Category Archives: Pet

The Cat who Saved Me

I’ve always wondered why I’ve had a penchant for rescue dogs and cats. I think it started with the dog we adopted when I was eight years old and we moved to the country. She was an outdoor dog we had shaved every summer to prevent burrs and we let her into the basement at night but never really had much to do with her.

That summer my sister went off to camp and had a great time, then I was slated to go for a week at what we called Why Camp in the Weeds (of course it was Y Camp in the Woods). The weather turned and it was 40 degrees at night in the summer and rained all day and we had forced hikes.

First, I was sent by my leader to sweep the tent. Our 14 year-old Junior Leader was having sex with a boy from the camp across the lake but I thought he was assaulting her so asked for help. She made my life miserable from that day on.

Then one night I was the one in the cheapest sleeping bag possible, and froze every night except this was the worst. Finally I went to sleep and awoke warm and happy to be there. Then I found out there was a critter in my bag. The gals eased down the zipper in case it was a raccoon or possum and it was a kitten!

My savior! And I was his/hers. It must have been feral but it found me so I’ve helped spay/neuter and make sure ferals are taken care of for years, even in other countries. I always wondered when it started, and that was the day.

Until then I only had my girlfriend Sheila in the cot near me, and the promise of two Peppermint Patties for a total of ten cents once a day, and knowing I had an hour to nap or write a postcard to my family 30 minutes away. That kitten saved us both from frostbite and it was not an accident, it was fate and even though I didn’t know why, I was always grateful and give back. Cheers, Dee

Abandonment

Zoe will be eight years old next month. She’s a smart herding dog who can hunt and kill a mouse in seconds. She behaves indoors, but outside, she knows what she’s being asked/told and chooses not to respond.

This morning a ball came her way and the dog for which it was intended let her get it. I took her off leash and they chased the ball for five minutes. When she got it he was an absolute gentleman and didn’t take it from her, even though she cheated and stayed in the outfield.

When we were ready to leave she stayed behind. Knowing she hates separation from her pack I just walked home, shut the door behind me and began peeling off the layers of hat, scarf, layered jackets, boots and gloves. A few moments later I opened up the door and guess who was sitting on the mat? Zoe.

I silently let her in and we didn’t talk for several hours after that. She knew that if we had a dog house or even a crate (it’s being lent around the neighborhood for new pups) she’d be in it.

Bad dog mom? I don’t know. I knew she’d be right back, she just didn’t want to come when called. So, we’ll work on that. Perhaps she’ll have to do more than wear the jingle bell and wreath collars this year. Antlers may do the trick! Dee

Pets

In this NY Times opinion, Professor Kelly Oliver of Vanderbilt University http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/10/30/the-pathology-of-dependence-on-animals/?src=me&ref=general opines on hunting, pets, service dogs and presidents.

Apparently US presidents don’t look “presidential” unless they hunt. Needing a service dog makes one look weak, and needing a family pet is just a feminine, emotional thing that makes us look even weaker.

This is a philosopher who writes that man must dominate animals because humans have higher brain functions and need to concentrate on literature and culture, perhaps the upper class may even deign to a profession like a rich colonel who’s never served in battle, a lawyer or doctor.

Our pets are not the same as us and we should not try to prove them so, no matter how many chimps can paint, crows who can use tools to make tools or horses or elephants who can count.

Despite what the author might surmise I’m not a “crazy cat lady.” I live a normal life with a husband and older dog who we adopted as a pup. Have any of these philosophers ever walked in their front door to see an entire body wagging, begging for a pat, a walk and dinner? If not, you’ve never seen unconditional love.

I went to a Catholic college where we were required to take two semesters of religion and two of philosophy.  As to the latter we were told not to think, just to parrot back what we read and heard in class on weekly multiple choice tests.

My second religion class I was railroaded into because the professor didn’t have enough students and they thought a freshman could take what he called a graduate-level class.  I was so peeved at the lack of thought in philosophy and learning in religion class about speaking in tongues and snake handling that I wrote my paper on the financial practices of a well-known and respected preacher. I was 17. I got my first “D.”

Have these philosophers ever had to make the decision to willingly euthanize a pet because it was terminally ill and in pain?  Have they stood by their dog’s side when the sedative didn’t take effect and their dog stood up five times with no medical attention then while I held her for the final solution?

We live mainly in urban environments and don’t really need a dog to guard sheep or herd cattle.  Maybe eat rats in the big cities. A pet is a companion that a responsible owner will keep and take care of all its life and be there at its death then responsibly take care of the remains.

To Professor Oliver: our dog has “emotions… reason, love and emotional dependence….” She knows the fun guy, the food wench, where we hide her favorite toy, where her friends pee and every time I go up and down the stairs she’s with me. She’s a herder so loves “routine.” She can recognize our emotions and knows that when one is sick she’ll stay in bed to comfort or from self-interest.

I depend on our dog for companionship. She demands of me and my husband food, shelter, love and to keep her from running into traffic in front of the Russian bobsledders, who drive like maniacs while on their cell phones.

Interstingly, the required religion and philosophy courses caused me to question the faith I grew up in, catholocism. I’ve been questioning rules and government and everything else ever since. Telling a student not to think is not a good idea, especially when I’m funding a significant portion of my education. I’m still in touch with my head Prof, a priest, and appreciated the few such as he that opened my world instead of closing it. Here’s to dog Zoe.  Oh, check her out on youtube. Zoe rolling over.  Look it up, it’s too late for me. Cheers, Dee

New Pups and Traveling

No, we don’t have a new one. When we drove out here to the mountains over 2.5 years ago we left everything we owned in storage. We drove two cars 1,600 miles with our dog, laptops, clothes, some kitchen stuff then we each got something special to bring.

I brought the food processor and Jim brought his PSIII. We left our heirloom quilts with his mother for safekeeping.

When we got here we knew Zoe was familiar with a crate so wanted to make her feel at home and make sure she didn’t get into anything while we were out so we got her a wire crate and another bed. We also fitted out my SUV with a cargo screen and 4″ orthopedic bed that would fit a Great Dane (she’s 35 lbs).

We have another wire crate, one with a divider in it that we got when we adopted her at six weeks of age. But you’ll love this, she has a super-sized airline crate she flew in when we were sent to another city for Jim’s work several years ago. It has warning and hazard signs saying “LIVE CARGO” et al.  Plus Jim velcro’d on a waterproof plastic pouch to hold her papers for travel, health, instructions et al.

He even installed a battery-powered fan! So, while we don’t have use of either of those because they’re in storage way longer than we wanted them to be, our new wire crate is being used in the neighborhood.  Earlier this year Parley used it for a few months. As of this week, new pup Harley has it until he’s house-trained.

Yes, I know.  Any pups named Farley, Marley or Charlie will not be allowed into the neighborhood because it’ll get confusing. I just thought you might like the story of Jim’s out-of-this-world airline crate.  Wish I could take a photo for you. Cheers, Dee

Congratulations!

to Austin TX Town Lake Animal Center (TLAC), for being designated a “no-kill” facility and moving to larger quarters so they can better serve the community.

Nearly eight years ago we adopted our Zoe from there.  She was only six weeks old. Unfortunately I can’t find puppy photos on this laptop.  They’re here, it’s my technical ineptitude that prevents me from going back more than five years.

Now she’s featured in TLAC’s “100 Days” blog, chronicling the 100 days before moving to the new facility.  In my mind, Texas and some Western states have taken years to embrace no-kill shelters. Euthanizing an adoptable animal when a foster home or breed rescue group is available is against everything I believe.

Most people wouldn’t have taken our young shelter dog to get her hips removed because she couldn’t walk due to severe dysplasia.  But she’s part of our family and we all got through it. At least she won’t have hip problems in her later years!  If she does, I’ve even researched the right cart for her.

If you’d like to read the piece, which was featured on today’s blog, try http://thelast100daysoftownlakeanimalcenter.blogspot.com/2011/10/zoes-story.html#comments.

Hope you had a great day.  Mine was interesting and may lead to opportunities in the future. Cheers, Dee

Renewal

This morning I was making breakfast while looking out on the Preserve and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a father helping a youngster on probably a tricycle or something, there are bushes in the way.

Then I realized it was my neighbor, in his early 60′s, helping the pup they got yesterday learn to jog with him.  I just saw this white floppy tail wagging along.

They lost their dear dog of 14 years last week, and needed another.  Mom has the house decorated for Thanksgiving and I told my husband last night that there’s no way all of those stuffed animals (turkeys et al) at floor level will survive with an eight week-old pup.  A 14 year-old dog, yes, but not this 24 hour newbie with puppy teeth.

After my Chani died it took two years to get another dog.  Granted, I met my husband and we got married and moved first.  I had a spreadsheet of names that we culled to 20 and then to five. Once we met her and spent a few days with her, it was Zoe, Greek for life.

We will have been with Zoe for eight years early 2012 and she has brought joy and a herding mentality to our lives.  We are richer to have known her and will be sad when she is gone.  I don’t want to think about that right now as she is healthy and happy.  I don’t know that we could get another dog in a few days. We’ll see.

To see a 60 year-old man train a pup to jog with him, when they both look like kids, is an inspiration, a renewal of life when one close has departed. They’re called family pets for a reason, they’re part of the family and should be treated as such.  Here’s to family, Dee

Changing Seasons

In many ways.  We’ve had a very brief summer after a very long and snowy winter, then lots of mud, then lots of high grasses.  The trees are still green but it snowed here through June 3, so the peaches never really got ripe.

Nights are getting colder.  The dog even gets me up at 4:00 in the morning to close the slider and put a corner of Jim’s extra blanket over her.

Zoe, the dog, an Aussie mix, has at least a single undercoat.  I bathed her recently and bought a “rake” and have combed her nearly every day and thought the undercoat was gone.  Now there’s this maroon area rug in our living room and it no longer has undercoat tufts that you can just pull out with your hands, it has top fur as well.  There’s no keeping up with it.

The irony of all this work is that by next week her body will tell her to grow another undercoat to prepare for snow.  There’s no end.  Two combs, thin, one slicker brush, one rake and a furminator.  Plus avocado oil spray so she doesn’t have static.  But she’s not spoiled or anything.  She only has her own pillow (on our bed) and gets covered when needed.

The seasons change in other ways.  This weekend we meet up with year-rounders, friends who we have dinner parties with over the non-touristy months.  It’ll be good to see them.  We’ve also gotten to know people who come here for months, like the entire summer, and they’ve left or are in the process of leaving.  One of the interesting things is getting to know a lot of interesting people.  Then they leave.

No, we don’t get to know the skiers here for a weekend, but I think you know a nice person and when you see them the same time of day, every day, there’s a camaraderie that develops.

And up in the mountains, we’re always here for each other.  That’s why we stick together and try to meet in a warm place with good food every once in a while.

People change, seasons change. It might be nice to retire here but it’ll be a while…  Dee

Second Chances

Years ago I volunteered for an animal shelter that had a special program to keep dogs in domestic violence situations.  As a soc/psych grad I thought this was brilliant.  Often, abusers start by torturing small animals, graduate to family pets, then children and spouses.  This program would allow a family, when the abuser is put behind bars, to get their dog back.

Today I received an email from Cesar Milan Inc. saying that Michael Vick, who ran a dog fighting enterprise and had dogs killed, should get a second chance.

I disagree.  It’s not enough for Mr. Vick to participate in a violent sport, NFL football.  He had to engage in more violent enterprises in his time off.  If he doesn’t care about the well-being of “man’s best friend” he is a dangerous individual who needs lifetime counseling (that won’t do anything) and monitoring.

Pit bulls, cock fights, are all monstrous activities that are considered “sport” to a specialized segment of our communities.  Perhaps it’s wounded people, emotionally damaged, that like watching specially bred animals to fight to the death because they’ve never been in control of their own lives.

I won’t go to a rodeo or horse race, instead help shelter animals and ferals.  In this case I believe that Michael Vick, removed from court time served to advocate for animals, will go back to being Michael Vick, animal cruelty specialist.  And watch out for his family, as once frustrated in his desire to see animals kill each other, his family is next so Animal Control should be contacting the social services department right about now.  Not happy about this, Dee

Puppies

While our dog turned seven years old, friends’ dog died over the holidays and they said they’d never get another. Wrong! After years of living with an older, well-trained dog this week they got a pup from a local shelter.

He’d just been neutered and they brought him home the same evening. The next morning I got a call saying “Help!” He’s running around like crazy and has peed over the entire house!

When I arrived he was settled down to a 1/2 hour nap and didn’t even come to the door. They were watching him like hawks and worried that he was running a fever. I told the pup he’d never get so much attention as he did his first day at home!

I remember wanting a pup once in my life so we got Zoe and she’s had some problems but now at age seven (we got her at six weeks, AFTER she’d been spayed, too early for me) she has always been part of our family and is probably sleeping on my pillow as I write this. But puppyhood is an exercise in compassion, control of one’s emotions and making sure the dog is walked 8 times a day! Plus housebreaking and training.

Perhaps I’ll re-create the lentil loaf I made for my first dog, who now has a tree in California with a great view, provided to the City by neighbors and other friends. She had equal parts lentil loaf, rice and kibble with no meat by-products or corn. A wonderful dog that endeared herself to nearly everyone in the community, she is missed to this day. Cheers, Dee

The Last Dog in the Park

I was lucky enough to get a great rescue dog nearly 20 years ago. When we moved to a small condo, after a couple years of training because she’d been abused and was afraid of men and children, we ventured out into our new neighborhood. There was a five acre “pocket park” we began to walk through. The mothers and kids at the tot lot were not friendly at first as I walked her through the park (not the tot lot) on a legal 6′ leash.

Then Park and Rec demolished the tot lot an made a new one with current (at least then) safety equipment and spongy turf instead of sand.
that’s when we began to meet people. One of the first was a new friend and her 3# Yorkie Savannah. Savannah had a mind of her own and she began to have a set of clothing most women would die for: as she was smaller than any retailer made clothing for, a milliner friend designed clothing just for Savannah. July 4th she had a reversible denim/red gingham dress with matching baseball cap.

The human friends I made at this park are mainly older. Many are gone now, as are their beloved pets. Years later and several moves later we still keep in touch with a few of the humans.

Nearly ten years ago my dog died. One day she brought her favorite toy out to the park, and she’d never brought a stuffed animal out there before, but later I figured that was her goodbye. She died the next day with no warning. All our friends were so helpful and kind but walking out there to the park the next day was torture until I got there and was hugged. They all bought the city a tree in my dog’s honor and there it sits with better views than any of our homes had! The tot lot kids who yelled “it’s Chani!” every day felt bad saying “It’s Chani’s Mom” so settled with a muted Hi, Dee.

We played with Makai, Gigi, Sunnegga, Gus, Woody, Harley, and many other neighborhood dogs. Savannah was always special. One day she decided to go out on her own because two very large, vocal Rottweilers were barking their heads off. She faced off with them, spoke a few words in Dog, and they shut up. This three pound dog silenced two huge hulking beasts and they didn’t eat her. Of course they didn’t, as the “she” in question was Savannah.

All of us came to this park years ago seeking friendship and neighborliness. Unfortunately others thought a group of widows with bichons and other dogs were a threat to the community so made sure to call the authorities on us at every opportunity. Most of us remained friends, but now the last dog of the group is gone. It is the end of an era. The tree belongs to Savannah, Makai, Woody, Dolley, Lucy, Micey, and every other dog that lived and died by our park, including my dog Chani. To our Best Friends, Dee