How My Mom Became the Side Chick

My sisters and I would occasionally show up cuddling a new kitten or dog from a neighbor's new litter. 

We were always greeted with the same response. 

"No! You can take that mutt right back to where you got him" my mom would say, while reaching out to take him/her from our arms.

"Who's going to take care of him?" she continued, gently stroking his fur.

"We will!" we promised in unison.

And we fully intended to keep our word.

Once my mother agreed and welcomed in the new family member we would relax and have fun.

My mother loved animals so much, especially dogs, that she'd fall in love and become the pet's primary caretaker, not trusting us to live up to her standards of pet care. 

She'd routinely bathe the dog, keeping him looking great all the time.

(Cats are self-sufficient and don't allow all that fuss.)

My sisters and I became the playmates, running and playing out of doors and biking down to an area we called the Red Hill with the pet chasing after us.

In those days, there was no such thing as walking your dog or city regulations about picking up their poop.

Sometimes our dog would leave in the morning like he had to report to a job somewhere, then return for meals, and finally at the end of the day return to sleep in a corner on a blanket.

It was a perfect arrangement. 

In those days pets ate mainly table scraps, since store bought canned pet food was in its infancy and expensive.

If our pet got sick my mom would nurse him back to health, like she did us.

My mom fell into this role over and over because she couldn't resist cute puppies.

Years later when we were all grown, my mother resisted getting committed to owning a pet, but her love for them continued.

She would save the scraps from her meals for a neighborhood stray dog she befriended once. That dog, aware of having found a soft touch, showed up at her back door like clockwork everyday after dinner, and bump against the back door signaling his arrival.

“My dog friend is here!" she would say scurrying to the door. 

She knew better than to give him a name or let him in for fear of bonding. She never even knew where he lived.

He always came alone, keeping my mom a secret from his "main chick" and furry friends.

She knew she was his "side chick" but she was okay with that. 

She was no longer interested in long-term commitments.

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