Several times a day I find myself asking the following question: Why do I have pets? As I am writing this my cats, Sydney and Spencer, are sitting right next to the laptop watching every keystroke. I’m not sure where Hank (our chocolate lab) is, but I imagine he is doing something he shouldn’t. Laying on the couch, eating the remote control, or searching for Angie’s Bigfoot house shoes.
Sydney and Spencer couldn’t be more different, but amazingly they are both equally annoying. Sydney is the “smaller one” (although she isn’t all that small) and she likes to be in the middle of everything. She follows us around the house constantly, and she has convinced herself that every time we sit on the couch she has an open invitation to our laps. If we don’t pet her just the way she wants, she has no qualms about letting us know, usually in the form of high-pitched meow screams that are too terrible to describe in mere words. Sydney is not afraid of Hank in the least and she constantly lets him know by swatting his nose when he walks by. That never gets old. Sydney has become a master at getting Hank in trouble, and she is constantly pushing various items off of the counter onto the floor so Hank will pick them up and commence destruction. It took us awhile to figure out how Hank was getting all these things, and then one day I caught her in the act. That darn cat.
Then there is Spencer. What can I say about Spencer? Whenever people first lay eyes on him they always say something like, “That’s the biggest cat I’ve ever seen!”, and rightly so since Spencer is about the size of a baby rhinoceros. There is only one word to properly describe him: huge. Not only is he tall, but he is extremely fat and weighs close to 20lbs. (Yeah, I know. We’re horrible pet owners). Spencer doesn’t have a social bone in his enormous body and prefers to be left alone. He spends about 22 hours a day on our bed and the other 2 he spends eating. Spencer is only passionate about one thing in his life, and that would be his hatred for Hank. Oh how he hates Hank. I think since Hank was a puppy he has been confused by Spencer’s size, and he believes Spencer must be another dog. As a result, Hank tries to play with Spencer every chance he gets, and man what a show. We should sell tickets to it.
Having three pets in the house has incredible benefits: smelly cat litter, massive amounts of hair piled up in every corner, astronomical vet bills (don’t even get me started), and a backyard full of dog bombs. So why do we do it? Why do we run a zoo? Usually about the time I ask that question Hank comes over and lays his head in my lap, or Sydney curls up beside me, or even occasionally Spencer will climb up and attempt to smother me with his love. What can I say..I guess I’m just a sucker.
