Critter friends past and present

By Rennie Phillips

Friends come in all sizes and shapes. When one talks about friends, we usually think of human friends, people we have known or know. People who are especially close to us who know the real "us" and still like us. They have seen us at our best and at our worst and still call us friends. I have had a few friends like this.

On the other hand, I have had a good number of animal friends. Most people would call them pets, but I'd have to say most of them were and are more than just pets. Most of you have as well. Most of our friends have either a dog or cat or both that shares their lives with them.

Back when I was little, we always had animal friends. Stripey was a thoroughbred of Dad's that I claimed when I was pretty little. He was older than the hills, but he was a real gem wrapped up in a kind of brown coat of hair. The only dog I can remember was Freckles. After he started killing chickens, his fate was pretty much sealed. Mom and Dad also had parakeets. I can barely remember them, so I must have been really small.

When Marge and I got married, I also inherited a collie of hers named Bozo. He was old and kind of decrepit, but he really loved Marge. We worked on a ranch southwest of Arthur, Nebraska, and lived in the hired hands' house. Right in front of the house was the shop. Bozo decided he'd protect the shop from thieves and such, so one day he wouldn't let Charlie, who owned the place, get into the shop. Not a good idea. Bozo was serious, though.

Marge and I had several dogs back when we were living in Nebraska. Most of them were working dogs. Don't get me wrong, but I never got that close to any of them except for one. I got a male pup from Lee Hoatson who was a friend of mine. That little blue heeler was small and he was special. We would be working cattle and every now and then he'd stop and look at me. I could motion which direction to go and away he'd go. Smart little dog.

When I went to college in Oklahoma, it was hard to have pets other than goldfish or such. But we did have one special pet. I did some work for a friend of mine and found a tarantula where I was working. He was probably 2 to 2.5 inches across. I caught him alive and brought him home where our two boys and I would catch flies and such and feed him. I'm not sure how long he lived but it was a good while. After he died, we put him in a little box and sent him back to Nebraska to show my mom. We did write on the box what was in it, but Mom missed the note. It likely scared her out of nine years' growth. I can't remember if we named the big spider. He was probably the most unusual pet we ever had.

When we moved here from Kentucky, we started having critter friends. Vic had a small beagle cross that I believe he called Lady. Good dog. She was a tender-hearted little dog that wouldn't hurt anyone except Dallas. Dallas came over to help us dig a waterline and I'll be jiggered if Lady didn't bite old Dallas. Maybe she figured as big as Dallas was he wouldn't miss a little chunk.

After we moved out where we live, Marge and I both wanted and needed a dog. So I found a family out southwest of Kelso, Missouri, that had Australian shepherds. After looking at all the puppies, I picked out a little long-haired blue female that was kind of off by herself. She became Queeny, who was probably the best dog I ever had. She never slept outside from that day on. Lewis Hamilton's little dog had a whole mess of puppies, so we checked them out. Marge picked out a little female she called Fancy. She was a hard-headed little dog, but she loved Marge. Marge might call her Fancy, but she answered when I called her Shorty. Good little dog.

One time we drove back to Nebraska in our small pickup. Marge's mom had some baby cats who were disappearing. I'm not sure what was getting them, but one by one they were just gone. So we rounded up four of the baby cats and hauled them 950 miles back here to Missouri. All of them kind of looked like they were Siamese cats, and they acted the part as well. One was special.

Ashley was a big, long, skinny female. I had her spayed and she was special. She would come in after dark and lay down beside me under the covers. She was both inside and outside, so I always figured sooner or later a coyote or fox would catch her. She got sick and Doc Branscum said it was cancer. I hated that, but I sure enjoyed her while she was with us.

Then along came Fuzzy. Fuzzy was a 4-day-old Jersey bull calf with a fuzzy top knot on top of his head. I normally don't make pets of our Jerseys, but Fuzzy was special. So I scratch his chin or around his ears. Not many can say they have a 900-pound pet with horns. He might hurt me, but it would be an accident. Critters that big can hurt you without even trying.

Today Marge and I both have our pets. We have our dog Dutchess, who for all practical purposes is a child of ours. We have a black inside cat we call Chubby. Chubby is probably going on 22 or 23 years old. I'm not really sure. We have our outside cats that we have named Kitty Girl, Kitty Girl 2, Momma Black, Pinky, Fluffy Baby, Fluffy, Tommy and on and on. Marge calls one that I ran over Lucky. Lucky is real lucky to be alive.

We could probably live without our pets. If we had to give up our cats, we'd end up with all kinds of mice and snakes and such. Honestly, I'd rather have a dozen cats than one mouse or snake. I think our lives are fuller and more complete with our pets. I know we sure enjoy them.

Until next time.