How do people manage today? How do they pay their mortgages, fill the tanks of their SUVs and the tummies and college bank accounts of their kids, while simultaneously financing dance, skiing, skating, gymnastics, swimming and music lessons? And given all this, how can they support their high-maintenance pets?
It's not like when I was a child. I did have a dog, an adorable little mongrel named Trixie. Pedigree? Papers? Are you kidding? But what she lacked in breeding, she made up for in cuteness and economy. Fortunately, she wasn't a discriminating diner. She happily ate table scraps. Furthermore, Trixie never saw a vet. The word simply wasn't in the family vocabulary, never mind our budget.
Since so much time has passed, I guess it's safe to confess that Trixie was an illegal. She didn't have a license. An extravagance for us back then. Instead, we opted to hope that Trixie would never escape her leash (which was her only "accessory," by the way) and get nabbed by the dogcatcher.
Groomers? Forgeddabout it. Nevertheless, Trixie's silky coat was always shiny. My mom brushed her daily and bathed her weekly in the cellar washtub. And she (Trixie, not Mom) never went to a kennel. We spent family vacations with relatives at the beach, twenty miles from home, and Trixie was always welcome. Exotic destinations that barred pets weren't a problem. We couldn't afford them anyway.
Today it's different. Now many family pooches and pussycats boast lineages as impressive as those of crown princes, so their treatment must be equally royal. They (the pets, not the princes) dine only on expensive, nutrient-laden kibbles and occasional gourmet treats from "shoppes" specializing in pricey tidbits for the four-legged set. And when their families must leave home without them, they are pampered at exclusive pet hotels. However, many animals aren't always thrilled with such arrangements.
Friends of mine live with Henry, a very independent cat who suffered severe anxiety symptoms whenever he was checked into a classy kennel. Then one time, Henry's usual spacious third-floor accommodations were full, and he was given a pen on the first floor. He loved it. Completely gone was the agitation he had always exhibited before whenever he was "rescued." Now when Henry's roommates travel, they always reserve the lower-level suite for him at his home away from home, and he's one happy cat.
My niece's husky, Timber, was once traumatized by a brief visit to a posh puppy palace, so she now
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