I’ve be a dog owner for some seven months and with this being my first dog I’m still trying to reconcile somethings that still feel awkward like the leash. Now I know that leash laws exist for very good reasons in that roaming dogs are not often the best kinds of dogs you want in your neighborhood but walking the dog on the leash feels so unnatural. My feeling is that all my years of having cats has trained me to think of pets as being largely independent.

To our cats we are more like staff: we fluff pillows, fetch food, procure treats, provide back rubs, even adjust our sleeping positions to accommodate their slight forms. This extends so far that when we visit the vet we do not use carriers or leashes, our cats sit politely and calmly in our arms. All this adds up to a strange discomfort when I clip the leash to Peri’s collar when we go out for a walk. Mind you, Peri is a very well behaved dog, the years at the track and kennel have impressed upon him the notion of obedience and he follows commands very well and this is where I feel disconnected.

Cats have been companions to me. The are like that selfish roommate that you bitch about cleaning up after, the one who never pitches in for groceries or covers his share of the bills but is an absolute blast to be around, so much that you hate the thought of not having him around. That concept, in my mind, has carried over to how I see Peri. We dote on him, giving him a big fluffy bed and all sorts of treats and toys, and for the most part he is independent in the house. Outside, though, that dynamic changes. I become an owner and he a possession all because of a five foot, red nylon tether that joins my wrist to his throat.

It is certain that I am over intellectualizing the relationship dynamics with our pets; they are pets but since we have no children this perverse little twist has occurred and our pets have become our children. Maybe this is the root of my discomfort and discontent. Unless you are looking for a visit from DFC it is unlikely that you’ll crate train your child or take them outside to go to the bathroom all the while you tug on the rope about their neck saying over and over, “It’s cold! Hurry up and do your damn business!” However, since we are swinging into that stupid “my pet is my kid” phase that is what I feel I am doing.

What needs to happen is that I really have to get a grip. My dog is not going to go to Harvard–unless it is on scholarship–and since I’m likely going to be childless but don’t want to be one of those annoying types that centers their life around the equation of Pet = Child I need to come to terms with the whole “dog and his master” concept. I suppose that like the cats our dog is a roommate but a hell of a lot less independent, like one who needs to you talk to him while he goes to the bathroom–seriously, I had one–or follows you about the house incessantly looking for validation–that too–all the while making one hell of a mess wherever he goes. A roommate so dependent you actually don’t feel bad tying a rope about their neck.

You know what? The above therapy session made possible by our friends at WordPress is really pathetic. Feel free to tie a rope around my neck. I’ll help.

Yesterday we lost our oldest cat, Jiminy. He was 13 and one of the best cats, if not creatures, I have ever known.

Jiminy was the rarest of rare when it came to his personality. Always quick to give you attention when you needed it the most; Jiminy was fixture in our household with his easy swagger and dominating purr. Equally fatherly to both of our other cats he always welcomed new pets and people into the home with equal abandon, be it a family friend or the cable guy. The only thing he insisted on was that the fire in the fire place was well tended and that his spot at the hearth was open.

We miss you Boom-Boom.