Warnings: Slight humor,
odd names for animals
Disclaimer: I don't own Ray, but I made up
Ray's mother. Ray's pets are based off of my own. The plot is what
happened to me this morning.
Author's Notes: The storyline basically follows my morning. I hate having to wake up early on Saturday mornings, but one of our dogs ran out the door. I know, it doesn't sound bad, but when you take into account the speeders and wild animals, finding your pet is first priority.
Cats and Dogs
I groan as I risk a glimpse at my alarm clock. The green numbers showed me the exact time: 8:03. Despite having been in bed since 10 last night, my cat Kit-Kit was in heat, and I was dealing with her the entire night. I thought about putting her in my parent's bedroom and shutting my bedroom door so she wouldn't get back in, but then Kit-Kit would be "crying" all night long. Her crying was a loud, sad meow that seemed to drag on forever. It seemed to break the hearts of anyone who heard it - except for my mother and step-father. I bet they regret not getting Kit-Kit spayed. It's a bit too late now, since she's going on 11 this May.
I decide to lay in bed a bit longer, gently petting Kit-Kit as I did so. In a house with a younger sister, two cats, and two dogs, things got hectic a lot.
When I was four, there was an old man whose cat had just had kittens. I had been wanting a cat since I could talk, so my parents took me to the old man's house to see what the kittens were like. The first kitten I liked was psycho, to say the least. As soon as it saw my father, my mother and I (my parents were still together), it bolted from the room. The next kitten seemed to be a bit bitter to the others, but the other kittens seemed to be picking on her. It was that kitten that I adopted, and her name (after many arguments with my parents) became Kit-Kit.
A year or so later, my parents divorced. When I was around 8 or 9, my mother and stepfather adopted a small litter of four puppies from my step-grandmother. My step-grandmother's dog had puppies, but no where for them to go. We had a large fenced-in area next to our trailer, so we decided to give those puppies a temporary home. Though three dogs were adopted, we decided to keep the "runt." He was a beautiful border collie, entirely black save for a spot of white on his chest. We named him Jake.
When I was about 12, Jake had bitten my mother. His thyroid problem was getting worse, and we decided to put him to sleep to protect the rest of my family, especially my little sister, who had just been born. About half a year after Jake's death, we adopted a half beagle, half daschund mix, named Rocky, from the local animal shelter. We welcomed Rocky into our family with open arms, and Rocky was absolutely thrilled with his home. The night I met Rocky (my parents had adopted him when I was at my father's house), he laid next to me on the couch, under my blanket the entire night.
Rocky and Kit-Kit weren't the best friends. Things got even more hectic when my stepfather found a kitten sitting on the tire of his Pontiac! Though the kitten had fleas, she was absolutely beautiful - a Russian blue with fur lined with silver. We decided to keep her and named her Kierra, but my mother later gave her the nickname "Carebear." Although Penny didn't like Carebear, Rocky and Carebear became friends.
When Carebear was a few years old, we adopted another dog from the local animal shelter, named Buster, or Buzz for short. Buzz has been a pain in our butts, since he still acts like a puppy. He's barely over a year old. In fact, I hear my mother shouting at him right now. It's not surprising at all, but I decide to get out of bed to see why he's in trouble, anyway. I don't bother to get changed - I'm just wearing my red and black tie-dye shirt and black shorts.
I leave my bedroom, leaving the door open in case Kit-Kit would like to come out with me. I saw my mother in the kitchen, looking distressed and talking on the phone. She took a quick break from her conversation to ask me a question, "Can you find Buzz? He got out the door when I was letting Rocky inside."
"Sure," I agree, even though my fondness lies with cats. My mother asks me to get changed, but I tell her Buzz is more important than my clothes. I slip on a pair of sneakers and dash outside. In my haste to find Buzz, I don't even feel the frigid morning air.
My mother had muttered something about Buzz taking off towards our neighbor's house, and feeling that was the best place to begin my search, I run into the front yard towards the neighbor's house. Looking ahead, I don't see any flattened weeds. Even Buzz was heavy enough to flatten the weeds should he run through them, even though he's only 24 or so pounds.
As I'm about ready to take a right, towards the road, I hear something coming from behind me. It's impossible to be stealthy with the ground making a "squelching" sound whenever you lift up your foot. Through my mind runs two possibilities - Buzz is coming, or one of the neighbor's dogs.
I turn around and looked behind me. Instead of seeing a big dog, I see a familiar-looking dog, part daschund, with a pretty funny looking face. Seriously, Buzz's face is funny looking. His bottom lip is too big, and his lower jaw sticks out too far. One of his fangs sticks out of the corner of his mouth, despite the time of day. He's cute in his own funny looking way.
Right before Buzz sprints past me, I manage to get a hold of him. I hug him towards my chest, trying to endure his struggles to escape. He kicks me with all four legs, his claws scratching me. Once he calms down a little, I stand up (I had to bend down to catch him) and walk towards the house. He just looks at me with sad, brown eyes. Perhaps he had just been looking for some excitement?
I barely manage to get the door open, but upon entering the house and shutting the door behind me, I kick off my sneakers, which are covered in mud. As I walk into the kitchen, I yelled to my mother, "I got Buzz!"
I half walk, half jog, to the bathroom and hurriedly shut the door behind me. Buzz hates to be shut inside a room, and he can tell when you're going to shut the door. He's not as dumb as he looks, sometimes. I pull out a spare towel and soak it in lukewarm water, wringing it out some before I set it on the floor next to my feet. I could hold Buzz up by the counter, but if he fell wrong, he would hurt his legs. If he was close to the floor, he wouldn't get hurt.
I sit with my legs cross on the floor, and I pull Buzz into the small gap between my legs. Immediately, he struggles. I couldn't blame him - most dogs will get uncomfortable if you forcibly force them onto their backs. I didn't want his discomfort to be prolonged, so I held him down as began to wipe off the worst of the mud on his chest, belly, and paws. I wasn't going anywhere down south - he could reach down there, so he could clean that off himself.
I finish wiping him off before he knows it, and I look down at my own arms and legs to discover that I'm covered in mud, too! I scratch his chest and playfully remark, "Now you've got me covered in mud, too." I may have been imagining things, but it seemed like he smiled at my comment.
I let him go and dig around under the sink for another towel. I soak this one in cold water - honestly, I couldn't care less how warm the water was. It was definitely warmer than the air outside! Buzz watched me with amusement in his eyes as I scrubbed at my arms and legs with the navy blue towel. It wasn't long before he lost interest and plopped himself down by the door, whimpering softly. Done with my task, I open the door and let him go. I could've yelled at him, but I knew he would get yelled at plenty of times by the time dinner was ready.
For a moment, everything is peaceful and quiet. But only for a moment. It wasn't too long before I heard the hissing of cats and barking at dogs. And my mother thought I was joking when I told her that we live in a zoo!
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Author's Note: How'd you like it? The zoo comment was completely serious, too. Buzz always chases the cats, but then Rock goes to the cats's aide and chases Buzz. Buzz forgets about the cats and he and Rock start wrestling in the living room. Buzz always loses, though...Rock sits on Buzz's head, and then Buzz can't move. It's hilarious.