I didn't really have pets growing up. We briefly had a dog that I barely remember now, named Blaki (he was black), when I was about three years old. He had belonged to my great-aunt but when we moved in with her for a couple of years, she took the opportunity to hand him over. My only memory of him is of us playing together under the dinner table with adult legs and feet all around us. I also remember that Blaki just disappeared. My mother told my brother and I (he's a bit under 2 years older than me) that he'd gone to visit my Godmother. At first, we were okay with that. But a year later when we were moving to a new place of our own, he still hadn't come back and we escalated our interrogation of our mother. My mother had gotten sick of us asking when Blaki would come back, so she finally fessed up that she'd given him away. She doesn't really like animals, which seems to be a common thing in Dominican culture. Cats and dogs down there are NOT viewed or treated in the way cats and dogs are treated here in the U.S. During my and my husband's vacation to the Dominican Republic last fall, we were appalled to see dirty, starving (literally starving!) homeless dogs all over the streets, they were just a nuisance on the streets - sort of the way we perceive pigeons in New York City. Except, even pigeons in NY get fed regularly. It was really sad. I may make it a mission later in my life to start an animal humane society down there - a retirement project maybe?

In any case, I have to admit that, having grown up in the Dominican Republic during my early childhood and having been raised by my mother, I adopted the fear and dislike of animals that is common in my family. I was very afraid of dogs (still don't really approach strange dogs as a precaution) and thought cats were spooky.

Then came Murphy!

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