Brave Wacko PETS kostrubala

Critter (3/1987 to 12/21/1998)
Roy adopted Critter, and his brother Vermin, as kittens from the Tucson Humane Society. Critter became my favorite, while Vermin is everyone else's favorite. Critter had disdain for all animals other than his brother, and disdain for people, except for Roy and myself. He truly loved Roy and me.

That did not stop him from treating us as if we are his servants, however. He punished us for infractions, which we rarely could figure out what they were, with biting or do-doing on our bed. Usually my side of the bed. Critter never bit playfully. He always bit as if he were in a fight to the death. One had to pry his jaws open to get him off.

For awhile, Roy and I slept with the door closed, afraid for our lives that Critter would pounce on us in the night, sinking his fangs into our jugular veins, if he had access to us. He sent three different people to the doctor for treatment after one of his bites, including me with temporary nerve damage and loss of use of my hand after Critter decided he'd had enough brushing, so told me so by sinking his fangs deep into my hand.

I knew to feed him first thing.

Once when Mother was watching him, she went to the bathroom first. Critter marched into her bathroom, then bit her on her thigh as she sat on the commode, mad that she did not, first, go to the kitchen and feed him.

In America, we took Critter with us whenever we left town, because he bit folks at catteries or the vets. Once he had to be hospitalized. Of all the sick cats there, Critter was the only one with a sign - huge - that said, "WILL BITE."

Often Roy would put his arm around me, look at our cats, then lament, "If we had only Vermin, we'd brag that we did everything right! But, if we had only Critter, we'd shake our heads and wonder where did we go wrong." No one understood why Critter was my favorite, and I don't quite understand it either. I admire his

individualism, his opinionated personality, his intelligence and his independance.

I will be buried next to Roy and Critter when my time comes.

Fancy, the collie -

My first pet was a collie named Fancy. Though she was a good dog, turned out I simply do not like dogs. Something about my temperament and a dog's temperament that does not mix - at an early age I couldn't stand a dog's rambunctioness and tendency to follow me around, jump, lick, bark. So eventually Fancy was given to another good home.

But I've always been loyal to dogs - taking home strays, finding them good homes or reuniting them with their owners - because Fancy saved my life when I was four years old. A rattlesnake was all coiled up, ready to strike me - and I sat there oblivious to its dangerous presence - until Fancy saved the day.