RANDOM REFLECTIONS: A Life with Animals
Today’s media are filled with articles extolling the positive effects of pets on our well-being, especially those of us who are retired. Dogs, for example, provide companionship, encourage physical activity and even introduce us to new friends and social groups.
Our blue heeler cross, Mozzie, aided in my husband’s recuperation from a hip replacement, immersed me in dog training programs and, at my relatively advanced age, started me in canine scent work competitions.
Increasingly, I appreciate the roles animals have played in my life — for instance, Sidney #1.
Born in 1946, I grew up in southwestern Ohio with younger sister, Debbie, a working father and a stay-at-home mother in a two-bedroom, one-bath tract home purchased with my dad’s GI benefits. That small house, which eventually had a detached garage, an added television room and a chain link fence surrounding the postage stamp backyard, was to become a haven for an assortment of creatures, although my Depression-era parents had little experience with companion animals.
In the “old days,” Woolworth’s Five and Dime sold pets. On one shopping trip, Debbie and I convinced our mother to buy us goldfish, but what we really coveted were the parakeets that chirped and flapped their tiny wings. We promised to clean the bird’s cage, teach it to sit on our shoulders and to talk. “Maybe someday,” promised Mom. “First, let’s see how you do caring for the goldfish.”
Dad, on the other hand, said, “No.” But that didn’t stop Debbie and me from checking out the budgies every chance we got.
As a civilian aircraft mechanic, skills perfected in the Army Air Corps during WWII, Dad was occasionally sent to remote locations to service jet fighters being developed by the Air Force. He always returned with wonderful gifts. But the best compensation ever was when Dad left for an extended assignment and we persuaded Mom to purchase a turquoise and white parakeet.
The three of us plotted strategies to get Dad to accept the new addition to the household. First, we determined to teach the bird tricks and behaviors to ingratiate himself into Dad’s good graces. Second, we decided to name the parakeet after Dad. How could he reject his namesake? We chose Dad’s middle name, Sidney.
Soon, Sidney was alighting on our shoulders and returning to his cage perched on our fingers. Expectantly, we waited for Dad’s return.
After his initial shock at our rebellion, Dad was smitten. Not only did Sidney prefer Dad’s shoulder, but his favorite landing pad was Dad’s balding head to gently tug on the remaining hairs with his little beak — which made us all smile.
Susan Bennett lives in Freshwater with a dog, a cat, a rabbit, a horse, a miniature horse, three chickens and her husband, Patrick Hurley.
