, which then disturbed my mother because with his slick hair, the hamster reminded my mother of a rat (and maybe one or two Italian guys she knew).  It was this realization that led her to bathe the hamster, something which I feel certain no hamster had willingly undergone before or since.  After his bath, the hamster seemed cold, so my mother decided to blow dry his fur.  The poor guy was never the same again.  He died in the dead of winter, frozen solid in his little metal home.  After an attempt at burial in the schoolyard down the street (frozen dirt), we threw him in a shoebox and promptly into the trash.

After Popcorn, we were determined to make a real go of this pet thing.  There were a string of pets in and out of our house.  The dog named Liquor who incessantly jumped on my brother and scared the crap out of him.  I believe, wholeheartedly,  that he went to live with some real nice people who had a farm.  There was the turtle named Askhim who was put into hibernation and forgotten in the garage.  The miniature frog who committed suicide by starvation, the vegetarian lizard named Frank,  and another turtle named Hank who was accidentally microwaved.  None in this long line of disasters made us think that we were not pet owners at heart.

When I was a junior or senior in highschool, my parents brought home a sad little dog named Tequila.  She was the runt of a litter and born with a backwards paw and no pads on the bottom of her wayward foot.  It is with Tequila that my family showed its true colors in terms of pet ownership.  We treated this dog like the baby of the family.  She had surgery to repair her bad leg and was shuttled, weekly, back and forth to a specialist for her ailing leg.  Frankly, my mother treated this dog better than my brother or me.   She carried, rocked, and hand-fed the poor creature.  Maybe it was empty nest syndrome, or maybe it was to make up for all past pet misdeeds that occurred in our house.  Whatever the reason, poor Tequila was only to last two years (longest up until that point) in our house.  She died in my mothers arms one summery day of kidney failure.

No quitters, our family continues to welcome pets into our homes - with a modicum of success.  Shabba, our dearest golden retriever remained with us until she was over a decade old.  Currently my mother has a 'dog' named Luna.  Luna's  doghood remains questionable as she appears to be a cross between a cat and a fox, but she and my mother are great friends.  My husband and I have been successful owners of two dogs now well into adulthood (no need to go into our own small rodent years).  Whatever the outcome I feel certain we will take the leap again and again into pet ownership.

This weeks tip:  You can remove pet stains from your carpeting with products you already have at home.  You'll need warm water, liquid detergent, a white towel (cloth diapers work well too) and vinegar.  Initially you will want to remove whatever mess your dog/cat has left behind and rub the area with a white towel that has detergent on it.  Rub it enough to remove stain and blot the area.  Mix 1/3 cup of vinegar with a 2/3 cups of warm water and drizzle onto stained area. Place another clean towel on top of stain and walk over the area to soak up excess moisture.  Place a heavy object on top of the towels and let sit for about four hours.  Remove the towel and use a bristle brush to bring back nap of carpet.