I have always had a dog.
When I was a kid it was a beagle, his name was Mr. Happy Wigglebottoms. Happy would dig under the fence and escape, beagles don't belong in suburbia.
As an adult, I found a pathetic looking creature in the rain one day. I sat there sizing him up and I couldnt leave him, I opened the car door, he jumped in and splattered mud all over me and my car. I got him home and cleaned him up and realized that someone had DUMPED a gorgeous red-coated purebred doberman.
Rusty had his tail bobbed, but they left the ears (I'm glad) so I didnt recognize his breed at first, he was that filthy. I took him home and put him in my then ample yard and he never left it til the day he died. I tried to take him to the beach or to the park, but he would
not leave that yard.
Forget trying to get him in the car again, I had to sedate him for trips to the vet. He was a little neurotic, but if someone dumped me on the side of the road, I prolly would be too.
He was my best friend. In the mornings, he was afraid to wake me, so he would just put his nose right up to mine and breathe on me til I woke up.
Then there was Shirley, she didnt like leashes. She would come to me, just because I asked her to. She really didn't need one. I was going thru my punk rock phase and wore my hair very short, so did my boyfriend at the time. Shirley was freaked out by long hair and we had a friend Hippie Dave, who she always tried to bite. Other than that, Shirley was almost human. She was a small terrier who thought she was just one of us. I took her everywhere and she loved music. She didn't like fireworks tho.
Giuseppe was my last dog, he was a German shepherd mix. I left him with my room mate who loved him when I moved.
Cats are nice, but its just not the same.
Shasta was a really smart cat, she had that bladder infection that cats sometimes get. Dry cat food aggravates it, and when it flared up she was so smart that she would go urinate in the bathtub so I could see that there was blood in her urine. It's the only time she ever did it, so I think she was trying to say "Look mommy, blood. It hurts." It was quite effective at getting my attention and she always took her medicine without a fuss. Damn smart cat.
Fairview was another stray I found about the same time I had Rusty. He was a 23 (edit: I looked it up, I had overestimated) pound feral cat, with a fluffy white coat and a head like a bulldog. I found him on Fairview street and took him home. The previous owners of my house had installed a cat door that he immediately put to good use.
One night, about 3 am, I woke up to hear someone screaming in my kitchen. It scared the bejezus out of me and I got my revolver from the closet and tiptoed down the hall. The screaming was so weird, it just sent chills down my spine, I was terrified. I made sure the gun was ready and I flipped on the lights.
There was Fairview toying with a jackrabbit he had drug in through the cat door. This was a huge freakin rabbit, his back was broken and Fairview was just doing what cats do. I couldnt take it so I shut off the lights and went back to bed.
In the morning, I was like "Yuk, gotta go clean the kitchen now." There was nothing left on the floor but two long ears and the top of a skull! Fairview had eaten an entire jack rabbit and then licked the floor clean. I mopped really good that day.
Tybalt, the Prince of Cats, died young. He was beautiful black from his nose to the tip of his tail, RIP. I gave up on cats after that, but I'm open to try one now, considering my situation. We will see.
My deed restrictions allow cats, but its really a dog I want.
The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.
~Friedrich Nietzsche~