More Victims of Divorce: When the Pets Have To Go
More Victims of Divorce: When the Pets Have To Go
I don't have kids, I have pets. And they became another kind of shattered family after my split with Edgar. I thought getting him out of the house was the hard part. But after he was gone, I saw he was right.
I wasn't making enough money to take care of the house and the dogs, cats, birds and fish. I never said anything to him about alimony, but I did ask him for animal support. After all, it was Ed who had brought most of them home.
He said he thought he might be able to kick in something, if he could be sure it would be used for critter care.
I changed the locks the day he was supposed to be out. But he broke in one afternoon and left $30 on the table.
That's been the extent of it, unless you count his telling me to try not to let any of the animals die.
What a sweetheart.
Halfheartedly, I asked around to see if anybody wanted any of my critters. I had hoped to keep them all, but when the filter broke on the fish tank, I got desperate.
The note I left on the pet store bulletin board, "Divorce Forces Adoption," led to my goldfish moving into a beautiful outdoor pond. The same family took in my cockatiels. My finches have become a source of joy at an old folks' home, and another childless woman dotes on my ex-parrots.
Ed's three cats remain, but my roommate is a cat person and has taken them over. I did find a place for one dog, who went to live with my brother in another state. The deal was that she'd be with him temporarily — but indefinitely. They are so happy, I'm concentrating on the indefinite part.
Hard as it was for me to part with my critters, as much as I miss the chirping and squawking, and the bubbles and graceful swimming, I think those who moved out are better off than they were here with me.
So maybe it’s selfish to hold on to my remaining dogs, and I have to admit there are four of them. But enough sacrifice here.
One of them was walking down a busy road two years ago, a runaway or a throwaway, probably abused. He was so scared at first. But now he seems confident that he’ll get back home after every walk. And because of that, so do I.
Some of them get in the trash. They’ve cost me a fortune in vet bills. And sometimes they don’t always make it outside before taking a leak.
On the other hand, they clean up dropped food, and keep me licked free of salty sweat. They're splendid company, the best to talk to when things get rough.
They gather around when I'm sad. They help me get a little exercise.
If I can keep the house together, we’ll stay right here, with one dog sleeping in the bedroom, ever since Ed left, and the others protecting the premises.
And even if I have to move into my parents’ basement, they have a yard and my mother loves dogs.
So I’m keeping them.
Because my dogs always love me. Even when I'm not feeding them.
That’s good enough for me.
Comments
Post new comment