Cats Rule, Dogs Drool

I am a cat person. I like all cats indiscriminately, from lions and tigers to mangy alley cats. I'm not crazy about dogs. That is not to say that I don't like any dogs.

  

ANDY

I am quite fond of some dogs but I can count them on the fingers of one hand. Robin's Andy is sweet and funny. 



KIRBY, Robin and me



Kirby was smart and loyal.



ROCKY



Rocky is gorgeous and loving.

Shasta was smart, incredibly tolerant and sweet.

And then there's Buttons.


 

When we moved into this house, one of its great advantages was our neighbors, Corky and Dona. They were retired and Corky spent most of his days working in his yard or sitting in his open garage, drinking beer and surveying the neighborhood: our Neighborhood Watch. He had the keys to almost every house and was always helpful to new home-owners. He taught me a lot about gardening and set a standard for the neighborhood. If my gutters were getting full, he'd make some gentle remarks and then get me to climb onto the roof with his leafblower.



BUTTONS

 Dona couldn't really stand to be outside. She always had the air conditioning on when she was home and when she wasn't home, she was playing bingo. She adored her little white Maltese named Buttons. He was yappy and nippy and she made him wear a stupid bow in his topknot. She had a very bad limp and couldn't walk him so I offered to take him out with Robin and Kirby. Pretty soon it became a morning ritual. Although it felt like a burden sometimes, it was mostly enjoyable.
Then Corky had a stroke and was never the same. He was cranky and mean and we could hear him yelling at Dona and the poor dog all night and day. We were all getting old and Buttons passed away. They were very sad but not ready for another pet since, by now, Corky was in a wheelchair (or his electric chariot).
They had a son who they didn't see, a former daughter-in-law that still stayed in touch and brought over their grandson occasionally but they had two "adopted" grandchildren who they babysat after school. These folks were their closest "family". They brought Corky and Dona a new Buttons, another Maltese puppy.
Here's a piece of advice for free: Do not buy a pet for another person.
Corky and Dona couldn't handle the puppy. Dona would spoil him rotten because it was easier than trying to discipline him. Then when she hit her limit, she would smack him with a rolled up newspaper. I'm not saying that rapping a dog is abusive but it should at least be based on the dog's behavior and not on the mood of the owner. Buttons II was a brat who demanded constant attention. He bit and barked incessantly. But he was an angel when we went for a walk.
Dona went to the doctor to finally get her hip replaced and they found she had widespread, terminal cancer. Before she died, she begged me to promise that I would adopt Buttons and not leave him with Corky. She knew he couldn't take care of him and said Phyllis (their best friend and our other neighbor) didn't like dogs because she had white carpet. When she passed away, Corky didn't want to let Buttons go and we certainly didn't need to introduce a yappy canine to our beloved cats. Corky was gone within a couple of months, although he apparently enjoyed hiding his scooter in the house during that time (Dona wouldn't allow it).

His son took Buttons back with him to his Missouri farm where he joined three big dogs. Buttons was not happy. He was not a farm dog. The son brought him back to Phyllis of the white carpets. Guess what? Phyllis had her carpets removed and put in laminate floor. She and Buttons love each other to death. She is firm and his behavior improved dramatically. They go for hour-long walks at least twice a day and watch TV together at night.

Phyllis's granddaughter got married in San Diego last month and she asked me if we could keep Buttons for a few days. Of course. How much trouble could a dog be?

We had a dozen trial runs where Buttons would stay with me while Phyllis went to social events or the casino for the day. Buttons whined at the door the entire time and whenever anyone opened it, he would take off like a shot for his own house. He wouldn't play with me and I felt clearly inadequate.

Then the big day came and Phyllis drove off to San Diego without Buttons. Until about midnight, he carried on as usual, whining for his mommy. Then it seemed like he figured she wasn't coming back, so he might as well settle for me. He curled up with me in Mike's bed and fell asleep. (The cats rule in our bedroom).

Remember, I am a cat person. Cats are self-reliant. They know where to got to the bathroom and require no assistance from us. Buttons not only needs to be walked in order to poop, he has to be reminded to pee every couple of hours. Put some food down and cats will eat what they need as they need it. Dogs will eat themselves to death if allowed. They will eat cat food and even cat poop.

When a cat deigns to pay attention to you, you feel honored. Buttons attentions were exhausting. He not only insisted on accompanying me to the bathroom, he wanted to climb up between my legs to see exactly what I was doing. Most important of all, cats can be left alone. In fact, they prefer it. I felt like I was chained to the dog. I couldn't leave him alone in the house so Chris and I had to coordinate our schedules so that someone was always home.

And I missed my cats. Tiger was indifferent to Buttons and only hissed if Buttons overstepped the bounds of decency. Alcibiades, on the other hand, has always been skittish and would run whenever he saw Buttons (which, of course, prompted Buttons to chase him.) Since the dog was attached to me most of the time, I rarely saw the cats.

Chris agreed to sleep in Mike's room with the dog so I could have some alone time with the cats. But the next morning, Buttons came into the bedroom ( a NO DOGS ALLOWED space) and barked at me to get up since he couldn't jump up onto the bed.

No one was happier than me when Phyllis returned five days later. And I mean that. Buttons was annoyed with her for abandoning him and let her know it. Every time she opened her door, he'd run over to our house. It took a couple of days for him to forgive her.

And probably as long for our cats to forgive us for bringing that creature into their home.