All Creatures Great and Small

I can't remember a time that animals were not a part of my life. When I was a little girl, we never had less than 3 dogs in the household. My father was a lover of animals -- all kinds of animals. Perhaps he would have liked to have been a veterinarian, but his family, modest, middle class working people, didn't (couldn't) give him much of a choice and sent him off to the merchant marine academy at the early age of 15.

Still, his love for animals was always with him. He told me a heartbreaking story once that stayed with him for all of his life and had much to do with his respect and admiration for all kinds of animals. He was a young officer (a plebe) sailing on a large vessel down to Antartica. In the evenings, the older officers would engage in games/sports on the bridge to pass time. One evening, as my father was keeping watch, he heard a combination of what sounded like shots, laughter and what he described as the most piercing cries. The cries sounded human and he went to see what was going on. He found the officers engaged in a hunting game of sorts -- they were shooting at the dolphins that often travelled alongside the vessel and kept them company. As the dolphins were shot, they would let out a cry that sounded human. Although it was an honor to be included with the older officers in whatever sport or activity they were engaging in, my father refused to be a part of that. His eyes would well up and he would choke when he told the story of the sounds he heard that night -- the sounds that would stay with him forever until he was very old. Later, when he became a captain, he forbade any type of sporting game on his ship that involved any type of killing or hurting of animals, especially dolphins. To his death, he donated to all types of "save the dolphins" foundations and was a loyal lifetime donor to the Defenders of Wildlife group and the American Humane Society.

He imparted his love for all creatures to us. There is not an animal I won't help or a bird I won't feed. We currently have 3 dogs. Two of them are wire haired dachshunds from Germany. Yes, Germany. I was engaged to a german guy years ago and for my birthday, he gave me two german, wire haired dachshund puppies (two sisters). We flew out to Germany to get them. The german did not last (in fact, I met my now husband on the day I was supposed to marry the german -- I'll tell you that story one day) but my dogs did. Their Deutschland kennel club names are Xara and Xandra Von Frunkenberg, but I renamed them Thelma and Louise. They have been my companions for now 9 years. They are twins and inseparable. They follow me everywhere I go and, as I always tell them, they were my very first babies. I can't imagine life without them ever.

As for my third dog, well, he was not in the plans. After Katrina, as you know, we ended up living far away. We had to cross a long, long bridge across Lake Pontchartrain. One evening, as I was returning home from work with kids on tow, we encountered the usual traffic getting off the bridge. But this time, among the traffic coming and going, I saw a beautiful black lab going up to driver's windows to be petted. Everyone was petting him as they stopped at the red light, but once cars started going again, you can only imagine how dangerous it was for him. Feeling a sense of duty, I went to pull over to get the dog out of the highway, and I saw him cross over to the other side of the highway, dodging cars, to the parking lot of a bank. He had seen some kids walking up with their mother to go into the bank and he obviously wanted to play. The kids, however, started screaming and so did their mother. The lab was wagging its tail and trying to jump up to lick their faces. But they were frantic and screaming! So I saw the security guard come up to him and pull his gun on the dog. This all happened so fast. I pulled my car over and jumped out of the car and jumped between the dog and the gun. (yeah, like, what was I thinking???????). The guard warned me that the "dog could be rabid" and told me to step aside. Like, make me.

So I told him that I would take him in my car and I asked him for his help in putting him in which he refused to do. So I shoved this heavy, huge dog into my front seat (my kids were in car seats in the back). I called my husband and told him I picked up a stray dog. He asked how big of a dog he was to which I responded, "maybe 75 lbs but his paws are still big!" He was still a puppy, much to my surprise! Although we put ads everywhere and checked him for a chip, no one responded. He was just one of those Katrina dogs that someone had left behind.

So now Satchmo (as we named him) has been part of our family. Our Katrina rescue dog. He is a pure, gorgeous black lab that at age 4 is all muscle and weighs 90 lbs. He sheds like crazy and I spend my life vacuuming my white floors. Still, I can't imagine him not being part of my family. My dad was very fond of him and although he never could see him (he went blind during the last 5 years of his life), he was able to pet him. Although he never said it, I know he was proud of how much we loved and cared for animals. Now that he is gone, I see him and his presence in everything that lives -- from the little sparrow that sings in the morning by my window, to the funny looking big eyed lizards that reside in our garden during the summer.

And, in case you are wondering, I have carried on his devotion to dolphins and donate, in his memory, to all causes that protect this noble animal.

Satchmo

My sweet Louise

Even my furnishings echo my love for animals. Here is my "rumply linen dog bed."