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It has always been, and will forever be, a strange thing to me that there are actually people who prefer cats over dogs, including my two daughters. Having grown up around pooches their preference puzzles me.  Perhaps it's the mystery of the feline that attracts — their aloofness, their grace and agility, their insouciant response to  humans.  While they might be the most elegant of pets,  they seem to me to lack the personality of their canine counterparts.  Sure, kittens are cute and can be quite playful, but there's a dignity to their demeanour that precludes the same kind of shenanigans that made them so endearing. Dogs on the other hand have personality out the wazoo. It's not beneath them to be foolish right up to the end. When they're pleased they show it with full abandon.  Our Ani, even when stricken with cancer, still did the happy dance whenever someone, friend or stranger, showed up at the door.  On the last day of her life, my husband and I took her o

They are the loyalist of friends. They protect us, comfort us — and fetch our slippers.   It is for these qualities that so many choose them as pets.  And while everyone has their favourite breed, generally dog lovers appreciate them all from Dane to Yorkie.  Personally,  I've never cared whether or not I could actually determine what breed of dog I  have. I've always owned mutts and I rather like their mix of traits, which often results in a lot of personality. That my first pup didn't turn me off dogs forever is a testament I suppose to how much I like them. Tiny was a chihuahua-fox terrier amalgam that we inherited from a cousin who couldn't handle him. Besides erupting in vicious barks and snarls when anyone came near, he also had a penchant for snapping at petting hands. Insisting upon sleeping under my bedcovers, and at seven who was I to argue, he frequently awakened me with sharp teeth on toes when my feet had strayed too close. Nasty little critter though

October is Adopt a Shelter Dog Month. To my way of thinking, for anyone looking for a new best friend it's the right way to go. It's been four years since my husband and I shared our home with a four-legged friend. A high-energy, strong-minded, gorgeous husky mix, our Ani was, like most dogs, devoted, protective and loving.  I was, however, still shocked by how incomplete life felt after her passing. We've always had dogs and I've never had problems getting another after one passes away. But not this time.  I think maybe it was the suddenness of her demise, or perhaps that I had to make the decision to end her life that hit so hard.   Healthy and bouncy one day, she had within a couple of weeks spiralled downward, suffering lack of appetite, loss of bodily function and rapid weight loss. The diagnosis, cancer. The treatment, none.  Our girl was terminal and the vet assured me, as I vacillated between hanging on to her for as long as possible or easing her suffer

It was a pleasant fall evening last Friday, as we headed into our Thanksgiving long weekend in Canada.  Despite the promise of temperatures dropping below freezing, my husband was struck by the notion that it would be a great chance for the last campfire of the season. So, as dark descended I found myself outside on a crisp autumn night, bulky in winter clothes, bundled in blankets, facing the warmth of a cheery blaze. Prepared for the less than balmy temperatures, it was actually not the least unpleasant and we enjoyed a quiet drink and conversation while listening to and watching the hypnotic crackle and dance of the flames.  The only difference between this fire and those held in the summer was the fact that no one joined us. Lights glowed from neighbours' homes, but none ventured forth to brave the elements with us. Well, almost no one. A friendly, little cat, which seemed to have lost its way,  decided to befriend us. It spent the duration of the fire hanging out with us