Left Brain and the Menagerie...or...What's new? Pussycat?

Left Brain often blogs about the menagerie that lives with us, so I thought I’d go for something somewhat the same. 

I decided to blog about Left Brain and his love of the menagerie!

Left Brain was raised in a home with no animals.  Oh, he says they got a dog they kept out in the yard once he was grown and had moved on, but his childhood years were bereft of the fun pets can and do provide.

Because of this, Left Brain tends to be both amused and amazed at what he learns as we go along.

When I entered Left Brain’s world, I came into it with one dog.  Sherman.  Sherman is a bulldog and if you know bulldogs you know they can be stubborn.  Sherman is not so very stubborn, what he tends to be is aloof.  All other quadrupeds are beneath him in his humble estimation.  He often wins “best behaved” at dog events.  When Left Brain first met Sherman, Sherman was just out of his puppyhood.  This meant that Sherman loved to play.  Left Brain did too.  They played fetch for hours and to hear Left Brain’s laughter at this dog made my heart light.

Sherman, however, is very much a mama’s boy.  He loves Left Brain, loves him a great deal, but soon came Left Brain’s dog of a lifetime. 

We decided Sherman was too much alone with both of us working.  Sherman then gained a bulldog brother by the name of Custer.  Custer it turns out decided he was owned by Left  Brain and that he owned Left Brain, right back.

When Custer arrived he was 11 months old with a horrid case of mange and the name of Fat Man.  Left Brain had always wanted to name our first dog together Custer.  It turns out we did change his name to Custer, but Custer is NOT in any way, shape or form, my dog.

Custer is a perpetual 2 year old bulldog due to brain damage as a result of the severe beatings he suffered at the hands of his previous owners.  He bonded so firmly with his master that his master cannot go to the bathroom without either finding him sitting atop his underwear as he uses the toilet or woeful sighs or protestations from Custer if he is shut out of the room.  He is Left Brain’s shadow. 

Many fights have started between “the boys” as they have come to be called because Left Brain is owned by Custer.  If Sherman gets too close or gets too much attention, Custer lets it be known that he is unhappy.  Sherman stands his ground however with an air of, “I was here before you and I know I am going nowhere, keep this up and you may.”

Left Brain’s joy with the boys is something I wish I could document on film.  He often says “they are the best toys I have ever received,” but I know they are one of his greatest gifts as well.

His laughter as he watches Custer retrieve a ball, his little wobble bulldog butt swaying (Left Brain says Custer has the best male keister in the house) or his laughter at the facial expressions (“I wish I had a camera to get a picture of that).  It doesn’t matter much to me what it is but watching his joy in his very first true pets makes me so happy.

Left Brain tends to look to me for guidance on the boys.  The to-do’s and the what not to-do’s, but the truth of the matter is, he is great with them.  My only complaint is his need to ask others if they want to pet the boys.  Typically if people want to pet a dog, they will ask.  Left  Brain is so proud of them though and we’ve been asked so much about them that when he sees someone staring, he asks.  This then obliges the person to either pet them or answer.  As complaints go, this is a MINOR one.

Left Brain glows while telling people about their history, about their health, about their patience and kindness, because, yes…they are kind.  He is so concerned for their health issues.  He’s always the one that takes them out, he feeds them, he bathes them, but more than that, he loves them.  He’s delightful to watch with them and it makes me sense what a good dad he would have been.  I see that in his interaction with my grandchildren as well.

Because of who and what I am we’ve also adopted briefly a few wild things.  Just recently we had a robin build a nest and lay 4 eggs which all hatched.  His inclination was to keep pulling her nest making materials out of the window she used, but I asked him to let it stay.  We named the mama bird Edna and got to watch those eggs proceed to becoming ugly little hatchlings and then little robins.  I think he actually got more joy in MY joy of Edna and her eggs than anything else, but that is ok too.  He’s longsuffering is that man.

The other day he came home from work to find a terrapin trying to make his way into our home through (or more appropriately UNDER) our front door.  He caught him for me so that I could see him.  See…he’s becoming accustomed to my animal love and need of nature too.  Showing him a deer outside the window, or anything like that makes him happy.  Our  move to Michigan and a more natural setting has made him happier.  I love this.

Recently we bought a new home.  The elderly lady that lived there left in the winters for Florida and subsequently mice moved in.  She had an exterminator out as part of our contract and I feel comfortable with that, but a country home is subject to mice unless one has a good mouser, in this country girl’s opinion.  Even our inspector and Realtor said “you will get a cat won’t you?”  To that I said “YES!” and began the great mouser hunt.  Research showed that Manx cats were the mouser of choice, so I found a Manx kitten and added him to the mix.

Left Brain not only had never had a kitten or cat before he is allergic, but only if he touches them.  The plan was to get a kitten and he would not touch it, perhaps hold it on a towel and wash his hands after he held it, etc.  We named the kitten Bupkes as it cost us nothing.

Bupkes is a little brute of a kitten.  He loves to attack.  He is living up to the hype of mouser by showing us he can kill anything, even our feet.  Left Brain lasted 48 hours before he succumbed to kitten charm.  Bupkes amazes him.  Bupkes cracks him up.  Bupkes loves to play with him, lay atop him and purr loudly enough that even hard of hearing Left Brain can hear him.  Bupkes will grow up into a fine mouser, that’s obvious, but what else he will grow up to be is a cat very much admired by Left Brain. 

As I watch Left Brain, a man born into a home with no pets, become accustomed to a house full of them, I admire him.  Watching him laugh, shake his head at their antics and listen to his questions on our little menagerie brings me happiness, because I can see his clearly.