My Babies

Rest in peace, my babies.
Rest in peace, my babies.

I miss Dakota.

Another dog lives in my house can fill in as a substitute for my affection, a boxer named Desi. Desi sleeps in a recliner most nights in the living room next to her favorite human companion, an insomniac roommate who spends some nights on the couch watching television. Tonight that roommate is snoring, so I thought I could entice her to come into my room simply by petting her, an action that would’ve been enough bait for Dakota to jump down from her chair to join me on my bed to receive kisses on her snout while getting her belly rubbed in the spoon position. But Desi didn’t budge.

One of the papillons by the name of Jackson, on the other hand, clicked his dainty little heels on the hardwood floors to the door of my room, hoping for some affection, and although a poor substitute, as I’m a big dog kind of girl, I invited him to jump up onto my bed. Immediately he whined for attention, a pathetic begging for love that doesn’t jibe well with my style. Not that Dakota wasn’t needy, but something about the way she nudged her snout under my arm, sometimes on my breast, which is just weird to say out loud but true, into that space between my arm and my breast where she’d rest her face, I guess it triggered sort of a maternal instinct reserved in my heart just for her.

I gave Jackson a belly rub, an awkward action due to the small space of his belly, being a small dog, and penis in the middle of it, so it’s not like rubbing Dakota’s belly, which she loved until she got kidney disease. She often lay with her belly exposed, and if she got into trouble she immediately exposed her belly to display her submission. Love was her primary motivator – not food or territory protection. She did think of me as her territory and was protective of me, including time spent with other dogs, primarily Jackson, although she didn’t mind Lucy receiving my affection. Desi was her best dog friend. But Jackson deserves love too, and I feel sorry for him because he’s always second best in spite of his good behavior, so I rubbed his belly.

Next came the cat, JoJo, another furry creature who insists upon noisy, action-packed nocturnal events in my bedroom with necessary investigation upon closet items, laundry hamper clothes, and always the space under the bed. The mattress has become a favorite scratching and climbing post. JoJo has outgrown his cuteness for me and has become another poor substitute for my cat Luna, who passed four years ago in a tragic death caused by my accidentally applying Advantix, a flea and tick prevention for dogs, but which is fatal for cats. Luna was the sweetest cat known to humankind, and no other cat can ever replace her. I don’t think I can ever have another cat.

I miss my cat and my dog. I miss my babies.

Here’s a song from Sinead O’Connor who I used to listen to way back in the 90’s, a song that rips my heart out. I think she may be talking about abortions, and then a relationship with God that bloomed from that, so it’s not exactly appropriate, but it’s the song that comes to mind for me right now.


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