Babe Was No babe

My middle daughter, Sandee, is the epitomy of the cat lover. For as long as I can recall, she has been surrounded by herds of them, currently about five. Being a single woman, her cats are her family, the children she has never born (yet). They are the rulers of the roost at her house and they know it.

In the eighties, she had a particular favorite she called Babe. Trying here not to be too judgemental, I can't help but say that Babe was one of the homeliest females of any species ever born upon this Earth. Babe was no Babe. However, she did have many redeeming qualites. She was sweet, quiet, very lovable, didn't scratch the furniture, and was not demanding, as some cats can be. Now, I don't want any lectures, but she was also not spayed. Sandee had been her Mom for many years when she (Sandee) decided to move back home with me for a while. Babe was getting old, probably in her early eighties (in cat years) by then. She started getting very thin, her fur became less than luxurious, her teeth started to fall out, and, I'm sure, she was arthritic. She allowed me to pet her on very rare occasions, but mostly she was a Momma's girl who loved Sandee unconditionally.

Over the years, Babe had presented the world with more than a few kittens. Some were kept by Sandee, adding to her "Family", while the others were always sent to some cat lover's home elsewhere. At the time Sandee moved home with me, Babe was her only cat (for the moment)and it had been several years since she had given birth to any kittens. (Thank goodness) I watched Babe's slow decline, knowing that Sandee's heart would be broken when she finally passed from this world but also knowing it was inevitable.

One day, while I was home on a day off from work, watching some TV program, Babe came over to me and started purring and rubbing my leg, very affectionately. This was very unusual for her, taking me by complete surprise. I could tell she wanted me to pick her up, so I did. As I was lifting her, I felt a large lump on her side, which startled me. "Oh, no!", I thought. "She has a tumor!" I held her for a long time, petting her gently, thinking maybe her unusual show of affection was her way of saying goodbye. Feeling that her time was up, and as badly as I hated having to do it, I decided I would call the Vet to make an appointement to have her euthenized. I could see no reason to make her suffer through cancer, poor old thing.

She finally jumped down and headed for her favorite spot on Sandee's bed in the upstairs bedroom. I made the call and was dreading having to break the sad news to Sandee when she got home from work.

Later, before Sandee did arrive home, I went upstairs to see how Babe was doing. I couldn't find her. I was searching everywhere, to no avail, thinking, "She's a cat, and sometimes they go off by themselves to die", when I heard a faint "meow" coming from the dark corner of my closet. I grabbed a flashlight to help me find her..... and find her, I did. There she was, this poor old lady, curled up in her self-made nest, looking up at me with with eyes way too bright for someone so sick and preparing to die.

As I looked closer, I suddenly realized..........the "tumor" had fur, and eyes, and paws, for God's sake. And, it was breathing and suckling on it's new Mom! My relief was overcome by laughter. The old Babe was close to ninty and had just gave birth to a kitten? (there was only one) UNBELIEVABLE!! Hell, she was so old and homely, I couldn't imagine, even a Tom cat, touching her with a ten-foot pole.

Later, when Sandee arrived home, I gently told her about the tumor I'd found on Babe. I then told her that she had made a nest in my closet, where she was now curled up, resting. Sandee quickly ran up the steps, with me following, to see her beloved Babe. I hadn't told her "the rest of the story"..... she needed to experience that for herself. The tears of joy and delight on Sandee's face were well worth that little deception.

Babe was a wonderful mother to that little "tumor" (yes, we kept it) and went on to live for several more years. Babe really was a joy to know....................and taught me, once again, ......don't judge a book by it's cover!

Mumz

ALYCE, MUMZ AND THE FIREMAN

Today, my baby sister, MaryHell, called to ask if I would consider giving a home to a four-year-old male ShiTzu. Already being the proud parent of four of the little darlings (dogs) I sucked 'er in and said no. Yeah, I did want him! However, there is a smidgen of good sense still left in this over"stuffed" brain of mine. OK, so what I really said was, "I can't have another male dog here. It will turn Mumz (my oldest dog) into a whore again, which happened when MaryHell gifted me with Buddy, an adorable ShiTzu/Pom mix who had not yet been neutered. (I'll tell this story another time)

Mumz is a "Heinz 57" little female who has been an adventure to have as a part of our household since the day we brought her home about twelve years ago. She is absolutely the most crazy, and cranky dog I've ever known. She is also a nymphomaniac. Since she has always been a mostly indoor pet, with a fenced yard for running and protection, (also for protection of the poor little boy dogs who might wander near) and our other dogs are female, she was not spade.

She was about three when she fell madly in love for the first time. While out shopping one day, I found a pretty cylinder shaped pillow, upholstered in a lovely tapestry fabric, which I thought would go well with my decor. It was about twenty inches wide and maybe eight to ten inches in circumference. Looked lovely with my sofa...... for the short while it was there. As soon as Mumz saw it, it was hers. She took one sniff and her dreams were fulfilled. She had found her True Love! That pillow went everywhere with her. To the yard, to the bedroom, to the food and water dishes.....she was never without it. There was more than one embarrassing moment when I would look out into the yard, seeing see her in a frenzied act of "love" with her pillow while the neighbor kids giggled and the adults stared in disbelief at her lack of modesty for such private doings. Oh, how she loved that pillow, every which way but loose!

Not me, the Fireman, or BetziBu and Alyce, my other furry friends, were allowed to go near her True Love. To do so would turn her into something similar to an enraged, pawing bull, smoke billowing from her nostrils, primal growls from her sweet lips. We all knew where we stood on this issue, so we stood back. Until..........................

Let me regress, just a little. Fireman, Mike, is retired with lots of time on his hands. Those dogs are his life. He loves them to a fault and gives them anything they want. One of those "wants" is a constant supply of dog cookies. (note the two on the table next to Mike in the picture above) He lays them on the coffee table for them so that they are in easy reach, day and night. I gave up the "It's not good for them." speech years ago. Anyway, when any one of them takes one, it belongs only to them, and one of the others had better not come near, even if the dog with the cookie has no intention of eating it.

Mumz, being the crazy, narcisisstic, Bitch she is, always tries to sneak the cookie away when the owner of it is not looking. Mostly, she fails. But one day, when I happened to be home, she succeeded.

The cookie belonged to Alyce, who happened to look away as she held the cookie in her paws, daring anyone to come near. Mumz seized the moment, grabbed the cookie and devoured it before Alyce could utter her normal, low, guttural, Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Alyce was pissed! However, she didn't say a word, but got up and trotted out thru the open back door......another of Fireman's indulgences for his babies' convenience. He and I were sitting on the sofa, reading the morning paper, as this drama unfolded. A few minutes later, Alyce came back through the door, carrying something in her mouth.....couldn't tell what it was. She went immediately, and with determination, to Mumz' True Love, the pillow, where she dropped a big, dried-up turd right on top of Mumz' precious object, then walked away, her head held high and proud. Alyce had made her point.........very clearly.

Mike and I laughed till we cried. Yes, sir........Pets are people, too.