Pets

Last night was so upsetting to me. When it rains, it pours. I have, like, zero energy right now but I felt like writing anyway. Bear with me. So Mom calls and tells me that Ollie--her beagle, he's about a year old--got really sick. She noticed it on Monday night; he had the chills, and was weak. By yesterday, he was throwing up and--when he started having no energy to even stand--she rushed him to the vet. While the vet still doesn't know what caused it, it looks like some kind of poison got into Ollie's bloodsteam. She's guessing that, while out for a walk, he licked something up off the ground that got lodged in his system and didn't pass correctly through his digestive track. I can't tell you how upset I was, knowing that Mom was sitting there in KFC and waiting for the vet to call and feeling so alone. She'd gotten Ollie against my "better judgment." I'd thought, heck, you're moving out here--why get a puppy that you'll have to lug across the country with you! But Ollie has been such a joy for her, providing her company and comfort. He sure is a goofball; I had the chance to hang out with him over the holidays and he fits right in with our wacky family. He's lucky to have my mother....He'd been taken into the Humane Shelter after being found malnourished on the streets. Pets either have it really lucky or not so much, depending on who takes them in. Ollie is a spoiled brat, but in a good way! Needless to say, when my brothers and I got the call yesterday we all got very sad. Aaron told me how unfair this was, this happening to Ollie and Mom. I agreed. I got angry with God, just pissed off at the Universe. Last night and this morning, we all received the full scoop on Ollie's recovery. The vet, whom my mother says is a kind and patient woman, stayed with Ollie late last night and came in early to work this morning. She's run a bunch of tests, and it looks like Ollie is now in the clear. She told my mom that she hadn't wanted to say this last night, but if my mother hadn't brought him in when she did there was a chance he wouldn't have made it. But my mom has amazing instincts, and just knew. As I look back on this event--even in my current tired daze--I can't believe what an interesting relationship I've had, and have, with pets. I'm so good with people, but--first off--plants and flowers better find other homes....Example: Jim gave me a purple orchid once and let's just say it went to Orchid Heaven in record time. With pets too, I've always been fickle. I am allergic to some breeds of cats (depending on the dander) and I just don't always have the time, energy, or financial resources that I believe pets deserve. I kind of steer clear in this department. Who knows--this could go back to many sources: finding Elsa, after she'd accidentally gotten her chain caught in the cracks of our stairs in Lemont and hung herself; Squint getting hit by a car, and watching how this devastated Mom; putting Charlie to sleep, and how the drugs didn't kick in right away, and they had to give him six shots and then he just lay there on that cold tile floor and we all cried and Jordan--who so rarely cries in front of anyone--wandered off around the building outside and Aaron ran off to comfort him. I mean, my connections with people take so much out of me--I've been betrayed and loved, accepted and defied, lusted after and rejected, embraced and smiled at--and I spend so much time figuring out my friendships and my relationships with guys and my family's past that this whole Pet Picture gets put on the back-burner of the Nathan Scope. Still, lately I've been thinking about pets a lot, the unconditional love they so often offer--a kind of love we rarely find with people. Olive, Carly's cat, sure has won me over. She follows me from room to room, and loves to be petted, and she lies on my chest while I watch TV. She knows when I'm sad and she purrs and puts a paw against my cheek and just leaves it there. This past weekend, while I was outside washing windows, she followed me from window to window on the inside and spied on me. And even when she's being bad, like jumping on the kitchen table and knocking things over, she just looks at me and tilts her head and purrs, "Who, me?" Gotta love her. So yeah--love comes in so many forms and I'm maybe--just the tiniest bit--becoming a pet person. Maybe I'm one of those rare cases that works backwards; they say if you can nurture a plant then you should move on to a pet and then on to people; I've kinda got the people part down (a process I'll be working on forever, though), and I'm in the midst of understanding animals, and soon enough I may be able to nurture another purple orchid. This one will bloom bright and strong.