Half a Duo

When I was a kid pets were not really a prized commodity in our house. My first dog was named Cocoa and she was a german shephard that my parents gave away when I was very young, probably before I was 5. All I remember about her is that she would jump on me and scare me when I was a child. My second dog was Blacky, a Cocker Spaniel. I loved that dog. She was black, ergo the clever name, with a white star on her neck. My parents gave her away when we moved and told me she had been hit by a car. I sat inside her dog house and literally howled like a dog and cried an amazing amount of tears. It was only later they told me they gave her away. To this day I don't know the real story.

Then when I was about 10 years old my stepfather raised rabbits in order to sell their pelts and to eat, as stew or whatever. I remember we had a lot of cages in the backyard and well over 100 rabbits. Then one day I saw how he killed them. He would hang them up on the clothesline and hit them in the head with a baseball bat, then take a machetti and cut their heads off then proceed to skin them. It was that day I stopped eating stew at our house.

When I was about 20 a dog found me. A dog my oldest son named Autrie (after Gene Autry, he was so young but knew who that was, go figure). I kept that dog for awhile until I realized I was too immature to care for a dog and then had him adopted out. It was hard but the right thing to do.

From then on I always pretended that I hated animals. In that way I never had to deal with them "leaving" me and as a result feeling sadness over an animal, after all there were plenty of other things to be sad about.

Then when I was 27 my oldest son had a friend whose family raised pure bred shelties. A litter had been born and I wanted to see them, I was sure I was ready for another animal and also wanted my children exposed to a dog they wouldn't have to get rid of. There were only two puppies left in the litter. I brought them both home to decide which one I wanted. Initially I decided on the male (didn't want a female to get pregnant and bring me more dogs). But after awhile realized that I had to get both, they were after all the last two of the litter and I couldn't separate them or just leave one behind.

After much debate my husband and I decided to name them Hansel and Gretel (we were extremely "kid friendly" at the time).

Then when I was 30 I divorced and took Hansel and Gretel with me when I moved out of the marital home. We had joint custody of the children but the dogs were mine.

Anyone that knows me knows Hansel and Gretel. Real "pain in the ass" kind of dogs. They have yelped like puppies from day one, escaped from the yard and had to be tracked down and never have been the best house trained animals.

My kids have joked that they don't really know their names because every time you say one name you say the other. It is rare that you would just yell for Hansel or Gretel to come, you would always yell for both to come.

Today is the first day I am yelling for one to come, the other died of kidney failure. My grief is overwhelming.