LIVING WITH ANIMALS

My daughter and her husband spent the better part of a sweltering weekend installing a wire fence around my vegetable garden to keep the dogs out so that my newly planted seed would stand a chance of actually growing before being trampled into the ground. I thanked them profusely and fed them a nice dinner. I’m sure they had better things to do, but they are very generous with their time and talent.

That night Annie, my younger dog, sometimes referred to as “bull in a china closet,” apparently chasing some wild intruder (probably a cat) drove straight through the gate, bending it completely out of shape. I wonder that she didn’t break her neck, but I knew nothing about the destruction until the next morning when, looking out to the garden, it seemed to me that something was not quite right. It appeared that some of the posts were crooked and the gate was open. Upon closer inspection, it was clear what had happened.

I called my daughter and told her about the damage. She saw the humor in it and had a good laugh. They’ll repair the damage next weekend. Bless their hearts.

When I mentioned this little episode on Facebook, a couple of people remarked that they were glad they didn’t have to deal with animals in their lives. “See, that’s what you get. I’m so glad I don’t have animals,” etc. This started me thinking about what it is like to live with animals versus what it is like to live with human beings. I have to say, that animals win this, hands down.

Let’s see . . . I get no complaints about what I feed them. I don’t have to prepare something different every day; they’re happy to eat the same thing for every meal. Sometimes, I even mix a little of my leftovers into their food and they are completely overjoyed. They never complain if I don’t get home in time to feed them at their regularly scheduled meal time. They simply welcome me home with enthusiasm and smiles and go outside to pee. And then they thank me profusely for feeding them.

Oh, yes . . . They don’t care what I look like, if my hair is not combed or if my makeup is not freshened. They don’t mind if the bed doesn’t get made or the floors vacuumed. Of, course, they can’t help with the dishes, but they don’t complain if the dishes don’t get done right away.

And, bless them . . . they never complain if I’m in a bad mood. Rather, they sense when I need to be left alone or if I need a little TLC. A chin on my lap and sympathetic eyes are such a comfort.

Then, too . . . they never complain. They can be miserable, sicker than a dog, so to speak, and I won’t know it until I see evidence of it in one form or another. I’ve never known a hypochondriacal dog or cat. They hardly flinch when getting a shot from the Vet and while they don’t enjoy taking medicine, it can generally be disguised and administered without difficulty.

And they never complain about their lot in life; they have definitely learned the secret of being content (living with me, of course). They don’t care about world affairs, or bad drivers, or unfriendly clerks or high prices. They just live for the moment and don’t ask for more.

Now . . . it is true that if I want to travel, I have to make arrangements for their care and that can be problematic and sometimes expensive. But they don’t expect to go everywhere with me and they don’t give me attitude when I return. Instead, I feel like “Queen of the Nile” when they give me the Royal Welcome after I’ve been away.

I find animals much easier to live with. How about you?