Pets!

The Army does not issue either children or pets. However, while stationed at Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas, for nine months of school during the '74 - '75 period, a young male cat appeared at our back door (of on-post housing in Kickapoo Village). He appeared anxious to stay with us. We went through the process of advertizing for 'lost cat' in the daily bulletin, and when that produced no results, we decided to adopt him. The process on post was that he be neutered first.....and he was, by the Vetenary services. During the process of being neutered (anesthesia, etc..); or of losing his virginity (before he'd ever found it), he went a little crazy. (He'd wait until one was rounding a corner, and then attach himself to a leg....complete with claws out.) This was also the time of President Nixon's troubles......so we named our cat 'Milhouse.'

He was a 'quick study' in most respects, e.g. learning to use a litter box (a few drops of urine, and he got the message).

By the time school was over, and we were headed for Europe, we had found that we were both allergic to cats, so we left Milhouse at the local SPCA (they put him in a cage with other cats, and he was last seen hanging on the wall).

 When we left Milhouse on the wall of the 'cat cage,' we were hoping that someone would adopt him as, at least, a 'barn cat.'

Our next pet was Casey, a mixed-breed dog who came to us as we were building the house in Dorchester County, Maryland. I've discussed Casey in previous entries (e.g. that she & I walked to & from the mailbox on the county road, the equivalent distance of to the Pacific Ocean & back to Idaho) in the five years we were building & selling the house.

As a 'youngster,' Casey was beaten so badly by some neighbors (when she was 'playing' with their laundry on the line), that she had to lay in the corner of our garage for several days.

When I would use power equipment, such as the lawn mower, Casey took that as her license to 'go hunting.' (She knew where I was & what I was doing by the sound.) Another neighbor who owned 23 acres, (& a serious hunter), thought all of the rabbits on our 100+ acre peninsula belonged to him. Rabbits aren't so dumb, and over time learned to take refuge in the fork lift holes of a pile of bricks at the entrance to this neighbor's driveway. I made the mistake one Sunday afternoon, when I heard Casey 'fussing' at the brick pile, of taking a long stick and 'poking' a rabbit out the other end (into Casey's mouth). The neighbors were having a social event, and may have observed this.

The next morning, there was a sign at the brick pile: "No Hunting; No Trespassing; No Nuthin! I started to carry a 'whoppum stick' - shortened axe handle - under the seat of the car. When we left the neighborhood in early July of '91, the 23 acre neighbor & I were back on 'regular' terms (I had left him the 'pickings' of the garden, and the 'compost pile' - minus the several garbage cans full which I took across the bay).

We stayed for a couple of nights with the immediate neighbor (Casey's original owner who was home from college). On the morning we were due to leave, Casey had wrapped herself around the right front wheel of our little Honda wagon, and we were not about to be able to leave without either running over her (or putting her aboard).

I had left a small amount of space (for her body), and we came to Virginia.

We rented a place two counties north of where we are now, while we looked for property to buy in five adjacent counties.

In the rental county, we found a Vet (with co-located retail supply store and kennel facility). On the rare occasion we would go back across the Bay for social events, etc., we would leave Casey with these people. They called her the 'timid' one and would take turns sitting in her 'crate' with her.

When we bought our first place in Mathews County, we decided that we'd have to take Casey with us when we traveled.