Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Furry Babies


Since I was a child, I've always had pets. When I was young, the house was full of dogs and cats. There were horses in the fields and chickens pecking around the yard. My mother wouldn't tolerate any small furry creatures in the house so I had to wait until I had kids of my own before we enjoyed the usual succession of gerbils, guinea pigs, hamsters, rabbits and rats.
For me a home isn't complete without furry friends. There is something innocent and trusting about animals that helps ground me when life gets hectic. Animals remind me what's really important.
I've loved all our pets, even the poor budgerigar that only survived for a few weeks before the cat managed to eat her. But dogs and cats are my favorites. I'm one of those soppy people who consider my dogs and cats as my babies.
My husband and I take our dear little Westie everywhere. She sleeps with us in bed at night and is rarely out of our company. When I'm apart from her I'm the one who gets separation anxiety! I keep wondering how she is. If we go on a foreign vacation, after a few days I want to go home because I miss her.
It's been medically proven that stroking dogs and cats can lower people's blood pressure and ease stress. My prescription to help cope with this modern chaotic life we lead is to pet a dog. Much better for you than medication!
The only downside of loving a pet so much is the inevitable heartbreak when they pass away. My dear little Shih Tzu, Lily, who I was lucky enough to share my life with for fifteen years, passed away recently. I still expect to see her and miss her terribly. I'd have been lost without my young dog to help me cope.
In my latest book, a dear old family pet provides support and love for the heroine when nobody else can. Do you have pets? Have they ever helped you through a difficult time in your life?

Helen lives in South West England near Plymouth in Devon between the windswept expanse of Dartmoor and the rocky Atlantic coast. As well as her wonderful, long-suffering husband, she shares her home with a Westie and a burmilla cat. Helen's latest book is the sixth in her Army Doctor's series,The Army Doctor's Forever Baby. Find Helen on FaceBook and Twitter, or visit her website.

11 comments:

  1. Yes, it is so hard to lose a pet that you've had for years and is close to your heart. When my horses died (of old age) it was hard to handle. One was 31 and one was 28. My daughter grew up with them and didn't know what it was like not to have a horse in the back yard, nickering at you for treats every time you came out of the house. We used to sneak around to the back of the barn so they wouldn't see us!

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    1. My first pony, Pixie, lived into his late 30s. My parents had him long after I left home. In the end the poor old boy lost all his teeth. Very sad. He was a member of the family.

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  2. Pets, oh my gosh. I have felt so sad when a pet mouse died (and it was my son's, not even mine!), and I won't even say what the specialist vet bill was for a beloved cat we tried to save from cancer. We're just a cat, two guinea pigs and a bunny at the moment, but chooks are looming...

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    1. My son had a hamster that kept having fits and appearing to die. Each time we were upset, but after a couple of times we learned it seemed to miraculously return to life after a few hours. Very strange.

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  3. Although I haven't had many pets in my life, I've had my dog, Monty, for more than fourteen years. I see him slowing down, taking a few seconds to get his back legs under him when he stands up, walking slower and barking less. I dread losing him, but I'll always remember the unconditional love he gave me -- along with a number of dead birds he brought into the house and laid at my feet!

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    1. It is so sad when they start to slow down. My poor old Lily went down hill so fast the final few months of her life. I like to remember her how she was as a youngster--a bundle of mischief.

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  4. Helen, I'm sorry for your recent loss! Our dog Spot died in January at the age of 15. Attila (the cat) and I grieved together, and still miss him.

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    1. Lily was 15, as well. At least they had good long doggy lives.

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  6. Mr. Curtis has always insisted we have big dogs. After our 15 year old Lab passed away last summer, I put my foot down for a smaller dog. Enter Tally, our half-Shitzu/half Yorkie sweetheart. At first, Mr. Curtis wanted nothing to do with her. But now she greets him at the door every day and sits with him to watch baseball. Our remaining lab (age 13) has become a rather dotty old man who spends most of the day napping in my office. I think he envies Tally her energy, but he's graciously accepted her into our family.

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  7. It's been 15 years since my last cat and sometimes I still feel him purring against my cheek when I'd lay down on the couch ... He was the last of a succession of black cats, a Russian wolfhound, a dozen hamsters, six finches, two cockatiels, a naughty turtle and a Great Dane that my little sister used to ride like a pony when she was three. I think I've reached a stage where I don't want the heartbreak of parting with a pet! But I cherish the memories ...

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