Pomeranians and Pussies

Our Pomeranian is incredibly likeable. He will let anyone pet, hug, hold him. Even 1-year old feral humans. Even pet-hater Mr. Pansy likes him. When pet-hater Mr. Pansy is not bitching about him. The little guy has "some issues", starting with being "the dog who has no name but it doesn't matter because he would never consider coming to you when you call him anyway and if you call him it might make him pee." He started out with Daughter #2 and her then-boyfriend and she named him Mr. Bumbles. Then, they break up and Daughter #2 moves back home with Mr. Bumbles who (I am so proud of him) upon seeing the ex-boyfriend 30 days later commenced to bark and shriek and totally go ballistic at ex-boyfriend. I truly suspect ex-boyfriend may have treated Mr. Bumbles not nicely since doggie still has issues about men and, thus, about pet-hater Mr. Pansy. But only if the men come near me when I am on my couch. Doggie missed some critical moments in his youth:

does not come when called
not quite house trained in the potty department

That is all I require of my pets. He will probably never come when called. But then he has no name so what can I expect? He is "better" about the house training. In that he no longer submissively pees, or excitedly pees, or just plain old pees when indoors. That was 2 years in the making. He loves to "sit" and so if I need to catch him I just yell "sit" at him no matter how far away he is and he gladly sits. And then I can go pick him up....and wipe his pee off of him, off of me, and off of the place where he sat in all his submissive, excited, plain old peeing glory.

He regressed this summer since Daughter #1 spoiled the holyheck out of him by PETTING him daily during my absences. What was she thinking? He certainly still prefers me but has this all attitudey thing going on now about peeing where he wishes to. So back to the "do you want to go out?" which, if he does, he signals his agreement by running 300mph around the room and then prancing in the doorways as I wearily creak my way off the couch and out the back door. I randomly "reward" him by saying "I'll go with you" which makes him insane with glee. Can't go out with him every time or he will expect it. I'm the Alpha Bitch around here. When I let him outside I always tell him "now go potty." And he runs around the yard at 300mph for several laps. Finally he pees/poops and I say "good potty! good boy!" and immediately let him back into the house. Instant, relevant rewards (praise, back indoors). Or so I think.

Sometimes he has to potty every 20 minutes, other times not for weeks. It's hard to guess. But at least he uses the newspaper in the laundry room and nowhere else. Except for when he goes behind the kitchen table. Or misses the paper. Or.....well, like I said, he has potty issues. But he does "go" only on the non-carpeted areas now. A major improvement.

Daughter #1 calls him "little boy" and pet-hater Mr. Pansy called him "Mr. Piddles" which has morphed into "little guy." I have morphed him from Mr. Bumbles to Mr. Cuddles to Cuddles to Cubbles to Cubby and it's just getting stupid now. So I'll go with "little guy".

He is always smiling, very sweet natured, a lap cuddler and all around tough guy. He will defend me to his death, which will come all too soon during his defense of me since he only weighs about 6-7 pounds (haven't weighed him since his fat days of 8 pounds). He thinks pet-hater Mr. Pansy has no right to come near me---but only and specifically when I am on the couch. Seriously. So that doesn't make pet-hater Mr. Pansy like Little Guy very much during those moments.

"One bite and you're going flying across the room, you little rat." hisses pet-hater Mr. Pansy.

"Bark, bark, bark (die, filthy infidel, die---can I have a snack now, Nana?)" shrieks the Little Guy.

Our cats are wonderful. Both of them are fancy pedigreed "Domestic Short Hair Tabbies Found In A Barn Felines".

The boy, Speedo, is a "classic whorled tabbie"/part Bad Mating Between an Anaconda and a Jungle Jaguar (JungleAnna) with fancy white gloves, white spats, and white ascot. Plus bright pink lips and bright pink nipples, which we don't discuss in public.

The girl, DeeDee (Devil in Disguise), is a skinny, mangy "herring patterned tabbie"/part Bad Mating Between a Squirrel and a Raccoon (SquirrCoon) with black paw points.

They are brilliant. They act just like the best dogs that ever lived. Follow us around the house and purr and play and lay either on our laps or nearby. And only, only, only scratch on their scratching post. Totally Freaking Brilliant. Mr. Pansy and I have both become scary Cat Ladies over these two. Plus, they like the Pomeranian enough to let him jump them whenever he sees them and gnaw on their heads/ears as they meow in "protest." He is so small they each outweigh him by over 4 pounds and if they would just get up and walk off when he is chewing on them he would look like a bearskin rug on their backs.

Speedo lost his leg when he disappeared for about 5 weeks as a 2 year old. We had decided he was gone forever and the very next night I heard him meowing in the backyard. I went out and found him up on the patio table where we keep a bowl of cat food. I bring him inside and as I am carrying him realize he is bone thin. He weighs 12 pounds and that night he was only 4 pounds. Then in the light I saw his front leg was all messed up.

We wait until the next day and took him to an emergency vet (OMG pet-hater Mr. Pansy approved a Sunday Emergency Vet level of expenses for a free cat!) where they declared his leg was all messed up and maybe $1800 would fix it. But not likely. So I bring Speedo home and tell pet-hater Mr. Pansy the status. Pet-hater Mr. Pansy clutches Speedo to his chest and boldly declares "I will throw more money down a hole before we give up on Speedo. Take him to his "real doctor" tomorrow." Speedo is amazingly not complaining, just eating voraciously. Speedo's "real doctor" declares his leg was all messed up and maybe $1300 would fix it. But not likely.

So, they bring in the "death shot" and I burst into tears and say "isn't there anything we can do?" They non-chalantly said "Well, sure. We can just do salvage surgery." I scratch their eyes out in my fury that they hadn't mentioned it sooner and so we work out the money on that. I offer to take his "removed leg" to dispose of it (to possibly save some money) and they laughed at me. I think they knew I really wanted to make it into a Lucky Cat Paw key chain. The "disposal" fee turned out to be all of 34 cents. For what? A postage stamp to the dump or something?

Speedo came home looking like a stitched up Frankenstein but never fussed, ate voraciously, and was only tweaking in the mornings before his pain pill kicked in. What a trooper. He climbed over 2 six-foot fences to get home with a broken-to-bits front leg. Of course we had to try to save him. He has adapted well to indoor living and if you have to lose a leg, make it a front one since the hind ones are the power legs.

Dog: 4 years old
Cats: 7 years old

Enough pet talk.