On 6/11/2015 3:58 PM, MaryL wrote:
On 6/11/2015 10:13 AM, jmcquown wrote:
On 6/11/2015 9:54 AM, MaryL wrote:
On 6/11/2015 8:12 AM, jmcquown wrote:

Thanks, Mary! I know about not cutting down to the quick. I grew up
with birds and birds have claws, too.

Jill

Aha! I should have remembered that. You had a bird when I read your
first messages on rpca.

MaryL

I grew up with parakeets/budgies. Birds were the only pet my father
would allow in the house. For some reason he did not like cats. Which
is odd, because when my middle brother was about 11 years old they got
him a kitten. (Princess was a small orange tabby, looked a lot like
Buffy.) Then we were transferred to Thailand and couldn't take Princess
with us so we gave her to my aunt. Princess was allowed to run loose
outside and was hit by a car. (sigh)

Jill

Our household had some similarities. I grew up in a rural part of
northeast Ohio, and we had a lot of animals--ponies and a horse, cats,
wonderful collies (the "Lassie"-type), plus chickens, turkeys, etc. We
had parakeets, and Mother did not permit any other animal in the house.
The dogs were killed on the road, and when my cat was also killed on
the road I swore that I would never have another cat or dog until I
could keep it in the house. I stuck to that decision.

I think it's a good decision. I know all about the indoor-outdoor
debate, don't want to get into that. Suffice to say indoors is safer
than outdoors wherever I've lived.

I got my first cat (as an adult) when I left for graduate school in Lincoln, Nebraska
and wanted a companion. My mother seemed to understand how I felt, and
after that time she always accepted my cats in her home when I returned
home at Christmas and for summer vacation. Years later, she moved into
my home (east Texas) after my father died, and I became her sole
caretaker. She actually enjoyed spending time with my cats (first
Amber, then Holly - both RB). One of my favorite pictures is a picture
of Mother asleep on the sofa with Amber stretched out beside her.

MaryL

That's a sweet picture to have (and a nice memory). My mother never
did get used to Persia. They had a mutual understanding: we both live
here. You don't bother me, I won't bother you. Fair enough.

My dad had an attitude about my dog, Sampson. When I was getting
divorced and had to temporarily move back in with my folks he was all
"You're not bringing that dog into my house." Okay, I'll find another
place to live. (Grudgingly) "Okay, bring the dog." He was a small dog,
what possible harm could he do? Next thing I knew Dad was on the floor
playing with the dog and Mom was cooking him scrambled eggs for
breakfast after I left for work. Criminitly! No wonder he won't eat
his Alpo!

Jill