My first pet was a gift from the Easter Bunny. I got a little chicken and my brother got one too. We chose names for the little biddies that started with the first letters of our names. Mine had to start with an "S", so I chose Snoopy. Phil's had to start with a "P", so he chose Poopy. They fit their names well. Mostly they fit Phil's chicken's name. Mom and dad explained, after not so many days had passed, that these chickens were getting very very tired of our house and wanted to be with other chickens. They disappeared one day and were taken to a chicken coop about 4 blocks away where we never saw them again. It's funny because we probably didn't miss them much. Chickens are not the most cuddly pets after they loose the downy feathers.
We got a bunny that was black and we called him Whiskers. He was a cute little bunny. Dad built him a pen that was elevated off the ground and had a little feeder for fresh produce and a little bowl for rabbit food. Sadly, he got stuck under his feeder in the winter and froze to death. Just the beginning of the many pet tragedies we encountered.
When Phil and I were little, our neighbors had a pig pen in the field next to us. There is nothing quite like pig smell. I'd know it anywhere. But, the oinking and rooting of those big old porkers used to fascinate us. There were horses behind Kuhnie's house. We used to give them grass through the fence. There was a barn next to the fence, by the horses. The barns were so much fun . Everything creaked in the old barns. It was like playing Russian Roulette to see which board would actually hold you as you walked along the rafters.
Our first pet that actually knew how to interact with us was a dog named Sport. I think he was part Collie but mostly just a mutt. My dad was sitting in the bathroom, on what he called "the throne", if you'll pardon my details. It is only important to tell you what he was doing because I thought he was very negligent as a Father that day because he didn't come to my aid immediately.
My dog, Sport, got away from me. I was 5 years old and I couldn't leave the yard alone and my dad couldn't understand that I needed his help right then. He was enjoying the newspaper and wasn't about to be interrupted. He said, "Susan, he'll be back. He will come home on his own." I cried and kept pleading but to no avail. I was glad that he was right. Good old Sport did come home.
My friend, Melodee, and I each got a white kitten from a neighbor lady. They were from the same litter. She called hers Puffy. I called mine Fluffy. We were into rhyming. Fluffy fell down the window well of my friend's house (probably looking for her sister Puffy). But we didn't find her for a couple of days. Lucky for us, Melodee's dad found her and returned her to us, a little dehydrated but not too much worse for the wear.
When Fluffy died shortly after giving birth to a stillborn kitty, we didn't get any more cats. We got a new puppy we named Bounce. I practiced my hair cutting skills on him when he got older. He just seemed so hot, I thought he needed a new summer hair-do.
Bounce was named after my dad's childhood dog. I learned about "the birds and the bees" by chasing after him one day when he ran off. My uncle Don went with me to find Bounce and was shocked that I couldn't figure out what was happening. He chastized my parents jokingly for not filling me in on the finer points of animal breeding patterns. He said "What's the use growing up in a farm community if you don't use it to teach your kids stuff." A little squirt of water from a neighbor's hose and Bounce was trotting off on his way home very cheerfully. It was hard to believe that Bounce had enough pride to go off looking for ladies with that haircut he was sporting.
We had a cute little black dog named Mitzi and a sweet little brown dog named Daisy. They gave me a terrible reputation. Mitzi followed the car around the corner when I was driving Linda to her friend Lynda's on my way somewhere. I didn't know Mitzi followed us and I ran over her. We were all so sad to hear that her back was broken and she had to be put to sleep. Daisy had a terrible habit of chasing cars. She left the yard and chased a car one day and I yelled for her to stop. She turned and looked at me and was partially run over. We thought she was going to make it. I stayed up with her all night holding her to make her comfortable, but she died while I was at school. I loved these little dogs and I was tortured with guilt for a long time.
You'd think mom and dad would have said no more pets until Susan is out of the house. But, the neighbor dog, Butters had puppies and we got Ebony, a little black dog. Ebony survived me being around and lived until he had lots and lots of grey hair. He and mom's little canaries Cookie and then later, Boyd, kept mom and dad and Phil company for many years. Boyd even saved Mom's life when he kept falling off his perch. We surmized that maybe there was some gas leaking in the house and he was reacting to it. Sure enough. He was the best carbon monoxide detector anybody could ever have. Mom was at home all day and all night so she was affected more than Dad and Phil. Mom started feeling less dizzy and Boyd got back on his perch.
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