animal human bond

Is this When My Love Affair with Animals Began?

Posted by Barbara Techel

barb and kitty eI don’t remember much from being a little girl. Well, yes, bits and parts, it’s details I don’t remember like so many others seem to. This has always bothered me because John can remember so much of his childhood – even when he was 2-years old.

The other day, my mom gave me this photo of me as a little girl with our cat Tiger. I love to see photos like this trying to remember details. What was going through my head at that age? Is this when my love for animals began?

But the cards were against me and my love of animals, when I was diagnosed with asthma. One of the biggest culprits to bring on my attacks was animal dander — especially from cats. It seemed such a cruel trick for someone like myself who loves animals.

As a child, I remember we had to find a new home for our poodle, Pixie. Turning blue and freaking my mom out all the time was taking it’s toll I suppose. I say that lightly, but if I could get in my head at that age, I’d likely have taken not breathing well over having a pet.

That is how it would play out when I got married and had a home of my own. I wanted a cat so bad. I was willing to deal with the “inconvenience” of my lungs not being able to take in air very well.

To some, I know that sounds odd. But being around animals is what makes my heart sing. It never seemed fair that I had to deal with this health challenge when I love animals so much.

For many years, John and I had cats. Jezabelle, Conway, Tigger, Sally, Tucker and Dani. Not all at one time of course, but three at one time.

It really wasn’t until the last one, Dani, passed away quite a few years ago that we decided no more cats. It would also be a few months later that I realized how my breathing changed for the better.

Having dogs, luckily, are a different story as their dander does not bother me nearly as much. So I guess this is the compromise – dogs and happy lungs. I can live with that.

But, oh, if I had my way, I’d have a whole farm of animals to tend to. Maybe in my next life. And please, dear universe, grant me wonderful lungs then too.

Friday Fun – I See You.

Posted by Barbara Techel

Friday funDachshunds are notorious for burrowing in blankets. Gidget is no exception. I think she is under her blanket more than she is not.

Such was this case this morning. I was deep into some writing, lost track of time, and almost lost track of where I was which happens sometimes when I’m in full out writing mode.

After I was done writing, still somewhat dazed, I looked up from my computer, and glanced Gidget’s way to see her sweet little face slightly peeking out of her blanket. Well if that didn’t break the spell I was under, as a big grin spread across my face, I let out a small chuckle, and before I knew it, I was grounded back in place again.

Ah, the magic of dogs!

Kylie: The Helper Dog

Posted by Barbara Techel

IMG_2228 eIn case you are new to following my online journal, in fun, I sometimes refer to my husband, John, as the Gingerbread man when he is all bundled up in his winter bib overalls and coat which is a ginger color. And Kylie, normally a strawberry colored Lab in the summer, her coat turns almost the same ginger color as John’s bibs and coat during the winter months. Hence, the reference below as Gingerbread man and Gingerbread dog.

The Gingerbread dog has very important tasks at the end of each day. Rain, snow, or sleet, she is needed.

Her job—assist the Gingerbread man.

Being a Gingerbread man running his own construction business of remodeling Gingerbread houses, this calls for an attentive assistant.

One that can be at his side to help haul materials from the Gingerbread work shed to the Gingerbread van.

Kylie, the Gingerbread dog must be on her toes, ready to assist and give a lending paw.

So you see, this is the idea of the Gingerbread man.

But the Gingerbread dog has other plans.

This should come as no surprise when you are a Labrador.

There is no time to assist the Gingerbread man who is struggling through the snow to carry work horses.

Oh no! Gingerbread dog must sniff the ground, burying her snout deep, to sniff out intruders that come upon our land.

Then she must fall to the ground, rub her head in some disgusting dropping left from the intruder as the Gingerbread man tries to stop her. The operative word here being tries.

But Gingerbread man loses…. every. single. time.

Gingerbread dog, happy with leaving her scent behind to stop the intruders and let them know this is her territory, trots off down the path, full of happiness that only a Lab can know.

Gingerbread man shakes his head in disgust, but also smiles, for the love of a dog who is his best friend.