It is not a surprise to anyone that truly knows me that I prefer animals over people. Actually, if I even take a phone call or respond to a text from you, pat yourself on the back as you are on the limited human list of those I tolerate. There is talk when Bryce leaves for college, that his room may be turned into a pet sanctuary.
All of my pets are rescues. Some showed up on our doorstep while others were with people that could no longer care for them. As of right now, we have three cats and two Basset hounds. The need to say what breed my dogs are will allow you to understand my deep seeded insanity. My house is a circus and those two Basset hounds, Presley and Daisy are the ringmasters.
My life as a writer isn’t glamorous. I am not in deep contemplation with my laptop ready and willing for the words to unfold. Instead, I write from 7-8:30 am. Then it is the part of the day I like to call “Bassets rule the world” because they start begging for lunch at that point. Lunch is at 11 am for them. They will start at 8:30 am in hopes that they will wear me down. There is the in and out portion of the programming where they opt to distract me since I am not on board to move their feeding time. They treat their outside excursions like an easy Sunday drive. They are in no hurry and if it is freezing out, they take even longer. By 10:30, they are crying, begging, and are simply making human beings more attractive by the moment. At 10:55, I make my way to the gate that leads to the lower level. There is a gate because one of them – Daisy – thinks its cute to take a dump down there. And because the people that spend the most time down there are nose blind, it could be days until it is found.
After 11 am, things quiet down. It is as though I run a daycare. They nap which allows me to proceed with whatever I was in the middle of before the lunch frenzy. When 1 pm approaches, they are up and ready to go out because that is when they get their treat. It’s funny that they have adopted this schedule and trained me so well. Bassets are stubborn not stupid. Their schedule continues the rest of the day and they are sure to keep me on task.
While this might sound like I am complaining, I am not. I would have a house full of animals simply because at the end of the day, I look at those faces and can’t help but smile. All five of my animals have this unconditional way of loving me. While they certainly could care a less about my writing, they definitely care about my presence. And when I leave them in the care of the testosterone filled home, I am greeted with tremendous joy as if they are saying, “Thank God you came back. They have no idea what they are doing.”
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