Marley & Me: Life and Love with the World's Worst Dog

I finished the book this morning and yeah, I cried. I don't see how you could be human and not cry. Reading how crazy hectic someone else's life can be because of an unruly pet makes you really appreciate the angels that live in your house. But you can commiserate with those pet owners if you've ever had a less than ideal pet of your own. One that comes quickly to mind and stands out as a misbehaving tyrant to those in my family is Maggie.

We discovered a tiny black kitten pitifully meowing in an empty lot when vacationing at our parent's cabin at Fishhawk Lake one summer. She had a broken tail. As we had been told to leave it alone so its mother could return to it, we were left to watch from a safe distance. And watch we did. All day. Our plans for a rescue solidified as dusk hit. There was no way a defenseless kitten would survive the night with any number of woodland creatures ready to hunt once under the cover of darkness. And my mom and dad, ultimately big softies when it came to pets, weren't about to let that happen, either. So, after a heated discussion where promises were extracted from us to provide all care and adopt the kitten out to a good family once we returned home, we were allowed to go and rescue the cat.

The kitten we later dubbed Maggie, was small enough to fit in the palm of my hand or sit quite comfortably in the opening of my shoe. Her eyes were open but they still had that milky fogginess and the color had not yet been defined. When we first tried to have her drink some milk out of a bowl, she submerged her head, came up coughing and sputtering, and then proceeded to do the same thing again and again and again. I think she sneezed more milk out than she actually took in. Maggie became my pet as I took ownership of the round-the-clock care required of such a small kitten - 2A.M. feedings, using a syringe was far more effective than a bowl, trips to the litter box, play time, and naps. Maggie and I bonded. It probably was no surprise to my parents that I began lobbying for Maggie to stay the moment we pulled into our driveway. And it was no surprise to me that I was able to do so successfully. Without too much fuss, Maggie became my pet, and was accepted as the latest addition to the family.

As Maggie grew into a strong-willed, fiercely loyal pet, it was clear she was only fiercely loyal to me and was strong-willed when it came to everyone else, no exceptions for parents or siblings. I remember a friend of mine, Brad, sitting on my dad's Barcolounger, who decided to mess with Maggie's tail after she had jumped up and settled on his lap. "I wouldn't do that," I warned. But Brad didn't listen and pretty soon Maggie was growling, this deep, guttural 'I will kill you' sound that stopped Brad immediately and had him quietly and respectfully asking me to remove her. But Maggie, even though she liked me best, wasn't to be messed with. Brad had to sit there until Maggie was good and ready to leave of her own volition.

For all of her moody behavior and occasional inappropriate furniture scratching, Maggie was a great frickin' pet. As were all of the others - Ruffless, Oreo, Tilly, Trixie, October, and Hannah. I imagine all pet owners reach this conclusion no matter how infuriatingly difficult a pet can be.