Love Me, Love My Pet

Reigning Cats and Dogs

Remember back in the late 1800s when we were all growing up? Most households had two parents (What a concept!), a stay-at-home Mom, one car, two and a half kids, a house with a picket fence – never heard of a condo and did not know anybody who lived in an apartment – although some families of limited means rented houses or portions thereof. Most every house had a dog as a family pet. They had names like Pinkie, Poochie, Pippi, Peppy. Or for those of us who weren’t into alliteration, and less were creative, they might be named Blackie, Brownie, Spot, Lassie, or Laddie.

Even our first Readers had a dog named Spot who belonged to Dick and Jane. See Spot run. Run Spot, run. Dogs seemed to follow boys on their adventures more than girls. Girls played with dogs in the house but did not take them to cheerleader or majorette practice. Norman Rockwell painted scenes of “Americana” that included boys and dogs. T.V. shows included dogs who could literally understand their young boy master. “Run home Lassie. Tell Mom I fell in the well.” And the dog did! Oh, not to burst your bubble, but I once did research on Lassie and discovered that “she” was actually a “he.” And that was before we knew the term transgender.

I had a dog while growing up. Actually Pinky did not live with me because my mother would not allow it, so he lived with my grandparents but I considered him my dog. He was a “city dog,” which means he ran in, around, and through traffic and was never run over. He did love to chase cars, though, nipping at their tires. I could never understand what he planned to do if he ever caught one.

All our dogs were mutts. We as a society had not yet been sold the bill of goods about breeding and traits of specific breeds. The dog in the T.V. series “Little Rascals” was mostly a pit bull terrier but never was vicious or bit anybody.

After I married I had a series of dogs – a beagle mix, a poodle/sheepdog mix (I’m sure it was an interesting courtship), a mixed terrier finally a purebred poodle, then the only one that was ever purchased – a something-poo that was supposedly a new mixed breed. But Lacy, although she cost $ 1,000, was certifiably insane and we had to give her away.

During my entire life I had never owned a cat, if a cat can indeed be “owned.” One cold winter morning about 5 years ago while putting up holiday lights we heard a faint “meow” and saw a pure black cat shivering behind a bush. We took it in “until we could find its owner,” and still have it. Cats don’t fetch, don’t come when called, don’t chase cars, don’t do tricks, and if you fall in the well, will not go home to fetch Mom. There is an adage, only too true, “A dog has a master. A cat has a staff.” How true.


A little blogging music Maestro... Today, please play two, Elvis Presley doing “Hound Dog,” and “Year of the Cat” by Al Stewart.

Dr. Forgot

This, That, and the Other

Toothache Pain Can Drive One to Extraction

Sugar Baby: The fastest growing group with tooth decay is children. Sugar treats, candy, soda, and juice boxes are suspected culprits. Mamas, don’t let your toddlers grow up to be sugar babies.

Guns don’t shoot people, morons do: At this writing an arrest has been made in the Interstate 64 shootings in Virginia. Tests are required before one can drive, before one can get married, or before a person can graduate from high school. But any idiot with a few hundred dollars in his pocket can buy a gun. Oh, and while we’re on the subject, it might take a blood test to get married but any idiot can make a baby (ok, so it takes two idiots). The NRA sings its woeful tune, “When guns are outlawed only outlaws will have guns.” Here’s a newsflash, THE OUTLAWS ALREADY HAVE GUNS!

From the top to the slop: Times are tough for many people, unless of course you are the head honcho at Bear Sterns or other CEOs who have burned through their company’s money then jumped ship with a golden parachute. Good Friday became Black Friday when a California single mom with two kids lost her $ 70K per year job. She burned through her savings and her Mom moved in with her to help pay the mortgage. When she was flat busted she applied for food stamps – and was turned down! She’s caught in limbo. Her fall was so fast that the system still sees her as middle class and therefore ineligible for help. How many of us are one paycheck away from poverty?

Love me, love my dog: It’s a dog’s life. I’ve often said that if there is anything to reincarnation I want to come back as Mrs. Dr. Forgot’s dog. She’s not the only empty nester whose pets have become their babies. Cats have taken over the #1 spot (As the DiNiro character said to the Adam Sandler character, “Cats don’t sell out.”) but dogs are still the most pampered, especially small dogs. “Beverly Hills Chihuahua,” a movie about pampered pets is opening soon. Tokyo now has an annual “Dog Fiesta for the little nippers, and a little rat terrier has a place in the Guinness Record book for the smallest drug sniffer. Their owners don’t even care if they bite the hand that feeds them.

Divided they fall: No less an expert than Democratic Party Chair John Dean has taken his two squabbling children to the woodshed for a stern talking-to. His message to Senators Obama and Clinton is that the dirty little mud balls that are being thrown should be aimed at the real enemy – the other side. To continually smear each other is to hand the election on a silver platter, albeit a muddy one, to the Senator from Arizona.

Just your average good old boy hero: While the Dems are wrapping the foot they continually shoot themselves in, the McCain camp airs its first campaign ad. The white haired tortoise just keeps rolling along.

A little blogging music Maestro… any cut from the Jackson’s album, Victory.”

Dr. Forgot

Bet on It

Dry, On the Rocks, or Straight Up

Lights dim to in Vegas? Dam bad news: A study released recently by the Scripps Institution of Oceanography in La Jolla predicts that within eight years there is a 50-50 chance that water levels in Lake Mead will have receded to the point that it is impossible to generate hydroelectric power. If it proves true not only will the Valley of the Dollars and famous Strip be effected but few realize that the lion’s share of the power generated by Lake Mead turbines goes to Southern California.

The Colorado river which flows into Lake Mead currently operates at a deficit of one million acre-feet of water per year. That amount serves the needs of eight million people. Rather bet on a long shot? The same experts predict a 10 percent chance the lake will dry up within six years and a 50-50 chance the lake will disappear and the Colorado River will become a dry gulch in about a dozen years.

Take my poodle… please: Ever watched those silly dogs prancing around in circles leading their masters and mistresses by the leash? Each year mutts of every uppity description drag their doting owners to the Westminster Kennel Club annual dog show in New York. The canines tolerate their humans and indulge them in allowing for all sorts of grooming, stroking, coaxing, and making absolute asses of themselves (the people, not the dogs) as they prance around the track with their charges.

If you are not steely enough to bet on whether or not Lake Mead will dry up and Las Vegas will return to real desert landscaping in a few years, perhaps a canine wager is your cup of tea. If you happen to meander into the nearest casino sports book – the Wynn for one – you are now able to prognosticate on the odds can be found among those of basketball, hockey, and horse racing winners. Buss your beagle, pick your poodle, sidle up to your shepherd, or cheer for your chow. The televised dog contest was moved from USA to CNBC so as not to conflict with “WWE Monday Night Raw.” Must be quite a spillover between the two audiences.

My mortgage has fallen and it can’t get up: It is no news flash that the real estate market is down and foreclosures are up. Rates are down but repos are up. Feds want to help but aren’t sure how so mortgage holders have gotten step with the frigid weather and have decided to freeze foreclosures for now. Project Lifeline as it is called, will meet with seriously overdue mortgagees and try to work out a plan to help them keep their homes. Three cheers for the companies who have agreed to the plan. They may be a day late and their borrowers a dollar short, but it is a start.

A little blogging music Maestro… “Home is Where the Heart Is” by Elvis.

Dr. Forgot

Love Me Love My Dog

You da MAN!

Growing up in my house the 1950s in Clairton, PA was different that growing up elsewhere. We had rules that we did not challenge. One had to do with television sets and the dangers they posed. Of course we were not the first on the block to get a TV or even the second. But when we finally did get the brand new Sylvania TV with Halolight (a muted light that surrounded the TV screen) the rule went into effect - Do not sit closer than six feet from the screen or it will ruin your eyes.

Another rule had to do with Coca Cola. We were forbidden to drink any pop (that is Pittsburgh for soda or soft drink) especially Coke. The reason? Clair Benedetto up the street drank coke and she had stomach problems. It did not matter what other issues were involved or what the nature of the stomach problems might have been. If Clair had stomach problems and she drank Coke, that was enough to ban all soft drinks from our environment. Of course, whenever we went to our grandparent's home, the pop flowed freely.

A third rule was no dogs allowed. I'm not sure why this rule was in place. We did not know in the 1950s that children were allowed to ask questions. They were given rules and had to obey them. End of story. So we did not have the luxury of having a dog in the house, but the Benedettos up the street had several over the years. I remember Pippi especially, a small brown dog.

It was from that frame of reference that once on my own I was almost never without a dog, and more recently a cat. When I married Mrs. Forgot a half sheep dog, half fence-jumping poodle named Lassie came with the deal. Lassie was smart and obedient. She rarely barked except when the water heater began to make noises. We were protected from any wayward water heater that might plan to break into the house and cause us harm, Lassie saw to that. She also loved to play soccer, nosing a ball around the outside perimeter of the pool.

But at age 15 she began to slow down. It was clear her life was in its twilight when she no longer barked at the water hearer heater. One evening after dinner, as was the custom, I let her into the back yard to do the things that are done after dinner. When she did not return after her usual 15 minute break I went out and found her unable to stand. She had apparently had a stroke of some sort and one side of her body would not respond. Try as she might, her left two legs would stand but her right two would not listen to the commands of her brain. I took her to the vet and tearfully said my goodbyes. It was the most difficult thing I ever had to do.

Since then we've gone through the life cycle of two other pets and era always causes reflection. When they are puppies or kittens they are so full of energy and mischief. As they grow they become loyal, fun, and unconditionally loving. It matters not how difficult your day has been, whether you're upset do to road rage on the way home, or whether the holiday bills have put you in a foul mood. When you walk into the house, regardless of the day's traumas, you are met by one who treats you as though you are the most important person in the world - the only one who matters.

It is no wonder that our pets are now treated so well that they are living longer than ever. In fact, over the past 50 years or so the life expectancy of domesticated animals has nearly doubled. Pets now get better nutrition, better care, and have a better health plan than most of their masters. Vets today are like lawyers. You hate to go to them but they are necessary in keeping your life in order. Vets have a much better deal than other doctors. It is true that most doctors, with the possible exception of pediatricians, get bitten by their patients, but pets rarely complain, rarely cry, and hardly ever sue for malpractice.

Even hotels are getting into the pet act. More and more accept pets and many upscale hotels offer spa treatment for the pets as well. What a life! A little blogging music to go with our animal post maestro... do you know "How Much is That Doggie in the Window?"

Dr. Forgot