Willow Oak

[Willow Oak]

It all began with Sheba. I did not have an animal, and I did not want one, but there was one hanging around. I lived with my mother at the time, and my sister who lived next door had a couple dozen cats and a couple dozen dogs, and I presumed this cat was hers. After a few days of this cat bothering me and begging from me I inquired of my sister and she said that no, she did not know the cat and it was not one of hers.

As fate would have it, I put some food down for the cat one morning as I was leaving for work, and the rest is history. Within a day or two another cat was waiting for a handout as I left for work, but this was a much bigger cat and an uglier cat I had not ever seen before.

The first cat was sleek and beautiful and jet black. The second cat was fat and ugly and dirty and smelled bad and was gray. In time both cats would grab hold of my heart in a way that my poor old heart had never been grabbed before.

Sheba, the black female, would go on to produce a litter of four males, fathered by "Old Man," the fat, old, gray cat. At the time I did not claim ownership of the cats since they were on my mother's property, but in the end I would acquire ownership since no one else wanted the responsibility. I would have all cats neutered and/or spayed. This was my first crew: Old Man, Sheba, Curiosity, Smokey, Shadow, and Socks. Of this group only Smokey is still with me. It is to my great sorrow that since this was my first experience with animals I did not do a good job of taking care of them. I learned the hard way, and the animals I have now benefit from my hard-learned lessons.

It is difficult for me to talk about them, but these are my first love. I think about all of them from time to time. Each one had his own personality, and with each one in turn I had a special relationship.

Sheba:


Sheba just recently passed away. She was a good kitty with a very pleasant disposition. It grieved me forever to think that for those first few days I ignored her when she begged me for food. For the past 6 or 7 years, however, I saw to it that she never had to beg for anything.

Old Man:


It took a while, but Old Man and I became very close buddies. Never a more easy-going cat has there been. Old Man would wait patiently to be let into the yard and then wait patiently to be let back in again. I spent a lot of money on this cat. He had been a bruiser in his day and had plenty of scars to prove it. In his final days I saw to it that he never had to go scrounging for anything he needed.

Smokey:


Smokey is the only one still with me. He is a very sweet and loving cat, and he loves to snuggle. He has long, gorgeous, shiny silver hair.

Shadow:


Shadow was a very sweet and loving kitty. He would sit in my lap and massage my chest. I shall miss him.

Socks:


Socks was the most laid-back of everyone here. Nearly from birth he would crawl into my lap and stay there for as long as I would allow. He was a "lounger" -- never getting into trouble. I think about him often.

Curiosity:


Curiosity was the runt of the litter, but he was the most vivacious. He was the first one to wander away from the nest, and until the day he passed away he was a "wanderer." He was very independent, but he was also a very affectionate kitty. He shall be missed.

[chocolatepuppy]

Just want you to know Willow Oak, I am enjoying all of these 'tails' about your furkids, past and present. Will be watching for your next post.

[Willow Oak]

Thanks for the feedback. That's a nice-looking group of hound dogs you have there, chocolatepuppy.

In the begninning I only had cats. I had always considered myself a "dog" person, but to my surprise I became very attached to the cats I started collecting. Old Man, the fat, gray, ugly "Tom" broke my heart. How I did love that guy!

In the mean time, Bonnie came to live with me. She is a diminutive cavalier spaniel, and is a well-behaved pup. After a while I noticed another dog hanging about (this was about four or five years ago), a very pretty and furry, red-colored dog, which I found out later to be of the chow variety. This dog would greet us at the door of our house as we came and went. In time we would leave him some food -- what else could we do?

This new one arrived during winter, and it was very cold outside. I figured with all that fur, this guy surely wasn't going to get cold. Nonetheless, I awoke one morning to find the guy in the living room as I exited my bedroom. Mother said she felt sorry for him being outside in the cold like that. Anyways, he was anxious to go outside, so I opened the door and out he ran. Such a vivacious guy! Bouncing around and chasing birds and the cats that were outside. But if he ever caught anything he wouldn't hurt it -- he'd let it escape, then settle down to sniff the air and feel proud of his "accomplishment."

One evening, as we were preparing for bed I asked my mom if she were going to let her "friend" in the house. She did, and it looked like he was going to be boarding with us for a while. A few days later, mother asked me if I had seen "Fred."

"Fred?" I asked.

"Yes. Fred. That's what you called him."

"No," I said, "I called him your 'friend.'"

"Oh," she said. "I thought you said, 'Fred.'"

And that's how Fred got his name.

So Fred has lived with me now for these four or five years. He's the overseer, the alpha male, the ruler of the crew. Fred sees to it that nothing comes to harm while I am away. Fred is my true friend.

Fred sniffs the air for any sign of trouble:


Fred nonchalantly lounges in "his" chair:


Clyde forgets who he is and tries to intimidate Fred. Fred plays along:


This is my favorite picture of Oscar (I've shown this one before). I love to see that smile on his face. But I love to see Fred enjoying himself this way, too. He gives Oscar and Sam and the other dogs a good chase for their money:


Fred loves to be bowled over. Even though he is on his back, he is in complete control of this situation:


Fred. A true friend:

[pitc9]

I'm enjoying all of your posts!!

Please keep them coming!

[Emeraldgreen]

Neat thread! What a beautiful property you have and your animals are so blessed to be able to call it home.
I've really enjoyed reading your posts and learning about your pets (past and present). I'm particularily fond of Fred! And the 'Old Man' also really got my attention!
Look forward to more stories about the Willow Oak family.

[Willow Oak]

I met Lu Lu one day when I heard her and her brother barking. I was on the back side of my mother's property (she lives on 5 acres next to me), and two of the dogs over there were making a big fuss at my being in their vicinity. Such barking I hadn't heard, so I walked over to take a look. In a pen behind my sister's house were a couple of dogs: one was about twice the size of the other. Big ears and lots of barking: that was their hallmark. However, as soon as I approached the fence and bent over to give a pat it was all over. I had to cross over the fence and go inside, but when I did Lu Lu and her brother Skip were all over me. Such loving and sweet dogs have hardly every existed. But otherwise they could make a racket: barking and barking all the time. Bark, bark, bark!!!

Everyday I would go over and give them some attention and a pat on the head. At this time I had also begun to help my sister with her animals, buying food and checking on water. I would go in the pen and Skip would go straight for the food, but Lu lu was more interesting in getting into my lap as I sat on the back porch. Lu Lu would stick her nose inside my shirt or inside my shirt pocket as if she were looking for a place to hide. In time I would come to realize that at her size she was very vulnerable to her much larger sibling. Skip, for some reason, had to be separated from any other dogs. I don't know what it was, but if Skip was allowed to be with any dogs of his size or larger he would do anything he could to kill that dog. We had to learn this almost the hard way -- he attacked other dogs and drew a lot of blood, but fortunately no permanent damage. He would not attack smaller dogs. And he and Lu Lu kept up their barking seemingly night and day: bark, bark, bark!!!

Eventually, I moved Skip and Lu Lu to my place where I could keep a closer eye on them. One day I went to feed them; Lu Lu came running and jumped into my lap, ignoring the food as long as I was there, but Skip, instead of going for his food, just lay around and had a lethargic look on this face. This was one of those times where I had to learn a lesson the hard way. No one had ever told me, and I had no way of knowing otherwise. Skip would be dead within 24 hours from Parvo. During the next several days I would keep a close eye on Lu Lu, picking her up and holding her close, whispering in her ear: "Don't you go and get sick on me now."

I had taken the dogs to the vet that day. Parvo was diagnosed in Skip, and Lu Lu had received a shot. Now Skip was dead, and I was holding Lu Lu and whispering in her ear each day and constantly imploring, "Don't you get sick on me now."

Lu Lu did not get sick. Oh no, she did not get sick. And she still barks and barks and barks. Just like always:

Bark, bark, bark!!!

[Willow Oak]

I have delivered way more animals to our local animal shelter than I have kept. The ones that usually end up staying with me are those that I deem to be not as "adoptable" as those that do end up at the shelter. Of course, you can't save them all. I have delivered animals to the shelter with the full knowledge that they would be euthanized.

I hate euthanization, but I don't believe it is a bad thing. One must do what is best for the animal, and with limited space and resources euthanasia is sometimes what is best for a particular animal.

I was quite sure that's where Sam was headed the first time I saw him, only I wasn't going to let the shelter do the deed. I was determined to do it myself. He had shown up at my place from out of the blue. He appeared menacing. He looked like a pit bull, and what's more, he had long saliva hanging from his jaws. He looked sick, and I said to myself, "I've got a mad dog on my hands."

I scurried about, gathering up my own animals and pulled them into the house with me, and went and got my gun. In the mean time this mad dog had moved around to the back of my house. I was scared and confused. I did not want to kill the dog right away so I called the shelter. No, they wouldn't be able to come out right away, so I called the Sheriff's department. No, that's not our job, they said. Well, great! What to do now? So I positioned myself behind an open window, took aim, let off the safety, and placed the beed squarely between his eyes. Then he lifted his head and looked at me. All I had to do was pull the trigger, and everything would be A-okay. Except that I couldn't do it. I just could not pull that trigger.

So, I went outside and placed some food on the ground. I would have to think this through.

Since then I have learned that any new acquiree should be quarantined and looked at by the vet before it gets introduced to the rest of my animals. But I didn't know better back then. I decided to take a chance and assume that the dog was not "mad." He was sick though. But some good grub and a chance to have someone look after him, plus a couple of visits to the vet, some antibiotics and some vitamins, and within a couple of weeks he was looking much better. I did not pull the trigger, and man am I glad. Sam has turned out to be the gentlest, most easy-going dog I've ever had. He is full of energy and loves to play. He is one of the prime reasons I put up the fence. He loves to chase cars and if he can get in front of them he will. I know. He got run over by a very large SUV. Lucky for Sam, the truck merely "straddled" him or he would be dead.

Sam parks himself on the concrete settee:


I know it's not a "nice" picture, but this is typically the way Sam sleeps:


Sometimes Sam just stands and looks off in the distance:


Sam is very gentle with the other animals -- even the cats:


Sam, a man's best friend:

[Willow Oak]

Each morning just before leaving for work I tell all the dogs to "Go to your room!" At that command Cathy goes to her kennel; Sam, Oscar, and Scamp go to their kennel; Fred goes to his kennel; Bonnie, Clyde, and Lu Lu go to their kennel; and little Taz has already learned what that means: he runs to his little kennel. In the case of Taz, he has really grown over the past couple of weeks or so, and he has quite outgrown his kennel, so I have fixed him up a much larger place. He hasn't quite become accustomed to his new place yet, so this morning when I gave the command little Taz went straight for his old kennel. I saw this and stood by, yelling at Taz that he had gone to the wrong place, and imploring him to "Come here!" It eventually occurred to me to retrieve my camera, and I did just in time to snap this shot as Taz was turning to exit his former "room:"



[If you look closely, you can see that the gate is open. Taz had entered the kennel and was sitting there waiting for me to close the gate.]

[Willow Oak]

I was born in the mid 50's, and like so many Southerners of my generation grew up during the Jim Crow era, and like so many of my generation, was taught and grew up with the impression that the Negro race was inferior to the Caucasian. Surely prejudice resides in the heart of everyone to one degree or another, and thankfully, eventually I would come to the point in my life where I would realize that the philosophy with which I grew up is all wrong. But it would take a non-human creature to help me reach that point.

At 32 years of age I had reached the lofty position of pizza delivery person. Even though I had graduated from high school third out of a class of 143 and had been offered scholarships, I had decided to take a different path. But that is a different story. During the spring of 1986 I made a decision that changed my life forever. I decided that I could do better than pizza delivery, so at the age of 32 I enrolled as a freshman at Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge. Back in the day, I told my fair share and enjoyed my fair share of "N" jokes. It was all in good fun. Whereas I had been raised to believe a certain way, my parents did insist that I show respect to all people regardless of race or color. The brand of prejudice with which I grew up did not include lynchings, but it did include jokes like: "I don't have anything against blacks. I think everybody oughta own one!" Believe it or not, there are still people who tell jokes like that. Thankfully I finally got over it, and although it wasn't necessarily my fault that I grew up that way, I am very grateful that I was able to finally realize the wrongness of the way I was.

In Baton Rouge I found a very nice second floor apartment situated immediately adjacent to the LSU campus. The kitchen and one of the bedroom windows looked out onto the horse and cow pasture of the LSU veterinary college. Beyond that was the levee that held back the Mississippi river. If you've never been to that part of the United States you might not realize that the levee system of the Mississippi River has quite become Pandora's Box. Samuel Clemons wrote about this in his wonderful book, "Life on the Mississippi." Through the years, despite the efforts of engineers dredging the bottom to remove massive amounts of sediment that settle from all that is carried from upstream, the bottom of the river has steadily risen so that today the bottom of the river is where the top used to be. I saw this for myself the first time I happened to look out of my kitchen window in time to see one of those large oil tankers floating by ... above the level of my second floor window!

Anyways, I used to love to look out and see the levee, and the pasture, a gorgeous green was dotted here and there with horses or cows. I was in college now and was happy for the decision I had made. Now I could get down to doing something serious with my life. I was enjoyed college life! For me it was not all about parties, oh no. I loved studying and doing homework. I still do. Today I am a software engineer, and I spend my days reading through and writing hundreds of lines of code, developing highly complex applications or their algorithms.

It took a while to get here though. First I must pay the price of going to class, doing homework, and taking exams. But truth be told I loved all of that. During most of my college career I tried to avoid social entanglements such as close friends, especially girlfriends. I did not need nor did I want the distractions. But I did acquire one minor distraction, and that was in the form of a beautiful, golden cocker spaniel.

Shortly after moving to my new apartment two new tenants arrived. They were two of the most beautiful, tall, sleek, gorgeous beauties I had ever seen, and their beauty was breath-taking. I had never been that stunned by the good looks of a black female. As it turned out both girls were members of the LSU women's track team. I met them in the summer of 1987, and as it turned out the LSU girls track team won the NCAA outdoor track and field championships that year. Eventually, the LSU women’s track team would win 11 or 12 consecutive national titles beginning with that first one. These two girls were pioneers in that effort. One of them, and I hope I can get away with using her real name here, was Esther Jones. Esther was on one of the women's relay teams that one a gold medal in the 1988 Summer Olympics in Seoul, South Korea. I didn't get to know Esther all that well -- she was world class and was always on the road. The other girl, equally athletic, was a high jumper. She was the first to show me just how misinformed I had been regarding my prejudice against blacks -- she and her dog.

At the time I met Esther and Leslie I still felt toward blacks the way I had always felt: "show respect, but remember that they are not a good as you." Esther and Leslie moved in, and college life went on. Going to college was the best thing I ever did. At 32 I had a healthy respect for going to class and doing homework. I determined that I would make the best grades I could, and I was into my third semester before I made my first "B." Until then I had made all "A's" taking courses like microbiology, calculus, and organic chemistry. I had grown up in the South, so I had been around blacks my whole life -- but not to socialize with them. I experienced the desegregation period during the 60's and 70’s. The first blacks with which I went to school were three students that integrated my school in the eight grade. I had made friends with them, but the prejudice with which I had been raised stayed with me. Now I was sitting in class at LSU next to young people of all manner of background, color, and ethnicity. I learned early on that Orientals are extremely intelligent, as are Indians, and surprise, surprise: blacks! I still have the computer printouts from tests results. My name was most always placed at or near the top, but more often than not there would always be one or two students that consistently outscored me. I made it a point to seek these students out, and when I did would find that they usually were not Caucasian. As often or not some of these students who would outscore me on a chemistry test would be black.

I had always been taught that blacks are superior athletes to whites because they had been bred to work in the fields. I had also been taught that blacks had thicker skulls and smaller brains, with the result that whites are superior intellectually. Of course, I believed what I had been taught, so how was it that these black students were outscoring me on college-level exams? It didn't fit in with what I had been taught.

Things were great back at my apartment. They got better. One day there was a knock on my door. Leslie was there holding her dog, Abigail. She was going out of town, and would I mind watching Abigail for a few days? I knew Abigail. I had seen the little dog hanging around Leslie’s apartment and had come to pet her and hold her as did everyone in the complex. Abigail had been a gift from Leslie's boyfriend. I observed that Leslie took very good care of Abigail, and I would always say hi to the pup whenever I saw her and Leslie out and about or by the apartment pool. I had gotten to know Abigail and Leslie, and Leslie decided that she could trust me to look after her pup while she was gone.

So Abigail came to stay with me for a few days. In the beginning I was not enamored with the idea of taking on the responsibility, but Abigail quickly wormed herself into my heart. Within a few days, Leslie returned from her trip, and Abigail went home. In the mean time I had begun the practice of leaving my front door open when I was home. My air conditioner did not work very well, and it does get hot in South Louisiana. Leslie’s routine came to be that she would open her door and let Abigail out, and Abigail would run to my apartment and fly through the open doorway, scurrying about the apartment until she found me. She developed the habit of throwing herself into my lap and showing me her belly. I had earlier made the mistake of scratching her belly one day, and it was all over with after that.

Everyday after those few days I had watched over Abigail, she would come down to my apartment for a visit. In the early mornings, Leslie would open her door and Abigail would run out of her apartment, down the walkway, turn the corner and glide straight into my apartment. It became a daily routine. I am a very early riser. I would be up and at my desk studying each morning by 4:00 am, and usually sometime between then and time to go to my first class at 7:30, Abigail would come flying in, waddling and shaking and beaming all over. One morning I had stepped out early and had closed my door behind me. I happened to see Leslie open her door and saw Abigail fly through her door and down the walkway, headed for my apartment. I heard a heavy thud and heard a sharp yelp. I rushed over to see what happened. There was Abigail lying on her side just outside my closed door, her tongue hanging out as she panted. Her eyes looked at mine and for a few seconds they failed to recognize me. The look on her face said, “What happened?” When Abigail finally recognized who I was she broke into that winning smile of hers, raised herself off, and stood by patiently until I opened the door. Cautiously she proceeded to go inside.

"I gotta go to class now, Abigail. You come back and see me when I get back."

Leslie was a gorgeous girl -- tall and lean with a big smile and very pleasant personality. In the beginning she would apologize for Abigail's intrusion, but eventually she would come to accept Abigail's forays are just part of the way things are. Abigail became as much my dog as she was Leslie's. Over the course of the year or two that Leslie, Esther, and some of the other LSU track girls' lived at the complex I became friends with most of them. Quite often before a big meet, all of the girls would gather at the complex and go to a movie. They never failed to ask me to tag along. As a group we saw such movies as "Field of Dreams," and "Rain Man." These girls, world-class athletes, All-Americans, and NCAA national champions would exit the theater in tears, wiping their faces, and I, being the macho man that I was, would be doing the same.

Time moves on, and in college one semester moves into another, then another, and so on. Each morning before I would go to class Abigail would show up in my bedroom or kitchen, wagging her tail, smiling that big smile of hers, looking for her belly rub. Her “mommy” and I had become very good friends, and it was inevitable that the day came that Leslie would announce that she had become engaged to be married. Within a few weeks she was married and moved out of the apartment. Abigail went with her, of course.

College moved on and the great day of graduation arrived. I was thoroughly exhausted and ready to move on to bigger and greater things. President Ronald Reagan spoke at my commencement. On the return walk to my apartment I happened upon a couple walking through one of the several Live Oak groves around the beautiful campus. The couple had their dog with them, and as I crossed their path I realized it was Leslie and her husband. Abigail was with her, and the three of us enjoyed a brief reunion. I held Abigail for a few minutes, and she wagged her tail and licked my face, and the two of us enjoyed a few minutes embrace. I gave Leslie a hug, shook her husband’s hand, we parted and have never seen each other since.

I turned back, though, and watched as Leslie and her husband and Abigail continued on their way. Abigail would look around, but Leslie had to hold tightly to her to keep her from jumping and running back to me. But as they disappeared from view, I thought back on that day that Leslie had knocked on my door and asked if I would babysit her dog. I recalled that on that day I still held to that prejudice with which I had grown up, but that over the past three of four years of knowing Leslie and her dog, of attending classes and coming in second to students who were supposed to be “inferior,” I had definitely come to realize that those philosophies with which I had grown up were all bogus. I had learned from my time with Leslie and with her dog Abigail that among God’s creatures, “red and yellow, black and white, all are precious in his sight.”

[Randi]

Aww Taz, how could you know that your dad had rigged up a bigger cage for you? But I'm glad he did, because I'm sure you are growing fast. Nice he was quick enough to get a picture, too!


Willow Oak, I enjoyed your story about getting things straight on ethnicity, I can imagine (from films I've seen) how life must have been - probably still is, growing up in the South. Worlds apart from what I know.

Good for you that you got a good education and got to know Abigail. I'm sure that has had a huge influence on your later life, and the reason you're such an animal lover now.