Pets n' Vets – Then and Now

When growing up, we had a total of 7 pets (a couple, ever so briefly). There were many other ‘farm animals’ that you would not consider a pet, that I would pay extra attention too, go out of my way to see and fuss over. I am truly an animal lover, and I think part of it is because animals are not phony. I mean, what you see is what you get – for instance, if you have a cow that is ornery, that cow will be difficult to milk every night - because she is ornery. If you have a cow that is docile, you know that every time you milk that cow, she will be docile. The same goes for other animals that I have encountered – but not people. People have moods (I know I sure the hell have) and one time they can be ‘docile’ and the next “ornery’, and until their first utterance, you do not know for sure what to expect. Hence, I really like animals – hehe. The problem with having pets is that they die. Such a short sentence, but painfully true. But – any small animals that we had in the 40s and 50s would live longer than they do today. And they lived longer without once visiting a Vet during their whole life. The main reason in the 40s and 50s,  there was very little inbreeding and trying to refine the breeds. When I was growing up, I cannot recall anyone every taking a dog or cat to a Vet. If your pet was sick, you would perhaps use something that you would have gotten from the Watkins man. They had a red ointment that damn near cured everything for human and beast! We never purchased special food for our dogs, they ate table scraps, were given large bones to gnaw on, perhaps a special porridge sometimes. I am sure some died before their time because of being given chocolate or something else that we now know is harmful, but all in all, they seemed to flourish just fine. Our family pets started with a small male Cocker Spaniel named Monty – he was killed, when hit by a car, I remember Monty well, but not my reaction to his death. He was replaced almost immediately with another small Cocker Spaniel named Goldie. After having her for a couple of years my Dad got a Male Cocker Spaniel (I guess thinking he would breed them, but it never happened). His name was Toby, and was always kept tethered to a very long line in our yard. He could pretty well have the run of the large yard, but it was always a little sad that he had to be tethered. Goldie died after I left home and Toby had been given away (I think) to someone on a farm. I had a pet goat, a “Kid”. Our Uncle gave him to my sister (because she found him just after he was born – his Nanny had gone to an isolated part of the farm to give birth). My Sister was not too excited about it, so the “kid” became my pet. He had a shed that was about 8 feet high and he had to be tethered inside his fenced pen, because he could get out of pretty well anything. I have tried for years to remember what I had named him – and it bothers me that I cannot remember! I think ‘Stretch or Silver or Steve’! He left me with the unfortunate memory of losing a pet. I found him after school one day, his tether chain had gotten caught on the corner of his shed, and I assume he had jumped off like he always did, and his feet could not hit the ground. I am sure he died instantly as his neck had been broken – my reaction was to run. I ran through our yard (we lived on a couple of acres) and did a hip pity hop up the hill to our pump house – thinking that if I did that, he would not be dead. But he was – all the running and hip pity hoping would not bring him back! Any and all our pets that died, were buried on a hillside at the edge of our property and Silver or Steve or Stretch had his space. The shortest time I ever had a pet was when my Aunt had given me one of her cats. Living on a farm with my Grandpa and having a root cellar in the basement, she had many cats to keep the mice down. She let me pick my favorite – was a large fluffy black and white cat. My Dad put her into a box and in the trunk of our car and we drove home. I was so excited! My Dad opened the trunk and the cat shot out like a bullet – never to be seen again. My Dad looked for a long time, but to no avail. Now, my Dad was allergic to cats, was not a cat lover – so you never know exactly how tightly he put the lid on that box. I guess the two strangest pets we had were a Domestic Duck and a Pig. The Ducks name was Hewy and the pigs name was Scratchy – loved to be scratched behind his ears. I am not sure whatever happened to Hewy and I am sure we ate Scratchy. So – during my childhood I really only lost one pet that really bothered me and that was Steve/Silver/Stretch. I cannot say the same for the pets I and my family have lost since I left home, as each one of them Whiskey, Chootla and Sasha have left a void. We had a chance to say good bye to Whiskey and Chootla – Sasha did not give us that chance.  But, without a Vet, he would have left us years ago, so I am happy that we still do not have the attitude of the 40s and 50s, where you never took cats or dogs to the Vet – because with Sasha’s problems, the red ointment would never have helped.

         Dedicated to Sasha
  Sept 26, 2000 – Mar 1, 2011