When I was growing up, none of my family swore. The only exception to that rule happened maybe twice a year when I would hear--DAMNIT!!! A hammer usually preceded it on a finger or something similar. I first used that word at the tender age of five. I had been given a dog much against my parent’s wishes, and I loved her dearly. However, that particular Easter Day, she became a damnit dog for the day. I had been thrilled with my Easter basket that morning. I received no candy other than at Easter and Christmas, so it was a very big deal indeed. When I returned from church that ill-fated morning, I raced upstairs to soak in the splendor of my Easter harvest. Demolition is a good word for what I saw! Chaos.!Easter grass all over and not much candy. Some jelly beans had been chewed and spit out! Chocolate had been broken into, but luckily for the damnit dog, she had not consumed much. She was fine and dandy. I was not. I was filled with righteous rage. I chased her through the house, yelling DAMNIT DOG. My parents thought this was hugely funny. The chase stopped when Peggy burrowed under the couch. By the way, I was not given more candy to make up for the chewed, and spat-up Easter treats. I was a child of the fifties. You sucked it up.

My uncle Bert and Grandpa were livestock dealers and would always see I had a pony or horse available when I visited. I began on a Shetland. Her name was Polly, and she was a damnit pony. When I arrived, my uncle tacked her up and led me around the yard till he thought I was ready for my solo flight. I was so excited. The next morning, bright and early, I raced out to ride Polly. Somehow I got on and was told to have a good time. You bet I would!! Only I didn’t. Polly would walk two steps and then eat grass. I would clamber off awkwardly and lead her away, like priming a pump. I figured if I gave her the idea, it would all come together. Back on, I would get. Two steps and down, her damnit head would go. I kicked her sides and slapped the reins, all to no effect. Damnit pony!

In time I progressed to a Welsh pony named Cindy. Cindy was more obliging once you were on, but she was a crafty damnit pony. My uncle had gone for the day, and I had the bridle in hand as I headed out to the pasture to enjoy a ride on Cindy. Oh no!! My poor darling pony was limping. Terribly. I could hardly walk. Well, naturally, riding was out of the question. When my uncle returned that night, I told him he had to fix Cindy. She was terribly hurt.! Out we went. Cindy was racing around the pasture with great abandon, no limp in sight. My uncle laughed. I did not. We brought out the bridle, and suddenly, I had a limping pony once more. Damnit, Welsh pony.

In Arizona, I boarded my horses at a stable. One day, my trainer suggested I ride a new horse she had and go for a trail ride with a group. Up and out I went, all going smoothly. My cell phone rang partway down the trail. None of us knew that this was not acceptable to the new damnit horse. Explosion describes what happened. Crow hopping, going wild. I did not fall off, but maybe it would have been better if I had. The severe and unexpected jarring cracked three vertebrae. Damnit horse doesn’t entirely cover it. It was called far far worse. The blaze of the Arizona sun did not hold a candle to my fury.

When I returned from Arizona and moved into my house in Canada, I had a tuxedo cat named at the time, Pussy Gato. He had been a stray, and I couldn’t leave him behind, so along, he came for the cross country ride. I didn’t have room for him and five cat-hating dogs, so I was in the process of deciding what best to do when he escaped outside. I told everyone in the small town to keep an eye out for him. I would get calls such as,” Just saw him on Main street.” I would race to Main, but no Pussy Gato. Early in the morning,” he’s over at Mary’s barn!” No, the damnit cat was not. This went on all summer, and I thought he had washed his paws of me. October came, and the first snow of the season. Mid-morning, I heard a scratching at the door. There was Pussy Gato, ready to be pals again. In he whisked as if he hadn’t deserted me months ago! Damnit cat was obviously a fair-weather friend! I thought of all the running and searching around I had done all summer!!! Well damnit.

When in Arizona, I had twenty-two exotic birds. One, in particular, was a cockatoo named April. April took a deep dislike to me. Who knew why? Only April. All birds spent out of cage time, of course, but this one evening, all were caged as I prepared supper. All of a sudden, I felt a stabbing pain in my ankle. What the ----. I realized it was because April’s beak was stabbing me. Somehow she got out of her cage, waddled into the kitchen, and attacked my closest body part to her, my unprotected ankle. I was nursing that ankle for some time to come. Damnit April. I was before and after very kind to her. My daughter came to visit at one point and sat too close to April’s cage. April must have thought it was me as she reached through her bars, grabbed Becky’s hair, and began to try and rip it out. She was a bird bent on destruction--mostly of me. So there are damnit birds also.

I had a nail-eating dog named Duke. He was getting a mighty fine doghouse built when he slurped up some nails right in front of me! Damnit dog. Off to the vet for X-rays, etc. ( etc., standing for money). Fortunately for the damnit dog, everything worked out eventually, if you catch my drift. Greed on steroids!

My most recent experience to cause me to damnit an animal happened with me and Samuel Bambi. Sam is Ken’s horse--all 1300 pounds of him. But I love and feed him too. He’s a roan with spots on his rump, thus Bambi’s nickname. As you can tell by his weight, he does not really resemble Bambi much. I was feeding him one day, and he was a little rowdy. I won’t go into details, but one big hoof came down on my big toe with a whomp. Despite having boots on, I soon had to visit the podiatrist. My big toenail had to be cut off due to a damnit horse!

There is no conclusion to draw from this rant. All and any animals, big or small, can be damnit animals. Come to think of it; we could say the same of people, now couldn’t we? Think about that!