Pets and my peeves.

We have always owned pets - as a child there were dogs and cats that came and went, and perhaps because I was a child, they never seemed to be any trouble at all.  The difference was, I think, that we lived in South Africa where dogs lived outside most of the time.  They may have been allowed into the kitchen to sleep at night, but no further.  Cats never had to grow thick winter fur so shedding was never a major issue.  Windows were always open and dust and fur were quickly disposed of.   We called them 'braks' or pavement specials - no-one that we knew was really into specialized breeds with three-page ancestry links.  I am not sure how vets made lots of money as we certainly didn't have our pets rushed off every 6 months for annual shots, physicals, and vitamins.  Your dog had to be licenced, wear a collar, have an occasional rabies shot, and most of us were sane enough to have it 'fixed'; and after that it was up to the gods.

Now that we live in Canada we see an entirely different story unfolding: cats are declawed and barred from leaving the inside of their homes during their lifetime.  You are considered to be adventurous and a little risky if you let your cat out on a regular basis.   These Canadian felines seem to develop enough winter fur to fill a duvet for each family member each year.  There is food for kittens, for young cats, for old cats and outdoor cats, there is special food for preventing hairballs and urinary infections.  There are pellets for cleaning teeth, and delivering vitamins, and for pampering.  And all are pretty costly.  We have whole warehouse type stores filled to the brim with parphenalia and 'must haves' for your special family member.  There is even, would you believe, clothing and accoutrements to be had - matching pink shirts, skirts, hats and sequined bows and collars.  The vet bills are outrageous and the new in-thing of pet insurance is hardly a choice anymore.

What bugs me the most these days:  the clawmarks that have made a pincushion of my sofa and chairs; newel posts that have become convenient scratch posts, cleaning upchuck on my favourite rugs.  And my favourite job of all - scooping poop from the litter everyday - although that at least beats picking up the deposits left by your doggie in a little (hopefully) baggie and holding it in your hands like a prize possession until you can garbage it at home. 

We have recently had the interesting experience of a giant German Shepherd sharing our abode - so now it's not just the constant drizzle of white cat hair on carpets and stairs and beds, but great big hunks of dog hair resembling birds nests that deposit themselves all over - heaven forbid if you miss a week of vacuuming - you will be tripping over the tufts and kicking them around like soccer balls.  And as for the wet paw syndrome - constant mopping of muddy imprints on floors, and thirsty lapping of water from the water bowl results in a river of saliva-coated water spread in every direction for a radius of six feet.  And ah, just when you want to relax on the leather couch and watch some tv - you have to first scooch Fido up to make a space for yourself!

Oh the joys!  It's funny when I was a child I never thought of all these things - and I still love my animals, but....wish it wasn't such a tough job to run around after them.