I’m a cat person. I’ve always had a cat and can’t image my home without one. My cat isn’t my pet, it’s a member of my family. I love coming home and having my boy run up to greet me, rubbing against my legs and looking up at me with his big wide eyes that say he missed me. No matter how difficult my day has been, I forget it all about it when I see his eager face.
I’ve always been an animal lover. For most of my life, my family has had dogs, cats, mice and an assortment of other creatures, common and exotic. Now, as a single woman in her 60s, I often consider getting a new dog. I imagine playing with her in the park.
Over the course of our lives, most of us have had our fair share of pets. At times, my house felt like a petting zoo, with dogs cats and birds all crying for my attention. So, while I was completely heartbroken when my last little Chihuahua died, I also felt a weight lift from my shoulders. With my kids building their own lives and no animals to look after, I could finally explore the world.
I never thought much about the benefits of having a pet until my little Chihuahua, Chica, died. She was the most wonderful little dog. She used to pull books off the shelf for me when I had something on my mind. Her selections were surprisingly relevant, although I wasn’t too keen on the bite marks. She kept me company, gave me plenty of exercise and gave me someone to talk to when my family wasn’t around.