One Is Never Enough
By Francis Battista
As I leaned over the wash basin this morning, I caught a side-long reflection of myself in the mirrored shower door that gave me pause.
No, nothing to do with weight or age. The image of interest was Treat, our effortlessly elegant black cat, perched on my horizontal back and kneading my blue sweater. I realized how fortunate I am - and how deprived of such simple pleasures are those who don't share the company of animals.
To watch one of our cats sit beside the cat door and bop other cats with a soft paw as they enter is just very silly and very funny. (Imagine if you hid behind a door at home and every time another family member passed through, you biffed them in the head with a foam bat and then everyone carried on as if nothing at all unusual had happened!)
Bismark, our very large, longhaired shepherd, can be very intimidating in my unattended car or when letting out a basso profundo bark at a stranger's footstep down the front walk. This makes his protective and affectionate relationship with fluffy, stuffed toys all the more absurd. He doesn't chew them or tear them. Rather, he carries them gently and possessively in his huge maw, tail wagging slowly and contentedly, his big head down and eyes up with a slight gloating expression. This sort of thing gently takes the mickey out of one's own absurd possessiveness of material things.
Walking into the cat quarters with 17 well fed, contented cats ready for a collective nap and receiving their slow blinks of affection and secret knowledge is as mystical an experience as a Zen rock garden.
And then there is bedtime. Since our home doubles as an extra sanctuary for dogs with special needs, we have 17 dogs here. Tucking in 34 dogs and cats (and they do expect to be tucked in!) demands a ritual that would make the Vatican proud. Baby and Dotty need special feedings, while the rest of the cats need compensatory stroking, cuddling, and chirruping. The dogs, arrayed around the kitchen, catch cookies tossed to each in turn like infield practice. The klutzy dogs - those who watch the treat sail in a gentle arc and then let it bonk them on the noggin - get direct hand-to-mouth passes. The rest execute perfect timing with the occasional interception. Next, everyone goes out into the yard to tend to late-night business and then each to their customary bed and customary arguments with the customary dog.
Life without them is almost unimaginable.
Francis' Tips for Multiple Pet Households
Get over the furniture. Washable "Indian blanket" spreads and similar inexpensive coverings are easy maintenance, look good, and save the argument with the dogs.
If your dog, like mine, has a habit of getting on the table to look out the window, don't waste your time trying to train the dog. MOVE THE TABLE!
Wall-to-wall carpet is an accident waiting to happen. Hardwood, tiles, vinyl, or stone with rugs are best.
Thank goodness for babies. After all, where would we be without baby gates? Sure, some smart alec can always hop over, but it beats the jailbreak of a dozen dogs rushing to greet visitors and houseguests.
Comfy washable cat and dog beds, the kind you can toss in the washer, knock the socks off the kind that need "some assembly."
Generous outdoor cat enclosures, built around or outfitted with cat trees, give the kitty monsters the pleasure of the great outdoors without inserting themselves into the local food chain or driving the song birds, chipmunks, or other small moving targets from the environment.
Lots of shelving and nooks with washable fluffies for the cats make for peaceful inter-feline relations.
Give the dogs their due: Feed them in the order of the hierarchy that they have established amongst themselves but give them all loads of attention and let them know that they are part of the family. They need this more than anything.
Don't start worrying about what the neighbors think. Just emulate the upper classes - they, like you, are completely eccentric, anyway.
