Why I Love My Pets

I post photos of my clients’ pets regularly, but even though I photograph my pets all the time, I only post photos of them occasionally. For National Pet Appreciation Week, I wanted to share some of my favorite images of my pets and tell you what I love most about them.

It all started with Lindy, our gray and white kitty. My in-laws found her walking in downtown Leesburg and brought her to my husband’s grandmother’s home. No one had reported her missing when we were there a few weeks later, and when she saw me, she looked up, meowed, brushed against my leg and lay on her side so that I could rub her stomach. I turned to my husband, Mario, and said, “Can we have a cat?” She came home with us three days later. I stayed home from work sick two days after we brought her home, she snuggled with me in bed all day, and I fell completely in love with her. She is affectionate, sweet, tolerant, engaging and smart. When our son was younger, she let him carry her around the house in ways only a three-year-old could manage. And although I don’t appreciate it at the time, when she is hungry, she finds a lot of creative ways to wake me up, the funniest being batting at the dried flowers on my dresser.  She is 17 now, the smallest one in the house, but she runs it, no question.

Chaya, our black cat, came next, another one rescued by my in-laws, and another incredibly affectionate cat (who we very sadly lost in January). We kept her separated from Lindy for the first week at home, so I slept in a separate bedroom with her so she wouldn’t be alone. She slept right next to my face, with her nose in my ear, purring all night. When one of us left the room, she tried to leap on our backs so that she could come with us. She loved to play catch—when Mario or I threw a ball to her, she would catch it, and then drop it for us to throw again. One of my favorite things about Chaya was how she would look up at me and trill. She had a mischievous streak: she loved to hide outside when it was time to come in, somehow knowing how hard it was to spot a black cat in the shadows. I miss her every day.

Then we got our first dog, Caesar, who we think is a Czechslovakian Wolfdog Dog. The animal shelter had him listed as German Shepherd and Beagle mix. German Shepherd maybe, but Beagle, definitely not. His legs are way too long. He had been returned to the animal shelter three times, for reasons we describe as, “no one took the time to train him.” He bonded with us instantly, and, in my opinion, personifies the perfect dog: smart, family-oriented, loyal and protective. As soon as he sees our son going outside, he stands by the door so that he can go out with him. He loves to wrestle with Mario, but when it snows, that is magnified tenfold. He looks ferocious, as you can see from the photo, but is just playing as hard as he can.

I walked into PetSmart one weekend when they were having an adoption event, which is how Homer came home with us. He was 6-months-old and was just lying quietly in a pen, with all the commotion going on around him. The write-up on him said that he got along with other dogs, cats and children, and as we had all of them, thought he would be a good fit for our family and a good buddy for Caesar. He is laid-back, easy-going and loves to go for walks, staring at me every morning until I put my sneakers on. When we first brought him home, he chewed up one of Tommy’s favorite toys, and we still laugh at Tommy’s reaction: “Homer is the bad dog who ate my fireman. I want to return him to PetSmart.” We call him the “cookie monster” — we honestly believe that if you offered him the choice of meat or a cookie, he would choose the cookie.

And we really had no intention of adding to our family when we brought home the twins: Alfie and Griffin. I’d photographed them for adoption for our vet, Leesburg Veterinary Hospital, and asked if I could bring them home “just for the weekend.” That was November. If I could only use one word to describe them, it would be “sweet.” Alfie loves to be held, and as soon as you pick him up or pet him, he starts to purr. He is really funny, smart and persistent. Lindy is a slow eater (he is not), and he always wants to eat her food. First he sticks his face in it, and I push him back. So he lies there, as close as possible, watching her. Then he gently paws her tail. Then tries to put his paw in her food so that he can pull it to him. I don’t think Lindy finds it nearly as entertaining as we do. Griffin loves attention as well, loves to play with Alfie (how two 12-pound cats chasing each other around the house can sound so loud astonishes me) and is much more respectful of Lindy.

I love them all, they are a joy to have around and help to make our house a home.

What do you love the most about your pets? Share it in the “comments’ below.

Ellen Zangla Photography—Specializing in pets and the people who love them.