And
there we were, suddenly with four cats and absolutely no plans to
'expand'. But then Loulou developed oxalate crystals in her bladder and
started spraying around the house (complicated behaviour problem - read
about it here)
which led me to develop an interest in animal behaviour, something I
had been blissfully unaware of up to that point. Starting with a course
in feline behaviour, I was then encouraged to continue on with the
advanced diploma course, which involved learning about dogs too. I knew
absolutely nothing about dogs at the time so had a very steep learning
curve to climb. To help me out, I volunteered at the local dog shelter,
which of course led to me bringing home Bertie (longest stayer at three
and a half years, no one wanted him because he didn't have a tail), Roxy
(grew up in the shelter and had no experience of life so was very barky
and untrusting as well as being a black dog - not a good combination),
and Louis (picked up off the street in Sharjah and an absolute nervous
wreck). Not too long after some local Arab boys came to our house to
take us to a dog
they'd found on the street. She was emaciated and covered in burns so
we took her home. Miraculously she (now named Daisy) got on with
everyone so we nursed her back to health and ended up keeping her as
well.
Along
the way other cats came and went. Hillary the street cat was with us
for a few years and was the friendliest soul, but sadly succumbed to
lymphoma at a young age. Curtis, Spencer and Finlay were more street
cats who somehow knew just whose garden to turn up in and whose house to
move into.
And then we moved from Dubai to Los Angeles and
brought them all with us. It was one of my most stressful moments ever
but they all made it in one piece, if a little bewildered and irritated
with the whole palaver. Sadly, two years later we lost our beloved
Jeffrey to kidney failure and, a year after that, our wonderful Loulou
to old age. Of course two others were sent our way in due course. Both
were "out of time" and due to be euthanised at one of Los Angeles'
notorious high-kill shelters, so now we have Magnus who is FIV positive
and Millie who was, apparently "too old" at the age of 12 years, to be
rehomed.
In the meantime, my volunteer
work with the dogs at the amazing Linda Blair Worldheart Foundation brought
me to Maggie, a dog who I could see carried so much sadness with her,
who could not cope with the shelter environment, and who absolutely
begged me to get her out of there. So I did, and that's where the fun
really started. She and Daisy did not get on at all. There were fights
galore and my husband and I nearly had nervous breakdowns. And yet here
we are, over a year later, still with Maggie and Daisy not getting
along, and yet managing it all incredibly easily where we once thought
it was impossible. It's definitely not for everyone, but is a message for those of us who stick with it and work through it that it is entirely possible to come out the other side still smiling.