House of Carnivores

Busy Busy Busy

2012-02-15T18:57:00.000-08:00

It's been a busy, difficult couple of weeks, and once again I have been a Bad Blogger (TM) and not keeping up like I would like to. So if I've neglected your blog lately, mea culpa. I hope to do better. Real life is a bitch sometimes, it really is. We've had another death in the family, Jeff and I both got colds at the same time (which are NOT turning into bronchitis, yay!) and it just got really busy all at once.

However, there have been some periods of joy and peace that helped get me through. I'll show you some of them.

A snowy winter's kiss

It snowed last weekend. It certainly wasn't a lot by normal Pennsylvania standards (three inches, maybe?) but it has been the most that we've gotten all winter. It started Friday night and snowed most of the day on Saturday... just enough to keep the road in front of our house slick, and killed any desire that I had to leave the house. So. My simple solution was: I didn't leave the house. I stayed home, nursed the last of my cold, and enjoyed the time with my husband and the animals. I had just found out about the family death, and it was a nice way to quietly grieve, far from everyone else's view.

TWO weeks ago (before the snow) I met two dogs that were up for adoption at Steel City Greyhounds. Sophia is the white one with the brindle patches. She has since been adopted. Fly Rod, the handsome black male, still needs a home. Know someone in the Pittsburgh area that wants a dog? Tell them about Fly Rod. He's a gentle, affectionate, unassuming dog... the perfect pet.

Know someone that wants to adopt a dog but doesn't want a greyhound? I have another suggestion!

This Mama dog and her nine puppies were found abandoned by the side of the road in rural Western Pennsylvania. Fortunately, they were found by dog lovers, and brought back to Pittsburgh. The puppies have been weaned and have all found homes, but poor Mama dog is still waiting for her own place! It is thought that she is a German Shepherd mix, and she's only two years old herself. If you know someone who might be interested, direct them to me and I'll put them in touch with the rescuers!

The cats are doing well. I haven't taken many pictures of them lately, something that I must rectify this weekend! Here is one of Annie that I just took tonight, which makes me laugh. It's not the highest quality photo, but still makes me smile, and it shows her eyes! (Annie is notorious for averting her eyes when it's picture time. That and the black fur makes it difficult to photograph her face to begin with.) It's Annie's "Well?" look. She wants gooshey food. Frequently, this is the first thing that I see in the morning, two inches from my eyeball. Yikes!

And this weekend, we're going to have one more cat in our house. He is being fostered by another foster mom while he gets fattened up (he was found stray, and starving.) He is just staying at my house for a few days, then is returning to her. I haven't even met him and I can tell that he's a real sweetheart of a cat. Take a look at this picture!

See? I can let cats that aren't shades of black and gray in my house. I can! (Seriously, I have no color preference. It just happens that my cats are all black, white, and gray, and up until now, all of my fosters have been black, or black and white. Coincidence only. ) This guy's name is Eddy.

I will talk more about him this weekend, after I get to know him a little.

I hope that everyone is having a good week!

I Like Cats

2012-02-11T07:33:00.000-08:00

This probably comes as no surprise to my regular readers, but I am making this pronouncement to the world at large. I like cats.

My first pet was a cat. I live with three cats. I now foster cats and kittens on an on-going basis. I cannot imagine a time when I would not have at least one of them in my home. This is the way that it has always been, is now, and always will be. (Amen?)

Are you going somewhere with this?

So I find it really upsetting when I realize just how many cat-haters are out there. I'm not talking about those of you who prefer dogs to cats, or just aren't that into cats. Everyone has their own tastes, and is free to enjoy or not enjoy something as they please. But it really upsets me when the cat-haters seem to want to make a convert out of me.

First of all, it ain't gonna happen... these cat-haters can talk until they run out of oxygen and turn blue in the face and I will be no more convinced than I would be if someone tried to tell me that clouds are made out of candy. Or something equally dumb. So... why in the world would a cat-hater feel the need to interject into the conversation, once they find out that I have cats/rescue them/whatever with "I hate the little bastards."

Huh. How am I supposed to respond to that one? Is it an attempt to shut me down so that I don't torture them with cat talk? Is it an effort to pull me into a debate? Is it just someone mindlessly (mindlessly being the operative word here) expressing their opinion, oblivious to the fact that they're being insulting and obnoxious at best, hurtful at worst?

But the latest approach that I have seen is the all-wise, oh-so-condescending attitude of "if you truly understood cats, you'd hate them too. You only like them because you're a delusional tree-hugging hippy who is guilty of anthropomorphizing."

Umm... no?

One of the examples that I've been given: that the cat rubs her face on me to mark her territory, not to show affection. My response: Umm, duh! Anyone who has studied cat behavior at all knows that they mark territory like this. I don't find that a reason to dislike cats... does anyone, really? I don't think that territory marking and affection are mutually exclusive in the cat either. If a cat is "marking" you, you should really feel honored. You don't see cats marking people that they don't like. From the cat's perspective, there is nothing wrong with identifying her territory, that's what cats do. (Really, that's what we do too. Wedding bands, anyone?)

And of course, cat-haters always refer to the cat's aloofness and lack of affection. Yes, they do tend to be more aloof than a dog. Some cats are not affectionate, though that is usually less because they are cats and more because they were poorly socialized. And again, I feel like I should state (since so many of my readers are dog lovers, and some I know aren't crazy about cats) it is OKAY to not prefer cats. I am not trying to get into your face here. It's the people that try to bludgeon me with this perspective that get under my skin.

So if a cat hater comes to me and tells me that cats are aloof and not affectionate, I usually tell them that they don't understand cats as well as they think, that cats aren't all interchangeable, that they all have their own unique personalities.

And then of course they pull out the next weapon in their arsenal *eyeroll.* The crazy cat lady stereotype. Once I prove myself to be unconvertible, and even dare to suggest that cats are individuals, then I become the crazy cat lady. Of course the reason that I like cats is that I'm unbalanced, insane, somehow mentally deficient. It can't be that the cat-hater is wrong about cats, or even with the softer interpretation, I can't just have a differing opinion about cats.

My point to all of this? It's not to make converts out of non-cat people. I can't do that any more than a cat-hater can make me into "one of them" and I think that it is of the highest arrogance to try to persuade people to change their minds anyway. I guess that it's more of a rant against those that would try to change my mind, my lifestyle, my opinions, about something that I don't just like, I love.

Cats are cats. They have quirks, sometimes they can be royal pains. They are at the same time good friends and companions, and even the most plump housecat is beautiful in a predatory, untamed way that makes my heart feel free. They are a definite presence in the home - in any social gathering in someone's house, just look at the guests' reactions when the cat strolls into the room, tail and head held high, holding court. These are the things that I love about cats, and no mere hater is going to steer me off of my course.

Training Maera

2012-02-01T16:41:00.000-08:00

One thing that I've mentioned on this blog a couple of times is that Maera came to us with an... issue.

That is, she would get so excited to see us when we came home (even if we'd only been outside for 15 minutes) that she would literally pee all over the floor as she danced around, butt and tail wagging. Sometimes, even when we were both home, she'd race into the room that we were in, tail wagging excitedly, and pee on the floor at our feet.

To say that this was frustrating is an understatement. Jeff had to deal with the majority of this, because he was the one to get home first on most nights... poor guy. Because when you have two large dogs excited to see you, and pee is involved, pee also gets stepped in and then tracked all over the place. Need I elaborate any further? We went through a couple of large-sized jugs of Nature's Miracle cleaner, that's for sure.

I think that we've dealt with it. Finally. After six months.

So here are the facts, as we understand them.

- This is not unheard of, though not extremely common. When it does occur, it seems to usually be with young, submissive female dogs, across many different breeds. That description fits Maera perfectly.

- The common wisdom is that the dog "grows out of it" eventually as she gains confidence. The pee comes from two issues. One: separation anxiety and the corresponding joy upon us returning. Two: extreme desire to please. As bizarre as it seems to us humans, dogs often urinate to show submission.

- Which means, everyone from internet dog gurus to the obedience trainer that we trained with back in the fall told us, Do NOT yell at her for it. It will only make the desire to show submission stronger, which would make her more inclined to pee. Yelling would have the exact opposite effect that we wanted for it to have. (And when I say "yell" I actually mean firmly reprimand. I don't think anybody is recommending that anyone YELL at a dog.)

Sigh. That is quite a conundrum. How in the world do you train a dog not to pee upon seeing you if you can't reprimand her for doing so?

We found a winning formula that worked/is working for her. It very much seems like it just "turned off" overnight too. I don't know if it would work with every dog, but I thought that I would post in case someone else is having the same problems. Our methods might work for that person too.

Despite the fact that just two weeks ago, she stopped doing this just overnight, I do think that there was a process. Since we couldn't deal with the pee incidents themselves, except to not react to it at all, and then quietly clean up after it was all over, we needed to get at the root causes. And each step needed to be built upon.

Step 1 - Basic Training

First came the obedience training classes. Maera took to the training REALLY well. She sits like a champ. Greyhounds don't often like to sit because of the way that they're made... it's uncomfortable for them. It doesn't seem to bother Maera. It's what she does now if she wants treats, and we've made her sit before mealtime as well, and wait to be told that she can eat. (We do something similar for Argos, but I have him lie down completely, since he hateshateshates sitting.) This is where her fervent desire to please is really obvious, and I've learned from these training classes that she is smart as a whip. I was amazed at how quickly she picked up each new command.

Step 2: Separation

Because Maera is a young dog, she is a bit of a hooligan sometimes. She frequently helps herself to the "goodies" in the cat litter boxes, or eats the cat food, if she can get to it. Or she steals our shoes, my houseslippers, rolled up dirty socks, small pillows, rolls of duct tape, paper towels, any number of things. So my first instinct when we got her was to keep her with one of us at all times so that we could supervise her and keep her from eating things or carrying off things that she shouldn't.

But this was not helping her separation anxiety. She was literally with one or both of us at all times when we were home, and was having a hard time coping when we were away. Thus her explosive (and damp) joy when we finally got back home.

So we decided to start encouraging her to spend time in other rooms if she wanted to. This was really easy once she discovered our bed. She loves being on the bed, and tries to stay up there as much as we will let her. We started letting her jump up on the bed, and then we would leave the room. She became more and more comfortable with that idea. Now we can spend time in the study, with her in the bedroom, and no drama.

Step 3: Distraction

I think that being allowed up on our bed even with us not in the room made her start to be less anxious. Which meant that her greetings for us when we got home were slightly less frenetic. Oh yes, there was still pee, and she looked like she was taking off like a helicopter with her tail, but it was somehow less desperate. Which gave Jeff the idea that she was finally distractable. Maybe, just maybe, we could get her to stop if we could get her mind immediately onto something else. First, we tried tossing a small handful of kibble onto the floor when we came into the house. Since she's so food motivated, we thought that she would try to grab up every piece and then be too distracted to pee. This had mixed results. Yes, she did try to eat every piece, but sometimes would still pee anyway. It wasn't distracting enough. Picking up loose pieces of kibble is pretty mindless. We needed to engage her brain. (Remember, as I said earlier, she is a really smart dog. That brain needs to be stimulated.)

So we combined our obedience training with the new distraction theory. Immediately upon entering the house, we now present her with a piece of milkbone (or any treat that will take her at least a few moments to consume.) We tell her to sit. She knows that she has to sit to get the treat... and she does. And, no pee. It's worked for three straight weeks, every single time. Even with a few days at the pet resort when we were in Jamaica thrown in the middle there. Like a spigot turned off, if you'll pardon me for the imagery. God willing, it will continue to work.

If we hadn't trained her to sit before, the milkbone would have never worked - I think giving her a "task" to do to get the milkbone is key here. And if we hadn't started teaching her that it really is OK to sometimes be alone in our bedroom, I don't know that she'd have ever been able to focus enough on "sitting" for the milkbone. Not until it was too late, anyway. It all worked together, with time, and took some patience and thought on our parts.

Not to toot our own horn, but I'm pretty proud of that. Most important, I think that Maera is pretty proud of herself. I think that it's boosted her confidence. And that's what we all want... happy, confident pets.

Good News. Maybe.

2012-01-29T07:14:00.000-08:00

A couple of days ago, I mentioned that I might have some good news to share this weekend. I say "might" because honestly I don't know what to believe at this point, and I'm hesitant to get my hopes up too much.

Jeff took Charlotte to the vet on Thursday for her regularly scheduled, twice yearly check-up to make sure that the condition of her heart and lungs isn't deteriorating. The office has a brand new department of Internal Medicine, and they wanted us to take Charlotte to see them, instead of to the Critical Care specialists like we have been doing. I'm sure that most of you that read my blog regularly have read (many times) that Charlotte, a little over three years ago, was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. We've been treating her with lasix, benazipril, and a low-dose aspirin compounded formula ever since that diagnosis. We've always known that this was not a forever-solution. That eventually the lasix would stop working and we would have some painful decisions to make.

So every time we take her in for this check-up, it's anxiety inducing. I always wonder if this would be the vet visit that confirmed my worst fears.

The new vet had reviewed Charlotte's considerable file. She checked her lungs, listened to her heart, and said that everything sounded great. Then, she went on to tell Jeff that she had serious doubts about the original diagnosis of congestive heart failure.

Wait... WHAT?!

We'd been fully aware of the fact that we were extremely lucky that Charlotte was still alive after three years. The original prognosis was six months. Maybe a year if we were lucky. (And yes, we often muttered, good-naturedly, that maybe Charlotte was simply too mean to die.) But we hadn't examined the issue any further. Looking gift horses in the mouth and all of that. THIS vet said that not only is such a survival period with no signs of deterioration extraordinarily lucky, it was also, in the medical literature, unprecedented.

So, here's the timeline of events as I remember them.

September, 2008 - we adopt Charlotte. We notice that she has several coughing spells, maybe one or two big ones, a day. We chalk it up to hairballs and buy some PetroMalt for her. The symptoms continue, and we start to get concerned.

October, 2008 - Charlotte collapses in the hallway, gasping for air, at 11 PM on a Friday night. We rush her to the emergency vet a couple of towns over. They rush her to the back room without us even fully checking in, and wind up putting her on oxygen to save her life. They run some tests, take some pictures, and tell us that first of all, she has a nasty case of pneumonia, and has a lot of crud in her lungs. And that her heart doesn't look right. They suspect congestive heart failure, and the diagnosis is considered confirmed when Lasix helps her start breathing again. She is hospitalized for three days, during which time they perform a procedure called a "lung wash" which is exactly what it sounds like. She is also put on antibiotics for the pneumonia, and they work out what the proper twice-daily dosage of lasix should be.

*Humorous note: they didn't want to let her come home because she was not eating. Jeff asked what brand of food they were serving, and it was not the one that she was used to. They humored him by letting him bring some of her own food in. Which she promptly scarfed down. Stubborn lady.

November-December 2008 - One of the most expensive time periods of our lives. We take her in for several different tests, and even drive her to the next state over to see the only small animal cardiologist around. The cardiologist confirms congestive heart failure. She also tells us that there is scar tissue around Charlotte's heart, which indicates to her that Charlotte has had a couple of heart-attacks already.

One thing that every doctor said after looking at her... that she is not "playing by the text book." Her heart shows some of the signs of congestive heart failure, but not all. That where the heart walls for a normal cat with this condition would be thinning, hers are thickening. But no one questions it too much, since she's never had the symptoms again. We've always attributed that to the lasix.

And so this is why I'm so astounded at this new theory (and it IS still a theory) and really don't know what to make of it. The only way to test it is to take her completely off of the medication and wait a few days to see if she starts to have difficulty breathing. Of course if she started to have any difficulty at all, we'd put her back on the medication immediately. The vet recommended that we do this at a time where someone can be home with her for those several days. And that if she does have congestive heart failure, we should see signs of deterioration after a couple of days of no medicine.

Here is what we have decided, with the vet's help: the medications are not hurting her. We're leaving her on them for a couple of months. Then, on a weekend of our choosing, Jeff will try to get permission to work from home either on a Friday or a Monday. We'll take her off of the meds and watch her closely. After the weekend, whether or not we had to put her back on the medication, she needs to go back in to the vet for a check. Hence, the real reason we're waiting a couple of months... these specialist visits are not inexpensive!

Jeff did ask this vet about the entire collapsing and unable to breathe thing. The theory is, that is was mostly to do with the pneumonia, but that she might also have a touch of asthma. The reason that we haven't seen asthma symptoms since... lasix would treat asthma symptoms just as effectively as it treats congestive heart failure.

So everyone send some good thoughts our way. I would obviously love for this diagnosis to be the correct one. It's still not perfect, her heart probably is still not perfect, but it's a hell of a lot better than the original diagnosis, which was a long, slow death sentence. I am having some difficulty wrapping my mind around it though. And I can't get the image of me lying in the hallway, curled up around a gasping Charlotte, willing her to live long enough for us to get her to a vet, out of my mind.

Of course, Charlotte is as unconcerned about all of this as she ever is. Give her a patch of sunlight or a box to sit in, and she's as happy as can be.

Mr.Chewy.com - A Review

2012-01-28T18:50:00.000-08:00

I was asked to write an honest review of Mr.Chewy.com, a website that sells pet food and treats, and other supplies. (Full disclosure: I was given a $50 coupon for this review.)

But even with the coupon offer, I never would have gone through with it and gotten to the point of writing a review if I couldn't say anything good about it, or if I felt uncomfortable recommending the site to my friends.

As it was... I LOVED it! It has every kind of pet food imaginable, for both dogs and cats, whether you're looking for dry food or canned or treats. There's also kitty litter and potty pads and flea and tick treatments available.

First, the website experience itself was great. It was very easy to navigate, and I was able to quickly find the brands and types that I needed. This particular shopping trip, I decided to shop for cat food, as we're nearing the end of our current bag. We feed our cats Nutro Natural Choice/Healthy Weight dry food, and I was able to find it right away on the site. And they even sell it in the 15 lb. bags! (I can't say how much I appreciate this. In my experience, when shopping at other pet websites, I'm forced to buy smaller bags. When you're feeding three cats and the occasional foster, anything smaller than the 15 lb. bags just doesn't seem worth it!) I topped off my order with some dog and cat treats to surprise my gang with. There are over 70 brands to choose from, so if you feed your dogs or cats commercial pet food, chances are your favorite brand is here!

The prices were at least comparable, and in many cases, cheaper, than I've found elsewhere. And what's more... any orders over $50 ship for free. And I don't know about you, but it's a rare day that I ever go on a pet food/pet supply shopping expedition and spend less than $50.

It was easy to check out and make my purchase.

Another thing not related to the product, but to me just as valuable is the tone of the website. It's very friendly and laid-back and upbeat. It makes me feel good to shop there.

So you should definitely check it out yourself. As for me and my cats, we'll be anxiously awaiting those bags arriving on the front porch in a few days! It was not lost on me that by shopping this way, I save myself carrying the bags up our external stairs from the car. (I still have to carry them up to the second floor of the house. Oh, who am I kidding? My husband still has to carry them to the second floor!) Once we go through our current bags of cat litter, believe you me, I will be doing it this way.

Wonderfulness Award

2012-01-27T19:23:00.000-08:00

I have been recently told that I am wonderful! Which makes all of us at the House of Carnivores very happy to hear. But not only was I told that I was wonderful, I was given an award for it! It was given to me by my good friend over at Cat to Self, a fantastic blog that I have been following avidly since I first laid eyes upon it. If you haven't read it yet, you should! It philosophizes, it contemplates, and it chronicles the life and times of Bugs, a cat that was surely very near feral when rescued, and shows how he is adopting to life as a housecat. (And I daresay, it will also be about a new member of the family - Trex - that she is adopting from Chrystal over at Daily Dose of Dogs (aka Cats with your Coffee.) Another blog that I can't do without.

I gratefully accept that award. And there are some rules to my acceptance.

1. I have to link to the blog of the person who awarded me, and of course follow that blog. Done and done.

2. And I need to pass the award on to three other deserving bloggers.

This one is tough. I follow so many of you and would be hard pressed to say that any of you were not wonderful. But I must choose three, and so I shall.

#1 24 Paws of Love. If you haven't read this blog yet, you really should. She is truly an inspiration to me, and the love that she has for her dogs shines through with every word. She shows courage and devotion with these dogs, some of which need lots of her help to learn to cope again.

#2 House of the Discarded. This blog is about cat rescue in Toronto, Canada, and while the cats that she writes about are so far away, her writing always touches me. The good, the bad, and the ugly about running a cat rescue. This is what I dearly want to be when I "grow up."

#3 fourwhitepaws: feline inspired reflections on life and all things cat I knew that I would like this blog when I saw that he "likes cats, likes cheese." But I've thoroughly enjoyed reading about the cats, indoors and outdoors.

Sooo... I will enjoy the award, as I hope that my awardees will enjoy theirs from me.

And a note from the House of Carnivores: I haven't posted a lot this week, but it has been a truly busy time. And I'm going to have a cautiously good announcement to make, but I think I'll save that for tomorrow, when I can get an appropriate picture to go with it.

Meanwhile, enjoy a picture of my mom-in-law's cat Patches (former foster cat HERE) who is staying with us for the week. He thinks that all of this human babble is boring. And has been finding numerous ways to tell me that it's time for gooshey food the entire time I've written this post.

Cruel and Unusual

2012-01-25T17:17:00.000-08:00

I was stunned when I came across something on Life with Dogs today.

http://www.lifewithdogs.tv/2012/01/cruel-and-unusual-punishment-child-skips-homework-mother-turns-his-dog-over-to-kill-shelter/

It described a situation that made my blood run cold, and then very, very hot.

Because somewhere in New York, there is a woman who decided that because her son was not keeping up with his homework that she would dump his dog, a pit bull, off at a high-kill New York shelter as punishment.

She was willing to kill his dog to make a point. To teach him a lesson.

First and foremost, I should say that I have not been able to find anything stating whether Jewel, the poor dog, was rescued by anyone. One of the articles that I found after a hasty internet search said that she was scheduled to be euthanized today. I really, really hope that she was able to escape that fate, that maybe she'll once again be able to be happy someday, despite the fact that she was wrested away from her best friend. Because I'm sure that she was best friends with "her" boy. Otherwise taking her away wouldn't have been the mother's threat of choice.

(Happy update: After checking the shelter's website, I see that Jewel DID get adopted. Hooray! That does not change the rest of my post, though.)

To say that I was filled with hatred and loathing for this woman is an understatement. I don't know her entire situation. I don't know what her son is like. I don't know any of that. But I say that what she did went totally beyond what is acceptable.

Like I said, I don't know their specific situation, so because I don't know their situation, I'm going to talk about MY situation. When I was a child, and then later a young teenager.

I've talked about my childhood dog before, a Pekingese that I named Wicket. He was EVERYTHING to me. I was attending a school that, to put it mildly, didn't want me. I was ostracized by many of my peers, and mocked by the others. While I did eventually make friends (after several years) it was only after I systematically killed off all of the parts of me that I felt were socially unacceptable. I was shy...? I became brassy and loud. I was studious..? Not anymore! Homework sucks! I started acting out more and more, in fears that if I did not, I would turn invisible and no one would ever even know that I was there. I was desperately unhappy, and felt trapped. At that age, it is impossible to see beyond the middle and high school years. I had no idea that things would get much better when I finally put those years behind me.

Wicket was my lifeline. I really, really don't know how I would have coped if it weren't for him. He was my one support - the friend that I could always count on. He didn't care that I wouldn't win any popularity contests, that I was made fun of for just about everything. He was just there for me. When I was giddy with girlish enthusiasm about something, he was there, wagging his tail, just happy to be beside me. When I was in tears because of something nasty someone had said (which happened more often than not) he was there, licking away my tears, snorting in my face, playing with my hair, all in desperate attempts to make me smile again. He delighted in me, and I in him, and it was the child-dog friendship that all of the truly good dog stories are written about.

Thank God my parents never used the life of my dog as a bargaining tool. I would have turned into a very different person had they done so. I don't even want to think about it. I can't think about it.

I don't even understand where this woman was coming from. I'm not sure that I WANT to. There are some people who don't deserve my empathy, so I'm not going to give it.

I've made some posts about kindness in the past. And this brings around another side to my philosophy on kindness. That is, those that are incapable of showing it are undeserving of receiving it.

Kittens, Revisited

2012-01-21T06:45:00.000-08:00

No, I do not have any more kittens in the house. We are preparing for a familiar face as a house guest for the next week instead...

Some of you may remember Patches, we who fostered for six months before my mom-in-law adopted him. This is a shot that we took of him over the summer, when it was still gloriously green out the window. Anyway, he is staying with us for a few days. I wonder if he'll still sit on my chest in the morning, like he did when he lived here?

BUT, one of the long-time volunteers at the shelter emailed me last night to tell me that Ophelia, one of our recent foster kittens, had been adopted! That makes me so happy to hear. It sounds like she is going to get a lot of love and care and attention.

That leaves five more of "my" little bitties that need homes. I hope that they all get one soon!

Their profiles, which I wrote, are at: http://www.animalrescue.org/available-pets. Obviously, under the cat section. They are for the little black kittens near the bottom of the cat section: Hamlet, Horatio, Lara, Ellie, and Violet. Take a look!

Update: Hamlet, Horatio, and Violet got adopted too! Everyone keep paws and fingers crossed for Lara and Ellie!

Back from Vacation

2012-01-18T17:55:00.000-08:00

We are back from Jamaica! We had a great time, for all that we had to leave our babies behind. And they all survived the experience, the house did not burn down, NOR did we all get hit by a giant meteor and die. I worry about the darnedest things. I knew that I was a worrier, but the laid-back atmosphere of Jamaica actually turned me into a person that did not worry for three whole days! I think that I've had an epiphany or two.

The view from our resort. I think it was lunchtime, which is why there isn't anyone out there. This is part of Negril Beach.

I did manage to find a couple of dogs to pet on the beach, which helped me miss my pups a little less. Someone told me afterward that they were probably feral dogs, which makes me sad for them. They were well-fed feral dogs, and accustomed to humans, if so. I suppose living behind a dozen or so resorts does have its advantages, though I'm sure it's not an easy life all the same.

Anyway. We got home well after midnight on Tuesday. Our cats were so thrilled to see us that they forgot to be angry, which is actually how it usually happens when we come back from a trip. Bit was the only one who acted miffed, but when I awakened later that morning, she was sleeping in her customary spot, which is on top of my hip.

We had to wait until 9:00 AM to go pick up the dogs, but I'm pretty sure that we were there at 9:00 straight up, or maybe just a few minutes after. They were ecstatic to see us. Poor Argos apparently chose that moment to jump up on one of the staff, and wound up slipping and falling and doing the splits. He limped out to the car, giving me this hurt look like he was blaming his injury on me for leaving him there in the first place. That being said, he'd recovered by the time we got home. At least, recovered enough to leap up on "his" corner of the couch, curling up with a very pleased look on his face. (Did he miss us, or the couch more? Do I want to know the answer to this?)

Maera was thrilled to see us and jumped up to give us kisses on the face. She did not pee everywhere, which I will choose to consider progress! Jeff also reports that when he got home from work this afternoon, she did not pee either. (Have I even talked about this yet? I honestly can't remember. Maera has this issue where she gets SO excited to see us come home, and wants to please us SO badly that she pees all over the floor. It's been difficult to train her to do otherwise, since you're not supposed to reprimand for this behavior - it only reinforces it.) More on that later, since I never intended this post to be about dog pee. I will say at least that we have made progress.

Anyway, folks, good night. I promise to be more active in writing my blog and reading your blogs as I adjust to living a life that involves going to a job every day, cooking my own meals, making my own bed, etc. Oh. And I also need to adjust to a life that involves frozen precipitation falling out of the sky.

Winding Things Down

2012-01-11T05:53:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow, the husband and I leave for beautiful, sunny Jamaica, to attend a wedding and to enjoy a few days on the beach. I've never taken a vacation like this... and am really looking forward to the time away. That it is in such a beautiful location won't hurt! Everyone keep fingers crossed that flights and connecting flights and shuttles and taxis and transportation oh my all work out and that we get to our destination safely and without drama.

None of the animals are coming with us (for some reason, the airline balked at letting me put the greyhounds under our seats, haha) so we're in the process of making sure that everyone is going to be taken care of.

Even though the kittens could have used another week with me to get over their URIs, another foster mom came and picked them up from our house Monday evening. I was sad to see them go, but with the looming vacation, I needed to be sure that they were somewhere that was not the shelter until they were healthy again. I will miss the little ones! Kittens are a lot of work, but I found it so rewarding when they started responding to me. I feel like I pushed them out the door as adoption-ready as they can possibly be, so my job there is done. *sniffle*

The dogs are going to be kenneled at the Golden Bone Pet Resort. This also happens to be the place that donates space for the adoptable greyhounds of Steel City Greyhounds, so both dogs are at least somewhat familiar with it, and are content enough while they are there. (Though of course they would rather be with us.) The two times we've had to board them they stayed there. Who knows, they may enjoy the heated walkways so much that they don't want to come home! Anyway, we will take them over there later this afternoon.

We're doing WHAT?

Moo-ooom! I want to go to Jamaica too!

Which leaves us with just the cats on our last night before the flight (they will be so pleased.) They will stay here at the house - there's no sense in upsetting them by uprooting them. The dogs can be reasonably content anywhere as long as they're fed and someone pays attention to them. The cats... would be completely traumatized by the environment change. So my wonderful mom-in-law has agreed to come in and take care of them for us.

We don't travel very often, and it's mostly because it's difficult to leave the animals behind. I always worry about them, and worry that they will think that they've been abandoned. That Charlotte will get sick while we're gone. That there will be thunderstorms and Argos will be afraid and alone. Which is why I'm taking a deeeeep breath, and putting it all out of my mind.

I will not post this week and weekend, but I'm sure that I will when we get back next week. (It's not a long trip.) I'll talk to everyone then!

The Joy of Living

2012-01-08T18:05:00.000-08:00

If you ever want to vicariously experience pure joy in just living, being, you should agree to foster a litter of kittens.

Kittens have it. I cannot believe what a happy, exuberant bunch these six are! Whether they're chasing each other around and around the bathroom, climbing the radiator cover, playing with the feather toy, or trying (make that succeeding) to crawl up my legs in order to say "hi," giving me nose-bumps and kisses, playing with my hair, or tucking into their food, they do it with complete and utter joy and a complete lack of self-consciousness or fear.

They don't know that they were brought to the shelter with their mom because they were unwanted. They want and expect to be adored.

And really, what kind of person would I be if I withheld that?

We are going to be "losing" them over the next couple of days. That makes me very sad... I spent a lot of time with these little nuts, getting to know their personalities and making sure that they became as sociable and human-friendly as I could. (And they ARE super-friendly, just all around great kittens!) I know that it's part of the process, and that we won't make a good foster home if we can never give them back up (as well as being a house with 9 cats and 2 dogs!) but that doesn't mean that I don't feel a pang of sadness.

Bon voyage, kittens. You've made me laugh, you've taught me a lot. And now it's time to let you move on to the next chapter of your lives.

Maera Spazzes Out

2012-01-02T13:54:00.000-08:00

Oh, the things that can make you laugh.

Maera can make me laugh, because she is such a goofball. Please enjoy this short clip that shows Maera's personality perfectly.

Please excuse the trashbag out in the middle of my yard. I am really not a redneck. There is a hole in the middle of the yard, thanks to Mr. Argos, and because I am "blessed" with clay, it is not draining. And Miss Maera likes to drink out of it and make herself sick.

So until I can fill in the hole, this bag of leaves (or something else more attractive, if I can think of it) is staying there.

Okay *sigh* that is kind of redneckish.

A New Year, and a Reflection on the Old

2012-01-01T08:10:00.000-08:00

I'm glad that it's 2012 at last... 2011 was not a gentle year for us. I don't want to complain too much, because I know that there are so many that had it far worse. We still have jobs. We still have a home. We still have our health. We don't live in a warzone. And yet... I'm still relieved to see that particular year behind us. (It says a lot about my feelings about the year when I have to say "Gosh, at least we don't live in a war zone...") I don't want to go into the ways that 2011 was a bit rough on us, so I'll highlight some of the good things that happened, as a way to keep things positive.

Foster kitten Ophelia who will NOT HOLD STILL for the camera.

- We started fostering kitties on an as-needed basis. We've had fun, had some great temporary guests, and got to play a role in saving lives and finding homes for cats that might not have otherwise had a chance. It is enough to give me a warm glowey feeling.

We watched Patches and Mitchell get their very own homes, and hope that we will see the kittens get snatched up quickly by families that are going to adore them.

Argos with Dove and Casper, two "adoptables" that have since been adopted.

- I started blogging for Steel City Greyhounds. (Not here, at least most of the time, since this blog isn't just a Pittsburgh thing. It's linked to from the organization's website.) The group has found two of the best dogs in the entire world for me, and I wanted to "give back" to them, and to the hounds that are up for adoption. It makes my entire day, no, week, when someone adopts one of these deserving dogs.

- We adopted Maera! She is a fantastic addition to our family and we really enjoy her personality.

She is young, and has a very young soul. This means that she is wildly curious about so many things that I take for granted. It's like seeing the world through fresh eyes.

It has also taught me lots on how to "dog proof" a house. I thought that I learned these lessons with Argos, but I was so so wrong.

- Charlotte is still with us! I know that it may seem morbid to celebrate the fact that your cat is still alive every new year, but you have to understand that her prognosis was not good. In 2008 she was given six months to a year to live, and on this first day of 2012 she is perched on the back of my chair, watching me type and twitching the back of my head with her tail every once in awhile to remind me that she's still the queen. Fortune smiles upon us. I know that the day is coming, but it hasn't come yet.

- Our animals have enjoyed reasonably good health, with a couple of minor and one major exception. (RIP, dear Romeo.)

- I met so many of you for the first time! I've said it before, and I'll say it again, I truly appreciate the pet bloggers that I have met. This lovely group of people has been an excellent support network. I was stunned and honored at the outpouring of sympathy that people, friends and strangers alike, gave us when Romeo passed away, and have greatly enjoyed reading your stories, updates and looking at your pictures... It's great to see so many people so dedicated to animals, and really helps me to see these glimpses into your lives. As someone who has many, many non-pet and non-pet-friendly people in my life, it is good to get confirmation that no, I am not crazy (or if I am, at least I am in good company!)

I hope that this first day of 2012 is a good one for you, and that the year is a gentle one for all of us.

As for the belief that what you spend New Year's Day doing being what you'll do all year long... hmm. Let's see. Doing dishes. Taking dogs outside. Cleaning up kitten poop. Letting kittens run all over me. Petting cats. Snuggling dogs. Yeah, you know what? That sounds pretty awesome to me. I think just to be safe and to lock in some "leisure time" I'm going to have my husband take me out to lunch.

A Few Things About Kittens

2011-12-28T19:30:00.000-08:00

First of all, I'd like to state up-front that there are no new kitten pictures to share. That is because kittens either run full speed ahead (and my iPhone camera is just not enough to keep up with them) or they are asleep in a pile. But I've been wanting to update, so decided to do so tonight, with or without pictures.

We have had a good time with our kitten fosters. It's been a long time, however, since I've been around kittens though, and so it was like a new experience all over for me. As a "newbie" with kittens, here are some of my observations:

1. Kittens are made out of bouncy balls. They can ricochet off of walls, radiators, me, the sink, into the trashcan, back out of the trashcan, with no harm done to themselves.

2. Kittens are masters of destruction. I turned my back for 30 seconds to get their food ready and when I turned back around the bag of nasty dirty litter was overturned and spilling out onto the freshly swept floor, and my iPhone was upside-down in the newly cleaned litter box.

3. Kittens know NO fear. Which is why ours spend their unsupervised time in a large crate. It is to protect them (and my house.) They are fascinated with the dogs, and want to play with them very badly. They climb my shower curtains, and do all sorts of feats of daring with absolutely no regard for their own skins. One dove head-first into my bath with me tonight. I had to spend quite a long time finger-combing and drying her out in front of the portable heater so that she wouldn't get chilled.

4. Worming medicine works fast on kittens of this size. And let me tell you, you haven't experienced life until you find one of your kittens... umm.... oozing out a tapeworm. Blech!

5. It's amazing how quickly kittens adapt to having humans around. I am their favorite jungle gym, climbing wall, spring-board, trampoline, and that I am their primary food-giver doesn't hurt.

6. Kittens will decide that it is time to snuggle, and that is that. There are a couple that climb up my torso if I'm sitting on the floor with them and cuddle either under my chin or into my hair. Sanitary? Probably not. But do I care? Not a bit. How can one possibly care about that when there is a purring kitten under your chin?

I've named them. It took me awhile, because in the beginning, they all looked like black cats to me, and I couldn't tell most of them apart. But I've learned to look for those tiny distinguishing features.

So, the roster is: Ophelia, Hamlet, Horatio, Lara, Violet, and Ellie.

Lara is the one that dove into the tub, and she has the least amount of concern regarding her own survivability. I'm pretty sure it was also her that bapped Maera on the nose when Maera stuck her nose up to their crate, and it was probably her that climbed the radiator grill the other night too.

Ophelia is the biggest and fluffiest. She is also The Boss and does not let the other kittens forget it. Horatio is a scrappy but affectionate little guy, who also serves as Ophelia's chief enforcer/right-hand-man when it comes to bossing around the other kittens.

Hamlet talks a lot to get my attention, and he also does this little high-pitched whine-growl while he eats. I haven't decided whether he's warning the other kittens away from his meal or he just likes to sing. He is the second largest and fluffiest, though doesn't really have any interest in being "in charge."

Ellie was the first one named, because she has a rather obvious white splash on her underside. She is a sweet-natured little girl, and is one of those that like to snuggle with me. She was the first one to ever purr for me, so I'm particularly fond of her.

Violet is a sweet-heart as well, though I do think that she's training to be a wire-fu artist. She doesn't leap so much as hover in the air when she's pouncing on her siblings, hovering into open bags of cat food, etc.

No, I'm not attached at all. I'm going to be sad to take them back next week, I'm sure.

Coming Home

2011-12-24T15:31:00.000-08:00

Everyone remembers the first day that they came "home."

I remember walking up the steps to the house and putting the key into the lock on the front door of our house the day after we closed on it. It was empty, but I felt as if its timbers and bricks were welcoming me in, whispering to me. Yeah, I'm a fruitcake that way. But I knew that I was home.

Do you remember the day that your pet came home for the first time? Did they know that they were home, or were they just frightened of their new surroundings at first? How long did it take them to come around?

Charlotte was furious with us when she came home. I'm not sure that she realized that she was home yet. I think she was angry about being in the shelter for a week and a half, angry about the car ride to the house, angry about the fact that we had the nerve to bring a kitten home with her, and then angry that we let her out of her carrier and expected her to god forbid interact with us. I write all of this with a faint smile on my face, because I think that this is how I, many times, react to change as well. Even change that eventually turns out good for me. Charlotte knows that she is home now, and is very content. But that first week was spent hiding under the largest pieces of furniture that she could find, and hissing and spitting at us if we interfered with her much.

Annie didn't know that she was home yet either, when we brought her home. She paced the floor that first night like a wild animal. She tried to claw out one of the window screens to escape. She had been found stray by Animal Control, though she was not feral. My guess is that she was accustomed to the outdoors, and felt terribly confined in this house of strange people and cats. So definitely not home. I'm not sure that she felt like she was home for a full year. That was when she stopped running away from us, anyway. I sometimes fear that she still doesn't feel like she is completely home. She is a very anxious cat, and the way that she "sucks up" to me, I sometimes wonder if she's trying to convince me to let her stay.

Bit never questioned the fact that she belonged here. It was home for her from the time we first let her out of her carrier. She was a kitten, four months old, though. All she wanted to do was play, and be adored, and explore all of the nooks and crannies of her new home. The things that kittens do best. She never questions it, but sometimes I also feel like she doesn't appreciate it either. (Isn't that just like a kid?) She takes for granted that I don't mind that she literally sleeps on top of my legs every night, that she is going to be fed, that she is going to be cuddled and crooned to and treated pleasantly. And you know, that's okay. I'd rather have her that way, than to be afraid.

Argos immediately knew he was home. I remember Jeff unlocking the door as I urged Argos through the doorway. He looked up at me at first incredulously, then with joy. It's absolutely amazing that a greyhound that had never seen someone's home before, having only known the track, knew that he was home. Maera was nearly the same way - but having a different personality than Argos, her reaction was more one of curiosity than gratitude. She wanted to explore ALL of the things, jumped up on ALL of the furniture to see what would be the most comfortable. Taste ALL of the food. But she too knew that she was home.

And that's what I think this animal rescue thing is all about. Not just saving animals from certain death - either from euthanasia or the many unhappy endings that await them outdoors - though of course that is part of it. But giving them a place that they KNOW is their home. A place to belong. Not just a house or apartment, but a place where they are part of the family.

If you've done that, even for just one of these animals, then you are a hero, no mistake about it.

What brought on this post? I think that it's reading everyone's blogs, and thinking about how incredibly lucky their pets are to be in such caring, GOOD homes. (And of course how lucky the HUMANS are to have such lovely animals in their lives.) I count myself among the fortunate that I have been allowed to get to know you lovely pet bloggers, and that I can see just how much good is being done on behalf of animals.

Happy holidays to all of you. I wish you joy and peace and warm snugglies with your favorite furry friends.

A Hoarding Situation

2011-12-22T16:13:00.000-08:00

With the recent publicity, most people know that true hoarding is a manifestation of a mental disorder. My topic tonight is not that kind of hoarding: those types of people are going to hoard no matter what happens, or at least until they are able to get help.

But I find myself wondering... how many reported hoarding situations are actually the result of a mental illness and how many are the result of a truly compassionate person who is incapable of turning an animal away? Then of course, they get in over their heads, are afraid to ask for help, and things spiral out of control until animal control shows up and starts taking animals out in carriers and crates. THAT is the situation that I am addressing here.

Because I can see how it could happen. The need to give all of the homeless and unwanted animals a place to live, a chance at life, is HUGE, and is never, or at least for the forseeable future, going to be completely satisfied. There are always going to be people who can't take care of their pets any longer, for good reasons or bad, and there is always going to be pressure on an animal lover to DO SOMETHING about it.

How many messages do we see, on the Web, on signs, at the local shelter, letting us know either point-blank or by insinuation that if a particular animal doesn't get a home within three days that they are going to be killed? What is the animal lover supposed to do?

In my own life, I see at least three of these messages a day. And on extra-special days, I have friends directly query me on whether I can take their cat or their friend's cat in. (I am not saying that any of these people are doing anything wrong at all. The responsibility is on ME to say no. But I think that is where some animal lovers fall down.)

To prevent a "hoarding" situation in my own home, allowing it to get to the point that I am unable to clean up after everyone on a daily basis, or getting to the point that I am unable to feed everyone nutritious food, I have had to learn to say "NO." Even if I knew that the animal was probably going to die because of it. Even if I cried myself to sleep about it, and felt guilty about it for ~~days~~ ~~weeks~~ months afterward. Even though I still sometimes have doubts that I did the right thing. I think that every animal lover has to draw that line in the sand, wherever it may be for that person.

For me, the City of Pittsburgh made it easy. The ordinance is that no home can have more than five animals in it. Yes, it would be easy to circumvent that rule; no one would ever need to know. But I have a fear that it would start the spiral downward. First, I would have secret animals in the house. That means that if I'm truly worried that I'll be reported, I stop inviting people over, and retreat into my own shell. I think that is where it would start. But when you're over the invisible line, I think it is easier to say, "Well, we're already over, what's one more?" So for me, five animals is the limit. For some, even having five animals is unthinkable. For some, who have a totally different living situation from me, they can handle far more than five. And I think all of that is OK, as long as each individual knows his or her limits.

An animal lover, though, needs to be on guard. We need to think really long and hard before adding any "newbies" to our household. We need to think about available resources. How much attention we're able to pay to each animal. Whether anyone is going to be neglected. Whether there is time in the day to scoop everybody's litter, fill everybody's food, give everybody's medicine.

And I really wish that we would get over our obsession with hoarders, putting them on t.v., showing them on the news, making fun of them, shaking our heads and feeling superior to them. Hoarders are in the situation that they're in at least in part because they've retreated from the world. I can't see where dragging them out into the light and mocking them on national television is possibly going to help them in any way.

I also wish that there were more resources to help "hoarders." One of the most commonly quoted reasons for why someone had too many animals is that they were afraid that the authorities would kill them all. And... that fear is actually pretty well-founded. I am sure that a lot of animals that are found in true hoarding situations are in bad enough shape that a quick and merciful death is truly the best route. But I'm not so sure about many of them. I've seen footage of some animals being taken out of homes. To me, they don't look like they've been starved. Most of the time, the cats look like they have respiratory infections. Which can be cleared up with the proper environment and medications. I don't blame animal control for choosing to euthanize instead of rehabilitate. Rehabilitation is expensive. Which is where the wish for more resources comes in. If there were more homes available to temporarily foster some of these babies, then shelters wouldn't be filled to bursting after a single raid. I believe that some of these so-called hoarders would be much more willing to work with the authorities to rehome their animals if they thought that a genuine attempt to rehome was going to be made, and that the threat of the death of their furry loved ones wasn't constantly a factor hanging over their heads.

I don't know, maybe I'm full of crap. Maybe those of you who actually work in shelters will tell me that the animals that come in from these situations are always in terrible shape. But I do know that I wince when I hear about a raid on a hoarder. Yes, in sympathy for the animals, of course. I have seen pictures of some that were in truly deplorable condition. But there's also a part of me that winces in sympathy for the hoarder. Whether they're a true hoarder with a mental illness, or just an animal lover who couldn't say no, I feel horrible for them. I can't imagine how it must feel to have all of your animals taken away from you, to who knows what fate.

Kindness

2011-12-19T18:53:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine has written several blog posts about kindness. Here's a couple of them, but if you haven't checked out her blog for yourself, I highly recommend it.

http://catself.wordpress.com/2011/06/05/2096/
http://catself.wordpress.com/2011/06/09/second-law-of-kindness/

Her words about kindness, along with her most recent post in which she talks about kindness to the self
http://catself.wordpress.com/2011/12/18/the-ears-have-it/

have made me start thinking about that concept, and the role that it plays in all of our lives. In our human lives, and certainly in the lives of the animals under our care.

And here is my thought about kindness. We are all pre-disposed to expect it from others. Our animals are the same. We want to be treated kindly. We can really only react to others with kindness when we ourselves have been shown kindness, at least at some point in our lives. And we react with hurt, anger, or even rage when it is withheld from us, or when we are treated unkindly. We all have different threshholds, but I do know this much, even if the threshhold is different for each and every one of us, there is HELL to pay once it is crossed.

Because being treated unkindly isn't something that can easily be shrugged off. It can break someone, human or animal. How many broken people lash out and do serious emotional damage (or worse) to themselves and those around them because they were treated poorly for so long that they finally just gave up on others? How many animals do the same?

Every time I hear about a dog attack, or a vicious dog, or hear the rage-filled screech of a cat lashing out at her handlers, I wonder what that animal's story is. How badly did that dog have to be treated to be unable to bear the sight of a human being any longer? Dogs aren't so good at generalizing (as anyone who has only trained their hound to "sit" in one room will learn - the dog might not realize that she has to sit anywhere else but that room.) So how badly do they have to be treated before they ARE able to generalize that all humans are bad? How many individual people have to fail them, either by offering them abuse and neglect, or by looking the other way when others do? Dogs especially are very forgiving - I am always humbled when I read stories of so-called "vicious" fighting dogs gently wagging their tails and licking the hands of their human rescuers. Or dogs like Patrick the Dog, who was starved, neglected, and eventually disposed of down the trash chute by his former owner. If anyone has the right to be angry at the world, it's him. But by all reports, he is gentle and kind, and still expects good things from humans. These dogs are better than I would be in the same situation.

Many members of the pet blogosphere are dealing with the consequences of someone else's unkindness to an animal. They are the ones who come in and try to pick up the pieces when an animal simply has no hope left. I know that I read some of your blogs, in which you are rehabilitating an animal who has been abused, or neglected, or starved, and I am in awe. Some of your stories bring me to tears, they are so filled with hope, love, fear that it will never be enough, and above all, kindness. You know who you are. May your kindness overshadow these animals' pasts, and drown out all of the unkind treatment that they have received.

And here is my second, sentimental wish (blame the holiday season, I guess.) My wish for all of us is that we learn to treat those in our lives, both human and animal, with utmost kindness. But most of all, that we learn to treat ourselves with that same kindness.

The Weekend Has Arrived (At Last!)

2011-12-16T18:05:00.000-08:00

It is going to be a busy weekend, with holiday parties and general housework type things, and making sure that we keep all of our critters happy and well.

I promised the animals that this post would NOT be about the kittens, but let me just say this much. Kittens: I am in awe of your mighty destructive prowess. I think that these six little bitties managed to completely trash my bathroom in about twenty minutes tonight when I let them out to run and play. Let's see... one dived head first into the water bowl, sending water SLOSHING all over the floor. After which the others, delighted at this, splashed and pounced happily through the puddles as I was desperately searching for a towel to clean up. And then ran through their litter box. So not only was my bathroom dripping with water, but it was now completely tracked up with wet clay litter! They managed to climb into the trashcan, climb into the holder for the toilet scrubber, and one of them figured out how to slide under the radiator, which meant that they all caught on to that little game quickly.

Here is a picture of them being a little more sedate:

But anyway. About my non-kitten post. My other animals want for me to tell you how they are doing. So. In no particular order:

Argos and Maera are becoming better and better friends. There are still little spats now and again, but I'm pleased with how well they get along. Maera becomes positively distraught when Argos leaves without her, which he's done a couple of times: once to go to the vet for his annual check-up, and once to go to the Meet & Greet at Ross Park Mall last week. Jeff reports that she cries when we leave, and seems generally depressed about it until we get back.

Mommmmm, she's got cooties!

Bit and Annie have always been fast-friends, but they have been best friends lately. Probably because they think I'm terrible for bringing the Tiny Menaces into the house.

Charlotte is herself. She seems annoyed at the time that we spend behind closed doors with the kittens. (I'm quarantining them for at least a few days before I even let our cats in the same room, to make sure that they're not incubating kitty colds.) She threw up a little earlier, which has me mildly concerned. Any change in Charlotte's health is something that worries me. I keep telling myself that all cats occasionally throw up, and hers even looked like it was at least partially a hairball. Normal cat malady, Mel. Take a deep breath. All the same, Jeff and I have agreed that she's sleeping with us tonight so that we can be aware of any additional troubles. (Her congestive heart failure was misdiagnosed as attempts to cough up hairballs, originally. That being said, back then, her coughing never actually PRODUCED a hairball, it just sounded like it.)

Charlotte is unconcerned about my concern.

Maera continues to do well. We've given her a bit more freedom this week to choose which room she wants to be in. In the past, she was always required to stay with one of us, because I didn't quite trust her not to harass the cats or to get into things that she shouldn't. I trust her with the cats now, and am learning to keep certain things out of temptation's reach, so now want to wean her off of being in the room with us at all times. Frequently, she does choose to lie down on our bed in our bedroom while we're in the study in the next room, so that's a step towards more independence.

OK, this picture has nothing to do with Maera's independence, but it amuses me. I think she's doing an iPhone intervention with me.

I hope that all of you have a wonderful weekend, and that you are able to lavish your furry friends with love and attention and affection. I know that I plan to!

Babies

2011-12-15T18:34:00.000-08:00

Our kitten babies are doing well. They eat like little horses, and are just so adorable that I want to snuggle with them all. They're still not too certain that THEY want to snuggle with ME, though, but a couple of the bolder ones seem to be coming around. I think I even heard a tiny purr coming from one.

Jeff built a carpeted "kitten shelf" to put in their Kitten Containment Unit. It took them awhile to figure out how to use it.

The first to figure it out:

I am the 1%!

The rest of them figuring it out (with a little help from my husband):

They are lovely. I have no idea of how I'm going to be able to tell them all apart enough to accurately name them though! There are two fluffies and four short-hairs, that much I can see. But there isn't much color variation here to work with. I know that there are two boys and four girls. I can't wait to name them!

The dogs are cheerfully oblivious that we have other creatures in the house, though I do get sniffed from head to toe when I leave the kitten room. The cats have suspicions, but choose to not be too concerned about it until they actually see proof. They were all glaring at that closed door this morning, though, when they heard the kittens playing with a jingle ball...

Kittens

2011-12-14T18:17:00.000-08:00

I was going to get on and rant about something tonight, but something came up to distract me.

Kittens! The Animal Rescue League asked us to foster a late litter of kittens for them until they're big enough to keep at the shelter. And how on earth was I supposed to say no to THAT?

Hopefully I will have more attractive photos later. They still think that I am a Big Scary Monster (TM) and so aren't hitting their super-model poses for me yet.

Anyway, it is impossible to muster up enough righteous indignation to rant about something bad when you have six sets of little eyes peering at you. So instead I am going to melt into a kitten-induced coma.

A couple of first night observations, from a kitten-newbie, before I go to bed:

1. Kittens never stop moving. There is a seething black pile of undulating fur in my guest room right now.

2. Kittens have no sense of self-preservation. Which is why they are in a crate right now. I have no desire to have to pull kittens out of my box springs, or off of my curtain rod. Or from under the radiator.

Easy Like Sunday

2011-12-11T10:30:00.000-08:00

Usually, I see these beautiful restful pictures on CAT blogs, but dogs are pretty good at lazing about as well. Particularly greyhounds.

This and That

2011-12-10T16:15:00.000-08:00

It's been a rather busy day today, as Saturdays often can be. After giving Argos an early morning bath and giving him a chance to dry off, the two of us (leaving Jeff and Maera at home) drove across the city to the Ross Park Mall. We had volunteered to do a Meet & Greet event in a new venue - a store called Moochie & Company. It was a fantastic store! I imagine that most greyhounds would completely love to be in it... it has lots of stuff for dogs, but what I saw EVERYWHERE were toys, toys, toys. Most of them with squeakers. Which meant that every time new customers came into the store and tried out the squeaky toys, Argos and adoptable hound Flyer would throw their heads up and STARE into the back of the store.

The Meet and Greet went very well. Argos has a great personality for these events - he loves people of all kinds, and just assumes that the feeling is mutual. He's not shy about just walking up to someone and leaning against their legs, staring up at them beseechingly for petting. It melts the hardest of hearts. Adoptable hound Flyer did an awesome job as well. You'd have thought that he'd spent his entire life meeting and greeting all kinds of people, for all that he's only been off of the track for a few weeks.

One of the things that Moochie had that AMAZED me was a rack of squeaky toys that were every bit as long as a greyhound. Argos would eye them with a certain gleam in his eye every time someone squeezed one of them and it made a noise. I almost bought one, but then worried that Maera would destroy it too quickly - and then we would have a giant orange squeaky toy with the stuffing coming out, like all of its miniature cousins hidden in our living room closet.

I did buy a couple of other toys for the dogs, however. One is a long green monkey/grinch looking thing with a santa hat on. Maera caught sight of this when I got home before I even took it out of the bag, and before I knew it was pulling it out and playing with it. I'd say that she approves.

She is now lying on top of it on her bed so that no one else can have it.

Which makes Argos sad. Maera stole the best toy AND he has to lie on the couch and have holiday pictures taken of him. You might think that this is the most glum Santa you have ever seen, but just you wait.

Maera is glum. She is not allowed to eat the Santa hat.

That's better.

But the most upset of them all, and the one the most lacking in this thing called "holiday cheer" is:

Ho. Ho. Ho. I hate you sometimes.

I'm not sure what displeased her more: that I put the hat on her to begin with, that I started laughing and taking pictures, or that after the third shot, Maera leapt up over the back of the chair and whisked the hat right off of Charlotte's head before running off with it to do a bizarre parade of the vanquished around the main floor of the house.

Devotion

2011-12-06T18:30:00.000-08:00

Have you ever wondered WHY dogs adore us so much? Is it because we are magic food machines, or is it a more pure love than that? I personally think that it's a little bit of both - no one does devotion like a dog does, and I don't actually think that mine are that devoted to me just because I am Food Provider. (Though it doesn't hurt.)

I frequently wonder why they adore me so much. I mean, I'm not a HORRIBLE person, and I'm kind to them, and love them to distraction. But part of me feels very unworthy of the level of devotion that I am shown. I get irritable - frequently with them - and am not as patient as I could be. I worry over them too much - constantly on the lookout for something that might be wrong. I can almost sense the eye-rolls sometimes. Though I do take them places, I don't do it nearly as often as I might like, and there's that whole abandoning them every workday thing, so that I can earn enough of a paycheck to feed them.

But they don't see it that way. When I'm irritable with them, they keep seeking me out, clowning for me in an attempt to appease me and to put me into a better mood. (I for one, would avoid me, and possibly give me the silent treatment.) When I fuss over them - whether it's their training, their health, their attitude, they endure it with quiet patience... they don't seem to care whether I take them hiking, to the park, or into the back yard. Because what they really want is to be with me, no matter where we are. And if they get upset with me for going to work, their joy upon my return makes them quickly forget.

And really, although this post started out being about the dogs, my cats show a similar level of devotion. I know that felines have a reputation for being aloof, but honestly, I do not see that trait in any of my cats, nor did I see it in either of the fosters. They are simply delighted to see me when I get home, or when I get out of bed in the morning, greeting me with loud meows and purrs, shaking their tails at me like they are rattlesnakes instead of cats. They don't punish me for leaving them, and they quickly forgive me for any bad mood that I might be in. And it's not because I'm the perfect cat-mom, either. I just think that they have more of a capacity for loyalty and love than they're given credit for.

May I show my loved ones that same understanding and devotion that my animals have modeled for me. I have a feeling that I'm on to something there - this is the kind of thing that would shake the world,and in a good way, if it were more widely practiced.

Appreciation

2011-12-03T16:14:00.000-08:00

I've made a post about the beauty of things around me in the past, and in that post, I talked about how beauty affects me (and probably everyone else.) It warms the heart. It turns thoughts towards things that are good, and pure, instead of focusing on the ugliness that at times seems to surround us. My thoughts have been gray-tinged for awhile now, and that tends to only amplify during the holiday season. The holidays just don't warm me like they used to - I think that I see all of the nastiness that people are capable of leading up to the celebration... the woman who pepper-sprayed other Walmart shoppers for threatening her shopping turf, the nasty drivers in the shopping district near my house, so intent on getting out and accumulating stuff that they bang on their horns for any and all reasons, and make nasty gestures out of car windows at one another. The sheer volume of people increasing no matter where you go. Whatever. My intent is not to bring anyone down, or to convince others to not like the holidays - there is good there too, I just have a difficult time seeing it sometimes.

Which is why I decided to take today to focus on the simple pleasures in my own home, far from the hustle and bustle. And even though I've made a similar post before, I thought it appropriate to do it again, in case anyone else is stuck with me in this place of grayness. These are the things that fill me with a sense of appreciation. I'm glad that I have my husband (though he is not pictured) and my animals, and the life that we have made for ourselves.

Okay. There's really nothing that beautiful about a ratty pair of sneakers and a single mary-jane, but this is what I saw when I came downstairs. It made me giggle, then laugh. I must have needed the laugh, because I had to eventually sit down. Maera loves to hoard shoes. This is all Maera's fault. But I thought that anything that got me to give a belly-laugh deserved a mention in this blog post.

And speaking of Maera, one cannot continue to have negative thoughts when THESE brown eyes are gazing at you adoringly. Well, gazing at you asking for treats. But I'm sure that there was some adoration in there too.

Bit's glamor shot. Caught quite unintentionally while she was watching me get ready to do my little bit of shopping. I love her green eyes. And her ear tufts. A world with kitty ear tufts cannot be that bad of a place to live.

Though the photo quality might not be stellar, there are few things that are more pleasant and relaxing than watching a cat groom herself in a shaft of sunlight. That is the image that I get in my head when I think of the word "contentment."

It's good to see that Argos and Maera are becoming friends. It warms my heart to see it. Even if they did evict Annie from the bed. Really, they'd have been happy to merely join her, but Annie would never consent to that.

One thing that tells me that all is well, and I can relax, is when I come home and Charlotte is on the back of the recliner. It is HER perch. It's the first place that I look when I can't find her. All is well, Charlotte is at her post.

And one thing that I can finally do is look at old pictures of Romeo, and enjoy the beauty that is in them. I was avoiding pictures of him, because seeing them always made me feel a lump in the back of my throat, and I would have to fight down guilt that we couldn't do more for him than we were able to. I have finally set aside the guilt, and can look at the single year that we had him as a reprieve from the shelter for him. He got soft, warm places to sleep, and as you can see above, he WAS able to relax in our house, for all that he was bullied by the other cats.

I hope that you enjoyed the photos. I know that photos of other people's pets are probably not as relaxing as photos of your own, but I would encourage anyone who is suffering from the holiday blahs to take some time, slow down, and enjoy the loved ones, two-legged and four-legged alike. The beauty and comfort is there if we but look.

Why We Chose Greyhounds

2011-11-26T15:12:00.000-08:00

We always knew that we would eventually get a dog. We really were only waiting until we owned our own home. We never really thought about breed all that much either: it was just assumed that we would get a dog, and that we would love him or her no matter what breed, or mix we wound up with.

The seed of an idea was planted back in 1997. Jeff and I had been conducting a long-distance relationship (He, in Boston, Massachusetts, and I, in Northwestern Missouri.) We had decided to end this long-distance nonsense, and I made preparations to move out to Boston to be with him. I'd gotten rid of most of my worldly goods, as I didn't have much anyway, and much of what I had just duplicated something that was already up in the apartment in Boston. We were out at my aunt's house for a family send-off, and Jeff and I showed up a little early. I remember that we opened the front door to enter the house, and a huge river of whippets streamed down the hall towards us, leaping over one another, cavorting, rejoicing that new people had come. (My aunt bred whippets.) Behind the wild pack of whippets, walked two greyhounds, quiet, self-assured, patiently waiting for us to give them some attention.

We both kept getting drawn to those two greyhounds, as much fun as playing with the lively whippets was. My aunt explained that they were rescues, and that was the first that I had ever heard of rescuing greyhounds from the racetrack. That information got filed. Since we were in no position to even consider getting a dog at the time, neither of us even stopped to think about whether we would do a greyhound rescue ourselves.

Fast-forward through our years in Boston, our wedding, a move to Pittsburgh, several years of apartment living, to finally getting our own home. Many of you have read the story of how we got our cats, so you know that we adopted all three of them within a week of moving in. A dog, we put on hold. Jeff was the first one to mention that he wouldn't mind having a greyhound, when the time came, and I agreed that it would be awesome. We both could just picture a greyhound walking down our hallway. I started to do a little research, and unfortunately was immediately dissuaded by someone saying that greyhounds were not capable of peaceful coexistence with cats. I didn't read any more about them. Disheartened, I shared the information with Jeff, and we regretfully decided that having a greyhound was just not for us. Even though this might have been the time to start researching other breeds, I just didn't have the heart for it. I figured that I'd get around to it eventually.

I was back in Kansas City, visiting family one Easter, and my aunt dropped in to visit at my parents' house. She brought one of her greyhounds with her. As I was petting him and paying him much attention, I mentioned my concerns about greyhounds and cats to her. She quickly reassured me that not all greyhounds were incapable of living with cats - that some didn't have much natural prey drive, and could be taught to leave them alone. A spark of hope!

I went home, and Jeff and I started researching in earnest. Cat safe greyhounds did exist! We found three different rescue groups in the general Pittsburgh area, and decided that we would give Steel City Greyhounds a try. We went to a Petco Meet & Greet right before Christmas two years ago, and interrogated the two volunteers there for a solid hour, while petting and fussing over their two greyhound "ambassadogs" the entire time. We were convinced.

We went back home, and right after the New Year holidays, I submitted our application to adopt a greyhound. They called me the very next day for a phone interview, and must have liked what they heard, because we were invited to drop in that weekend to meet a big red fawn male that they had, named Willie.

And from there, we were gonners. They led a great big, skinny dog out to meet us. He looked at me with his enormous brown deer eyes and wagged his tail at me uncertainly, and in that one moment frozen forever in my memory, stole my heart. It didn't hurt that we brought him home for a "test run" and he didn't even seem to realize that our cats existed. He sniffed EVERYTHING in the house, except for the cats. They'd hiss and follow him around, and he just never even looked at them.

The typical adopter seems to bring the dog back and then goes home to think about it for a couple of days, or to at least prepare. We couldn't do that... we took him back, but only to sign the adoption paperwork and to hand over the adoption fee. We didn't have bowls, bedding, a crate, anything... so took him on his very first outing to Petco that very day and outfitted him with the basics.

And as you all know, Willie became Argos.

Argos, still at track weight, about a month after we adopted him.

Meeting a greyhound "in the flesh" is definitely what won us over. And that is why I volunteer to help out with Meet & Greets and similar activities whenever possible, and why I am patient to stop and answer questions when we're out walking... I don't think that adopting a greyhound is something that a lot of people think about doing UNLESS they've met one, or know someone who has one.

Could we have been happy with another breed of dog? A happy, grinning pit bull? A peppy, energetic Jack Russell? A protective and gorgeous German Shephard? A big mixed breed of indeterminate lineage? Absolutely. We're animal-lovers, and would have loved whichever breed that we adopted. But I'm so glad that we got to know greyhounds. I love them. And not just ours - the breed is one that simply delights me. Their elegance. Their reserve (though it should be said that greyhounds, like everyone else, are individuals. Some are more reserved than others!) Their beauty. And yes, I'll admit it, their strong desire to sleep on the couch all day. The fact that yes, they do need exercise, but not hours and hours of it. The fact that they are largely quiet.

I love my dogs. I cannot imagine a time that we will not decide to have a greyhound. I've made plenty of mistakes in my life, but adopting greyhounds is NOT one of them.

Happy Thanksgiving, Friends

2011-11-24T19:30:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving to all! I hope that everyone (that celebrates it, that is) was able to feast today, and to spend time with loved ones, furred and not so furred.

Our Thanksgiving was a quiet one, as they tend to be. Three humans and one cat, at my mother-in-law's. You might remember that my mother-in-law's one cat is Patches, an alumnus of the House of Carnivores. For those who have started reading late, Patches was a foster-cat at our house for six months. My mother-in-law liked him, and so now he is in his forever home with her!

Here he is. You'd almost think that HE was the one that was stuffed full of turkey and carb-heavy (but tasty!) food.

Patches, sleeping.

Patches is one of those cats that is a good lesson: sometimes it is GOOD to let go and let one of the kitties go on to their destiny, even if that is with someone else. He was reasonably content in this house, but he is very obviously HAPPY at my mom-in-law's. He was far more relaxed without having to constantly assert his dominance over another cat, and seemed pleased with the amount of space that he has to romp with. And he seems very fond of his new person as well.

I had planned to take advantage of the daylight hours home and get some new pictures of everyone when the lighting was good, but those plans were shot by a late afternoon nap that went on just a little too long... ah well. It was a good nap!

Again, happy Thanksgiving to all! I am thankful for all of you, and for the support network that you are part of. It has really been good for me to get to know so many people with animals; it's been such a learning experience!

Reasons to Have Multiple Pets

2011-11-23T17:53:00.000-08:00

Many people think that we're crazy for having a houseful of animals, and well, they may have a point there. But I wouldn't give it up for anything, as I'm sure most of you would agree. I've been mulling over a list for a few weeks now, and would like to provide it to you. Reasons to have multiple animals. Some reasons are more serious than others.

1. You never, ever have to sleep alone. There is always SOMEONE who wants to snuggle up beside you.

2. You never, ever have to go to the bathroom alone. I don't know. Maybe this isn't such a good one to include in the list. Even if it is true.

3. Their antics will make you laugh.

4. Their interactions with one another will give you plenty of insight into the human condition. Since I've had my animals, I've become much better at stripping the varnish and gloss from people's words, and seeing the truth underneath it all. We're not so different from them.

5. You save multiple lives by adopting them.

6. You will never ever have an excuse to be bored again.

7. You will become great friends with the workers at your local Petco or similar store. Between dog kibble, cat kibble, canned cat food, cat litter, toys, training treats, litter box deodorizer, enzymatic cleaner, etc. etc., it is a rare weekend that we don't have to pop in.

8. If you have dogs, you will get to know every dog owner on your block, in your dog park, etc. They will know your dog's name, and if you're lucky, will remember yours.

9. It's tremendously fun to see a new animal's personality emerging as he or she gets more comfortable around you.

10. They are all so excited to see you when you get home, and compete for your attention throughout the day. It's difficult to not be flattered by this, even if you do sometimes have to put the brakes on the competitive attention-hogging for them.

11. You will wonder what you ever talked about before getting the animals.

12. You will find yourself saying things that you'd never dreamed of before: "Maera, get your head out from under the radiator" was the winning phrase of the day here.

13. You will never be cold again.

14. It will make your heart grow.

OK, I'm sure that most of these are true even if you have one pet... no judgment if you decide to stick with one! But if you DID want to sneak in a second, or third, or fourth... maybe one of these reasons will be your justification? (Me, the Enabler.)

Life Goes On...

2011-11-20T16:24:00.000-08:00

I guess it's one thing that you eventually (maybe) learn when you agree to become a foster home for animals, is that after their departures for what are hopefully happy forever homes, life does go on. I'll keep you posted on whether I'm EVER able to completely learn this lesson. Patches gave us a nice "soft start" to giving up a foster - he went to my mother-in-law, which means that we knew exactly what kind of home he'd be in, and we knew that we'd get to see him again in the future. It was a little harder with Mitchell, since we are looking at every possibility of never seeing him again. But it does help that we know that he went to a good home.

And like I said, life does go on...

Maera seems to have developed a UTI. I understand that this is not uncommon in female dogs, particularly young ones. We took her in to see the vet last week, as soon as I started to notice that something was wrong: there were a couple of potty accidents in the house, and several additional attempts to potty once outside. They gave us an antibiotic and an anti-inflammatory after testing her urine and finding bacteria. I have to laugh at how much easier it is to give her antibiotics than it is for us to do the same for one of the cats... push the pills into a piece of hot dog, offer hot dog to Maera. Gulp. End of story.

We've been trying to play with the dogs a little more in the yard. A tired Maera is a much better-behaved Maera, and it's good for Argos to be a little bit less lazy as well. Usually they can be convinced to chase each other around and around the yard, sometimes we need to throw one of their toys for them to go get. Sometimes, it takes getting down on the ground with them for a little friendly wrestling match.

Mom, what are you doing on the ground?

No, really? What ARE you doing?

Both dogs got a certificate after we finished up their obedience training classes on Saturday. The classes were invaluable training for all of us. What we got out of them - dogs that have started a more "trainable" portion of their lives. Maera sits on command now, and Argos will after much grumbling and complaining. They're getting better about stays, and better about "leave it" and their recall has improved. But I think that most importantly, Jeff and I have learned how to train the dogs appropriately, and have learned about how to use the clickers/treats to get them to do what we want.

As for the cats, I think that they miss Mitchell. Well, Charlotte doesn't. Charlotte probably would be happy if all of the other cats vanished.

What do you mean that I can't be Queen without other feline subjects?

The night after Mitchell left us, Bit paced around the house all night, occasionally crying. It was like she was looking for him... the two of them were playmates, Mitchell being the only one who was willing to chase her up and down the stairs. Annie probably misses him the most: he snuggled with her and groomed the top of her head for her every day. But they've adjusted, as they always do when we humans go and mess things up. Annie and Bit are spending more time together again: they were inseparable before Mitchell, but when he was around, Annie seemed to choose his company over Bit's more often.

So that's really our lives right now... the cats are getting used to being Three again, doing lots of snuggling with us in the process, and the dogs are completely unaware that we're short one cat.

Everyone keep your fingers crossed that poor Maera's UTI clears up ASAP.

Good-bye, Mitchell (in a good way)

2011-11-17T18:09:00.000-08:00

Mitchell got adopted tonight. I won't say much, out of respect for the new owner's privacy. However, I will say that I am pleased with how everything turned out. Mitchell is going to be very happy in his new home, and I wish him all the best.

But damn, I'm going to miss the little guy.

I suppose that's one of the hazards of the "job" when you foster.

That being said, I just emailed the foster coordinator of the shelter and told her that we might take a brief break, but would be up for fostering more in the future. So clearly I haven't learned my lesson!

It's okay, Mom, you still have ME.

Who was your first pet?

2011-11-13T11:41:00.000-08:00

My actual first pet was a black and white boy (cat) that I named, in all of my three-year-old wisdom, "T-nut" (my valiant attempt to say Peanut.) He died of unknown causes when I was five years old. I was barely able to understand the concept, and didn't grieve overly much due to that lack of understanding. Which is why, when I think of my first pet, I don't have many memories of Peanut, though he must have been a sweet, gentle soul to have so gamely put up with me at that age.

No, the first pet that I remember was a cat of a completely different stripe. After Peanut was buried, my parents gave it a couple of weeks, then took me to the "pound" to pick out a kitten. I don't remember much about this shelter, though I don't think it was a very progressive, no-kill type of place. Even at five years old, I knew that not every animal was getting out of there.

The shelter workers put me into a room, and then turned loose about twenty kittens on me. Haha, I can't even begin to imagine setting that kind of chaos loose on a five year old child, but I seem to recall that it was fantastic and fun regardless. Kittens of all colors climbed all over me, cavorted with one another, and had a party in the way that only a group of kittens turned loose on a small child can manage.

And then there was one. He climbed up my back, using his claws as tiny crampons. He got to the top, that is, my shoulders, took one look into my eyes, and panicked! He leapt off of my shoulder and went skittering across the room to hide... behind a giant chest freezer. And that was the one that I wanted.

My parents tried to talk me into choosing an easier-to-get, possibly more compliant kitten, but I was dead set on that one. We had to make it a team effort to get him out from behind that freezer, and then he was mine.

He was pure white, with short, soft fur and green eyes. And he became "Snowball" that day. (No, my naming abilities hadn't really progressed that far beyond the days of "T-nut" yet.)

Never a more cantankerous cat existed. He would ride my toddler brother down the hall by sinking claws into the poor kid's back... though come to think of it, my brother thought it was kind of funny. He would hide from us sometimes, and then leap out of the shadows and scare us into gibbering insensibility. And this is what he did for FUN. And yet he would come in and snuggle up beside me at night, before my father would come and send him to the basement until morning.

Snowball contracted FeLV at some point. He was an indoor-outdoor cat, and so likely got into a fight with an infected cat. Not much was known about the disease at the time, this was back in the 1980s. (Or if it was known, it was not conveyed to us.) Despite his disease, he lived to be a very old cat, passing away when I was a teenager.

He wasn't much of a child's pet, really. He liked my mom more than he liked anyone else, and had an unfortunate habit of lashing out at us kids if he felt like we were invading his space. But I loved him.

It is probably Snowball's "fault" that I have my current taste in cats. The cantankerous, difficult to get along with ones are the ones that I have a soft heart towards. The ones that I itch to remove from the shelter so that they have a home in which they can be themselves without worrying about euthanasia due to personality. I'm sure that I have him to thank for Charlotte - if I hadn't had him around for eleven of my formative years, a cat that bloodied me on our first meeting would have probably scared me to death.

Thanks, Snowball. I hope that you peer down at me over the Bridge sometimes, and that you think of me fondly. I've grown up quite a bit from the little girl who would occasionally tug your tail, I promise.

So, who was your first pet? Did you have a pet as a child, or was this an adult-onset mania?

Training

2011-11-09T18:54:00.000-08:00

We are in the process of training the dogs in basic obedience. We attend a class just for greyhounds every Saturday afternoon, and we have been introduced to the world of clickers and treats, and using these wonderful tools to get the dogs to do what we want for them to do. It's just the basics for now - sit, down, stay, come, "leave it." And a little bit of very basic agility work.

I have to admit, in the beginning I was hopeful yet a tiny bit skeptical. Argos is a very well-behaved gentleman, but he is stubborn and a bit set in his ways. I knew that he would be resistant, at least in the beginning, to learning new things. And Maera, while very anxious to please us, is still so very excitable that sometimes she forgets how to listen, and in the process forgets her manners and does things like jumping up on us, nipping (though gently) at our hands, etc. etc.

But it is working very well. Maera is still excitable, though we are slowly starting to get through to her, and she's starting to look to us for cues. If I get a milk bone out of the "treat closet" for her, her butt instantly hits the floor into a "sit" as she anxiously awaits her treat. This is a vast improvement over launching herself airborne, sometimes at my head-height, to get the treat ASAP. And Argos is still stubborn. He still doesn't really WANT to learn to do all of these things, but he's doing them. And in class, he just lights up and enjoys showing off when he has either me or Jeff all to himself (the other has Maera and is all the way across the room, with several dogs in between.)

I think what I like about the rewards-based, clicker training, is that the dogs really ENJOY learning. They love class, because they get gobs of treats. And it's really helping Maera get over her fear... the first couple of classes were spent with her tail between her legs and not letting anyone besides me or Jeff approach her but slowly, very slowly, she is starting to wag her tail at the other dogs, and sometimes she even lets other people approach her without shying away.

I've read some additional manuals, guides, whatevers, to training, and am just impressed by the amount of knowledge that is out there about training the dogs. But I am also starting to see that there are some differences in opinion on how to train dogs... many differences in opinion and approach. I won't go into very many of the particulars, because I don't want to make it sound like I'm condemning anyone for choosing different training methods than we're using. All dogs are different, so different approaches are no doubt warranted. My opinion is that if the dogs are learning, and they are happy, then the approach isn't important.

But there are certain things that I've chosen to reject in THIS HOUSE. I can certainly respect that other people have chosen differently, and can see valid reasoning behind it, though. One light-hearted example: many of the training guides (not in our Saturday training sessions) say to keep the dogs off of human beds and human furniture at all times. That to allow them to be so elevated gives them ideas that they are higher in the pecking order than they are.

I say "meh" to that. At least with my dogs. I don't notice them trying to establish their authority over me even on their less than perfect days. I want them to be comfy. I want them to know that this is THEIR home too. They don't just take up space. They live here. If one ever challenged me for my place on the bed, then they would lose bed privileges, but until then, as said before, "meh."

Not to mention, I would get heartily sick of listening to the sad violin music every time I tried to shoo Argos off of the couch!

I believe that there is nothing in this world that he is so attached to more than the couch. (Jeff and I being the happy exceptions to this rule, I think.)

Though Bit is equally attached to her "crow's nest" at the top of the kitty tower.

But anyway. Here is to happy dogs (and cats.) May we always be able to balance our training with fun for them.

Fall in the House

2011-11-05T08:04:00.000-07:00

As the seasons turn, things start to change in the House of Carnivores. As it gets cooler, it is rare for me to wake up without cats curled up behind my knees, beside my torso, and sometimes snuggled up to the back of my head. The dogs are friskier in the backyard, and run kicking through the leaves, in their still awkward playing style... a combination of nipping each other and RUNNING away, and sometimes getting mad at one another for nipping too hard.

Maera got to see her first snowfall last weekend, which came before the leaves started to fall, (Luckily for us, even if it snowed enough to give us about an inch, it all melted within hours.)

Windows are closed, and cats are a little more interested in hanging out on top of the radiator covers these days... they are actually putting off heat, after all.

I do always mourn the loss of summer and its green growing things, but I have to admit, it is a cozy feeling as we close up the house and start preparing for winter. Very homey. I've been cooking a lot of comfort foods (which is in a way unfortunate, as I am TRYING to lose weight for a trip to Jamaica in a few months.) And I'm inside more often, which means that I get to enjoy the company of the cats more often. And we've finally hit that "golden" stretch of fall where there is blue sky and bright sunshine that seems to make the colors on the trees glow almost like fire.

Oh, and Patches is back. Just for a couple of days while my mother-in-law is away at a conference.

So enjoy a collection of my fall photos:

First, some fall color.

Now on to the animals...

The first thing that Patches did upon his return was to prove his dominance over the dogs.

While Charlotte carved out more of her kingdom... elsewhere.

Why did no one TELL us that this is a throne?

Mitchell finds the sweet spot: warm towels stacked on top of warm radiator.

My 65 lb lap-dog.

Jeff's rather shameless 65 lb lap-dog.

Argos and Maera model their winter coats on a cold day

And Annie steals Charlotte's basket.

And here is a picture of Bit, hiding from the camera: Ok. There is no picture of Bit. She kept running away whenever she saw the purple case of my iPhone.

Allergies, Part Two

2011-10-29T17:07:00.000-07:00

I made an earlier post about how I've been afflicted with sinus congestion and a cough since July, and wanted to update my status about that and to make a point. To summarize, for those of you who didn't see it, I mentioned that one of my very real fears was that these symptoms were caused by allergies, and that the allergies might be to my pets. At the time, I was starting to suspect a mold allergy more than anything, but the fear that my babies might be causing my problems was still gnawing at me.

My symptoms have mostly cleared up. My cough is 99.9% gone. I can breathe. Which is good news!

But it has been a very rough few months. And I suddenly have a better understanding of why people dump their cats off at the shelter, complaining of allergies. No, no, I haven't done it and was not even tempted to do so. I've just developed an empathy that I didn't have before. Let me explain.

My cough was bad. I would get started and would be unable to stop. Sometimes it would happen when I was trying to talk, or when I was trying to eat or sleep. Sometimes I would cough so hard that I would make myself throw up. And if that is not demoralizing, I don't know what is. Remember that all of this time we didn't know what was causing it. At first, we just thought it was a cold gone into my chest. But when it persisted for weeks, a month, then two months, we knew that it had to be something else.

It seemed like the entire world, articles written by medical personnel first and foremost, wanted for me to get rid of my cats. I read tons and tons and tons of medical literature on how to deal with pet allergies, because I was that scared. The literature was not helpful. ALL of it suggested that I get rid of the cats. And I guess from a purely clinical standpoint, the suggestion makes sense. Sometimes the literature would make a grumpy-sounding second suggestion, the tone of which sounding like it thought that only a truly unreasonable person wouldn't just ditch the cats. It would go on to say that I could try shutting them out of my bedroom at all times to give myself a "safe zone" free of cat dander, though usually these articles were quick to emphasize that even that might not work.

My cough persisted. I worried.

I went down into a deep, dark hole and no one could follow me there. (OK, pause for a moment. I know that this sounds melodramatic, but that really is what it seemed like. I will admit that I was terribly depressed. Bear in mind that I had also just lost my grandmother, and was dealing with the emotions that come with that.) There was no relief from my worry, since my symptoms never relented, and at night I would bury my face in the fur of one of the cats, or one of the dogs during the day, and cry. It never occurred to me that the act of burying my face in fur without triggering a massive allergy attack probably was a clue that the pets were NOT my problem.

My husband, bless him, kept me sane. He would talk me through my anxiety attacks, reassuring me that even if I was allergic, that we would find a way to keep the animals. I could take allergy medicine. Maybe get allergy shots. I did some research, and discovered a product called Allerpet, which is supposed to neutralize a very large percentage of dander before it even goes airborne. (Although we never tried it. Have any of you?) We would try the cat-free bedroom if it came to that. But for the moment, we were in a holding pattern. We didn't want to banish the cats from our sleeping quarters if we didn't have to, or start spending the money on dander treatments if we didn't need to, so I just followed the doctor's orders, taking three different kinds of medication to try to cut down on the sinus congestion which would in turn cut down on the cough. I also used a Neti Pot in the mornings to wash out my sinuses. We ran air purifiers on each of the floors of the house.

And my symptoms slowly went away. I started to feel good again. My mood is starting to lift. Hooray, let the trumpets sound.

But not everyone is so lucky. I had a few things in my favor, when it came to the decision to keep my animals.

1.) I am stubborn. If you look up "stubborn" in the dictionary, some editions might just have my picture displayed. I had extended my protection over these animals, and I would have rather chopped off my own foot than get rid of a single one of them. This stubbornness grew every time I read an article telling me that I should get rid of them. Or every time a friend or acquaintance suggested that I do the same.

2.) I had a good support network. My husband, certain family members, and a very small group of friends supported me through this time. The pet blogosphere was a comforting place as well, even if I wasn't yet able to publicly talk about my problems. (I can't count how many nights I sat there, poised to tell all of you about this, but just couldn't bring myself to do it. It just made the problem seem too real to write about it.) When I would, exhausted from coughing and wondering if I was going to die before this was resolved, worry out loud about what I was going to do if this was brought on by dander, these lovely people would soothe my fears. They would, God love them, remind me of what a stubborn cuss that I was, and that I was, behind the cough, a very strong person. They would gently push me to start working on an "action plan" that would enable us to keep the animals, allergies or no allergies. They made me feel a little bit less like a social pariah, which I really was feeling like at the time.

What does a person do when they're down in that deep, dark hole when they don't have my mulish stubborn streak? Or if they don't have a support network? What if all of their friends and family are telling them to get rid of the animals? And what if their doctor joins in? Are they really going to want to wait three months for the doctors to come up with the perfect combination of the perfect drugs to clear up their symptoms? Or are they going to start trying anything, ANYTHING to get relief?

Don't get me wrong, I am still very cynical at the high numbers of pet surrenders due to allergies. I think that many times, the allergies are just an excuse. Allergies are like the no-fault divorce in the pet world. You avoid judgment, after all, you're just looking after your own health, and also your pet avoids judgment. No behavioral issues here. No one's fault. A confused, sad animal still winds up in a cage, to be adopted by strangers, or even worse, to be adopted by no one at all.

I know that there are people with very real, very intense allergies to pets. And that these people have a legitimate medical reason for needing to seek relief by removing a pet from their household. I think that this number of people is very small... much smaller than shelter statistics would suggest.

I have to wonder, how many of these owner-surrenders are from people that were in a place like I was? No confirmed cat allergies. Just a whole lot of unexplainable symptoms, nights of coughing-induced sleeplessness, and questions without answers. I felt very lonely during this time, even with my support network. I felt like no one could truly understand how I was feeling (and in the light of day, I can see how untrue such a feeling was, but in that deep, dark place it made perfect sense. No one understood me. No one could.) What would someone in this position do, if they were feeling the same things that I was feeling?

How many of those people would have kept their animals if they'd been shown how to minimize their exposure to dander, or at least been talked through it by someone, anyone. Or if their doctors were more inclined to try alternatives before recommending pet removal. Or if there was at least one person there to support them and encourage them to try to keep their pet.

I'm sure that many, or probably even most, shelters do have something in place to counsel allergy-sufferers. (Shelter workers, correct me if I am wrong.) Do veterinarians counsel about pet allergies? Would someone even think to ask them? What if doctors were more educated on alternative ways to deal with pet allergies? Are there non-profit groups devoted to this?

I really don't know what the answers are to these questions - I'm just throwing them out there in case someone DOES know and can educate me. Maybe if there isn't a non-profit group devoted to this, there should be. And I wanted to post a very candid piece on what it was like to be where I was... with the hope that it will encourage someone who is in the same place. That it might prevent even one animal from becoming homeless. That someone might not feel quite so alone. It might not even be pet allergies, but even if there is, there are options. There might be a way to keep the pets and make the allergy symptoms tolerable at the very least.

I hope fervently that this doesn't sound too preachy. I am writing from the heart, what has been weighing on my mind for months and I acknowledge that it might be a little heavy in places. The goal is to help - and yes, to vent, but mostly to help.

Halloween Costumes

2011-10-26T19:26:00.000-07:00

I put together some quick, inexpensive costumes for the dogs tonight, because we have a Howlin-ween party to go to on Friday night, for the grand-opening of a local doggy daycare, Urban Dog Day Care (Door fees are going to be donated to Steel City Greyhounds!)

So here they are:

Argos is, as you can hopefully see, Superman. He looks pretty annoyed about the costume, and that's because he actually is pretty annoyed about it. He lost patience with me fussing with his cape after oh, five minutes. That's a cape for a female vampire costume, and a child's Superman logo t-shirt. We thought about dressing him up like "Bark Kent, Mild-Mannered Reporter," but that one might have been too difficult to make obvious.

Maera is a fairy princess. That's a set of child's fairy wings, and a child's sparkly sequiny scarf. You may notice two things. One, the wings are on backwards (I think.) If the large wings are anywhere near her face, she eats them. She turned into a wild bucking bronco in the beginning, because she was desperate to eat those wings. I have no idea of how the party Friday is going to go... it may be the most short-lived costume ever! The other thing that you may notice is that she is NOT wearing lavender feathery glittery "bracelets" around her forelegs. There is a reason for that. She wants to eat those too, and I think she might actually succeed at that so am probably leaving them off.

Easy Like Sunday

2011-10-23T08:35:00.000-07:00

So as I was looking through today's blogs, I saw that Kat's Kats is having a sleeping photo contest! Sleeping is what my kitties do best, so now it's just a matter of finding pictures.

I don't know if this one counts, because his eyes ARE open, but here is foster-cat Mitchell (who would dearly love to have a home of his own, by the way!) soaking up the late morning sunshine.

Propriety? Meh. I've never let propriety stand between me and a good sun-soak.

And here is my all-time favorite sleeping shot, of my heart cat Charlotte. She is on top of a quilt that is in turn, in top of me, so I was desperately trying to position my iPhone and get a picture snapped without waking her up or moving too much.

State of the House

2011-10-16T18:16:00.000-07:00

I have been quiet for awhile lately, because my mom was visiting from out of town. We had a great time, but there was not much time left over for blogging!

So, now it's time to get people back up to speed on the comings and goings in the House.

Let's start with the cats. They're all doing very well, and I have to say that I firmly believe that Foster Cat Mitchell's adjustment period is over... he has been completely accepted by the other cats, and no one is trying to terrorize him. I guess that just goes to show that our contentious lot CAN let in newbies, if that newbie has the right attitude. It makes my heart break anew for poor Romeo, who was never accepted even though he lived here for a year. But... Mitchell plays with Annie and Bit (the latter being Romeo's primary tormenter) and is even tolerated by Charlotte. (Charlotte barely tolerates Annie, who she has lived with for three years, so I think it's about the best that we can possibly hope for.)

Moo-om... this is a kitties-only club. You can't come in!

Now that the weather is getting chilly at night, I'm finding that I am once again waking up with one or more cats sleeping on top of my legs or pressed up against my side. They might get annoyed with me for not feeding them gooshy food every hour of every day, but I do serve as a good heat source!

The cats did well with having Mom here... most of the time, they are very shy around anyone who isn't us. Charlotte even jumped up and napped in her lap one afternoon, shocking all of us. She barely does that with us! Even timid Bit climbed up in her lap once. That makes me happy. It shows that our attempts to socialize them better are starting to pay off.

The dogs are doing great as well. Maera lovedlovedlovedLOVED my mother, and was almost embarrassing with how she fawned all over her. I would frequently have to pull her off of her so that the poor lady could have a cup of coffee in peace.

We've enrolled both dogs in basic obedience training for greyhounds, and had their first class yesterday. We've introduced them to the concept of the clicker, and both of them seemed to enjoy the class a lot. (Probably because they got tons of treats as part of the clicker training!) They both did a good job, though Maera is so timid in unfamiliar surroundings. For much of the class, her tail was firmly between her legs, especially if she was approached by any people or dogs that weren't us or Argos. That is something that I'm trying to work with her on, and I'm sure that she'll get her confidence eventually.

Around the house, it is a completely different story. She is a riot there, and is always galloping about with something in her mouth. Hopefully it's a chew toy. Sometimes it's a shoe. Or a dish rag. Or a throw pillow. I think today took the cake, though.

Yeah, that is supposed to be a kitty scratching post. That's the base at her feet.

Argos just gives her a look that very eloquently says, "What is your PROBLEM?" when she starts acting like that. Then he gives me a worried look like he thinks that I'm going to blame him for her bad behavior.

Please don't blame me for my sister being such a spaz.

Anyway, we're going to be getting back to a regular schedule starting tomorrow... I just got back from taking my mother to the airport. The dogs are going to be very sorry she's gone. She stayed home with them every day last week, even when we had to go to work, and gave them treats and took them outside for extra potty breaks. They're really going to miss that!

Wordless Wednesday

2011-10-04T18:42:00.000-07:00

Well, okay, ALMOST wordless. Let me just say that this shocked the heck out of me, since Charlotte was the one who jumped up and planted herself there.

Allergies

2011-10-03T18:09:00.000-07:00

I have made a couple of comments here and there about a sickness that I just can't seem to shake. I got a cold when I went to Philadelphia in July, and can't seem to get rid of the resulting post-nasal drip and bronchitis. Yes, I STILL have it, though after some heavy-duty prescription medication from the pulmonologist, I am seeing strong signs of improvement. A light at the end of the tunnel.

One possibility for the post-nasal drip is allergies, and not a cold at all. Allergies to what, we don't know. Right now, I'm trying a series of medications prescribed to me from the pulmonologist. We are working on clearing the cough up first, and then perhaps we can explore the root cause.

At this point, I at least have anecdotal evidence that my cough is practically non-existent if I take care when stirring up dust (I wear a dust mask when I clean now) and make sure that my clothes are not left in the sometimes damp basement for any length of time - no more getting dressed out of the dryer for me. This makes me think that there is every possibility that I have a mold allergy and a dust allergy. This is good, but I didn't even have this tiny bit of reassurance until the past week. Why would I think that a mold and/or dust allergy was a GOOD thing?

Ah yes, the elephant in the room. Pet dander. I have had several people suggest that I might be having a reaction to the pets in my home, and I have been living in fear all summer that they might be right. After I had the doctor put to rest the fear that I had cancer (don't we always think it's cancer?) my single biggest fear was (and still is) that I am allergic to my cats. Every time I hear the suggestion that I might be allergic to them, I feel sick inside. And it's rather difficult to argue with those that suggest it when I have some very real symptoms that cannot be hidden or explained.

I feel somewhat better about it now that it might "just" be mold or dust.

But I'm still terrified that I'm going to find out that it is true... that I'm allergic to the pets.

And if I am?

Some people, and unfortunately many of them are in the medical community, would suggest that I start getting rid of pets, like they're, I don't know... defective toasters or something.

But who would I get rid of?

Charlotte, with her heart condition? Would I find someone who would be able to pay all of her medical expenses, be willing to give her medication twice a day, and love her with all of their hearts, even knowing that her time is short? Give me a break, I'd be signing her death warrant by sending her anywhere but here.

How about Bit, who is lying on top of her "crow's nest" on her back and making trilling noises at me to lure me over to pet her? She is Daddy's Little Princess too, so I'm not just breaking her heart and my heart, I'm breaking my husband's too. How do I look into my husband's eyes and tell him that he has to find her a new home? It's inconceivable. Bit has been with us since she was 3 months old. We are the only family that she has ever known.

Or Annie, who loves me so fiercely that she is my most devoted shadow, and constantly talks to me and licks my hands out of affection? She guards me while I bathe, and purrs if I even look at her. Do I say "Sorry" and dump her off at the shelter? Do I tell her that the long two years of trust-building were for nothing, and that people can't be counted on for anything good?

Or Mitchell, who has nowhere else to go? Mitchell, who misses his buddy Patches so much that he sleeps plastered up against me all night long (without triggering an allergy attack, I might add.) I know that he is "only" a foster-cat, and so will ideally find his forever home and will eventually leave me, but I just can't bring myself to prematurely kick him out of the "nest." He trusts me. He is happier here than he was in the shelter. I see no reason that he shouldn't stay until a good adopter speaks up for him.

I'm naming the cats, since usually people's allergies are to cats, but I am going to be just as stubborn about the dogs. I can't imagine dropping either Argos or Maera off somewhere, even if it was to our reputable rescue, and saying that I couldn't keep them any more. I would remember the sad, betrayed eyes, and Argos' cries as I walked out, leaving him behind with strangers, for the rest of my days, and my friends, I couldn't live with it. It is unbearable to even think about; even writing about it for this short amount of time is making my eyes fill with tears. No, these dogs are going away over MY DEAD BODY.

I think that those that know me know what I'm leading up to. I'm NOT getting rid of anybody, for any reason... I don't care if the doctor tells me that I'm allergic to them. (Well, I do care, but that is not going to motivate me to get rid of any of them.)

I know that I'm not the only (potentially) allergic pet person out there. I know that some of you have commented on my blog that you have allergies, and pets, and have found a way to live with it. Does anyone have advice for me, should I have to travel down that road? I don't know that I am allergic to pets, but the fear is still there. And for me, the best way to conquer a fear is to plan the heck out of it. If I am indeed allergic, can you give me some tips and advice so that I can make a plan of attack? Here is what I already do, because it will help me no matter WHAT it is that I'm allergic to:

I have two big air purifiers, one on each floor. They run constantly.
I bought a vacuum with an allergen filter. Not a true HEPA filter, though. That was yowza expensive.
I am trying to be more diligent about sweeping, vacuuming, and mopping the floors. I only have hardwood, tile, and laminate flooring, so there's no carpet to contend with.
I'm wearing a dust mask when I clean up, and am trying to vacuum dust and no doubt dander off of the furniture on a more regular basis.

I welcome any advice that helps me keep my furry friends, family members, and long-term guests in my home with me, where they belong.

A Delicate Process

2011-09-27T18:18:00.000-07:00

Introducing a new cat to the household is a delicate process, full of potential mis-steps and unfortunate misinterpretations. Believe me, I know. We had a very rough year when we were trying to introduce poor Romeo into the household, and I truly think that he'd still have to be kept isolated from the others if he were still alive today.

Which is why I felt quite a bit of trepidation with releasing Foster cat Mitchell in with our girls. I probably wouldn't have done it at all, except that he was desperately lonely after Foster cat Patches got adopted. So we decided to see what happened.

We had one advantage: he'd lived here for nearly six months under quarantine already, and the cats were already well aware of the fact that he was here. They had his scent, and despite the quarantine, there were a couple of "jail breaks" so they'd had a couple of Mitchell sightings already too.

So we left the guest room door open one day last week to see what would happen.

Nothing. Well, at least at first.

Once Mitchell figured out that he was free to roam, he sauntered out into the hallway, and stopped cold when he saw Annie. He made a glad little sound and ran over to her and began grooming the top of her head. I think that Annie stared at him in stunned shock and silence for about three seconds before she made the "Annie war-cry" and slapped him down. And then it was Mitchell's turn to stare at her in stunned shock and silence. (Patches had LOVED being groomed.)

Hmm. That could have gone better.

But he didn't let that put him off. Romeo would have turned and run and remained hostile for days. Mitchell kept trying to make friends. I could see Annie started to soften towards him, especially since he'd always try to groom the top of her head, an impossible spot to reach herself.

He then tried to approach Charlotte, who predictably made a gargling sound like she'd been possessed by demons. We split them up really quickly afterwards - Charlotte still hasn't 100% accepted Annie, who she has lived with for two years, so we have no reason to think that she's ever going to be friendly to another cat. At least Charlotte is willing to "live and let live," as long as she isn't disturbed or annoyed too much.

But Mitchell didn't give up on her either. He periodically tries to approach her, being as gentle and unassuming as he can be. Most of the time she drives him away. But... I caught them touching noses earlier this evening. All was well until I saw Charlotte's ears flick back, noticing me entering the room. Then of course she had to save face and snarl at him. Mustn't let me think that she was weakening.

Stand-off

Bit remains our "hard case," which I expected. She was Romeo's primary tormentor, following him, stalking him, attacking him from nowhere and making him a nervous wreck. She was the main reason that we kept him isolated from the other cats... Bit just did NOT know when to quit, and poor Romeo had no knowledge of how to get her to leave him alone.

I was worried about the Bit-Mitchell encounter the most. After all, if she drove him to the point of a nervous break-down, or made him dislike other cats, the shelter would not be happy with me! (And I'd feel horrible.)

When she saw him, she started doing the same thing that she'd always do to Romeo, which is to say that she laid her ears back and started slinking towards him, in that predator-tracking sort of way. She fully expected him to run away and hide. What she did NOT anticipate was for him to chirp at her and bounce happily towards her expecting to play.

Well, this didn't go over very well, to say the least. Bit seems to be very worried about him, but I think that maybe she's even relaxing somewhat. We're trying to feed her "gooshy food" in his presence which does seem to be helping.

And... we're already leaving all of the cats alone together. Mitchell and Annie hang out together the most, usually on our bed, and I walked in on a mutual grooming session the other evening. I think that Annie really, really likes him, possibly because he's the only cat in the house that will defer to her. She's also been the one that has spent the most time with him... the first several days, there was no way we were leaving all of the cats alone together. But we didn't want to leave Mitchell completely alone because he so clearly didn't like it. So we'd put Annie, the one who'd reacted the best to him, in with him. So they've gotten some bonding time.

Anyway, things are moving along much, much better than I thought they would. I feel like a United Nations peace broker, but I do think that we're through the worst of it and are working towards a smooth integration. (After which, of course, Mitchell will likely get adopted into his Forever Home, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.)

Join the Fellowship of the Black Cat

2011-09-21T18:17:00.000-07:00

This is Petfinder's Adopt a Less Adoptable Pet Week. Bloggers all over are posting about "less adoptable" animals and encouraging readers to give these deserving animals a home.

I'm posting about a group of animals that is near and dear to my heart - black cats. They are so often overlooked, and I know that my local shelter has so many black cats right now that it isn't even funny.

They are in no way shape or form actually less adoptable... black cats are often some of the most friendly animals up for adoption. It seems like many people overlook them - maybe it is the only the truly discerning, observant, and astute people that love the black kitties? There should be a club - a fellowship, even, of those rare, lucky individuals.

Then again, I'd rather see more black cats get adopted than to belong to some exclusive club.

I'm going to start with a (mostly) black cat that is near and dear to my heart: Mitchell, my remaining foster cat. (Patches, his partner-in-crime, a tuxedo kitty, was adopted over the weekend.)

Mitchell has the sweetest nature of any cat that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He is extremely gentle with people, purrs with delight when he is gently petted, and will happily lie on top of you, or beside you, or at least on the same bed as you, as you nap. He is also gentle with the other cats, and is patiently working on winning my "girls" over.

He is curious and fun, and will keep you well entertained as he explores and comically over-reacts to little things, like his reflection in a mirror, or discovering the bathroom sink. We can't keep him, because we have a full house. But I would love, love, love to see him go to someone who will adore him as he deserves.

Two other ARL cats that are up for adoption and black:

This is Mama. According to the ARL site, she was found with her litter of kittens. Her kittens are now gone, but she remains at the shelter. Those eyes always get me - she wants to be rescued and taken to a home where she can get the pampering that she deserves.

Mama loves people, by the way, so her adopter would be guaranteed an affectionate, gentle companion. The only caveat is that she live in a home without dogs.

And this is Annie. (No, not MY Annie, though she too is a little black cat.) I think that's why this picture tugs at my heartstrings so. THIS Annie is gentle and not really taking to shelter life very well. That makes her actually quite similar to MY Annie, who did not do well at the shelter either. Her personality was not suited for it.

That's why I am certain that this Annie could have a "happily ever after" in someone's home - get her out of the caged environment, and you, like me with my Annie, will watch her blossom.

There are so many more - at the ARL, and no doubt at every shelter in the country. (Here is a link to Castaway Cats - who talks about even more of the black cats at the ARL.) So join the Fellowship - you know you want to!

Happy Gotcha Day

2011-09-20T18:31:00.000-07:00

In August 2008, we did one of the most terrifying things in our lives: we closed on our first house. We spent the rest of August and half of September doing some minor renovations to it before moving in... fresh coats of paint in several of the rooms, ripping down the inexplicably hot pink trim from the master bedroom, etc. We moved in over the weekend over September 20th. My mother flew out to stay with us that week so that she could help us unpack and start making our house a home. Some of you may have heard at least part of my description of move-in week, which is when we got the "girls," but others haven't, so I'll retell the story on the anniversary of the great event.

On September 21, which was a Monday, Jeff had to go out and do an errand. My mother and I were standing in the dining room, which was the "staging area" for all of our boxes, which is to say that we were surrounded by stacks of boxes nearly up to our heads. Jeff came in to say good-bye and told me that when he got back, we should go to the animal shelter and each pick out a cat. (He wanted a kitten, I wanted an adult, so we already knew we'd be getting two.)

I had a sensible reaction to this, and told him in no uncertain terms that we were not introducing cats into the house when we were still living amongst and out of the boxes and while my mom was sleeping in the guest room. He left to do his errand, and by the time that he'd returned, I'd completely changed my mind. I'd found the website for the Animal Rescue League, just a short drive from the new house. And on that website, I'd found a profile for a certain little cat named Annie. I've always been drawn to the cats that I felt like no one else wanted. This was partially why I wanted an adult. Annie was black as well, which brought down her adoptability for whatever reason. She'd just returned to the shelter from a foster home, which she had been in to give her a much-needed cage break.

So, Jeff, my mom and I drove to the Animal Rescue League. The numbers of cats in cages was overwhelming to me. They hadn't yet built their cat center, so there were no colony rooms, and cages lined the hall. I saw Annie, but she was in the back of her cage, probably hiding from the chaos (there were a lot of people looking for a pet cat that weekend.) I meant to go back and meet her, but Charlotte got my attention. I KNOW many of you have heard her story, so I won't go into details there, but she chose me without a doubt, and I knew that I needed to take this tuxedo kitty home with me.

So she was my choice.

Meanwhile, Jeff had looked into the cages of several of the cats, but was instantly intrigued by one containing a little gray fluffy kitten. She didn't even have a name on her cage yet, though later her paperwork named her as "Fluffy." One of the shelter workers mentioned to him that she was a polydactyl, which intrigued him, and he asked to have her brought to one of their rooms that they have designated for potential adopters/adoptees meetings. Fluffy, soon to become Bit, startled when some dogs started barking, and leapt onto Jeff's arm and ran up to sit on his shoulder to get away from the noise. He fell in love immediately, and I knew that she was to be ours.

We went home with Charlotte (who was always named Charlotte, by the way. She came with that name and it just seemed to suit her so well that I never even dreamed of changing it) and Bit, whose real name is Q-Bit, by the way, short for Quantum Bit.

And all was well. Except that I couldn't get a certain black kitty out of my mind. I looked back on the Animal Rescue League's website to see if she'd been adopted, hoping that she had been and that I could quit fretting. No one adopted her. I checked back on Tuesday, then on Wednesday, then on Thursday. Annie was still there. I started re-reading her history. Found stray, brought in, kept in the shelter for several months. Went into a foster home for a few weeks, then brought back. She'd been in the custody of the Animal Rescue League for a little over a year. No one was going to come in and take her away, I realized, even if I checked back daily. (Okay, eventually someone would have.) But black cats get adopted slowly, and shy ones that don't really like to be petted all that much even moreso.

I was at work. So I emailed Jeff, wondering how I was going to sell him on going back to get her. We emailed back and forth a few times. I called him. He called me back. We decided that we could handle three cats. At the time, it seemed like a huge decision. I have to laugh at how seriously we took it, given that now the idea of having just three cats makes it seem like I'm getting off easy! I got home from work as soon as I could, and we took off back to the shelter, squealing into the parking lot half an hour before they closed.

If the volunteers and staff there thought it odd that we burst through the doors, flustered and out of breath, wanting to meet Annie, they didn't say anything to us about it. They brought her back to a meeting room, and she was thrilled to play with feather toys with us for awhile. I could tell that she was not a snuggly cat, but something in her eyes, maybe a quiet desperation, made me feel really protective of her. And in ten minutes we had her in one of their cardboard carriers and were taking her home.

So even though technically Annie's Gotcha Day isn't for another couple of days, we're going to celebrate everyone's day all together. The "girls" have been a constant source of joy in our lives. Bit the Troublemaker. Charlotte the Diva-Queen. Annie the Rogue. They're some of my favorite people on the planet, and I would do anything for them.

And they know it.

Good-bye, Patches

2011-09-18T13:08:00.000-07:00

Patches has been adopted! We took him to his new home today. He'll be an only-cat there, and have his human completely to himself... although he did well with other cats, I suspect that he secretly wished for more one-on-one attention, so I think that this should please him immensely. I happen to know that he's in a really good home, because he's going to go live with my mother-in-law! I was secretly hoping for this to happen all summer, and was thrilled when she told us that she would like to adopt him. I mean, he gets his own home, one that I can feel good about sending him to AND we'll get visiting rights! How much better does it get than that?

So, good-bye and good luck to you, Patches. You were a good napping buddy while we had you here. I will miss you! But this is the very best kind of good-bye that there could be.

Keeping Everyone Happy

2011-09-17T12:27:00.000-07:00

Everyone has little quirks and things that make them happy - and our animals are no exception. Every one of my animals has something that really makes them happy. I try to humor them with this as much as possible, because I like to know that they're happy and for more selfish reasons... a nervous, unhappy animal tends to make everyone else miserable as well!

Bit is easy to please. Crack open a can of "gooshey food" and she's over the moon. She doesn't even seem to mind that she has to share it with the fosters, the only other cats in the house that like gooshey food. Every night the three of them split one of the small cans three ways.

She also loves loves LOVES the cat tower that my husband built for them last week. She is frequently seen up in the crow's nest perch, rolling on her back and purring to herself and making little trilling sounds of contentment.

Here is a picture of her, not in the crow's nest, but in the "house" area, another part of the tower that seems to make her happy.

Charlotte is a little more complex - but once you know how she thinks, it's easy to make her happy. She loves coming downstairs for a splash or two of milk in a saucer. She loves her milk, but I think what she REALLY likes about it is that it makes her feel special. THAT is what makes Charlotte happy. She gets milk, which the other cats do not get, and lately, she gets to come downstairs, which the other cats do not get to do. (It's too much of a pain to search for all of the cats to put them back upstairs if we have to leave the dogs alone.) Charlotte likes to feel special. If I sense that she's getting frustrated with the other animals, usually a little bit of one-on-one time with one of us, with all of the other animals shut out of the room will make her feel much better.

And naps. Charlotte loves napping on the beds, especially if she can manage to get into a puddle of sun.

Annie is our most easy-going, easy to please cat. Really, she's just happy to get attention from us, and she doesn't particularly care where we are or what we're trying to do. It makes her happy to perch on my pillow beside my head, usually in the middle of the night. I humor her, though this is somewhat painful, but she's come so far when it comes to trusting people and wanting attention from them that I won't begrudge her.

I've focused largely on the cats in this post, but there are things that make the dogs happy too. They are generally so easy to please. Pay them a little attention, give them food and a soft place to lie, and they'll be largely content. (My two, anyway. I'm sure that some dogs are more demanding.)

Mine like pillows. Pillows make them very happy. In fact, I just saw Maera stand up on the couch and nose the pillow that I'd put on the back to get it out of her way. She knocked it back down and then started using it as... well, a pillow.

Argos shows her how it's done...

Why yes, 98% of all of my dog pictures are of them on the couch. Why do you ask? Actually, it's a pretty good indicator of one of the breed's favorite past-times. There's a reason that they're called 45mph couch potatoes!

Patience

2011-09-12T18:25:00.000-07:00

There are many different methods and techniques for training dogs, and I know that sometimes dog training is the subject of fierce debate. I've seen a quote a few times, "The only thing two dog trainers agree on is that the third one is wrong." (I don't know who to ultimately attribute it to - sorry!) I do know that there are certain techniques that I am more comfortable with than others, and there are certain training methods that I would never subject any dog or cat to. But I would imagine that one thing that all trainers would agree upon - or should - is that you have to use a lot of patience.

I was talking with a friend this weekend, who told me a story about what NOT to do when training a dog. He told me that he saw a couple of dogs that were probably pit bulls tethered out in a yard when he and his own dog were walking by. The dogs started barking at him as he passed. A woman came outside and called the dogs to her, sounding angrier and angrier when they didn't respond by coming over to her.

Finally, one of the dogs came to her as she was standing on the top of the stairs. She started yelling at the dog, jerking his collar, and dragging him up the stairs.

My friend said that he really resisted the urge to go over to the woman, screaming in a language that she didn't know, making emphatic hand gestures, etc. Followed up shortly by grabbing her by her shirt collar and shaking her and continuing to scream at her in that same foreign language while dragging her up a flight of stairs.

Which really brings up a very simple, but often-forgotten point to consider when dealing with dogs. They're dogs. They don't understand English. Just like any other foreigner, raising the volume and getting angrier with repetition does not mean that they are going to be able to understand you any better. Escalating it to physical violence is also just unacceptable - gently tugging on a dog's collar to guide them is one thing, but dragging a dog up the stairs while yelling at him? After he did, finally come to you? I do have to wonder what she was trying for there. (Actually, I'm sure that her actions were born out of pure frustration. It sounds like she needs to be trained in dog training more than the dog himself needed training.)

I'm not saying that a dog that ignores his human never understands what he is supposed to do... my dogs deliberately ignore my commands sometimes, or feign magical, ever-conveniently timed deafness. I deal with it when it happens, but it needs to be done calmly and patiently. Without screaming. But you know? Sometimes, especially with Maera because she's so young and so new to us, I can see the confusion in her eyes when I'm trying to teach her something. Screaming at her would not help train her any faster. It would make her less inclined to trust me. I know that I would certainly trust someone less if they consistently flipped out on me! So when I see that confusion in her eyes and see that I'm not getting through, I back off. Much better to do that than to let the frustration build to the point that I want to start yelling at her. I'll come back later, after considering for awhile, and try again. Possibly trying a new technique, one that she might understand better.

I feel sorry for that pit bull that my friend saw, because if the way that the woman treated him was a sampling of how he is typically treated, he is heading down a rough road.

As for training cats, of course screaming at them would be an exercise in utter futility. Oh yes, I would succeed in cowing them... with the possible exception of Charlotte, who would just skulk off and begin planning my death. But I would never actually accomplish anything besides looking like a gigantic bully in my own home.

I'm sharing this, not because I think that my readers go stomping around and yelling at their dogs all of the time, but because of the way my friend shared the story with me - it really made me think. Yes, I knew intellectually that animals do not always understand our words, but his illustration really made what it must seem like from the dog's perspective crystal clear.

A Party With Greyhounds

2011-09-10T18:10:00.000-07:00

Once a year, Steel City Greyhounds has a big greyhound birthday party, to celebrate all of the greyhounds that have been adopted through the adoption program. It is held at the Lucky Paws Pet Resort, in Freedom, PA. Some of you may remember my post from last year, when we took Argos.

The greyhounds all have so much fun at these outings... we went to this year's birthday party today, and there were about 40 dogs there! They are able to run free in a large, fenced in area, and they happily charged around the enclosure, chasing and being chased, and generally having a great time. And then of course if they need to cool down, they can race into the enormous dogs-only swimming pool!

At one point, the resort employees brought around baskets full of cups of vanilla icecream for all of the dogs! I got Maera a cup of icecream. I didn't realize that my husband also got her a cup of icecream, and she wound up polishing off at least one other cup that another dog didn't care to finish.

Argos doesn't like icecream, so at least one of the hounds doesn't have a belly ache tonight!

Maera eats icecream.

Unfortunately, we'd only been there for about 10 minutes, when Argos ran through the pool at top speed, but lost his footing. He hit the ground hard, and when he came back up out of the water, everyone, and I mean everyone, could see that his entire back leg was covered in blood. Eeek!

Geez, Mom. Overreact much?

We of course raced up to grab him (by the way, he did NOT make the "Greyhound Scream of Death" which should have been my first clue that the wound was a lot more minor than it looked.) We figured out pretty quickly that was just that he'd scraped his leg on the cement, so it wasn't a deep wound at all. He got to wear the spiffy red bandage that you see below for the rest of the outing.

The scrape didn't encumber him at all, and he was promptly back to running around with his pack of buddies like nothing had happened. I would try to get him to come over to me to at least make sure the bleeding had stopped, but suddenly, he ceased to know who I was, haha, and completely ignored me. Ran AWAY from me even, when I tried to approach. (I suddenly feel some empathy for the parents of teenagers.)

I just let him go, figuring that he'd slow down if it started to truly bother him. And it was fine. Except. Every once in awhile, I'd see him start to limp. It was always when there was a woman, any woman (except me) nearby. He'd limp up sadly to her, and lean against her legs. She would make sympathetic noises and pay lots of attention to him, and oftentimes give him a treat. He would soak up as much sympathy and food as he could get, then would be off running with his buds again. You know, until he saw another "mark." Help me. I have a con-artist living under my roof.

Maera did well too, though she didn't go for as much running around and playing with the other dogs as Argos did. She did a little bit, and was willing to wade into the water about ankle deep, but for the most part, she attached herself to my hip or Jeff's hip, and didn't let either one of us out of her sight. (Well, until random strangers started offering her icecream. Then her loyalties wavered a little bit.) I was actually very pleased with how she handled everything, because I've started to notice on our walks, that she is oftentimes fearful of other people, and sometimes of other dogs. She definitely soaked up a good experience today, and I expect that it will help us to build her confidence.

Both dogs are passed out into little heaps on their beds tonight. These events are a lot of fun, for the pups, who get to exercise and socialize, and for us humans too, because we can talk with other greyhound folks. But one of my favorite side-effects is how placid everyone is afterwards!

The Tower of Cats

2011-09-09T05:34:00.000-07:00

We have a new cat tree! It was planned and created from scratch by my husband this week... with some help from me. I must say that in this exact moment in time, I hate sisal rope with a passion, and am still trying to pick the sisal fibers out of my fingers. (Yes, yes, I should have worn gloves when helping to wind the rope around the posts. Lesson learned for next time.)

So far, Bit is the one that has taken to the tower the most, with Annie in for a close second. Bit likes the "crow's nest" and they both like the little house with the circular doors. Jeff reports that they are upstairs playing "seige" with one another, with Bit inside the house and Annie attacking from outside.

Charlotte is trying to pretend that she isn't interested, and doesn't realize that we did see her rubbing her face on it last night.

The dogs seem to have no opinions about it.

Update: The foster cats love it, and seem to understand instinctively that this is a toy, while our own cats were a little confused in the beginning. Maybe they both had trees in their former homes? Or there was a tree in the colony room at the shelter?

I am not a Cat Lady!

2011-09-06T18:17:00.000-07:00

Well, okay, maybe I am, but I do so hate the stereotype! It doesn't help that I'm a librarian by day, either.

A few weeks ago, I was grumbling to my husband, and anyone else who would listen, because a fellow librarian on Facebook was complaining that so many librarians out there (including me) have cats in their profile pictures that we were just perpetuating the stereotype, and that if we wanted anyone to take our profession seriously, we'd change to something else.

This offended me, the idea that I should hide part of who I am just because someone doesn't approve of it. It would be like me trying to hide that I was female, or that I like the color red, or even that I am a librarian.

So. Maybe I am a Cat Lady. I have multiple cats. I definitely cater to their whims. I would have more if my house could handle it, or if it was legal to have more in this city. I go out of my way to find ways to make the cats happier, and to improve their lives, and to make them more confident and content. And how is any of this a bad thing? Until I start sleeping in the litter boxes, or going to work with cat pee soaked trousers, I think that the profession's image is safe from me.

Speaking of doing things for cats... my husband is using some of his valuable time off to build them an awesome cat tower!

He is complaining that I am putting this picture up so soon... so be gentle. It is not finished yet. (Though I think it looks fabulous, even incomplete!) He is going to finish up the construction tonight, and then the two of us are going to start covering it with carpet remnants that we got for dirt cheap at Construction Junction - a local used and overstock building supply place, as well as wrapping those posts in sesil rope.

We're going to put it upstairs in the study (where the cats spend a lot of their time) in front of the window overlooking the back yard.

I anticipate that the cats will love it! Jeff says that they'd better like it, with as much work as he is putting into it.

So, if I am a Cat Lady, what does this make him?

And speaking of being a cat lady... Jeff took one of my favorite pictures of Charlotte and captioned it for me, in response to people who would be overly critical of those of us that are devoted to cats. It uses some language, so I am putting it behind the cut. If bad language offends you, or it would completely ruin your enjoyment of this blog post, then please don't follow the link!

Just an Animal

2011-09-04T09:08:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I think that we "pet people" unnerve others. Not everyone, of course... you don't have to have pets of your own to understand love for animals. But I know that I at least encounter several people who have never had pets, will never have pets, and it has probably never occurred to them that they could have pets. Which is fine, actually, because we don't want people who don't really, really love animals having pets anyway. I think that's probably often the biggest reason for animals being left at shelters, or worse, because someone didn't actually, deep down, care to have the responsibility of a pet.

I know, Annie. Hard to believe, but true.

The attitude that I frequently see from some of these types of people (and I seem to encounter a lot of them) is honest puzzlement for how much of my life is now taken up with my own pets, and as if that isn't enough, how much time I spend volunteering in order to get homeless pets adopted by someone else. The attitude is, "it's just an animal..."

And I'm not here to be critical of these people, even though I find them as bizarre as they seem to find me, but to show how some of these creatures that are "just animals" have really changed my life, and I think for the better.

First, they've taught me to slow down. I will admit it... I am one of those Type A people, who always has a goal, or a project, and am pursuing it full steam ahead. I will work at my job all week, and then throw myself into weekend projects, and am very bad about not giving myself any downtime. But how can you not slow down when Charlotte is on the bathroom rug, showing you her expanse of white belly... or Maera comes up and nuzzles your elbow for attention... or Argos leans up against your legs... or Bit trills at you and then races to the bed, in an obvious attempt to get you to nap with her... or Annie climbs onto your pillow JUST as you were thinking of getting up to start your day?

And sometimes, you just need to slow down and enjoy those around you. My animals have taught me this lesson, one that I may have never learned without them.

Yeah, Mom, slow down and smell the Christmas tree!

Second, they're teaching me how to trust. Trust is something that does not come easily to me. There were some wrongs done to me by people who should have been friends that quite honestly had me very bitter and untrusting of people in general. As a general rule, I expected to be betrayed. I expected for friends to randomly inform me that they were sick of me. Or that I had some huge flaw that suddenly made me not good enough for them. Which meant that I was prickly, difficult to get to know, and reluctant to trust. While I'm not saying that I've "arrived" and suddenly trust all people, the animals have really taught me to open up. They provide companionship without judgement, they never talk about me behind my back, they don't lecture me on my "odious" personal habits, they don't try to correct any perceived bad behaviors with long-winded lectures. They just love. And trust. And they're teaching me to do the same.

Patience. Really, does anyone that reads this blog need to have explained how an animal can teach you patience? I've become much more patient with the humans in my life too, and it is thanks to my animals and the lessons they have taught me.

Selflessness. Not that I was little Miss Selfish before the animals, but I have made decisions that I never would have thought I'd be making... decisions that hurt my pocketbook, compromises on household decoration, doing activities that I knew the animals would enjoy even when I really wanted to stay in bed. I sometimes even let the dogs take over the couch, something that maybe some dominance-styled trainers would cringe at but meh. It makes them happy, so it makes me happy. If I needed to sit, one of the doggies would get gently ejected.

Argos is so worn out from today's Hound Hike that he can't support his own tongue....

But the most important thing that my animals have taught me is the Art of Joyful Living. I was happy before I had them, don't get me wrong, but watching them live in the moment, to truly express JOY undamped by worry, anxiety or anger is an inspiration to me. I resolve to myself every day to approach life like they do - to live in the moment. Obviously, I have to plan ahead and be responsible, etc., something that they don't have to worry about, but I can still put my worries on hold and experience the joy when I see Argos and Maera frisking across the dew-soaked yard. Or when Charlotte makes eye contact with me and "gronks" her morning greeting to me. Or when Bit folds herself around my foot and "hugs" it. Or even when Annie sits on my head to wake me up in the morning. Or when the fosters greet me with a cacophony of loud, Siamese-like yowling (Mitchell) and tiny little baby mews (Patches) when I go into their room first thing in the morning.

You got all of that out of a gronk? Weirdo...

And THAT is why I look at them like I think they're crazy when they say, "But it's just an animal..."

We are the Cats of the House of Carnivores

2011-09-02T19:39:00.000-07:00

And we are beautiful. Aren't we? AREN'T WE?

Charlotte never did learn the art of the soft touch. Here she is, in one of her favorite places, which also happens to be my husband's place on the bed.

You're probably wondering why I called you here tonight...

Yes, the cats are doing well. This is them on my admittedly unmade bed, waiting for us to come in for sleep. What this means is that Charlotte will sit beside my husband and demand petting for about 10-15 minutes, Annie will climb all over me, but leave after five minutes; less if I don't pet her, and Bit will trill at us and run up and down the length of the bed until she flops over onto her side, usually somewhere up against me.

They've been remarkably patient with having a new dog in the house, and are actually somewhat restrained in abusing her. They don't seek her out for abuse, that is... but if she sniffs them, at least Annie and Charlotte have proved that they do have claws and they're not at all hesitant to use them. Bit isn't so confrontational, but she does a great job at keeping well away.

OMG Annie is letting us photograph her eyes. Post the picture, ASAP!

And the fosters... well, they're just great cats. They like people, cats, and dogs. It is interesting to read what is on their intake sheets, because apparently Patches is frightened of dogs.

I know that you can all see the terror in his eyes.

Mitchell too. Though he was never reported to be afraid of them. He IS a bit more cautious than Patches, despite what you see in the picture above. But he's more cautious about everything, not just the friendly local canines.

It's been a pretty quiet week. I'm really glad for the holiday weekend, though. We have lots of stuff that we need to do, and will need the extra day to work everything in!

Tomorrow I'm going over to walk some of the new greyhounds in the Steel City Greyhounds adoption program, and take some footage and photos of them. The NEXT day we have a "hound hike" in the morning, with a group of greyhounds (and their people, of course) in the park. Don't worry, there will be treats and playtime for the cats as well! In fact... in a couple of weeks, a certain trio of kitties is going to have their "Gotcha day" celebration.

Vanishing Act

2011-08-28T17:29:00.000-07:00

I know that I keep vanishing, but this has been one crazy summer. I always mourn the closing of a summer... I live for the living, green and growing things, and to watch them all die back (even if it comes with a fabulous color show) depresses me... possibly because in Pittsburgh, the sun goes behind the clouds in November, and ambles back out, slowly, sometime between April and May. Between that and all of the dead looking trees and dirty snow, it can really bring a person down. That being said, I'm almost looking forward to Fall this year. But only if it brings a little bit of rest for yours truly. If it doesn't do that, it can go hang itself.

Many of the things going on this summer are annoying and personal and not fit for this blog, but one thing that was hanging over our heads was that my 11-year-old car, which I purchased new, was starting to show signs of wear. We were faced with a decision... pay $850 to make it pass inspection, or buy a new car by the end of the month of August (when the old car would cease to be street legal without the proper stickers.) We decided on the latter... and bought a new car yesterday! One of our requirements was that two greyhounds be able to fit into it with ease. The other was that it had to be fuel efficient, because my husband has quite a distance to drive to and from work on the days that he has to go in. This is a tall order to fill, and some might be surprised at our choice...

One doesn't think of a Mini Cooper as a dog-friendly vehicle, but one of the models is a Clubman, which has more space than the regular models. So... here is a picture of our Mini Cooper S Clubman!

The back seats fold down, and we've already put the dogs up in it. There's plenty of space... though they're still getting used to it and were incredibly nervous during their maiden voyage in it last night. We're going to have to work on that!

There are tons of people, apparently, who get the Clubman and haul around dogs even larger than ours, sometimes in greater quantities. Pictures of dogs in the back of Clubmans flourish out there in the internet ether! So, to add one more:

I'm sure that there will be others, but this was the best that we could do. They were so excited that I couldn't open up the back doors to get a good shot, because they would attempt to leap out! And we're still working on doing that without their leashes getting tangled up with themselves, each other, me, and any innocent passers-by.

But enough about the car. As excited as I am about it, I'm sure that you didn't check my blog to get a car update!

Everyone (and by everyone, I mean my animals) seems to be doing really well. I've been waking up every night to find Bit curled up next to me, which is kind of nice. I think that she's looking out for me while I struggle to get over a bit of bronchitis that I have been stuck with FOREVER. She always scolds me when I get up in the middle of the night, and then scolds me when I come back, but she lays back down beside me regardless.

That I have bronchitis means that I've hauled out the Vicks Vaporub to make sleeping easier. Some of you might recall that Annie-cat loves Vicks Vaporub, and treats it like it is catnip. Not only will she attempt to lick it, but she'll rub her head in it and then start rolling around on the bed. This means that I have a fight with her every night before I fall asleep, because she is trying her best to crawl under the covers to get to all of the lovely vapors, even to the point that she tries to dig through the covers. This makes it very difficult to sleep.

Maera is coming along quite nicely, and I no longer completely tense up when she's loose in a room with the cats; she for the most part completely ignores them, and can be easily distracted from them if she's looking at them with too much interest. We still don't leave her unattended with them, but she's no longer leashed or muzzled. The only time that she shows any particular interest is when they get up on ledges or high up on furniture, and that's because I think she envies their ability to climb and explore things that she can't!

Look at that face... now can someone advise me on how to say no when she employs those puppy dog eyes in my general direction? (Just kidding, kind of. I withhold table scraps from her no matter what looks she gives me, but I do find myself going over to the "treat closet" more than usual these days.)

I feel a bit bad for Argos... it is so hard for him to get one-on-one attention from us these days, and not because we're trying to ignore him! But Maera is definitely a wilder spirit than he, and she tends to tornado her way through the room whenever she sees that he's getting special attention, and demand attention for herself. I try to discourage this, and try to compensate by giving Argos more attention than usual, but sometimes he seems a little sad. I'm sure he'll adjust in time; he's very patient with Maera in so many other ways, but I still feel a little guilt over that.

Sorry, no cat pictures. I'll try to make up for it later in the week, with some new ones. The kitties are doing well, but they just aren't having their photogenic moments when I have a camera handy.

How to Vacuum Without Upsetting Any of the Animals

2011-08-20T05:42:00.001-07:00

1. ???

2. ???

3. ???

4. #$@##!!

A Vet Visit and Another Crate Disaster

2011-08-16T18:13:00.000-07:00

First of all, Charlotte's veterinary news: she got a clean bill of health! (Well, as clean as someone who is on daily medication can get.) Her lungs are clear, chest x-ray looks good, her vitals are still good. In fact, the vets can see no deterioration since her last appointment, in April. So... yay! I guess the coughing spell was a one-time occurrence that had nothing to do with fluid build-up. Maybe she's heard ME coughing so much that she decided that it was what we queens of the household did. I guess all of that worry was for nothing.

But we WERE told that she needed to lose weight. Sigh. I actually need to put all cats on a diet except for Bit, who I think could stand to gain some. So that should be a fun dynamic. Cat people: how do you put your cats on a diet? (The well duh answer is to reduce their food intake, but I am looking for something a little more specific than that!)

Maera had a second melt-down when we left her in her crate on Monday. I came home from work and she'd pulled a blanket that had been draped over her crate to shield her from the cats THROUGH the ceiling of her crate, along with a small stack of clean laundry that I'd folded but gotten distracted from putting away, and had things twisted in every which direction. The bottom of the crate was knocked somewhat askew, and it looked like she had been trying to dig her way out.

So. I don't think we're going to be able to crate her for anything besides night time sleeping. (That I still insist on, to avoid dog v. cat conflict/misunderstandings/shenanigans.) Today my husband worked from home, which normally means both dogs sack out on beds in the study while he works on the computer. But this time we baby-gated both dogs into the dining room. They each had a bed, fresh water, toys, and kongs to keep them occupied. And there they stayed all day. It went pretty well as far as we know. We don't think anyone tried to jump the gate... so tomorrow I think we'll gate them in there again; this time left alone in the house. We'll see how it goes. I take some comfort in knowing that if they DO jump the gate, all we're likely to find is that they went into the living room and took over the couch. (Too bad it isn't practical to drag the couch into the dining room; they'd NEVER want to leave!)

I'm trying my best to keep all of these hooligans healthy and happy. I feel like I've been pretty good at keeping it all moving along - even though they've definitely been trying to challenge me this month!

State of the House

2011-08-13T19:08:00.000-07:00

I think that the posts have been rather Maera-centric lately (which is to be expected, since she's the "new dog" and all) and also rather focused on Charlotte, who is certainly the dominant personality amongst the cats. But the other animals are still here, and still doing quite well too! I thought that I'd update on how EVERYONE is doing.

Argos: Argos is so incredibly patient with Maera. In fact, she is emerging as the dominant one. He'll bark at her to drive her away if she tries to take his toys or his treats away from him, but if she persists and isn't driven off by the initial bark, he lets her do it. This doesn't stop him from giving me a rather eloquent look like, "See what I have to put up with?"

Sometimes I intervene, sometimes I don't... when it comes down to it, they are going to have to work something out amongst themselves. Really, I only interfere at meal time proper. No one is going hungry in this house, especially due to someone else *cough, Maera* stealing their food.

They're still trying to work out how to play with one another in the yard, and I can see that neither one of them has had much experience with dog v. dog play. (And where would they have learned it, I suppose, both being former track dogs.) They both make attempts to do it; I see play-bows in the yard, and some frisking around, but their sympatico is off. Argos will want to play with Maera when she is trying to go to the bathroom, and vice-versa. It's kind of painful - like watching two little nerd kids try to behave like two umm... non-nerd kids. (And please, no one think that I meant that to sound mean... I myself was one of those nerds!)

Charlotte: Charlotte has NOT had another episode of coughing yet so far, and seems to be reasonably content. Though she was upset at me for temporarily moving the litter box. She sat in front of where it was formerly, and cried until I brought it back. Only then would she deign to use it, even though she knew well where it had been moved to.

She has accepted that we have a new dog in the house with a certain amount of stoic grace, though she DOES give me a look when Maera is frisking around and has to be rushed down the stairs for an emergency potty break. It's like she's telling me that I did this to my own self and SHE is not going to feel one bit sorry for me.

This picture is her "inquiring" look. She is "inquiring" when I am going to feed her, when I am going to give her milk, and "inquiring" about the location of the litter box!

Annie: Annie is obsessed with getting attention from me. She has even deliberately challenged Charlotte to get near me, something that only happens occasionally. Charlotte promptly slapped her back down, but the attempt was made!

She follows me around crying if I don't pay attention to her, and will lie on my pillow at night, purring up a storm. Eventually, she goes away, but she usually comes back at dawn to wake me up and lie on my pillow again.

This would be a much more enjoyable experience for me if she would just RELAX but Annie does not rest. She is always fidgeting, twisting, crying, pushing for more.

She's better than she was when we got her back in 2008: THAT Annie we was so unrestful that we couldn't touch her for more than a couple of minutes at a time before she had to run away and "process" everything. So, I'm pleased to see that she's developed this far, but do sometimes wish that she wouldn't have to compromise my sleep schedule in order to work on her personal growth.

Bit: Bit is handling having a new dog around much better than she did the first time with Argos. Maybe she's a little more confident in herself since she's older, maybe it's just because she's "been there, done that." She is still our most cautious cat, with the dogs and with everything else, though. She still does not trust Maera and gives her a wide berth. But she will be in the same room as her if she needs to be.

She and I have been bonding over gooshy food. I've been opening a can of gooshy food for the foster cats every night since Mitchell's bladder troubles earlier this week. They each get a third of the can on top of their regular food. Charlotte and Annie both turn their noses up at gooshy food, but a certain gray and fluffy princess loves it. So, she by default gets the final 1/3 can.

It's gotten to the point that she is waiting for me when I come out of the fosters' room, and starts demanding food as soon as she sees me. She follows me into the bedroom with her bushy little tail held high, and then jumps on top of the dresser, where I dish it out into a bowl. (This is a location that is safe from the dogs, who would also love to supplement their diets with a little bit of kitty gooshy food.)

Maera: Maera has really come a long way just in the past week. Although she still has her excitable moments (and will, probably, for the rest of her life) she has calmed down significantly. She is better at listening to us. Also, I took Houndstooth's advice on how to teach her to respect the cats. I had been planning on teaching her to leave them alone the same way that we had Argos, which was to tug on her leash when she paid them attention and tell her "No kitty." Houndstooth recommended, that due to her very curious nature, that we put her track muzzle on for safety, but then to take one of the calmest cats onto our laps and just let her sniff her fill. I did this last week, with Charlotte, and it was a beautiful thing. I would not say that she has completely lost interest in the cats, but in the ways that count, I think she has. We'll still continue to work on that with her; I think that the best way to make sure that no one is ever hurt is to take these introductions slowwwwwwly. Then we can be prepared when random things happen, like foster cat Patches leaping the baby gate to investigate the room that Maera is in. You may be wondering why I haven't included a picture of Maera (though she is in the first one, with Argos.) That is because I was saving this delightful one for you.

For the uninitiated, this is a dog crate. Inside the dog crate is a ripped up dog bed. Maera has some anxieties about being crated, as we're starting to find out... more on that in a different post.

The foster cats Mitchell and Patches are doing great. No photos of them this time - every time I think of getting a picture of one or both of them, it's night time, and my camera doesn't do the night time lighting in this house very well. Mitchell seems to be completely over whatever was causing his bladder troubles earlier in the week (big sigh of relief) and is currently crying for his nightly gooshy food. Which... I am going to go take care of now.

Have a good night, all!

Not the Best Week

2011-08-12T18:06:00.000-07:00

I haven't felt well all week... in fact, I picked up some crud while I was in Philadelphia three weeks ago, and just haven't been able to kick it. This is mostly because my life has been non-stop stress ever since I got back, complete with unanticipated air travel and encounters with people with foreign (not Pennsylvania) germs. It's moved down into my chest, and I'm now constantly coughing and hacking all over the place. Not too much fun for me. Not too much fun for anyone who has to listen to me at night. Or deal with my irritability about the whole mess.

There were some other health issues this week as well, and sadly, this was all on the animals.

Sunday night, Mitchell started hopping into the box every ten minutes and stained to pee, but would usually jump out before he produced even a drop. This lasted most of the night, with us getting more and more worried about him. You don't have to tell us how dangerous it is to let a male cat have a urinary blockage, if that's what he has... and it certainly looked like that since there was no urine being produced. Finally, we couldn't take it anymore, and instead of waiting for the shelter and veterinary clinic to open on Monday, Jeff took him to the emergency animal hospital. I can deal with the consequences of taking a cat to the emergency vet when we should have waited; that's probably just a monetary hit, but I can NOT deal with the consequences of having waited when we should not have.

As it turns out, (hind sight being 20/20, etc) he was NOT blocked. But they gave him a shot of antibiotics and sent us home with a small bag of painkillers to give him every 8 or so hours to try to lessen the pain and make him more relaxed about peeing. It seems to have helped him... he is no longer obsessed about using the box, and when he does, it's productive. But this took a few days to resolve, and I was constantly worried about him. He never lost his good attitude though; he was always happy to see us, and talkative and playful. He never lost his appetite either, and would loudly demand gooshy food every night.

At the same time, Argos developed horrible diarrhea, to the point that he had a huge accident inside of his crate Sunday morning. This is NOT like him at all, and he was mortified about it, and very upset when we came home and found him. The diarrhea didn't clear up that day, either... we had to take him outside a few extra times. When Maera started having diarrhea the next morning, along with vomiting of bile, we decided that we needed to call the vet about the dogs. Sigh. But by then Argos was starting to show some teensy signs of improvement, so the vet asked that we just bring Maera in by herself, along with stool samples from each. (Add this to the list of unpleasant things that we're willing to do for our pets out of love.)

So, the dogs got a special prescription high-fiber food, along with some anti-diarrheal meds. The meds worked almost right away, and they seem to be in good health again. After a talk with a kind soul at Steel City Greyhounds, who perhaps sensed I was at my wits end, I felt a little better. She thought that the dogs had picked up on the stress in our household: in one month, we introduced a new dog, then I went away for several days, came home for one day, then both Jeff and I were gone for an extended weekend for a funeral and they had to go to a kennel. They finally get home to find that their mom is grieving and still sick, and it's ungodly hot, and... well, you can imagine. So, stress is the likely cause, combined with the heat. NOT that I'm a horrible dog owner and they somehow magically got into something bad for them despite nearly 24 hour supervision.

I thought that maybe we were starting to ease into a kinder, gentler phase for the latter half of the week when Charlotte started coughing last night. Coughing is a terrible thing in a cat that has congestive heart failure; it can very well be an indication that the medication is not working as efficiently and there is fluid getting into the lungs. She only had one bout of it, though. We kept her in the bedroom with us all night long so that we could hear her, because if she DID start to cough some more we would have take her into the emergency vet right away. Maybe it was a fluke? Because I was an extremely light sleeper last night and never heard her cough again. She was sleeping in the window right next to the bed, so I'm sure that I would have heard.

Since she seems to be in reasonable health and temper, with pink gums, no more coughing, and a healthy appetite, we're just observing her for now. But I did call the critical care specialists at the animal hospital to make an appointment for a check-up on Tuesday. They'll check her lungs to see if they are indeed still clear, check her blood to make sure that her kidney function is still working, etc. Basically do a work-up to see if the medication is working like it should. If not... then the meds may need to be adjusted (at least, I HOPE it would be a simple solution like that.) This happened once the first year that she was on the medication, and a simple dosage increase made everything better.

Anyway, keep fingers, paws, toeses crossed for us with Charlotte. We're going to pamper her as much as we can leading up until her vet appointment, and of course if she starts coughing for real or having difficulty breathing, we will take her in right away.

The World According to Charlotte

2011-08-08T17:45:00.000-07:00

I love all of my cats, with a protective devotion that many people feel is a little over-the-top sometimes, but I'm okay with that. But while I love all of my cats, Charlotte goes beyond that. I adore her, and think of her as my "heart cat." I know that I have described her personality on this blog many times: she is somewhat grumpy, demanding, bossy, sassy, and sometimes downright violent. But she also is a good snuggler, a loud purrer, a kisser, and a cat that just wants to BE with you. And she looks at you with those green eyes and you find yourself wondering just how much English she understands.

Living with Charlotte since September 2008 (this is the cat who was only supposed to live for six more months) has taught me many things about life, cats, this house, and myself, some of which I will share with you.

1. I exist to wait upon Charlotte. She has somehow worn down my resistance and now gets two small saucers of milk a day. (Don't yell at me. I know cats shouldn't have it; that's why I resisted at first. Then I was thinking, "Well, hell, she's only got six months to a year to live anyway, what harm is a little milk going to cause?" Now we're a little bit beyond that life expectancy (not that we're getting cocky about it) but it's now part of the ritual.

2. Bellies, even when exposed, are not for rubbing if you don't like the sight of your own blood.

3. Sometimes the gruffest exterior hides a marshmallow inside.

4. I am for snuggling with during the day. Jeff is for snuggling with at night. She rarely ever comes onto my side of the bed. Jeff thinks that she's ceded that side to me, but refuses to cede his side to him.

5. Charlotte is queen of the house, though she does freely and without a grudge acknowledge that I am second-in-command. (See #4.)

6. The Paw of Doom can terrify an entire household of animals and humans. (Paw raised above head, in a threatening manner. It rarely actually has to be deployed.)

7. One can indeed make a foe back down with the hatred in one's eyes if one focuses enough.

8. Sometimes it really pays off to take a chance on someone else. When I met Charlotte at the shelter, she bloodied my hand somewhat badly when I tried to pet her. (To her credit, there was a hellacious ruckus being made by some dogs in the next room over, and she was freaked OUT.) I saw a shelter worker come in and widen her eyes at the dripping red. I was highly concerned at that point that if I didn't take her after THAT stunt, that Charlotte might have become a candidate for being euthanized, and I decided to take a chance on her.

9. There are a variety of noises that a cat can make that don't involve meowing. Cats can grunt, thrum, and even gronk in a series of noises that are actually quite eloquent.

10. If you act like you are the queen, others have a way of falling in line and doing whatever you want them to do.

Charlotte, trying to use hypno eyes on Jeff.

11. And on a more serious note, that one can pack a lot of living into a life, even with health problems, even with a shortened life span.

The Most Dangerous Questions in the World

2011-08-06T17:14:00.000-07:00

There are many dangerous questions that one could ask, but I have always thought that the two most dangerous are closely linked. Because to ask them may well bring revolutionary change.

1. I wonder how that other guy feels about what is happening to him?

2. How would I feel if I was that guy, in this situation?

Because of course asking these questions is the beginning of something called empathy, and to feel true empathy for another being, particularly one in trouble, should prompt one into feeling compassion, and then to wanting to do something to help. True empathy (passion, pathos) and apathy (lack of passion, pathos) cannot exist together: one will surely choke out and kill the other.

Which explains exactly why we humans have, back to the very dawn of time, been able to look the other way and not help others that are suffering, whether it's other humans or animals. And it explains why so many people know what happens on factory farms, in animal shelters, in hoarders' houses, in the fighting pits, and yet so many decide to ignore it, pretend that it doesn't exist. Apathy. And generations of dogs and cats are born, live miserable, flea-bitten, hungry lives, and die in pain, while we drive to work in our air-conditioned cars, get angry if we have to wait in the grocery store check-out line for longer than five minutes, eat our three squares a day, watch our television programs, and then do it all again the next day.

I know that I've posted on apathy before, and how it prevents so many potential animal rescues and allows so many needless animal deaths. I guess that I'm worrying at this like a dog after a bone. I believe that we have, as a species, treated animals cruelly and capriciously, and I believe that we have much to answer for. I've always viewed the "dominion over the animals" thing as more of a "stewardship of the animals" thing. And let's face it, we've been some piss-poor stewards. (Many of my readers being the obvious exceptions.)

I listened to a presentation made by a veterinarian a couple of weeks ago, and he said that present-day society was very concerned about the welfare of animals, much moreso than in the past, but that he thought that he saw some of that starting to slowly erode away. He wasn't certain of whether it was economic woes or some other factor causing a hardening of the collective heart. I hope that he is wrong. I can read many blogs out there in the pet blogosphere, talk to rescue people, and feel like maybe he IS wrong. That people aren't going to cycle back around to "animals only as commodities and only when convenient" mindset. But then sometimes, when I talk casually to just random people, I see how many people are astounded at how often I volunteer to help at Steel City Greyhounds. Or that I'm fostering for the Animal Rescue League. Or that I have multiple rescue pets. Or that anyone would even think about wanting one of Michael Vick's dogs. Or that anyone would actually pay for medical care for their pet. And it is in those moments that I fear that maybe this veterinarian was right... and it is a chilling thought.

Friends, let's not let that happen. I know that there are some much bigger players than I out there that are working hard for animal rights, and for ethical treatment of animals, and I applaud them. But I'm just small potatoes... I don't have a national platform, I don't have lobbying power, I'm not the head of a multi-national corporation. But what I do, and what anyone can do, is just to talk to people. Talk to friends, to the "lucky" soul who sits next to you on the bus, the person who is standing in line with you at the grocery store, your family members, your co-workers. I try not to be obnoxious about it, but I do try to influence people towards making the lives of animals better... whether that's convincing them to adopt, convincing them to spay or neuter a pet, piquing their curiosity about what it is like to foster, or even just being brutally honest when they ask you about euthanasia rates at shelters, or what happens to those racing greyhounds that are too old to run anymore, if no one adopts them. Or telling them, when they ask, just how some of Michael Vick's dogs died (I've run into many people who just assumed they were "just" being shot in the head and were appalled to the point that they thought I was lying when I told them the truth.)

I think it's a little harder to be apathetic about something when you're faced with the cold, hard truth. So let's make it harder for people to look the other way. Maybe it will light a bonfire in their souls. Maybe a new animal crusader will be born. (Or maybe co-workers will start avoiding you in the hall, but I guess you can't win them all.) But you will not have to say that you didn't try to make a difference in your world.

This hopefully not-too-heavyhanded post is brought to you by Annie, who has apparently decided to take over paying the monthly bills.

The Things We Do For Love

2011-08-03T18:20:00.000-07:00

You know, I've often thought that it's a really good thing that I love my animals. They certainly are allowed to get away with things that I would never put up with from a human! Let us count the ways:

1. A human being who puts his or her snout in my crotch is in serious, serious trouble, but it's just a regular day when one of the dogs does it.

2. No human being had better have any potty accidents on my dining room floor. No, not even occasionally.

3. If a human being literally danced circles around me while I prepared his/her dinner, I would be seriously considering calling the cops.

4. I wouldn't even be discussing "kitty training" to prevent a human from chasing my cats.

5. And speaking of cats... no human is allowed to pin down my arm and drape their body across it as an impromptu body pillow.

6. No human is allowed to climb onto my back and nap there.

7. I am NOT scooping a human's poop, so don't even ask.

8. I am NOT getting up at 5:30 AM to let a human out for potty breaks.

9. A human had better NOT howl at 5:30 AM, waking me up, to insist on a potty break.

10. I would not sit there and guard a human while eating to prevent said human from stealing everyone else's food.

Who Is Maera?

2011-08-02T13:56:00.000-07:00

I know those that read my blog regularly or semi-regularly already know that we just adopted a second greyhound. And you've probably read about some of her personality so far. I am completely in awe sometimes at how very different she is from Argos! Not that I expected an Argos clone, but I have to admit I expected a few more personality similarities - even after all of the greyhounds that I've met and blogged about through our adoption program, and seeing all of THEIR different personalities, I was taken a bit by surprise.

Case in point, the above picture was taken of Maera during a really violent thunderstorm. Argos was hiding in the stairwell, shaking and drooling and panting, like he does. Maera took advantage of it by claiming his spot on the couch and... making this face. Whatever that is supposed to be, haha. It makes me smile every time I see it.

She is also something of a watch dog, which startled me to be certain. I have known greyhounds that barked, and have read many of your blogs about greyhounds that bark, but Argos is so silent most of the time, I guess I never expected it! But she will faithfully bark at anyone who comes to the door, the guys we hired to trim our trees, or the neighbor's dog (but only when she can do it from the safety of the house; she's a little bit scared of the big mean scary Golden Doodle when they're both outside at the same time.) I wasn't sure of what I thought of this in the beginning, but you know? Actually, I think I like having a dog that will bark at strangers coming up to the house. Maybe it will help deter a break-in if the would be robber hears a large dog barking. HE doesn't have to know that she wouldn't bite him. At the very least, she won't let anyone sneak up on me.

Maera loves our attention, and soaks it up like a little sponge when we give it to her. She is very tuned in to my emotions as well, and if she senses that I'm sad, she'll come over to me and give me kisses and put her head on my chest. If she senses that I'm amused, particularly if I'm amused at her, her tail WAGS, and she grins proudly at me, and then starts showing off, flipping her toys up in the air, or whirling around like a dervish on speed.

She loves squeaky toys even more than Argos does, and will run over to the toy chest (usually after I've picked up all of the scattered toys and put them away) and drag every single one of them back out. She definitely has her favorites. Right now one is an orange hedgehog, and the other is a long purple weiner dog. She carries them with her everywhere she goes, kind of like a security blanket. I swear she's going to try to take one with us on one of our walks. One of these days. When it isn't so swelteringly hot that we start taking walks again.

Unlike Argos, she is not afraid of the laminate kitchen floor, and regularly goes back there on food-hunting expeditions *sigh.* She hasn't tried to counter-surf yet, but I've seen her trying to see over the edges a few times. I suspect the only reason it hasn't turned into full-fledged surfing yet is because we are always around to ruin her fun and make her join us in the living room.

Which brings me to her limitless curiosity. She LOVES exploring the house, and everything in it. What this means is that nothing is safe from her... it's like having a bright-eyed, precocious toddler around... unless she's sleeping or playing with a squeaky toy, she's getting into something. Even with Jeff having worked from home every day since we got her, we are not ready to leave her on her own in the living room unsupervised for an entire workday. He has to physically go back to work tomorrow, so as much as I don't like crating large dogs all day, I think we're going to have to, for her own safety. I have images in my head of coming home to chewed television cables, books pulled off of the shelves, houseplants knocked over and nibbled upon. I'm sure that we'll get her to that point eventually, but I'm big enough to admit that we're not quite there yet.

We're still keeping her completely away from the cats. She includes them in her curiosity about everything in the house. Even if I don't think it's a big prey-drive thing, until we can teach her to treat the cats with respect, we have to keep her separate so that no one gets hurt. Once life settles down again (now, please?) I'm going to start working with her on that... in the room with the cats, on a leash. We'll use the same technique that we used with Argos when we first got him: as soon as she shows more interest than is warranted, we pop the leash to get her attention and tell her, "No Kitty." I think it's going to take a little longer than it did with Argos... she's not stupid by any definition, but she in her excitement often forgets lessons that we've taught her.

So that's where we are with Maera... there is never a dull moment! She is absolutely adorable and adorING. She is definitely going to be our trouble-maker though!

Back at Home

2011-08-01T14:58:00.000-07:00

After an emotional weekend with my family, attending my grandmother's funeral and visiting, I am back in the 'burgh. The animals are all very relieved and happy to see me, so much so that I haven't even received the "silent treatment" that so many of us often receive after a few days away from home.

I didn't even come straight home from the airport - I went right out to the pet resort to pick up the dogs... the only really plausible solution for them this weekend, since my husband was already out of town as well. When the kennel assistant brought them out to me, it looked like she was water-skiing behind them, because as soon as they saw me standing at the desk, they started running for me, not caring that they were towing some hapless human behind them!

And the cats all came out of their daytime sleeping/napping/hiding places to see me. Charlotte even napped with me on the bed for awhile. Yes, she's giving me her "stern look." Though she was purring, I'm fairly certain she was warning me NOT TO DO THAT TO HER AGAIN. I mean, goodness, I left her alone with all of these cats.

Anyway, there will be more blog posts this week, but this one is going to be short and sweet.

Just a Note...

2011-07-28T03:52:00.000-07:00

Just a note to explain our disappearance...

Last week was a flurry of activity, settling a brand new dog into the house. I meant to blog, I did, but it somehow never happened.

Last weekend and the first half of this week I was at a professional conference in Philadelphia, which made me sick with a cough and head congestion. It was also a good conference, but the cough and congestion are what remains.

I was home for about 24 hours and learned last night that my grandmother passed away. It wasn't completely unexpected; she has been fighting Stage 4 lung cancer for awhile now, and that evil disease was taking its toll on her.

So I'll probably be a little scarce for just a bit longer; I need to make last-minute travel plans and get myself to Kansas City for the funeral as soon as I find out when it is going to happen.

Maera

2011-07-16T14:16:00.000-07:00

Three days. It only took three days to get what I consider to be the "classic multiple greyhound household" photo shot. Maera was a little leery about jumping up on the couch in the beginning; she'd get her front legs and torso up but to get her back end up, required help. Was it just being unsure, or just not being completely recovered from her spay? (She was only spayed on Sunday, and still has the stitches.) She doesn't love the couch quite as much as Argos does (YET) but will get up on her own now. She jumped up to snuggle with me this morning while I was on my every-Saturday-morning phone call to my mom. My prediction: it's only a matter of time. Argos was wary of the couch in the beginning too, and now we have to go to extraordinary lengths to convince him to jump back down.

Maera is settling into our household very easily, though there are some adjustments that we have all had to make. I don't begrudge her that in the slightest, though - I know that she herself is the one that has had to make the most adjustments. She's doing a fantastic job of it, though, and each day we have her, I see her becoming more of a house dog and less of a kennel dog.

She and Argos are still getting along well - the only time that they have had a little tussle was when they were crammed into the back of our small car together and someone sat on someone's head. And even that was a "give me some space" tussle and not a "I want to kill you" tussle.

We've given her several brief encounters with the cats (always tightly leashed and controlled, for the safety of our feline friends) and she is showing no signs of having a higher prey drive than we originally thought. She's curious about them, but I think that's normal. All it takes is us to say her name and she immediately forgets the cat and turns to us, tail wagging. Today, Jeff had her and Argos in the study with him, with two baby gates, one on top of the other set up in the doorway, keeping them all in. The fosters were allowed to run free just outside the door. She was aware that they were there, but didn't really care all that much, besides touching noses with Foster cat Patches through the holes in the gate. (Damn, I was too slow to get the camera!)

As an aside, foster cat Mitchell, after running around for a bit, found a new cozy napping place up in the attic; my old doll bed. So, I brought it back down into the fosters' bedroom for him. I'd originally had it in their room, actually the guest room, anyway, as part of the decor but had removed it when we "catted it up" for the fosters' arrival.

Kitties in the Attic

Bit is the one that is taking Maera's arrival the hardest... she is frozen in fear every time she even sees the dog, even if Maera is crated. While I feel sorry for her, I'm less worried than I would be... she reacted this way when we first got Argos. I think it even took her a couple of months, but she got over her fear, so I have no reason to think that it won't happen again in her own time. As you can see, she has no qualms about stealing their nice big beds when they're nowhere around, though.

On night number two in our house, Maera played so hard with the squeaky toy in the picture that she crashed out in this position and took a nice, long nap.

So, I would say that we're all doing very well. Right now, as I write this, Argos is crashed out on one of the beds, Maera on the other, and husband on the couch, and the cats safely dozing upstairs. I am the only being awake in the afternoon heat.

Last night, our trip to DQ. Both are anxiously awaiting Jeff's return with icecream.

A Big Announcement

2011-07-14T18:51:00.000-07:00

When I was writing about the dog days of summer the other night, I stated that I would have an announcement to make in a day or three. I didn't want to come out and say anything about it until it was a "done deal" but now everything is finalized, so I can blab about it on my blog!

Houndstooth guessed correctly when she guessed that we were getting a new greyhound! You may also remember, a couple of posts ago, that in my lists of beautiful things that gave me joy, one of the pictures that I posted was of a greyhound. My caption for is was "Putting a smile on the face of a dog not yet anyone's own."

Here is the pic, to recap:

Well, that dog "not yet anyone's own" in very short order became OUR dog, and she's lying on my living room floor even as I write this.

Her name is Maera, after the Maera in Greek myth. (It didn't end well for that Maera, but at least she got made into a constellation?) We really wanted a name steeped in Greek legend and mythology to go with Argos, but it was very difficult to find a suitable name, since I wasn't enamored with any of the goddess names, nor did we want to go with any of the muse names. And Maera is a lovely name, so it's what we decided upon.

Saturday, I went to video and take pictures of the three new dogs in the Steel City Greyhounds adoption program. Maera, at that point named Betty, was the third and last one that I videoed. And I realized, as I was taking some great footage of her, that I was never going to share that video on the web, because I wanted her to be mine, all mine. I was worried that Jeff wouldn't want to take a second dog in (I don't know why, we seem to typically be on the same page with our animals.) But once I got home and talked to him, he told me that if she got along with Argos and was cat safe, and I really felt like she was the right dog for us, that we would make it work.

So... she gets along with Argos, and she's cat safe, and Jeff fell in love with her when he met her.

And the rest is history. We had to wait until today to get her because of a social engagement on Wednesday night - but she is here now!

Here are some additional pictures of her first day here in the house.

We bought two huge dog beds, one for each dog. Where does Maera go? The old, scungy dogbed.

Maera, licking Jeff, and probably trying to eat his iPhone. She likes iPhones.

Maera and my leg.

Argos, stealing both brand new stuffies for himself. Maera can't figure out how to make them squeak, so didn't care

Argos showing Maera the ropes.

Some quick facts about Maera:

1. Argos seems to like her. He has been fine sharing beds, toys, and even food with her, at least so far.

2. Maera is only 2 1/2 years old, so is quite a bit younger than the 'gos. She never raced, even if she was at the track.

3. Argos' sire also happens to be Maera's grandsire. Does this make him her half brother or her uncle? Hmm.

4. Maera is insanely food-motivated. She came in the house, and promptly ate every piece of kibble that Mr. Messy Eater had sprayed all over the floor, her entire dinner, every treat that we gave her, attempted to eat our dinner, and also attempted to eat the cat food. Every once in awhile she walks back into the dining room to see if more food has spontaneously appeared.

5. Her first reaction to seeing Charlotte on my lap was to gently sniff her, and then to ever so delicately lip at her ear. Charlotte is still recovering from that little faux pas upstairs, in her "quiet space."

6. Maera shot up our outside stairs like a champ. I'm anticipating more trouble with the hardwood ones inside, when we take her up to bed in a few minutes.

7. Maera has a habit of jumping up and putting her front paws on your shoulders and covering you with kisses. I know that we need to train her not to do that, but it's kind of sweet and funny now that I expect it.

8. Every time one of us starts talking after there's been silence for a few moments, her tail thumps against the ground. She also already recognizes her name and responds to it.

We're very, very happy with her, and she seems to be very happy with us! I'm even more pleased that Argos seems happy with her; I was terribly concerned that he would be jealous.

We're about ready to take her upstairs... complete with leash and muzzle until we're absolutely certain that she can be trusted around our cats.

Dog Days of Summer

2011-07-12T19:21:00.000-07:00

Wow, is it ever hot and humid outside this week! And I know that we truly have nothing to complain about, compared to some of you folks in the Midwest. There is a REASON that I left Missouri, and while I won't claim that it was all because of the summertime humidity, it is definitely not something that I've shed tears about leaving behind me.

So we've just been hanging around and doing our best to stay cool.

Mind you, that's Argos in front of THAT fan, with another in the window, and the ceiling fan going at the same time. That part of the house is not air-conditioned, but with all of the cross-breezes and the shade from the front porch, is not at all unpleasant.

Patches (and Mitchell, not pictured) were allowed to roam the entire upstairs of the house today while Jeff was working from home. After patrolling the perimeter for awhile, Patches crashed HARD on our cat ledge in the study. Right under the shade tree, and where cool air from the small window unit could blow on his fur. No dummy, is he.

Annie decided to relax on the forbidden chair. Doesn't she look relaxed? And no, it is NOT me or Jeff that forbid the cats to get on any of the comfy furniture. It's Charlotte that does the forbidding... that is HER throne. Except that Annie has been challenging her for it a bit lately, and sometimes Charlotte just lets it go.

Bit, ever daddy's little girl, has decided to pursue a career in tech. Just what that career would involve, I don't even dare to speculate about.

Charlotte has been spending a lot of time in the bathroom, with her belly on display. She normally only does this in the summer, so I can only guess that it helps her cool off.

Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed our photos. I'm going to have a fun announcement to make soon, but I'm going to have to wait for at least two more days, maybe one more.

Easy Like Sunday

2011-07-10T16:54:00.001-07:00

Beauty

2011-07-09T17:42:00.000-07:00

A couple of days ago, I wrote about guilt. And recently, I wrote a few posts that described the grief and sadness that I felt upon Romeo's death. And I have written about anger before, at those that would abuse innocent animals. Lest I give the impression that I am roiling with negative emotions all the time, I thought I'd also post on how I counteract those feelings, how I think that many of us do it without even thinking about it. And as should surprise absolutely no one, my animals play a big role in helping me cope when life gets ugly.

I choose to surround myself with beauty. And beauty can be found just about anywhere if you're willing to look for it.

First bloom on a rose bush purchased at Lowe's

The pure enjoyment that a simple little purchase like this can give my dog

Western Pennsylvania sunset

A queenly gaze

A trusting look

A sleek and beautiful house panther

Putting a smile on the face of a dog not yet anyone's own

A peaceful walk

Beauty and peace. It's what I wish for myself, and for all of you.

Guilt

2011-07-07T18:43:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, life has a way of stabbing you in the heart. We've all experienced it - grief, and a whole rainbow of unpleasant emotions that come with it. Perhaps one of the most distressing ways that it does this is through guilt... honest guilt, for something that you were actually at fault for, and someone else paid the price.

When I was 11 years old, I inadvertently caused the death of my first puppy. It is a heart-breaking story, and one that I don't talk about very often to this day because I still wince with guilt when I think about it. But since I've been on a memory-lane kick lately, I thought that it might be good to write about it.

This puppy was one of the most anticipated puppies on the planet. The neighbors had a female Pekapoo, who they had bred to their male Pekingese before having him neutered. I was promised one of the puppies, for free. The reason for this is because I loved their dogs, with an earnestness only found in 11-year-old children. I walked them every day, and went over to spend time with them regularly, sometimes bringing treats with me. The dogs loved to see me coming. They would leap and cavort at the ends of their chains if I even crossed our driveway to go over to their yard. I can still remember seeing those dogs dancing on their hind legs in anticipation of my arrival.

I waited for the birth of the pups with great anticipation, and it finally came. There were only two pups in the litter. I was at the neighbors' house on a daily basis, down on the floor with the puppies. I was beside myself with joy, and couldn't WAIT to get my pick home. I'd already named her: Magic.

The day finally came, and I brought my beautiful little girl home. Her coat was silver, her muzzle black. She was tiny, and could curl up and sleep in the palm of your hand.

She slept in a box beside my bed, so that when she got lonely for mother and sibling in the night, I could simply reach down and comfort her.

Except that one night she would not be comforted, and I sleepily brought her up to lie up against me. I fell asleep, when I shouldn't have, and couldn't monitor her. She fell off the bed in the night. The fall crushed her chest, because she was so delicate at that tender young age. I found her, gasping for air, under the headboard. We desperately rushed her to the 24-hour emergency vet, but she died before they could even end her suffering for her.

I was devastated and completely eaten up with guilt. I certainly hadn't meant to hurt Magic, let alone kill her. I'd only wanted to comfort her and make her stop crying. But that didn't make her any less dead.

I didn't get out of bed for two days. I didn't talk about it to anyone, and had difficulty even shedding tears about it. I was just numb. Nothing anyone said could make me feel better about it... I mean, it WAS my carelessness that caused her death, even if I hadn't intended to. I mean, Dumb Luck played role in it, but Dumb Luck never would have entered the picture if I'd just left her in the damned box. Or been able to stay awake. Or any number of various possibilities that I tormented myself with.

I think that my parents realized that I wasn't going to so easily recover from this, and that I needed a distraction. I think that they also didn't want for me to feel like I was being punished... I was doing enough punishing myself; I certainly didn't need any more. So they decided to get me another puppy about a week after the incident.

I was very uncertain of it at first. I was afraid that I would kill yet another puppy, and even at that young age, knew that I would never entirely be able to forgive myself for Magic's death. I also felt guilty for still wanting a puppy, even after everything that had happened. Like I was being disloyal to Magic. But I went with my dad to a breeder who had a Pekingese puppy for sale - really cheap. In hindsight, I have to wonder if it was a bit of a puppy mill that we went to. The only puppy left was not in very good shape. He was even more delicate-looking than Magic was, and skinnier, and his coat was already matted. He was in all likelihood the runt of the litter. I was still on the fence about getting him, until the breeder put him into my open hand. He (the pup, not the breeder) looked up at me with his huge brown eyes, and looked so pleading. His little tail wagged hopefully, and his entire body language was asking, "Are we going to be friends?"

My heart melted, and my father paid for him on the spot. We took him home in a shoebox, and that puppy began the first of many days of his over-protected life. If I could have wrapped him in protective bubble-wrap and kept him in a hamster ball, I would have. I had completely learned my lesson, probably learned it too well. I'd panic if he got too close to people's feet, if the cats hissed at him, if it looked like he was going to try to climb up onto the furniture. I did my very best to keep him out of harm's way, which often just meant picking him up and retreating to my bedroom with him, away from all of the other distractions that the house can provide for a young pup.

This one was named Wicket, yes, after the Star Wars trilogy ewoks. (Yes, I was a bit of a geek, even back then. But have you ever SEEN a picture of a Pekingese puppy? They totally look like ewoks.)

Wickett lived a good long life, and died well after I'd gone to college, so as it turned out, I didn't have the "cursed touch" that I feared I'd had. I don't deny that what happened to Magic was a tragedy, and I certainly don't deny the role that I played in it. I will feel deep sadness for that event for the rest of my life, even though I know that it's not fair to me to beat myself up over a mistake made when I was 11. I am thankful that he lived such a long life. Wicket was my best friend during the painful growing-up years, and was a major stabilizing influence on me at a time that I desperately needed one.

There is little to be thankful for in Magic's untimely death, but it did teach me that you can, indeed, literally kill with kindness, and it taught me to use caution when handling animals, that sometimes what they are asking for is not what they actually need, or is not what is necessarily best for them. It also brought me Wicket, who I would have never known otherwise.

I guess in some ways, my guilt still plays a role in how I interact with my own animals. I am so, so very careful with them. It's made me hyper-vigilant. But one can't let guilt be a crippling force. Guilt could have kept me from ever taking in another animal again, for fear of hurting them too. Except that I would have cheated them out of a good life with me. And cheated myself out of animal companionship. So, I've taken that experience, and learned what I could from it. But I can't let it cripple me, deprive me of what happiness I can find.

Summer Fun

2011-07-04T09:01:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I got a kiddie wading pool for our backyard. Not for any children, since we don't have any and hadn't invited any over. But for Argos.

It took him five minutes to progress from treating it as a giant water bowl to ... this.

That was the best $11 I have spent in a long time!

The cats of course weren't going to get to participate in the water fun (not that they would want to do that at ALL.) But they did enjoy lazing about with us.

Except that Patches is on an anti-literacy kick, apparently.

I am more interesting than any book. You should know this.

Today is more of the same, though we've decided to give an extra-thorough cleaning to all of the house litter boxes (Woooooo! Never let it be said that we don't know how to celebrate our independence in style!) Okay, there might be some grilled hot dogs later.

Happy July 4th, everyone!

Things I've Learned

2011-07-02T08:25:00.000-07:00

We all learn things from our animals. I like to occasionally make a list of things that I've picked up over the past few weeks, so thought that it would be a good thing to do at the beginning of a long weekend. So, without further ado... THE LIST.

1. Hydrangea bushes, especially freshly planted ones, hate dog pee. Argos has managed to kill both of the ones that I planted in the back yard last fall, and I'm wondering about the one that I planted back by the fence near Romeo's grave. I have one perfectly healthy hydrangea - on the side of the house where Argos can't get to off-leash.

2. Dwarf spruce shrubs, especially freshly planted ones, hate dog pee. Two dead dwarf spruces and one that is looking kind of ragged.

3. Grass hates being run over by dogs. Especially my grass, which struggles due to being in dry shade anyway.

4. I may have to completely pave my backyard to keep it from turning into a mud pit every time it rains.

5. It doesn't matter if cats have the run of the entire house except for one room, they will obsess about that closed door and not enjoy the rest of the house.

6. It doesn't matter where you partition off ANY of the animals, they all want to be on the other side. Argos desperately wants upstairs, the cats desperately want downstairs, and EVERYONE wants into the guest room with the fosters.

7. Coming home smelling like another dog is one way to make sure that Argos refuses to leave my side for the rest of the day.

8. The fridge only exists to hold milk and other things that Charlotte might like.

9. It is apparently okay to wake up the entire house screaming your head off because you're hungry.

10. It is apparently okay to wake me up in the middle of the night to show me that you killed a stink bug in the hallway.

Back in the Saddle

2011-06-30T18:52:00.000-07:00

A little bit of history about me: I was a horse-crazy girl. This does not set me apart from just about any other girl out there, I know. What DOES set me apart from at least a great many of them, was that my dream to have a horse came true when I was twelve years old.

Though I had grown up in the suburbs of Kansas City up to that point, my parents moved us about an hour north, to a farmhouse sitting on 30 acres of Platte River bottoms land. (One interesting/amusing/terrifying aside - at the time we didn't know it, but the locals referred to that stretch of land as "Rattlesnake Cut." With good reason. Joy.)

God bless my parents, they were willing to be a little adventurous. A month after we moved into this place, sleeping on air mattresses on the floor while my parents gutted the place and renovated it, my father was a little late coming home one night. And he topped the hill pulling a horse trailer behind his truck... with my very own horse in it. We knew nothing about horses. Nothing. I had probably ridden a horse about a dozen times in my life, and every time it was a very quiet, gentle animal, that was used to having kids on its back; trail rides and quiet lessons through the Girl Scouts. I'd never actually been in complete control of a horse.

I named him Prince. He was a strawberry roan Quarter Horse; though we later grew to suspect that he might have been a Quarter Horse crossed with a POA (Pony of the Americas.) He was a good, gentle horse. But he was young, mischievous, and oh yes, a lazy glutton, but in the nicest sort of way. But oh, he sized us up. We were idiots. Complete amateurs. How hard can it be to strap a saddle onto a horse, right?

We didn't even know to tie him up before trying to saddle him. The result was that if he didn't want to be saddled, he'd turn his rump to us. We'd been earnestly instructed to never stand behind a horse to avoid being kicked, so we'd skitter out of the way like frightened chihuahuas. Prince thought that this was the most hilarious thing in the world and did it all the time.

He would also take ME for a ride. He'd graze along the way, and when he decided that it was time to go back to the barn, we went back to the barn. I, the rider, didn't get a say.

A neighbor kindly taught me a few of the basics. 1.) Tie the dang horse up before trying to saddle him up. 2.) Knee him (gently) in the gut when drawing up the cinch of the saddle to make him suck in his breath. It's a common horse-trick to blow their bellies out when you're cinching them up - then the saddle is nice and loose when you're actually riding. Your chances of falling off, saddle and all (as we learned) are quite high! 3.) Be stern and make the horse go where you want him to go.

Up to that point, I'd been afraid to discipline him. I was afraid that he wouldn't like me anymore. My visions of a Lone-Ranger styled partnership were dwindling fast. I desperately wanted to be friends with him, but he was taking advantage of me every day. I was a bit afraid that he would hurt me - he weighed significantly more than I, after all. I had to learn that I couldn't ever show him that fear. And eventually, I lost it anyway. Prince wouldn't have hurt me for the world, though he wasn't above bullying me just a bit.

And then I went to my aunt's ranch, out in Colorado, for a month one summer. It was a life-changing event.

I learned how to master the horse. Really, she taught me how to ride, and to do it well. Along the way, I picked up a few other things just by watching her: I learned how to put steel in my voice when I needed it, to make the horse obey me even without the threat of a riding crop. I learned how to read the horse's mood by his mannerisms, the positioning of the ears, the posture. I learned to have fun on the back of a horse, instead of being terrified or tense the entire time. As a result, the horses that I was riding relaxed. We had a good time. I learned that if you fall off, unless you are so battered that you have to go to the emergency room, no matter how terrified you were, no matter how sore you might already feel, you hauled your butt off of the hard Colorado clay and you got back up onto the horse IMMEDIATELY. It didn't matter if your legs were trembling so hard from fear that you couldn't keep them in the stirrups. You got up, and you rode. And you didn't stop until the fear subsided. Back in the saddle. Because if you didn't, you'd never get back up on a horse again.

I returned home with my second horse, Cody, a beautiful sorrel Quarter-Horse/Thoroughbred cross. But Prince and I had some ground to cover too. It was like a switch had flipped. I was in complete control of him the very first time I got up onto his back. He obeyed me. My mother tells the story that when I first slipped up onto his back and confidently picked up the reins, and ordered him to c'mon, he turned his head completely around to STARE up at this strange creature sitting on his back.

I went back out to my aunt's ranch the following year, and returned with yet another horse. She was simply named "Twenty-Nine." I kept the name to avoid confusing her. She was also a sorrel quarter horse. She was young, and spirited, and would have scared the heck out of me just the year before. She pranced instead of walking, and it didn't take much to convince her that she wanted to run run run and she could do it fast. She was a lot of fun to ride, and when I was on her back I felt truly free. I showed both Twenty-Nine and Cody in the 4-H shows, and even further improved my riding skills. I did well.

This series of horses taught me a lot about myself: that I DO have a voice of steel when I need it, which is something that has served me well with horses, dogs, cats, and dare I say, people. I could handle one of these beautiful half-ton creatures, even being "just a girl." I COULD have a Lone-Ranger partnership, once we established a certain level of mutual respect. It may have been the first thing ever, outside of my schoolwork, that I did well. It built my confidence. But I think that the most important thing that it ever taught me, and I hope that it is a life lesson that I take to the grave, is to get back in the saddle. Even after falling off. Even if the ground is hard and unforgiving. Even when being unceremoniously thrown off and trampled. It doesn't matter if your legs are shaking from terror. You just do it anyway, because the consequences of not doing it are so very high.

I have no idea of why I've been thinking about those horses and the lessons that they taught me, but I haven't been able to get them off of my mind this week. I decided to share the story on my blog, which was hopefully at least entertaining. I hope that you enjoyed my memories. I enjoyed writing them... it's been a very long time. I will have to try to dig out a photograph or two of me with the horses and scan them in.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-06-28T18:18:00.000-07:00

Kitten Season

2011-06-25T19:18:00.000-07:00

I never, in all of my days, knew what a stressful time late spring, summer, and fall were to those involved with cat rescue! Kitten season sounds like such a lovely, fun time! But in reading blogs written by people that run rescues or work or volunteer in shelter, I have come to realize that it can be somewhat hellish. Not because tons of kittens aren't adorably cute, but because there's just so many of them to find homes for.

I was reading Castaway Cats, a blog maintained by an Animal Rescue League cat care volunteer, and saw yesterday's post: http://arlcatlady.wordpress.com/2011/06/24/dont-feel-guilty/.

And felt kind of like I'd been gut-punched. Really? 637 cats in less than one full month? 400 of them kittens?

And they can't be the only shelter that is similarly affected.

Is there an equivalent puppy season? I never hear about that... is it because we're getting a better handle on roaming dogs or at least keeping them spayed and neutered? Or are they just not as fertile as the kitties? I'm guessing that it's because many people would not hesitate to let a cat roam free at night, even unspayed or unneutered, but probably wouldn't do the same for a dog.

I know that the Animal Rescue League and other shelters and rescues are working overtime to try to get homes for the influx of cats and kittens. If you were to walk in (or in to their equivalent in your town) and tell them that you wanted to adopt a cat or kitten or multiples of either, they'd probably have to barely restrain themselves from kissing you.

I know that Chrystal over at Daily Dose of Dogs (aka Cats with your Coffee) has had her own influx of kittens, which she desperately needs to find homes for so that they will have room for the others that will undoubtedly come. (She can and happily does make arrangements for transportation, even if you don't live near her.)

What this meandering post is leading up to is... if you have even been considering in the back of your mind that you might want to adopt a cat or kitten, you'd be doing an awful lot of good if you could manage to do it now. It will give at least one little soul a home. It will make room for the other cats and kittens that are going to come in as the summer months move onward. It will free up resources that the shelters need.

I know that most of my regular readers are like me and already have a full house of cats, or a full house of dogs that wouldn't play well with cats, but I'm posting this in case I catch the one person who was on the fence. Or the one person who stumbles on to my blog by accident.

Adopt a kitten!

Interspecies Relationships

2011-06-24T22:14:00.000-07:00

It's so odd how things happen. We've had Argos for a year and a half, and he and the cats have tried very hard to ignore one another. Their relationships weren't antagonistic, they just had very little to do with one another. And in one day, we get all of these pictures... go figure.

What is this... Argos and... CHARLOTTE? That's the pairing up that I never thought I'd see happen. Charlotte just isn't the type.

What we think happened is, Argos jumped up to claim his usual spot at the end of the couch before he noticed that Charlotte was already there. Instead of freaking out and jumping back down, he sandwiched himself in. What surprises me is that Charlotte stayed up there, and looks reasonably calm about it.

Later that night, we had the foster cats downstairs with us to let them socialize with other humans besides us. (We had a few friends, all cat-lovers, over.) Mitchell and Patches have no fear of Argos. As you can see with the pictures of Mitchell below.

Maybe if I close my eyes, he'll go away...

This picture just makes me smile.

We Are Like Gods

2011-06-21T17:08:00.000-07:00

At least, from the perspective of the animals that are completely dependent upon us.

Although we'll never know EXACTLY how another species views the world, I've tried to get behind their eyes. Have you ever wondered what they might be thinking when they see us doing things that we ourselves take for granted?

1. Let's start with what's most important. FOOD. We have access to these marvelous cold boxes that contain food. All we have to do is open the door and take it out. It's no wonder that they want us to show them that "trick" over and over again throughout the day.

2. Sometimes, people come to the door and give us food. This much seem like such a wonderful thing to them... their people are being paid TRIBUTE by other lesser humans. The same goes for any animal that's ever been in the back seat of the car when we go through a drive-through. Amazing stuff!

3. Our territories are enormous. We can go anywhere we want, range as far away from home as possible, and no one stops or challenges us!

4. We have remarkable cooling devices such as fans and AC units. All of mine have been claimed by animals at the moment; each one has one of the fur-kids lying in front of it.

5. Cars. These things take us zipping across the ground faster than even a greyhound can run. The greyhound thinks that's fantastic; it terrifies the cats. Why we would ever want to leave the house is beyond them, why we ever insist on taking them with us is unthinkable.

6. Dog and Cat Food. We always seem to have food to give to them. To them (if you're doing it right) it's a limitless supply of food for them, which they do not have to hunt, kill, or scavenge.

7. Furniture. Do you know how unbelievably soft and warm these things are? They probably wonder why we humans ever get off of them.

8. Garden hose. Beautiful, cold, clear water, on command. Whether this is intriguing or terrifying depends on the animal.

Those are the big ones that MINE are certainly enamored with. There's probably tons of other stuff. Most of the others that I could think of, though, my animals don't even seem to register. (TV, music, etc.)

Is it any wonder then that they put up with all of our other foibles? Why even an abused or neglected dog will often try desperately to curry favor with a human? We ARE like gods to them. Whether we are benevolent or malicious deities depends so much upon us.

I recognize no god but myself, thank you.

Being Multi-Lingual

2011-06-19T18:24:00.000-07:00

Many people like dogs, but don't care for cats. Many cat-lovers don't care for dogs. I'm sure that there are just as many of us in between - that love both of them. They speak both dog and cat. I'm not even sure that I could make a choice between them - both species are dear to my heart, and I have a lifetime of my happiest memories attached to both of them.

Whether it was Snowball, a white kitten turned tomcat that I adopted when I was five, Harley, a little black stray that I rescued from McDonalds, Wickett, my childhood best friend who happened to be a Pekingese, and the only reason I stayed sane in a school where no one wanted me, or of course any of my current furry loves. I can no more imagine deciding to get rid of any of them than I can imagine cutting off one of my toes.

What is it that draws us to each?

I think, and this is my opinion only, that there are personality tendencies that draw us to one or the other or both.

Cats can be independent, though I have a couple that defy that stereotype by being a bit clingy. I think that independent spirit attracts some of us and yet annoys others to no end. I'm sure that independence is why you don't hear about cat obedience classes; unless you have a truly unusual kitty, it just is not going to happen. I can coax my cats into doing what I want - but only because they get something out of it, whether it's food or attention. It's certainly not out of obedience. When I'm trying to coax Charlotte out of the basement for the umpteenth time for the afternoon, I can see her sitting back in the dark corner, and I can SEE the wheels in her brain turning as she thinks about whether she should come out to greet me or if she is going to skulk in the shadows and make me come get her. I greatly admire their independence and sense of dignity, and try really hard to help my kitties maintain that even if they are, in reality, completely dependent upon me for everything.

Dogs tend to want to please you, so are usually more biddable than cats. (Though there are tons of exceptions, so maybe they're more free-thinking than we give them credit for.) For example, if Argos was for some reason in the basement, and I wanted him to come back upstairs, all I would have to do would be to snap my fingers and call his name. That would be it... no consideration, no bribery. I call, he comes to me. They are pack-oriented, and really, really want to spend time with you and just hang out. They are loyal, and devoted, and some of them are protective. It's been a great comfort to me to know that no matter what is going on, if I call Argos, he will come to me. He will sleep beside me on the couch all day long if that's what I want for him to do, or go out into the yard to help me with my gardening if I feel a little more active. He never complains. His obedience and his devotion are a balm sometimes, when I am reeling with whatever life has chosen to throw at me that day. I can't always rely on the cats to show me the same devotion - thought they might, if they feel like it. Some people don't like how dependent dogs are, compared to your average cat. And in a way, they're right: it takes a lot more work to get Argos ready for his day or for bed than it does the cats. But it's a chore that I've never regretted taking on... the work is well worth it when he looks into my eyes and wags his tail in greeting. My dog is always happy to see me.

I think that dogs and cats give us different things, maybe affirm different parts of our souls. There are things to admire in each, and yes, let's face it, things that annoy the crap out of us in each. But it's all good.

They're Taking Over!

2011-06-17T03:45:00.000-07:00

Yeah, that is was my office chair.

Now isn't that the cutest picture? Our foster boys are so very sweet...

Thoughts from the Week

2011-06-10T21:09:00.000-07:00

It's been a difficult week for us. As many of you know, Romeo passed away last Saturday evening, from heart complications at the emergency vet's. I truly appreciate the care and concern that the pet blogging community has shown to me this week - it really did help me through the worst of the days to read your comments, blog posts, and tributes to him.

We planted catnip plants in the back corner of our yard, one for Romeo, and one for Guido, my mom-in-law's cat that passed on a couple of months ago. It is the start of a memorial garden that we would like to make - for those two and the other animals that will join them as time goes on. (For I know that unless we ourselves come to an untimely end, we will outlive all of them.) We would like to make it a little fenced in area, with an arbor as a gate, a bench to sit, and of course some pretty plantings. So far, we have two catnip plants and an Allegheny Serviceberry tree (which I planted in April, not knowing what we would eventually decide to do with that corner of the yard.)

Otherwise, we've just been trying to muddle through. I took Monday off from work; I have a very understanding boss, and decided that I needed an extra day to get a grip on my emotions before going back. And of course, the animals have been a great help to us.

Bit decided that I needed to be distracted... as soon as I saw what was happening, I had a choice.

I could get upset at the shredded toilet paper, or I could laugh so hard that I cried, and take pictures. I think you can see what my choice was.

Charlotte and Annie got along better this week than they ever have. They even shared a recliner for a couple of days.

While neither one of them cared much for Romeo while we had him with us, I think that his disappearance made them feel insecure... either that or they were picking up on our emotions. I was constantly walking in and finding them either sharing the chair or the couch, something practically unheard of.

Argos, sensitive soul that he is, took the emotional upheaval the hardest. He and Romeo were never snuggle-buddies, but they did spend a lot of time together, as we'd leave them alone together when we went to work. And Argos was the only one that knew for a fact that Romeo had died... he was out in the yard when we buried him, and got his scent. He was also upset because WE were upset. He followed us around constantly.

He placed himself in the middle of the study, between my computer and Jeff's and would watch back and forth, highly concerned.

The foster cats were sweet, and made me laugh on more than one occasion. Patches waits until I lie down and fan my hair out behind me. He then lies down on TOP of my hair, and starts playing with it, rolling in it, batting at it, having a great time. And it made me giggle, which seemed to please him.

Here is Patches, lying on the most coveted kitty-bed in the house. It is a simple mesh bag, a freebie from LexisNexis. I'm not sure that Lexis would entirely approve of this "off-label" use of their branding merchandise, but the kitties think it is the best.

And here is Mitchell, checking out the new drinking fountain that we bought in an attempt to have plenty of fresh water available for them.

So... the animals have kept us busy and entertained. This is something that I am grateful to them for. It didn't eliminate my grief, of course, but it helped keep me distracted, and gave me reasons that I HAD to get up off of the couch. I might have been saddened and depressed, but Argos had to have dinner. Charlotte needed her medicine. Bit was crying and needed to be snuggled and reassured. The fosters needed to come out of their room for some exercise. Argos needed to be walked. It was all a huge help, actually. Giving me something to do was the best thing that they could have done.

A Brief Tribute

2011-06-04T19:58:00.000-07:00

I don't have it in me to write another post about Romeo, as a tribute to his memory. But I'm capable of posting some pictures. I need to do this, to help myself remember the way he was when he was healthy and alert and reasonably happy. And I hope that you can enjoy the photos of my handsome boy as well. RIP, Romeo.

If you're like me, and sometimes find these blog posts out of order, I did make a post explaining what happened right before this one.

Romeo's first day with us. He's already stolen the dog bed.

Classic Romeo pose.

Probably the first day we got him. Or soon afterward.

Demonstrating his need to go on a diet.

Romeo's perch in the study. He loved watching out that window.

Romeo, head-butting me to get more attention, on the couch.

A Sad Day

2011-06-04T19:37:00.000-07:00

I don't even know how to start writing this. So I suppose that I'll just come out and say it and then fill in the details. Romeo died this evening.

It completely came out of the blue. The veterinarian called us this morning to say that the urinary blockage had been cleared, and that he was going to remain there on fluids until he was able to urinate on his own. They made it sound like we'd be going to pick him up either late tonight or early tomorrow morning. Everything sounded great at that point - I mean, sure, he'd been hospitalized, which is never great, but the doctors knew exactly what to do with him. It's not like it's unusual for neutered male cats to get urinary blockages. We were even told that the blockage had been cleared out very early on, that we were lucky to catch it so early.

Which is why it was such a shock to receive a call this afternoon to say that they had to take him off of the fluids, because there was fluid build-up around his heart, and that he was on oxygen (in an oxygenated cage.) The vets said that this did occasionally happen when a cat was on IV fluids, and that dosing them with Lasix usually did the trick.

Half an hour later, we got a second phone call. Romeo was completely unable to breathe on his own, and they were intubating him and clearing his lungs out ASAP. They said that the next step was to put him on a respirator, because he simply wasn't breathing enough on his own.

At this point, we had had enough of sitting at the house waiting for these terrifying updates, so jumped in the car and drove over to the clinic so that we could be there to make whatever decisions needed to be made.

To make a long story short, they spent another hour trying to stabilize him. They did their very best, and were very competent and professional about it, and kind to us, but it wasn't enough to bring him back. He never completely woke up from the sedatives that he was on. When they came back to tell us that despite the assistance with breathing, the tons of lasix and other drugs that had been pumped into him, that he was failing. The doctor said that there was really nothing else that we could do for him at this point, besides putting him on a respirator - and even then, his chances of survival were not good. So we made the painful, but I think inevitable, decision to euthanize him. He never woke up from his sedatives, so he went quietly, and without fear or pain.

They think that he probably had an underlying heart condition that just hadn't started manifesting in any obvious ways yet. The fluids weren't the cause, but were what revealed it. If the fluids had been the cause, he should have rebounded after getting lasix pumped into him. (In another post, someday when my heart does not feel so bruised, I may rail against the fates for giving us not one, but TWO cats with heart problems.)

I held myself together fairly well while I had to, but now that it's all over, I'm sitting here at my desk trembly and tearful, and I feel so bereft. I find myself glancing off and on over to the window ledge where he'd be sleeping, if this was a normal night, and am somewhat startled when I don't see him gazing back at me with his knowing eyes.

Romeo was with us for almost exactly one year... one year and one week, exactly today. I didn't write about his "Gotcha Day" over Memorial Day weekend, because we were busy with family, but I'd planned on writing it this weekend now that things have settled down. His time with us was filled with its ups and downs; everyone that reads this blog probably remembers that he never quite fit in with the other cats here... in fact, they were complete and utter little bitches to him. But through trial and error (and I'll admit, a small amount of grumbling) we found a way to let him carve his own niche; and I do think that he was happy for the most part.

Romeo was a cat that was happiest when he was surrounded by the humans that loved him. Preferrably, to have us both petting him and talking to him and giving him attention at the same time. He would purr and purr, rubbing his face first on me, then on Jeff, then back to me, repeat. He was a lover. He had his days when he seemed sad, and it always upset me to see this. I have wondered if he was remembering and missing his first family, or maybe he was sad that the other cats weren't friendly to him. But the days when he was happy, and in all honesty, that was most days, he was a bright spirit, and was always glad to see us.

RIP, Romeo. I'm torn between feeling like we did everything that we could for you, and wishing that we could have done more.

Exhausted and Worried

2011-06-04T03:58:00.000-07:00

Last night, the Friday night I'd been looking forward to with such anticipation, my plans for total relaxation were thwarted. Midnight found us at the 24-hour emergency vet with Romeo... we had started noticing that he was squatting and straining in his litter box, but not even producing one drop of urine.

The temptation to wait to take him to his regular vet during daylight hours was high: after all, Romeo has been taken to the vet now on two different occasions for bladder issues, and both times we were told that it wasn't actually a blockage, but was related to stress. And we all know from my recent posts that Romeo was under quite a bit of stress. Eventually good sense won out though - we figured that NO urine produced couldn't mean anything good. And something about his demeanor had me completely unsettled. It was subtle - anyone with cats knows that it isn't that unusual for them to try to hide pain and illness from you. But he didn't start purring immediately when I'd go over to pet him; in fact, he looked more annoyed than anything. And his eyes weren't quite as bright as they had been. We packed him up into the cat carrier and drove him to the nearest emergency vet, who we are sadly very familiar with. We had hoped that it would be like the other times we've taken him him for bladder issues, and that we'd be sent back home and told that he was just having these issues due to stress and that it should clear up on its own.

Alas, this was not to be. It was a good thing that we did take him in when we did. As it turns out, he was blocked, and there were urinary crystals.

He is still at the hospital, on IV fluids and recovering from the blockage, catheterized until they're certain that he can pass urine on his own. I don't know when he'll get to come home. The vet said that an average stay is about 36 hours after the initial blockage is removed, so let's hope and pray that it is just an average stay. Because of course I'm primarily concerned about Romeo's welfare, but from a pocketbook perspective as well, this is totally not what we needed. We'll be fine - the estimate given to us was cringe-worthy, but not impossible for us to take on. But there's nothing wrong with hoping that the final bill is on the lower side of the quoted estimate, right?

Anyway, I'm very worried about him. I now think that last week's peeing on the floor incidents were an indication that something was wrong even then. Though he DID start peeing in the box again once we got him upstairs, else he would have wound up at the vet sooner. Maybe he was partially blocked then, and it all just came to a head last night? Regardless, the vet's message this morning (which must have been left when we were passed out cold from exhaustion during the wee hours of the morning) sounded confident that the crystals and the blockage were caught very early on, which is probably good news for Romeo.

Everyone keep paws and fingers and toes crossed for us!

Table Cat

2011-06-03T17:57:00.000-07:00

You are telling me to get off of the table? Me? But I'm sick! How could you ask a sick and dying cat to do ANYTHING that she doesn't want to do? Look into these big, sad, hypnotic eyes...

And that is my life. Giving in to Charlotte on nearly a daily basis.

Manipulated much? I thought so.