DECEMBER 15, 2022
I got an email some months ago and it was from my mother. She got a wild hair and wrote about the first two animals I rescued as a teenager, who she reared, and it appears as though I have been absolved of my teenage “crimes!”
Nevertheless, I decided to save this special (redemption) prose and post it the day I hit 100 orphans, but I am me and I forgot to update my spreadsheet, so I am sharing this in celebration of the ONE HUNDRED AND ONE orphans who came after Gizzy and Pebbles.
In honor of hitting the triple digits, I present Mom’s version of those first 2 rescues in the photos I’ve attached. Her perspective is romanticized by a combination of kindness and years gone by.
Below is MY recollection, and maybe some secrets she didn’t know.
Gizzy
Hello everyone. This is Ani’s mom. I have a little history from Ani’s youth that I want to share. It is about when she got her first orphan…..
She was just 16 when she wandered into the SPCA in Stafford and adopted a little puppy. She brought him home and … there he was…..sleeping on, yes, MY favorite chair when I came home from work. Ani named him Gismo and he was the sweetest little puppy ever. Eventually he became known as The Giz and he became a very special pet for our family. He befriended all, even cats, and he took me on walks every day. He was by my side always even when Ani grew up and moved away to find other dogs to love. I am 70 years old and I have had many pets but none so special as this little 15 pound love of my life. Thank you, Ani , for bringing me… The Giz.
Pebbles
Oh DEAR, I forgot Ani’s second orphan. The Giz had just gotten comfortable when Ani and her boyfriend found a little kitten. The sweet little kitten was in a ditch by the road and some MLB (mean little boys) were throwing rocks at her. That, of course, had to stop. The little calico was saved and christened “Pebbles” to remind us all of the trauma she had endured. She fit right in. From then on, Pebbles and The Giz ran the house together. Those two would have loved Crazy Town!
Ani’s Version
I was 16ish and I adopted an adorable pupper under false pretenses. I’m almost positive we (my friend, Brian and I) adopted Gizmo from a shelter outside our county of residence, because we had to use his parents’ address on our application AND get their approval to do a home visit which thankfully never happened. I wasn’t of age to adopt a dog, either, but Brian was, and Gizzie was ours!
The acquisition of Pebbles was hardly my fault, but I’ve always had trouble saying “no” to a baby animal. My boyfriend at the time worked in a neighboring county, saw the kitten being stoned by the kids, and brought it “home” to me in a box at the rescue squad where we decided to smuggle her into my parents’ home.
In both cases I do not recall having permission or supplying my parents advanced warning about these rescues, and I’m pretty sure Pebbles lived in my room for a while before I announced we had a new addition to the Cannon fam.
But, as my mom says, they were my first fosters and it’s true, because both the kitten and the pup ultimately became hers. I was young and all over the place; in no position to adequately meet an animal’s needs. I didn’t know that, but my mom did.
She took over both animals, and through them, set an example. Despite everything else she had going on, Mom and Gizzie walked twice every day. I believe Pebbles often followed them until they got to the big road she didn’t cross. I did not attend all those early morning walks, but I knew Mom was doing them—even when the mornings were dark and cold—she wore a flashing light on her coat; even in the snow—she wore her boots; even when no one else would walk their dog, Mom and The Giz didn’t skip. She taught Gizzie tricks (my favorite being “jump the leg”) and gave him baths in what used to be her darkroom sink. She made greeting cards out of his photographs and cooked his food because he was picky. I remember Mom telling me she had Gizzy’s teeth cleaned after her vet made a case about dental disease & heart health, but to not tell dad about it because he’d think it was ridiculous.
In the meantime, the years passed and a slightly older Ani (along with another boyfriend) went out in search of a goldfish and returned with a miniature dachshund named Farley. We brought him home to our apartment and he moved with us into a little house with a big fenced in yard, and that’s where he had his first seizure.
The “mom role” got real before I was old enough to drink, but it groomed me for who I am now. I needed every lesson one gets from a high-maintenance dog, not the least of which was seeing outside of myself and into the needs of another being —another species— who was completely dependent on me.
When Gizzie became ill, my mom got second and third opinions and did more “don’t tell dad” stuff, and at the end of his life, my mom did for him exactly what she did for us kids when we needed comfort: she made him a bed in the living room and ‘slept’ with him there.
Pebbles and Gizzie both lived long, rich, and happy lives thanks to my mom recognizing I was unequipped to see them through, and stepping up in my stead.
Gizzie was my mom’s soulmate; they even have a poop scandal story, and his stuffed bear wearing a sweater saying “Love” which humorous Gizzy liked to hump around company, still sits on her dresser wearing Gizzy’s old harness. My mom said A LOT OF TIMES that she both liked and loved the dog more than us teenagers, so it could be said that my rescues carried her though our adolescence. You are welcome, Mom!!!!