February is “Responsible Pet Owners Month,” but I’m not having it! The word “owners” is wrong. Ownership involves property, and we don’t own pets any more than we own people! We care for them, love them, and respect them, but we do not own them. So, I hereby declare February as “Responsible Pet Parents Month” because, as adoptive parents, pet parents are responsible for the well-being and happiness of the beings they love — no matter what!
Take Pebble, for example. She came to me as a foster kitten in 2018 — her name was Little Girl — and she was 100 percent Tortie with “tortitude” to spare. Sadly, she had to have her left eye removed because of a terrible infection. Before long, we realized that her feisty personality would make her a hard kitty to place. I worried that most families wouldn’t put up with her spicey behavior. I was afraid she would be abandoned. So she became a Stern, and we’ve come to love her for who she is. And at times, she is as sweet as sweet can be.
If you don’t know about “tortitude,” it’s the term used to describe the unique personalities of tortoiseshell, calico, and torbie cats. (By the way, these are not breeds but refer to the black, orange, and white color variations of their fur, and they are almost always female.) Independent and willful, these colorful felines make great companions, but they like things done their way. They are the queens; we are their servants.
It’s sad, but these cats are often misunderstood, and it’s so important that adopters understand the pets they welcome into their homes. I can’t believe how many people feel their pets are disposable. Every day, I get many emails from families moving to new places where they can’t take their pets or don’t want to bother. Or the cat scratched the couch. Or the cat isn’t affectionate, sheds too much, or doesn’t always use his box. Every circumstance is different, and sometimes serious issues like allergies pop up. But I can’t fathom leaving my pets behind.
And yet that’s what so many families were forced to do during the terrifying wildfires racing through Los Angeles. The magnitude of the devastation, the thousands of homes and businesses left in ruins, the neighborhoods erased, and the lives lost — I can’t imagine it. And, of course, all the animals.
Shelters have taken in hundreds of animals whose families managed to evacuate with them but then had no place to go and turned to animal groups to care for them until they could get back on their feet. Then there are the countless strays and injured animals — burned, suffering from smoke inhalation and dehydration, confused and afraid. Wildlife is also suffering horribly.
And then I read an article in The New York Times that made me cry. It was about Pongo, Pearl, Bandit, Tiger, and Zipper, five koi fish whose people evacuated with their Yellow Lab and a neighbor’s Belgian Malinois but could not manage to bring the fish they had for 25 years. This hit home for me because I had three koi fish growing up, and my mom would sit beside the pond and pet them. They recognized her hand and swam up to get their heads touched. It was a beautiful thing. We loved those sweet little fish.
As I read this article, tears streaming, I learned that over the years, this couple had turned their koi pond into a backyard oasis. So when they returned after the fire to find their home still standing, one of the first things they did was run to the backyard to check on the fish, who were still alive but in trouble. The rest of the article is about the complicated task of removing the fish safely from the ashy pond and getting them to clean water and safety.
Their commitment to these animals moved me so much. After all, you can’t take a fish for a walk, they don’t purr, and they don’t communicate like other pets do. Still, when this couple bought these animals 25 years ago, they made a lifetime commitment to them, which, to me, is the essence of pet parent responsibility. Those five lives depended on this couple, and that’s what mattered. (Did I mention that I love this couple?)