
Day 6: Pets
That one's not mine. But every time I see it. I.crack.up.

This is Sutton. Jason and I got him about a month after we started dating. We found him wandering around a dump up in Resaca, Georgia. We were shocked that somebody could just throw him away like a piece of garbage, and we determined that we would take him home with us. We'd had him about a day, when we figured out his tendency to go on "walk abouts" and not come back. I've since concluded, maybe his old people didn't throw him away, more likely, he went for his afternoon jaunt, and "forgot" to go back home. It's happened on more than one occasion with us. Although, lately he's been doing much better about coming back to the house. Which I'm happy about because it means I no longer have to run up the road like a mad woman with my nappy house shoes and bathrobe flying when I see him hit up the fire hydrant and then keep going. To be fair though, I think it was a conspiracy thought up by my



That's Crete. She's a cat. She has turquoise blue eyes. And she is sweeter than her sister Petra. I don't have a picture of Petra, but she's just like Crete, except she's calico, fatter, yellow-green eyes, and meaner. So actually, they are really nothing alike....except they're both cats. Crete is my sweetheart, but she's glutton for punishment if she doesn't quit sharpening her claws on my living room chairs, and pooping in the guest bath tub. <---I'm pretty sure that's my fault because I don't have a litter box in the house for her, and sometimes I lose track of who's been out and who hasn't. She likes Jason better than she does me... so does Petra for that matter. He can have that one. She's mean. I love her, but she's just nice enough to me so I'll continue feeding her, and let her sleep on my stomach when we watch t.v., but no more than that. I'm not allowed to look at her, talk to her, put her outside to potty, or pet her. If I do any of those things, she'll hiss, growl, and strike at me. So I don't. We have an understanding, she and I.

That's Sweet Pea or Ms. Pea (it's interchangeable). I got her from the North Georgia Fair for my 17th birthday, and I've had her ever since. She's the last of our actual "farm" animals. And I love her. In this picture she's eating leftover cake. That pig loves cake, and twinkies, and chips from El Nopal. For a time she lived in a dog house in a pin, but one day she decided she needed bigger quarters so she moved her belongings (seriously, she drug her bedding and hay with her), to the shed outside of the fence. We kept an eye on her for a few days to make sure she didn't head over to the neighbors and start rooting around in their yard. She didn't, so we left her to it. We get some funny looks from people who stop by the house from time to time. I was home a couple of weeks ago, and the termite guy knocked on the door, and said "ma'am, I think you've got a wild pig running around loose in your backyard." I just smiled and said, "oh that's just Sweet Pea, she won't bite." She never travels farther than the barn... although one time we did come home from vacation and she had rooted up pig trails all in the front yard. As long as you feed her every other day, and make sure she has fresh water she just kinda hangs out. She is almost blind, so when you bring her food, you have to kind of yodel "sweeter peater" to her so she can follow your voice to her food. She's pretty cool.

These were our horses. Baylady, Bella, and Kid. We lost them all in terrible twist of fate accident. But they were our babies, our pets, and we miss them every day.

This was Pauline. She thought she was a horse. She liked to stand on top of the round bale of hay to eat... she was also bad about stealing Sweat Pea's food. She's gone now too.
Some days I want to just want to send them all packing... usually on mop days. When I've just swept, and spit polished the floor, and then Jason comes through the door and our fur covered posse with him, and they all run pell-mell through the house leaving tracks everywhere, and doggy fur tumble weeds come out from wherever they were hiding. The cats are weaving themselves in and out of my feet, hollering to be fed, and batting at the dogs because they are ornery like that. <--- That will take a lot out of you. But then everything calms down for the evening, everybody is fed and in as happy a mood as they will be in. The dogs are curled up on top of each other sleeping, the cats are in their respective laps, and for once Petra is allowing me to pet her, and it's just, nice. A houseful of pets, of family members, and everything that goes along with it, and yeah, it's good.
Every dang time I read your blog I tell myself that you are a writer. One day I will know a famous author of a great southern book. I guess I need to start reading your blogs before I start writing mine because I used to be very particular and now I just throw something together and press post before I do a re-read! Miss ya'll and come see us soon! See...how country did that sound....that is one thing I will never lose....my southern accent and my roots!
ReplyDeletei love your blogs too! i can really relate to this one! keep them coming! SHANE ROBINSON
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