Not long ago, a friend said to me "Margaret, your house is crazy!" What, I pondered, would make her say that? My house is completely normal - for me. I’m afraid to guess what that says about me! Okay, let’s break this down. I haven’t been in my bathroom by myself for more thirteen years; I have "PCs" ("potty companions"). Neither have I been in the kitchen, the bedrooms, or my in-home office alone. I rarely run errands without several passengers along for the ride. I sleep with eleven other companions, only one of whom is my lawfully wedded husband, and they’re all bed-hogs. I have long conversations with non-humans. My roommates must be fed, given plenty of water, kept scrupulously clean, and receive the best of medical care. Some of them work outside our home; some are "home-makers."
I live with a "pack." Ours is a benevolent commune, where everybody gets along most of the time, we all know the pack rules, and we all have very distinct characteristics. Yes, we have occasional squabbles, but we deeply love each other. We hate being separated out of necessity. Unacceptable behavior is rapidly corrected, and affection is freely and lavishly given. Okay, so our house can be pandemonium at times when we’re all playing or if the doorbell rings. We are a functional, loving family, even if we’re a bit eccentric. Doesn’t this happen in your house, too?
Our pack consists of Tristan (my husband and "head of the house"), myself, an African Grey parrot named Paddywack who talks from sunup to sundown, and, in ages ranging from nearly 14 years to almost 2 years, ten miniature Dachshunds: Vlad, Max, Gretchen, Lisel, Lilith, Maestro, Gunther, Adia, Taz, and Panzer. Smooth coats, long coats, and wire coats - beautiful little dogs, all! Max, Lisel, and Lilith are working animal-assisted therapy dogs; Gunther, Maestro, Taz and Panzer are in training and will soon make their debut bringing unconditional acceptance and affection to people in distress. Vlad, Gretchen and Adia didn’t "make the cut" as therapy dogs; their job is to raise and love the rest of the pack, which they do with astonishing skill.
So why is that weird? Tristan and I have no "human children" and perhaps we overcompensated a bit, but it’s our house, our lives, our "family," and our business! Max, the Alpha male, and Gretchen, the Alpha female, raised the little ones with adoring patience, and deal with misbehavior firmly but kindly. Paddywack calls each dog by name and instigates mischief that he knows will make them pitch a hissy fit. A neighbor decided that we had too many dogs and took us to court. We won, and now we’re all friends. We’ve had some close calls within the pack; Vlad, Max, Lilith and Panzer each had a serious health crisis, but returned healthy to the pack by the grace of skilled veterinarians. Their medical care was costly and euthanasia was a possibility; I will never allow an animal spirit in my care to suffer just because I can’t say good-bye. The fullest measure of love is knowing when to let go.
I guess maybe our house is crazy; that’s in the eye of the beholder, isn’t it?
