Can You Hear This?

Our kitty, as you might know, is an interesting fellow. He weighs about 20lbs. and he’s not fat, he’s just big. At my old house, there was a small creek that ran behind the house. Kitty often brought me presents since the presence of the creek increased the abundance of critters around. At one point, because I was traveling so much and he preferred outside to in, the food I left for him on the deck became of interest to a family of raccoons and he fought them off too—-and it was 5 fairly large raccoons to one very indignant kitty.

My current home has a detached garage and as happens during winter months, if there is anything kept there that provides food for small creatures, they will become uninvited guests of the domain. Several small field mice apparently discovered a old bag of dry dog food from when Doggie first came to live with us. Old age precludes Doggie from eating dry food anymore and the bag, as often happens in garages, got shoved behind some other junk and forgotten. It was discovered by the mice and so they moved in and invited their friends to come party.

On the discovery of these little creatures inhabiting my extended living space, I promptly asked Darlin’ Boy to dispatch them for me. As I was leaving for the store, he asked that I purchase traps. Further questioned, he stated he wanted the old-fashioned spring traps which I really don’t care for at all. However, since he was going to take care of the mouse problem, I figured I couldn’t complain how he was going about it….

Once at the store, I discovered some alternative traps which were more humane and allowed for the release of the mouse unharmed, so I got both kinds. To my pleasure, Darlin’ Boy discovered that my humane “sticky” traps worked very well and didn’t require bait, so he used those. Over the next several days, several members of the mouse community found themselves stuck to the traps and Darlin’ Boy would carry them to a small wooded area near our house and released them back to their natural habitat.

All was going just swell until a recent morning when I opened the garage door and saw as I stepped in a small grey mouse stuck to one of the traps and struggling furiously to detach himself. Before I could react, Kitty came racing into the garage, ran right pass the mouse, which ceased moving and became still as death. Kitty was intent on another area of the garage at first but quickly “caught wind of” the stuck mouse and promptly pounced.

(I don’t know if I can do justice to what transpired in written form and, to this day, I regret I didn’t have a video recorder of some kind but, hopefully, the following description will provide your imagination with a good idea of what happened…)

Kitty leaped across the garage and landed on the mouse and trap. While Kitty had landed such that he could grasp the mouse in his jaws, he also unintentionally glued himself to the trap. His face, with the mouse surrounded by his teeth, stuck to one corner while two of his paws stuck to the the other side of the trap. As he realized his predicament and began to stuggle, more of his body became attached to the trap. The more he fought the worse it got. The best visual I can think of is the old Looney Tune cartoon character, Tasmanian Devil, who whirled, buzzed and chopped through air, trees and boulders like a tornado.

Kitty flew, flipped, twisted, turned and grappled until the sticky board tore apart separating his face and one paw, while the other paw remained attached to the corner with the mouse. Once mostly separated from the trap, he raced out of the garage, across the drive and around the house. I followed, still hoping to retrieve the mouse, unharmed, and release both the cat and the mouse from the trap.

I found Kitty hiding around the house in the mulch bed behind the shrubs, apparently wise enough not to try and bite the mouse again for fear of re-attaching his face to the sticky board. Unfortunately, the mouse did not survive the Kitty’s whirlwind flight around the garage. After some hesitation, Kitty did allow me to remove the deceased and the remainder of the trap from his paw, though he did remain hidden in the bushes the rest of the day, obviously traumatized.

Kitty doesn’t race into the garage anytime he finds the door open anymore. As for the mouse community, they have departed—whether they witnessed the demise of their friend and ran for their lives or Darlin’ Boy caught the rest and released them into the woods, I’m not sure but I’ll never forget the vision of Kitty’s Oscar-worthy impersonation of Taz! Quite a Cat-tas-trophy!

I don’t know what I was thinking last year when I wrote Puppy Power and boldly stated that Doggie would remain on the patio in his own house and not take up residence in mine. I should have known better……

Doggie has not only been given run of the first floor lately (he doesn’t seem to have any desire to go up the stairs, YET…….) he has his own special puppy pad to lounge on. While I do prefer this to his lounging on my good rug, it’s still an indicator of the preferential treatment he gets around here—-whether I like it or not.

As winter progressed, not that it was that cold here in central Virginia–balmy would be a better description, on the rare occasion that the temp dropped below 50 degrees, it was suddenly too cold for Doggie to remain in his custom log cabin (purchased for his benefit by Darlin’ Boy). He has to come into the house. In an effort to appease Doggie and protect my rug, Darlin’ Boy also purchased a special shear ling pad for Doggie’s indoor respites.

Once temperatures began to move upward and regularly topped out over 75 degrees, it was suddenly too warm for Doggie to remain outside through the heat of the day. Now he not only comes inside in the evenings to enjoy our company, he spends much of the day resting on his plush pad as well. He likes to have everyone in view. If I’m in the kitchen cooking, the pad is positioned there, if I move to the family room then dog and pad must be moved as well. Suffice to say I’ve been suckered once again—-at least this time it was only by the dog….

Since this is my first experience with a dog of my own, I’m still learning about the differences between dog behavior and cat behavior. Current cat behavior is that if doggie is on the first floor, kitty retires to the second floor, but that’s another story…

The next big change in Doggie’s life was his diet. Darlin’ Boy decided that Doggie was not getting proper nutrition. Since doggie is a very large but a senior citizen in dog years, Darlin’ boy felt that Doggie needed a custom meal plan. He is now served each morning and evening a special concoction, prepared fresh each occasion by Darlin’ Boy or myself. (I tried to let Beau play chef for him recently but that resulted in a visit from the fire department—details on that little adventure to come shortly!) Doggie’s acting chef prepares fried bacon, fatback or sausage with eggs and cheese mixed with a soft shredded dog food that’s supposed to look like hamburger. I must concede that Doggie’s coat looks more lustrous and his ribs no longer show and he seems a little more spry—despite his trouble with arthritis.

In fact, despite his arthritis and old age, Doggie is resurrected from near death to new puppy posture when Darlin’ Boy arrives wearing his favorite dog-walking ball cap. What had previously resembled a dog-shaped fur rug becomes an animated, frolicking bundle of pure puppy. Doggie’s exercise routine is as well-rounded as his diet now, too. He gets to walk/run up and down hills, around various trees and posts, which provide perfect watering opportunities for him. If he’s feeling in fine form, Darlin’ Boy has to carry not two, but three blue pooper-scooper bags. Doggie works hard to make sure the Darlin’ Boy gets plenty of exercise himself, by bending, gathering and then toting to the next available trash receptacle, Doggie’s droppings. Fortunately, the trash receptacles which host the blue bags are strategically placed around the neighborhood route but Darlin’ Boy can become extremely vexed if the receptacle dispenser of blue bags is empty. That’s sure to be the night that Doggie is feeling extra good and needs to make multiple deposits along his route. As he reaches the halfway point to circle back home, Doggie has a nice wade in the neighborhood pond to cool off and get a refreshing drink, and then Doggie finishes off his routine with a brief, yet apparently exhilarating, sinus clearing, as he tries to drink from the automatic lawn sprinkler heads he passes on the last leg of his excursion.

This is the dog’s life—breakfast and dinner prepared daily by personal chefs, climate controlled accommodations with both winter and summer homes, custom pad for sleeping and lounging, personal attendants for grooming/petting/poop scooping, personal trainers for regular daily exercise routines, and an array of toys for entertainment purposes.

Moral of this story, whenever you feel your life is not treating you in the manner you’d like, plan to come back next time as my dog—you’ll get the royal treatment, too!

If you ever had any doubt, I am here to tell you, cats and dogs chose their people, people don’t chose them! In all my years growing up, we had numerous pets–both cats and dogs. No matter what was said at the time they were brought home, they chose. As a kid, more often than not, the chosen one was my mother. Looking back it was pretty obvious, she was the one they counted on for food and care.

As I established my own home after college, I decided to “adopt” my first pet. It was a cat and he chose me. I can’t explain how. Here I was, going to the SPCA with every intention of picking out a cat for myself. Forget it! There I was in a room full of kitties and they’re all ready to go home with me but, suddenly, there’s this one who has locked on to me with these great big green eyes and he’s effectively telling me, “I’ve decided, you’re it, I’m going home with you.”

People say cats are aloof. They’re not really–except to those they haven’t chosen to adopt. Once they’ve decided you’re the one, they’re like a second skin. They will follow you around, “talk” your ear off and remind you constantly that you are “their” chosen one. It’s a lot like hero worship and, if you find the cat that decides you’re the ONE, it’s the love of a lifetime. They will not abandon you for another love, money or fresh fish! The only thing that can tear them from your side as your ever-loving companion is death.

As my first experience of this phenomenom was with a cat, I continued, once he went to the great sand box in the sky, to allow myself to be the owner of a cat that had “chosen” me as his person. I use the male pronoun because they have all been male. Since they were also all neutered, I doubt the sex is that significant, but you just never know.

My current kitty has decided that I’m not as suited to his taste for a life-long companion as Darlin’ Boy! He jumped ship, so to speak, fairly soon after Darlin’ Boy arrived on the scene. That cat believes that Darlin’ Boy lives to be his person. Cats can be very self-centered, don’t cha’ know! However, they are very loving to the people they choose and Darlin’ Boy is rewarded for his attention. Kitty brings him presents, comes when he calls, “talks” to him constantly and keeps Darlin’ Boy warm by plastering himself against him anytime he sits down. He’ll even sit still for me to give him an occasional bath, if Darlin’ Boy holds him. And, as I live and breath, Darlin’ Boy fawns over this cat and still tries to tell me he’s not a cat person! Yeah, right! He has just never been chosen by a cat before. It’s a heady experience, to be sure!

Never have I been the “chosen” person for a dog. We had all kinds of dogs when I was growing up. I never felt particularly attached to any of them and, while they were always friendly and playful, they were not particularly attached to me either.

Things changed abruptly when Doggie appeared on the scene. As I mentioned, he was my parents dog for many years. From the very first time we were introduced, I felt an attachment. At our first meeting, he stood up on his hind legs, put his front paws on my shoulders, cupped them around my neck and pulled me to him for a hug. A doggie hug——–a first for me!

Over the years, I always felt a special attachment for Doggie and loved to visit him when I went to visit the folks. Now, it’s just a whole different ballgame. Despite the attachment to my Dad, his affection for Beau (they were puppies together) and his appreciation for Darlin’ Boy, I am his person of choice. He is my doggie and I know that he picked me, not the other way around.

So, imagine my surprise at 40+ to finally have my first doggie! It’s an amazing thing–and as the song says, they call it Puppy Love!

Doggie is as happy as a pig in mud these days. He has decided that his puppy palace is quite suitable and I have reclaimed the garage for my little car. Doggie resides in his house during inclement weather and in the mulch of the flower beds when it’s hot. So far, he’s managed not to trample the flowers, either!

He latest joy………..riding in Darlin’ Boy’s truck going to the drive through window of any fast food establishment. It’s a big truck with an extended cab and Doggie gets the whole back section to himself (he fairly well fills the entire space when standing). Doggie LOVES to go for a ride. He gets to ride to school in the morning with Beau and to pick him up from football practice in the evenings. He rides to the cleaners and barber with Darlin’ Boy and to Lowe’s with me.

But when we pull up to that speaker box of any fast food drive-through, he understands it means something different and tasty is about to be served. His current favorite are the kid’s meal chicken nuggets from Chick-fil-a. He loves the waffle fries too. If Chick-fil-a ever wanted a puppy endorsement, Doggie would be happy to oblige. He hasn’t quite solved the puzzle prize that came with the nuggets, but he’s working on it……..as soon as he finishes, we’re calling Ripley’s!

I should have known it was only a matter of time. Doggie has now found his way into the house—not the puppy palace, mind you—-our house! I arrived home from an evening meeting and found Darlin’ boy ensconsed in the family room and Doggie wondering around……. apparently on a sniff-a-thon!

I realize the smell center on a dog is significantly greater than the one on me………but you’d think that we had t-bone steaks hidden behind every potted plant and under every sofa cushion the way he was goin’ at it. Maybe I’m just displaying my ignorance as a new puppy owner, but I’m quite convinced now that every conceivable area of the first floor of our house has been thoroughly sniffed-out by Doggie. Once satisfied the t-bones were not hiding anywhere he could readily access them, he settled down onto one of my nice rugs and tried not to shed excessively.

Actually, I doubt he gave the first thought to whether or not he was shedding, but I was grateful the rug didn’t look like it needed to be shaved or mowed once he retired outside for the night!

The puppy was pleased as punch over this new treat—–coming inside the house. I am drawing the line here, however! My car has already been displaced, the cat is terrified to step foot on the patio and I simply refuse to relinquish any of my interior square footage to Doggie. He might be able to come in periodically for a visit but that’s all!

One swish of his tail can take out every item on the coffee tables and he can lay his head on the kitchen table without straining the least little bit. It’s a hazard………. no matter how you look at it.

Don’t think for a minute that I have lost my first case of puppy love, no sir-reee, but you have to be realistic when you have a dog the size of a small pony.

I didn’t design and/or decorate my home interior with this type pet in mind. Like I said, I’ve always had cats…………just cats. While I’m willing to make certain accommodation for short visits, he got his own house…………….I’m not giving him extended rights to mine!

As you may have heard, we inherited a big, sweet doggie when my parents recently moved. Darlin’ boy just couldn’t stand the thought of doggie being exposed unnecessarily to the elements. Soooo, he ordered up the biggest puppy palace he could find on the internet and had it shipped to our door. It arrived within a few days.

That was a few weeks ago. When it arrived, Darlin’ boy wrestled it out onto the patio with every intention of putting it together straight-away. Unfortunately, as a result of this and that, it sat, in it’s box, until this past Saturday. Saturday evening he suddenly felt motivated to “construct” doggie’s de-lux accommodations! I did the natural thing………….got a beer, it was really hot,………….. got a seat, in a lounger for optimum comfort,………… and proceeded to watch in fascination!

Since the box had been thoroughly drenched by numerous, heavy thunderstorms during it’s rest period on the patio, it was rather mushy and sort of fell apart once pressure was applied to any particular area. Once the mushy paper had been peeled away, the parts and pieces were identified set aside until needed. It was quickly determined that Darlin’ boy would need one piece of equipment to continue this production……a phillips head screwdriver.

I offered to get one………….nothin’ doin’! He was compelled to disappear into the garage only to return with his ENTIRE power tool case. After getting his power drill with the appropriate phillips head screwdriver attachment, he was ready to tackle the job.

The construction of the palace was fairly quick and painless and I even got up off the lounger to get Darlin’ boy his own beer as well as hold this or that when needed. (I do try to be helpful when I can!) The entire process only took about 30 minutes. By then doggie was quite interested in the activities and avidly watching to see the results. Darlin’ boy finished up, put away his precious power tools, invited doggie to inspect his new digs and sat down to enjoy his beer.

Doggie looked a moment, sniffed a few times and promptly sprawled himself back down on the patio. It was quite apparent he had no interest in getting into the palace. After he rested a spell, Darlin’ boy got up and attempted to coax doggie into the palace. Doggie was completely uninterested!

Not one to give up easily, Darlin’ boy requested I get doggie one of his cookies (a milkbone) as a lure. I complied and he tried cajoling doggie into the palace with the cookie. That failed as well. Refusing to be outdone by the dog, Darlin’ boy proceeds to get down on his all fours and crawl into the palace himself. (A sight to behold that I’m at a loss to describe further!)

Once curled up inside himself, Darlin’ boy begins to talk to the doggie. I suppose he was asking him to “come on in and sit a spell” in some sort of fashion but his pleas fell on deaf doggie ears. Finally, accepting defeat, Darlin’ boy climbed out and admonished doggie about not appreciating his new dwelling. Doggie was quite indifferent to this as well and, again, sprawled himself out on the patio.

To this present moment, I believe that doggie has yet to enter his new palace even though we put a lovely flower box on the front and left the cookie inside. If Darlin’ boy’s feelings are hurt by doggie’s lack of appreciation, he is holding up well. And while the palace does make a charming addition to our picturesqe patio, I’m still parking in the drive and doggie’s still enjoying use of the garage.

That’s fine for now as I know it takes all animals, humans included, time to adjust to new surroundings. But, mark my words, doggie’s garage days are numbered………….

Finding out someplace you used to regularly frequent is “going to the dogs” in the South means it’s getting a might run down. I can remember many Sunday afternoons when we’d have to “go for a drive” ’cause there was nothing else to do. If it was summer time, the drive would inevitably end up on the Blue Ridge Parkway, merely because it was guaranteed to be at least 10 degrees cooler than home.

There we’d be riding along, us kids with our heads practically hanging out the window trying to catch a little more cool air, and the folks would see some site by the side of the road and comment that it sure had “gone to the dogs” since the last time we had riden by.

Anything concerning dogs is high priority at our house right now. If you read my earlier entry “Getting in the Dog House: Reservations Required”, you know that we are currently housing my parents doggie. (He’s the size of a small pony, but very sweet and lovable. Just don’t get near him when he’s got a bone in his mouth, you could lose a hand! )

So, shortly after doggie was ensconsed in our backyard, Darlin’ boy, decided that he just had to have appropriate accommodations and went straight to his computer and ordered up a puppy palace. It arrived and was wrestled onto the patio. And on the patio it remains, still in it’s box. (I still believe it should have come with it’s own construction crew, but that’s another story.)

Between our busy work schedules and various other obligations, Darlin’ boy and I haven’t gotten around to getting doggie’s house constructed. Around here, at this particular time, if it’s said to have “gone to the dog” it doesn’t mean it’s run down, it means doggie now rules over it.

With the 98 degree temperatures and 105 degree heat indices during the last few weeks, and the new puppy palace still in it’s box, other drastic measures were taken. Doggie is now able to lounge in relative comfort in our garage………………in a spot previously occupied by a car…….. MINE!

Not only does doggie now reside where my lovely little car used to but he has accessories too! A window unit fan has been installed to “draw out” the hot air around the rafters and a box fan has been placed on the floor where he favors lying during the hot part of the day. I wasn’t surprised at the installation of the window fan as Darlin’ boy is quite partial to them. I didn’t expect, however, to come in from the garage, casually mentioning that it was a little warm, only to have him rush off to the nearest Wal-Mart and purchase doggie is own personal box fan.

I can relate to Jeff Foxworthy’s tale of his wife saying she was hot while they were reading in bed one evening and him feeling the immediate need to get up and turn on the ceiling fan*. I would expect no less from Darlin’ boy if I said I was hot. I didn’t expect such an immediate response because I mentioned that doggie looked hot.

Oh, well, Darlin’ boy is a sweetheart and I just have to give him extra points for the fact he was listening, a rare quality to find in a man! I can think of a number of men whose wives or girlfriends could come in and say the garage itself was on fire and even if they heard it, wouldn’t move themselves from their spot on the sofa, unless of course, that’s where the cold beer was stored.

So the garage has “gone to the dog”. Hopefully, sometime before the first blizzard, we’ll get the puppy palace up for doggie. Otherwise, he’ll be standing in the yard with snowflakes falling on his doggone head. Having no housing for my car during warm weather is one thing, but I absolutely refuse to scrap icy windows, so be warned, doggie’s eviction notice is going out with the first frost!

*Dear readers, if you haven’t laughed yourself silly in the last few days, you’re overdue! My recommendation is that on your way home today, stop off at your nearest video rental establishment and get yourself a copy of The Blue Collar Comedy Tour and/or The Blue Collar Comedy Tour Rides Again, Jeff Foxworthy and the gang are a hoot and as you know, laughter is the best medicine, so get yourself a healthy dose regularly!

As a kid, I always heard jokes being made about “so and so” getting in the dog house with his wife because of some “unfortunate” behavior or event. I even remember people having these little wooden placks that had an empty dog house with a hook and the names of the people that lived in the house on hooks. So those that got in trouble with the lady of the house could actually be put in the dog house.

I guess it also served as an “early warning” system. If you came home and your name was in the dog house, then it was a safe bet something was up and Mom was mad.

Today, I don’t think the threat of “getting put in the dog house” carries as much weight as it used to. Doggies are members of the family and if, by some misfortune, they should find themselves outside of their families’ home, they are provided “deluxe” alternate accommodations.

Sometime back, my S.O., Darlin’ Boy, being the sweetheart that he is, just insisted that the cat, Kitty, have a little hard vinyl box sitting on the patio to “get out of the weather” if he was outside and we weren’t home. He purely dotes on that cat, although he swears he is a “dog” person, not a “cat” person. Yeah, right! While other kitties get by on Little Friskies, our fur-ball dines on roasted oysters, tuna, salmon and, if I’m not around to smell them, sardines.

Recently, when my parents relocated, we got to adopt their dog of several years. (Whether this is a permanent adoption or temporary foster care remains to be seen.) He’s a really sweet dog and he’s a really big dog! (A small child can go for a ride on his back.)

Needless to say, once acquired, Darlin’ Boy’s first concern was proper housing for the dog. Off to PetSmart he goes, anxious to ensure that doggie doesn’t suffer any trauma from being outside. (The dog has lived outside his whole life, but whatever!) He returns shortly, somewhat dejected. They have no houses big enough for our pooch.

Now, I didn’t think anymore about it ’cause I happen know that the folks already have a house for doggie and were planning to transport it to doggie’s location soon, certainly before snow starts falling on doggie’s head. Well, unbeknown to me, Darlin’ Boy has worried himself so that he’s done the only rational thing he can think of, he’s pursued his search for housing online.

Imagine my surprise when I get an email picture of a small “log” cabin that is expected to arrive by the end of the week. Email reads, “Doggie’s new vacation home.” I’ve seen vacation homes that weren’t as big.

When I questioned the necessity of these “lux” accommodations, I was told that a nicer one could have been purchased for several hundred more dollars, but since it was just a vacation home, Darlin’ Boy thought this one would do just fine. (I didn’t dare ask how many hundred dollars had already been invested into this one. If I knew, I would probably faint dead away and we haven’t kept smelling salts in the house regularly since Aunt Pearl died, don’t you know!)

As luck would have it, I just happened to be home when the new house arrived. It came in a box. For the price of that log cabin dog house, it should have come with it’s own construction crew! I had the good sense to leave home before the assembly process began! Hopefully, when I do eventually return, doggie will be comfortably ensconced in his small palace.

Darlin’ Boy, on the other hand, will just have to make do with his current digs, unless, of course, the dog is accepting reservations.