Alexandra Bogdanovic's Blog: That's life... - Posts Tagged "pets"

For those of you who have read my book or know me personally, what I'm about to say won't come as a huge surprise.
Behind this gruff, snarly, outspoken, irreverent exterior, there actually beats a heart of gold. And as I write this, that heart aches for a man I've never met, for his family... and for his dog.
I came across his story while surfing the Internet this morning. It is a tale that will resonate with anyone who has ever had a pet, and with those of us who have had to make the terrible, heart-breaking decision about when and how to let our companion go.
Massachusetts State Trooper Christopher Coscia recently penned a moving tribute to his late K9 partner, Dante, that has garnered national media attention. As Coscia tells it, he and Dante worked side by side for 70 hours per week for nine years. Together they fought crime, caught their share of bad guys and formed a bond that few can understand.
But in the end, it wasn't a criminal, but a cruel and unexpected illness that ended Dante's career, and left his human partner with no choice but to end his suffering.
In need of comfort as I finished reading, I immediately turned to my best friend, who was curled up on my bed in the next room. Leaning over, I buried my head in his fur and listened to the reassuring thrum of his purr. I am sure Eli had no idea what made me so upset, or why his coat was getting soaked with tears. But he made no move to get away; a flick of his tail was the only sign he was perturbed.
It it is not the first time I have cried on his shoulder and I'm sure it won't be the last. But inevitably there will come a time when my 14-pound "pit bull in a cat costume" will no longer be here to provide such comfort. There will come a time where he will no longer climb on to my desk to "edit" my stories, or play with his blue ribbon. There will come a time when I will look under the Christmas tree and see the place where he once loved to sleep.
That is the time I dread. These are the times I cherish.
Tears are falling on my keyboard.
Until next time, "That's life..."

I have a confession to make. I committed an egregious sin this week...
But before we go any further, let me set the record straight. It is not a sin worthy of disclosure to a priest, nor is it anything morally reprehensible.
Come to think of it, Eli is probably the only one who really thinks I've committed a sin at all. But before we go any further, there's something you should know about Eli. He's my cat. And the "sin" I committed was trying to clip his claws.
Now those of you who don't have pets -- or more specifically, those of you who don't have cats -- are probably wondering why that's such a big deal. Just trust me, it is.
For my 8-1/2 year-old buff and white American Domestic Short Hair cat, claw clipping is the single worst thing that can possibly happen. Well, aside from missing a meal, of course.
In fact Eli, who also weighs in at a relatively hefty 14 pounds, hates having his claws clipped so much that his old vet had to sedate him in order to get the job done.
To make a long story short, let's just say that for various reasons Eli hasn't been to the vet for a while. And let's just say that for reasons known only to him, he failed to heed repeated warnings about sharpening his claws on the sofa.
So when he sunk his claws into the sofa on Wednesday night, I'd finally had enough. I picked him up, put him in my lap, and successfully clipped one claw. Eli then had what can only be described as a screaming, yowling, hissy fit. He also used a few of his exceedingly long claws to express his displeasure.
Wounded, I decided the fight wasn't worthwhile, and let him go. Not surprisingly, with tail lashing and hackles raised, he stalked away.
And not surprisingly, I felt horrible about what happened. I tried to give him his space. I tried to apologize. But he rebuffed each attempt with flattened ears and a warning hiss. After several hours, he deigned to eat some treats out of my hand, but rejected further peace offerings.
"Wow, he's really mad," I told my mom. "I guess I'm really in the doghouse."
Until next time, "That's life..."

If there's one thing I hate, it's someone with a sense of entitlement. If there's one thing I really hate it's a celebrity with a sense of entitlement.
So not surprisingly I wasn't impressed when Johnny Depp became the center of an epic controversy in Australia while I was there.
Apparently Mr. Depp arrived in the Land Down Under on a private jet. In and of itself, that is certainly no big deal. It only became a big deal because he (allegedly supposedly purportedly reportedly) brought his dogs along... without informing the proper authorities.
Needless to say, the proper authorities -- who are tasked with enforcing the country's rigorous immigration and customs regulations -- weren't impressed when they learned about the (alleged) transgression. Because all domestic animals that enter Australia must be quarantined to ensure they aren't bringing any dangerous parasites or other diseases into the country that could harm animals or people, the Australian minister of agriculture was especially peeved.
In televised appearances, he said the laws apply to everyone -- and that ignorance is no excuse for disobeying them. Then he basically told Mr. Depp to take his dogs and go home -- or else.
The media ate it up. In quintessential Australian style, the press dubbed the controversy "The War on Terriers." It was so wrong -- funny -- but wrong.
Whether he cared to admit it or not, Johnny Depp was wrong, too. As an Australian, I was angry that he thought he could just waltz into town with his dogs in tow and get away with breaking the law. As an American I wasn't surprised.
Until next time, "That's life..."

The following is written in celebration of National Best Friends Day.
With apologies to my human pals (and believe it or not, I do have some), none of you will get a mention in this blog. It's not that you don't deserve it. You know you do.
But in honor of National Best Friends Day, I decided to dedicated to dedicate this blog to Eli. After all, he's never trash talked me behind my back. He's never spread any rumors or engaged in malicious gossip (that I know of). He's never betrayed me and never doubted my devotion to him.
He's a great listener; he sits quietly as I tell him about my day, or rant about politics or sports.
He's always been a shoulder to cry on, even though I know how much he hates getting wet.
He's not all that demanding, either. All he ever asks for is food, water, and a little affection once in a while.
That's not to say we always get along. We've had our share of disagreements and sometimes I get the worst of it. But Eli doesn't hold a grudge... and I try not to. Even if I do, it doesn't last for long.
In case you haven't figure it out, Eli is my cat. He's also my best friend.
Until next time, "That's life..."