I have had pets in my life since I was born. There has never been a moment in my life when I haven't come home expecting to be greeted with licks or a hungry appetite that wants to be filled and never has there been a moment that I have not wanted this kind of welcome after a long day at school or work. Austin is a beautiful city and there is plenty to do but I feel myself each day waking with an odd feeling, an aching that is due to lack of animal friendship. I spend time with friends and we go to the movies, to a music club, or out for a day of outdoor adventures but when I return home to my overcrowded, stuffy, smelly, drab dorm room, my heart sinks immediately. I long to have a cat, asleep on my rigid bed, to look up at me with half open eyes, to yawn and meow at me, inviting a rub or two on the head or under the chin. I crave to open the door to find a white, fluffy puppy wagging a short, stubby tail in anticipation of a walk outside. Instead, I return home to two fish, whom I love dearly, but am unable to touch or take for a car ride. If there is one thing that I could have right now, I would not choose a fancy car, a 4.0 GPA, or a yearlong vacation to the Bahamas. I would instead choose to have a pet, a friend whose name I would never forget.

My adventure with animals started with two cats and a fluffy, black dog named Biscuit. Biscuit was a happy, lively dog with bangs that covered his eyes, giving him a comical appearance. I am unable to remember a lot about Biscuit's life but I do remember his jealousy over my stuffed animal. One Christmas when I was young, I received a Pound Puppy and I carried it everywhere with me from that point on. Biscuit took notice of this and became unhappy about the love I had for the stuffed animal. One pleasant afternoon, while I was engrossed in my imaginative world, I placed my Pound Puppy to the side and wandered off. When I arrived back to fetch my beloved stuffed animal, I gasped at the sight that lay before me. My Pound Puppy was covered in slobber and dirt and one of the ears had been torn apart. I cried and ran to my mother who promised to stitch the ear back together and the ear was placed aside for the time being. Shortly after this event, Biscuit escaped from the backyard during a lightning storm and never returned. My family received a phone call a few days later to inform us that Biscuit would not be returning home because he had been hit by a car. It was my first experience with death and it was hard for me to handle but I still thank the man who took the time to let my family know what had happened because otherwise I would still wonder what happened to Biscuit. My mother still has the ear that was never stitched back to its owner, and it reminds me each time I see it of my first dog Biscuit.

Spot

Frisky

My first cats, Spot and Frisky, got along well together and slept with me on my queen-sized bed every night. Occasionally there would be a fight between them over whom got to sleep next to my pillow, but this argument would usually end quickly with Spot's glares and hisses at Frisky. Spot felt that he was the male and head of the household and protector of all the residents while Frisky was merely a female who spent all her time licking her gleaming white fur. Frisky and Spot were pals and spent a lot of time roaming the neighborhood together. Spot was always a little more cautious than Frisky however, and often times Spot would go for days ignoring Frisky because he felt that one of her late nights was too much and deserved reprimanding. Frisky never let Spot's disapproval bother her, however, and she would continue on with her rendezvous as she wanted. Her carefree attitude eventually brought her to a terrible night that my entire family recalls with great remorse. Frisky and Spot were relaxing in the backyard together one night when a group of dogs entered through the gate that had been left open. Frisky dared to scare the dogs off while Spot ran and hid from the menacing group. Unfortunately, Frisky was unable to flee from the dogs and poor Spot witnessed her horrible death. My dad, who witnessed the end of the event, relayed the story to the rest of my family the next day. I have never seen my brother cry so much.

After Frisky's death, Spot was the only cat. He seemed to enjoy this but it was obvious that he yearned for Frisky to return. Before too long, however, Spot had two new friends, Polly and Fatso. The two sisters were adopted by my brother and I after a litter of pups was born from a friend's dog. Unfortunately the dogs were already named before we were able to adopt them so Fatso, a sweet, shy dog was doomed with a horrible name. Polly and Fatso ate all the grass in the backyard, ate all the flowers, dug holes, and tried to escape every chance they had. Polly was always so eager to get out that we eventually had to tie her up every night before we went to sleep. One night my dad saw her dangling from the fence and rushed out to save her. She had tried to jump over the fence but had been restrained by the rope, leaving her hanging from the fence. After this episode my family decided to give her to a family that had a big yard for her to run around in. This family lived close to my dad's work so one day he loaded her up in his truck and off they went. A few days later, as my dad was preparing to leave work, he spotted Polly outside the front door. He was bewildered as to how she had arrived there but he loaded her up and took her back to her new owners. This obviously upset Polly because a few days later, she arrived again but hid behind my dad's truck. As my dad was driving home, he looked in his rearview mirror and saw Polly running as fast as she could to keep up with him. My dad stopped and loaded her up once again and took her back to her new home. That was the last my dad saw of Polly but sometimes the new owners will stop by my dad's work to tell him how she is doing. Fatso, who still resides in my backyard, missed Polly although I think she enjoys the peace and quiet.

Spot seemed to enjoy the peace and quiet also but before he knew what was happening, he had yet another new family pet to deal with and this time the new pet was on his turf. I had always wanted a cat of my own and when I was eleven, my parents consented and I was presented with a beautiful orange cat whom I named Felix. I loved him so much and would rush home from school every day to play outside with him. He had the strangest meow; it sounded just like a baby lamb. I loved taking care of him and looked to him as I would a child. He gave me tons of affection that touched my heart. At first Spot and Felix did not get along but persistent Felix finally softened Spot and they became good friends. Spot became a protector of Felix and often times I would look out the window to see Spot cleaning Felix after a romp in the backyard. Felix and I did not have a lot of time together because shortly after his arrival in our home, he was killed. Unfortunately, he had been hiding on my brother's car tire. My brother unknowingly started his car and backed over him. I was devastated and vowed never to have another pet, knowing that another loss would stir up as much pain in me as the loss of Felix did.

Felix

Spot and Felix Relaxing

Although I had vowed to never have another pet, I could not resist my parents' offer to adopt a cat from a shelter. If I had refused the offer, then Cornelius and I would have never met and we would never have shared so many wonderful moments together. Right away I knew that Cornelius was the cat for me. He was hiding in the back of the cage while the other cats frantically tried to get to the front. As the cats toppled over each other, I pointed out Cornelius and soon after he was nestled in my arms with his head safely hidden in my hair. I was unaware at the time how important my hair would become but I soon experienced the oddest feeling later that night. Cornelius was curled up safely in a blanket I had prepared for him as I fell asleep but I later awoke, startled because something was pulling my hair. When I was able to figure out what was happening, I realized that Cornelius was kneading in my hair and loving it! It was so odd but yet so sweet. The kneading became a ritual before bed each night and whenever Cornelius was frightened, he went straight for my hair. This quirk of his made me feel important and special. Cornelius and Spot were best friends from the start and Cornelius became Spot's center of attention. Spot pampered Cornelius the way he had Felix and the two loved each other. Spot was getting sick due to cancer and Cornelius would watch after him but near the end of Spot's life, it was impossible for Spot to recognize him. My family eventually came to the decision that putting Spot to sleep would be the best thing. It was yet another sad time in my life and I did not have any clue that Cornelius would have to go shortly after. Cornelius too developed cancer and although my family did as much as we could to help him, there eventually came a time when he too had to be put to sleep. I stayed with Cornelius to the very end and let him snuggle in my hair so that he would not be scared.

Cornelius in My Violin Case

Cornelius on a Pile of Clothes

My house in Houston is an animal magnet. Animals flock to our home and find shelter in our garage and as luck would have it, a neighborhood stray had kittens there. Three days after I had put Cornelius to sleep, my brother fetched the last kitten from the garage and handed it over to me to take on as a new pet. My dad, who has never been an avid pet fan, took a fond interest in the new little kitten and christened it Boots. Boots is the wildest, feistiest cat I have ever encountered, yet she is just as sweet and cute. She meows at everything and fears nothing. I have seen her climb trees just as squirrels do and she likes to practice this technique on my mother's curtains. She, unlike my other cats, loves Fatso and curls up next to her to take naps. I love spending as much time with Boots and Fatso every trip home to Houston I make. When Fatso greets me with her smiling eyes and Boots with her anxious meows, I feel comforted and loved. I know that as long as they are alive, our friendship will be strong.

I wish that everyone was able to experience the joy and love I received from all of my pets. Unfortunately, I hear of too many cases of animal abuse and this greatly saddens me. Blake's poem, "Auguries of Innocence" is a good representation of my feelings toward this subject. I am unable to see how it would be possible for anyone to hurt an animal. My precious cats and dogs have given nothing but love to me and it has made me feel so special and it warms my heart every time I think about them. Although the loss of each one has been hard, having been able to share their time here on earth has been an adventure that means so much to me. I anticipate having several more pets in the future and adding on to my list.

Boots

Boots After Climbing the Curtains

Fatso

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