My life in a Zoo

I met my wife a little over 9 years ago. She told me she had a couple of dogs. I think it was a little bit more than a couple. The first day I actually visited her house I rang the doorbell to the sound of what I thought were an army of dogs.



I didn’t meet them right away, we watched some DVD’s on her ex-husbands big screen TV with his super expensive DVD player. Then I met the dogs: one very calm and polite Airedale, two watchful Komondors, one male, and one female about 5 years old, their showing days over, they were now retired. She also had one Komondor that was about two years old, her showing days had just begun.



About a week after she tossed her ex to the curb, the older Komondors decided to have a little unauthorized fun. The heavy breathing woke her up, but she didn’t want to deal with it. I don’t blame her. The outcome was nine puppies. Yes, she had a total of 13 dogs!
My mind was saying “Run!” My heart wasn’t. I stayed, married her eventually. Attended her dog shows for a while and a little ways down the road of life; we managed to sell off or give away the nine puppies and the youngest of the pack. We were left with three. Now three dogs I can handle!



Soon after we settled down and stopped showing, a cat followed the daughter home (yeah, right!). We decide to keep it, even if the Airedale was known for catching cats, it stayed in her room.



A couple years down the road, the Airedale died of cancer, a very sad time for all; she was a Champion and always well behaved. We were now happy with two, it was easy – except for when the female went into heat and we had to separate them. She could have taken care of that, but both dogs were approaching old age now. She didn’t want to risk it.


Four years ago, the female started slowing down, and we decided to get one more dog. I choose this time, a Whippet. Known for their speed and prey drive these dogs were awesome racers, and that is a main reason why we got them. I wanted to race them.

( Meeme, Razzie, Billie)

Now we had three Whippets, one cat, and two Komondors. When the female Kom began to pass, we helped her along, it was a hard decision, but it was time. She went quietly – just the sobs of the family ringing through the Vets office.
About a month later, she was ready to get another one. Maybe a little one this time, a lap dog that she could cuddle up with when I worked second or third shift. After some research, and a lot of looking, she found a breeder of Italian Greyhounds. We went there one night to buy one. We walked away with two – a brother and sister.

The male Komondor, Bully, is still with us, he is getting old, 77 in human years, and has a little trouble standing and going up the steps and holding his bladder – but he is happy, even when the Iggies pay a little too much attention to him. All three whippets are getting along fine, except when the female is in season. I hope this is the last year that we have to separate them when they go outside, it is a pain.









Our ferret count totaled out at 7 eventually and the daughter added 2 rats to her collection. The rats and cat still share the same room – the rats in a cage where the cat just stares at them. The ferrets were old when we first got them, now there are three left. A young one she adopted off of a friend that didn’t want it and two old ones. They are hanging in there.

A basket full of ferrets!

The dominate Whippet male, Billie, has picked up a good habit from the ancient Komondor – he is our guard whippet and will bark every time the bell rings, even if it is the TV. We don’t race them as much as we use to, only because they seem to be out of state and further than we can afford to travel – but they get their exercise.
Me? Well I am a survivor – between letting them outside a few times a day, we manage to keep the messes down. They behave for the most part. Besides feeling like the underpaid kennel help sometimes, life isn’t too bad.

Razzie is wearing number 5
Billie is right beside him in blue