My first Pet

I was around seven or eight years old when we purchased our own pet. We vowed we would take care of it, change its cage, feed it, water it...Mom ended up doing all that. Except for the watering and feeding part, I enjoyed that. I had a horrid gag reflex as a child which would often impair me from being able to do things.

Anyway, what was our first pet? That is actually up for debate. We had an African Clawed Water Frog and a Guinea Pig around the same time. The frog was named Peach and the Guinea pig was named Bubby.

We couldn't touch Peach because of the oils on our skin, the oils could kill him. So, we fed him and watched him grow. He never got very big, but he was still a great pet. When he was a baby he was clear, so we got to see his lungs, heart, intestinal system. It was really cool, best home-schooling experience ever.

Then we got Bubby. I suppose, technically, Bubby was dads' pet. But my sister and I played with him more than dad or mom. He was the best Guinea pig we ever had and the only one. He would let us hold him for hours, petting him. We would also feed him carrots and over vegetables by hand. He never bit us. Although, he started to bite some of our friends who were too rough with him.

Bubby was one of my all-time favorite pets and it brings me no end of joy that my father wants to buy one again, this time for my three younger siblings. I believe this is an excellent plan and they can care for an animal that way. Caring for an animal is a great way to learn about responsibility. 

Childhood Story #1

When I was a kid, I was the pastor's daughter of a very small church in NY state. Dad wasn't saved yet, so life was tough. It meant that there was unnecessary yelling, slamming doors, and walking on eggshells.

My sister was blissfully ignorant of the tension most of the time. She lived in her own world of imaginary friends and animals. She always has had the best stories and we all still think she should be writing.

Anyway. As a kid, I didn't really fit in. I was quiet, shy, got along with boys better than girls, and got along better with adults than kids. The other little girls told me I was weird most of the time. It was the truth, I was unusual. My vocabulary was bigger than most of theirs, my understanding of life was better, and I had a concept of death that most of them didn't even have yet. This caused me to relate more to boys than girls.

I started hanging out with two brothers. I'll call them Carl and Evert. They were my best friends for years, I hung out more with them than any of the other kids. We would talk. Just talk for hours, not even play. They could eventually coax me to play, but it would take a while and they were willing to wait.

I was never an optimistic child. My dad attributes this as his fault, we both are fatalistic in nature. We are both slowly becoming optimists, but it's taking longer than I'd like. I never assumed I'd make it to adulthood. I assumed I'd die young, like teenage years. I would come up with scenarios of cancer or other horrific deaths. So, I just figured I'd never get old enough to have kids.

Shockingly, I'm 22 now. When I hit 18 I realized I'd actually live and started trying to figure out what to do with my life. But that's not really what we're talking about.

I still can't handle yelling or loud noises. I'll usually end up trying to escape the noise in any way possible. This includes running away, hiding somewhere, or tuning out until it's over. This is not healthy by the way. I never recognized it as an unhealthy behavior but I do now. In college classes, if a professor seemed irritated, I would try my best not to react. I usually would withdraw within myself out of fear and it would take at least two weeks for me to be able to participate in class again. When my math professor figured that out, he did his best to hide his irritation. Whenever he spoke to me it was always in soft coaxing tones so I'd interact with him.

Since then it's gotten better, I can interact with anyone. I will explain my nervousness with crowds in another post. That one might take a little longer to explain. 

Four Years Old and in Love with Horses.

When I was four years old I was taken to my Grandpa's house. He had several horses at the time. Here are their names and how old I was (roughly) when I met them.

1. Pokey (4)
2. Dusty (4-6)
3. Old Donner (7)
4. Black Beauty (7)
5. Sugar (8)
6. Roscow (8)
7. Morgan (5)
8. Vivian (6)

All these horses played an important role in my horse obsession that has continued to this day. Pokey was the very first horse I met. He was a beautiful Paint horse with a fantastic disposition for dealing with children. He is one of my first and most vivid memories. His image was vague as I got older, but I always remembered his name was Pokey. I had a toy horse I named after him and one day I found a picture of myself on the real horse. I was shocked, the toy looked exactly like him. He died when I was around five or six.

Dusty and Old Donner lived longer than Pokey. One was an Appaloosa and I believe the other was a Quarter Horse. Old Donner was very done with the world while Dusty was somewhat of a trickster. Black Beauty was fascinated with children. Sugar was a giant Belgium draft horse. We think she died of a broken heart, she was sold and days later she died. There had been nothing wrong with her. That was around two or three years ago. She lived a long and happy life. She was one of the sweetest horses I had ever met.

They all had their own personalities. Vivian and Morgan, I avoided like the plague, they were not friendly and were known to nip people. I had never been nipped by them because I stood far enough away to interact without getting nailed.

Because of seeing all their personalities, beauty, and how fast they could run (Roscow), I decided these were my new favorite animal. I fell deeply in love with horses and would interact with them whenever I had the chance. This led to interactions with other horses.

In Texas:
Titan
Joker
Little Bit

Titan and Joker were at a ranch that I would ride horses at. We did it every year when my Nana came to visit. Titan was the "outcast", he was constantly bullied by the other horses. I loved him because of his gentle personality. Joker lived up to his name, he enjoyed playing pranks on people. You could tell they were pranks because of the glint in his horsey eye before he did them. (Stopping midway on a hill, almost throwing the rider off. Trying to roll in the water. Scratching belly on tall pricky weeds)

I helped take care of Little Bit. I would groom him, give him food, give him water, and ride him. He was a great horse but ornery as heck. He would always throw his head up just enough so I couldn't reach it. He was a stinker, but I loved him.

Thus how my love for horses started and never ended. 

Childhood

I think it's safe to say my childhood was unusual. My father was a pastor from the time I was a baby until I was nine before he took a break. For a long time, I more or less had friends handed to me. Every kid wanted to be my friend because I was the pastor's kid or because their parents told them to. It's not a great foundation for friendship.

As a kid, I remember feeling like something was off. Every once in a while, someone would say something like, "I'm only friends with you because I have to be."   Or, "I don't really like you." Let me just say, even as a kid I could hear the grain of truth behind those statements. They were forced to interact with me, but many of them didn't really want to. It was unfair of their parents and mine to force us to interact with each other. I do believe that stunted my ability to make friends on my own.

Then we have the issue of false conversion. This happens when you talk a good talk until you believe yourself. This is what happened to my father. He wasn't a Christian while he was pastoring. I know this is confusing but bear with me. When he got saved, it was noticeable. His entire life turned around, I witnessed it as an eight-year-old. He had a sudden zeal for the gospel he didn't really have before. And then he quit being a pastor because he didn't feel qualified as a newly saved Christian.

That is when we moved again. I ended up in Texas for six years of my life and needed to learn how to make friends. Which was basically teaching me a new "peopleing" thing that I never really learned on my own. (I was also home-schooled, but that has nothing to do with it. My sister was great at making friends)  I more or less tagged along behind my sister and still didn't make my own friends. Added to the fact I was painfully shy, my sister was like my crutch and I was her protector. Two sister's against the world, it was amusing for the world.

My childhood is actually very complicated and um...I will focus on individual stories from here on out.