Our Pets...Red Stripe, Hera, Silver and Mooschka

As you can see from the above pictures, Thomas and I owned two dogs and two cats when we first moved in together. Thomas already had Zeus, the bigger pit bull, when I met him. He was about a year old then and fully grown. I already had my two cats, Silver and Mooschka, and had always been more of a cat person because dogs scared me! LOL Well, that soon changed! Zeus won my heart hook, line and sinker and has definitely become a Mama's boy! Zeus was very lonely home alone during the day and was getting into a lot of things and chewing on things, so we thought it would be nice if he had a companion, so we got Hera around 5 weeks from a breeder in Virginia. She has grown up to the the most loving dog! Unfortunately, as stated above, Zeus had to be put down. We will always miss him.

In memory of Zeus, I have written the following:

The good times.

These are the memories that make me cry, but I owe them to you.

You were the one who made me fall I love with dogs. I had always been scared of your kind before. No more. At first I wouldn’t let Tom leave me in the room alone with you, but that changed quickly. Who would’ve thought a pitbull would make me fall in love with dogs? But you did.

We used to sleep at Tom’s Mom’s house when we first met. You would wait outside the door, whining loudly, piteously, begging to be let in. Sometimes I’d convince Tom to let you in. You’d hog the bed. On nights that Tom wouldn’t let you in, you’d finally give up and go upstairs to sleep on the couch. In the morning on my way to the shower, I’d stop by the couch, lean down, pet you and kiss you. It was always a nice start to my day. Dragging my too-tired body up the stairs was worth it to see you. Even if you wouldn’t get up because you were still sleepy, I’d hear your tail thwacking on the couch pillows, happy to be noticed.

Your tail. We used to warn people about the “killer tail,” to watch out and not get hit by it. Your tail would wag so hard when you had people around. Of course, they had to ply you with dog biscuits first, you weren’t that easily swayed. One time Tom’s Uncle came to visit and you weren’t too convinced by him. You barked at him through the window. Once you formally “met” him, though, it only took a biscuit, then you climbed in his lap and started bathing his face with kisses. He couldn’t stop laughing. I still have the picture of you standing in his lap on my desk, eyes toward the camera, looking like you had climbed a mountain. You were my 65-pound lap dog.

I had never seen a dog so beautiful as you when you were running around the backyard, bone in your mouth, begging me to just try to take it from you. You’d come close enough for me to almost touch you, I’d lunge, and you’d run off again, only to return for more teasing. You seemed to be saying, “I’ve got the bone, I’ve got the bo – one, just try to take it!” I used to call you “horse” when you’d run. You looked like you were galloping, muscles pulled taught, with a powerful, easy gait. You were truly a beautiful creature.

I attempted to make you my running partner when Hera was too big with her 12 puppies to run anymore. She could barely make it up the stairs, much less run. You were not the easiest running partner. You always had to pee on everything. I finally got you in the habit of only peeing about 3 times during an entire 30-minute run, but that sure took some work! You also were always on the lookout. You would hear a person and stop to watch them, or slow down a bit when I was just getting in my groove. If you saw a child, all bets were off. You loved children. One time you even got out of the yard and chased some boys on bikes for 2 miles. They were laughing the whole time, loving your company. I was scared I lost a dog that day, but no, there you were, panting, tongue hanging out, tail wagging, happy as can be, enjoying the company of children. You and I had that in common.

Sometimes you would slack off while we were running, either because you were getting tired or bored, I’m not sure why. Then I’d say, “Come on now, boy, you can’t hang? What’s up with that?” and take off running. I’d pass you in one short burst of energy, but then you came on strong. You’d pass me and I’d have to hang on for dear life, every muscle in my legs straining to keep up. I think this is one of my most fond memories of you. The freedom of just taking off and running like a child, just happy to be moving. I’d run for the sheer joy of seeing how fast my body could take me, laughing, keeping in stride with the strongest, fastest dog in the world.

Tom liked to “talk” to you. He’d sit there, making dog noises like only he can make, the sort of growly/whiny hello that you would greet us with when you really, really wanted something bad, like the cats. You’d always stand at the top of the stairs, behind the baby gate, talking your little talk to the cats at the bottom of the stairs. You had lived with a cat at Tom’s Mom’s house, so I really think you wanted them to come out and play, that’s all. Needless to say, they didn’t buy it. They never came up to play.

As Tom would “talk” to you, you’d talk back. I’d sit there, amazed at how adorable it was. I certainly couldn’t imitate dog noises. Then you’d climb into his lap, I think trying to figure out what he wanted, and start licking his face. Tom would then blow on your face. Your response would be to lick the air, short, fast little licks until Tom would stop. I think that was your way of saying, “Uh, I don’t like that – hello!!??”

Your licking the air was a response to many things. You’d love to have your back scratched, right about your rear-end. I’d sink my nails into your fur and you’d instantly sit back, licking the air with those short little licks again. You’d usually try to get close enough to kiss me, too. You also had the “floppy fish” trick. Usually this happened when I got home from work. You’d see me and instantly hop on the couch, roll over on your back, and start squirming wildly on your back. It reminded me of a fish on its back out of water. You’d always get me to laugh and then I’d come over and give you what you wanted – a hearty belly scratch. Oh, how you loved to have your belly rubbed. You’d make little snorting noises of pleasure and keep writhing until I stopped or you decided, “Enough submission, I need to turn back over now.”

You were my constant companion. I’d get up in the morning, almost always before Tom, and you’d follow me into the bathroom, wait for me to get in the shower, and then lay on the rug outside the tub, waiting. You’d wait for however long it took. You loved to lick the water off my legs after I got out of the shower. Usually I’d dry my legs last to let you have your fun for a bit. You HATED being washed yourself, though. I remember one time Tom tried to give you a bath in the house. I was downstairs watching television, you were both upstairs in the tiny front bathroom, and all I heard was, BANG, POUND, SCRAMBLE, SCRAMBLE, BANG BANG POUND, “GOD DAMN IT, ZEUS!!!” I ran upstairs to see what all the commotion was, opened the door, and there was Tom with his arms wrapped around you, body low to make sure you wouldn’t jump out of the tub, basically laying on top of you, and all I could do was laugh. I’m not sure if you ended up getting a bath that day.

I remember when the puppies came, all 12 of them, and Hera wouldn’t let you near them. She’d growl and lunge toward you when you came near. After a few weeks, though, she started letting you get close. I’ll never forget the first time I saw you close to them. They were still young enough that their eyes weren’t open yet. Hera had gone out to relieve herself, so now was your chance. I was in the room, watching the tiny pups as usual, and you came toward them. I had been looking forward to this moment. You sniffed over them, nudged a few of them around with your nose, but you were so gentle. You looked like you couldn’t quite figure out what they were at first, but you were certainly being careful. Then you started to lick one of them. Ah, my heart gave a little jump. It was so precious, that moment. Luckily I had the camera in the room and caught you on film forever, licking your newborn pups.

As they got bigger and more and more rambunctious, you had the patience I could only envy. The pups would jump on you, pull on your ears, bite your neck, and you would just stand there. The look on your face was, “God, get these annoying things off me.” We would usually let you in before you had to deal with it too long. They could be pretty rough on you. The one pup that always came back was Tiger. He seemed to have a special bond with you. He was one of the last pups we had left before you left us. Even when you growled at him in warning, “Don’t get near my bone, boy!” he’d continue coming. He just wanted to play, he didn’t want your bone. You seemed to understand that, and didn’t continue growling at him. You just let him crawl on you and play, while you gnawed on your bone.

Whenever we came home from somewhere, you’d hear a car outside and if you didn’t recognize it, you’d bark inside the house, warning any intruders away. My remedy for this was to shove my hand through the mailbox slot in the door. You’d immediately recognize me and start licking my hand and jumping, excited that Mommy was back. Sometimes I’d put my face down at the slot and you’d try to lick me through the opening.

My dog, my companion, my best friend, I will miss you. The ache in my heart is so bad. Sometimes during the day I’ll be doing something that takes my mind off the pain, then it’s like someone hits me in the chest. Something will remind me of you. Then I feel that punch. It’s almost like the air has been let out of me. I come to the door and I almost have to fight sticking my hand through the slot. There is no one there to greet me.

As for the cats, they are almost no work at all, except for trying to keep their hair off everything in sight! We've put a gate up between the kitchen and the basement so the cats can live in peace because Hera kept going down to the basement and pooping! (I guess she was trying to make her mark (?)) The dogs and cats basically get along fine.

Here are some pics of Hera when she was a pup. She was so adorable!

Hera Loves Motorcycling

Hera's First Day Home

Hera Hiding Behind the Laundry Basket

Hera's Puppy Dog Eyes

Tom and Hera Sleeping

Hera & I in the Backyard

Here are some more pictures of Zeus:

Zeus Looking Tough

Zeus, aka "Fat Boy"

Now, who says pitbulls are mean?

All Tired Out

Silver in All Her Glory

The Life of a Cat...Mooschka Resting