Little Pink Socks

I am not a big fan of comic strips.  I don't typically pull the comics out of the paper to read them.  I do, however, have a favorite comic.  I am absolutely head over heels in love with Mutts, the comic strip created by Patrick McDonnell.  Not only is it funny, adorable, heart-warming, and pro-adoption of shelter animals, but McDonnell supports various organizations such as the Humane Society of the United States.

Anyhow, the point of my mentioning Mutts is one of the main characters, Mooch, and his love affair with is little pink sock.  This cat is never happier than when he has that little piece of clothing in his paws.  You'd really have to see one of the "little pink sock" strips to understand, but imagine your pet with his or her favorite toy, just in an unbelievable state of bliss.

Now I have to take you back a few years to when our dog Becki was still alive.  In her last few years she had a few surgeries to remove benign tumors that were just not in good places, if a tumor can ever be in a good place.  In order to keep her from scratching at her stitches we bought her a couple of pairs of infant socks, one of which was pink.  Little pink socks.

Fast forward back to 2011, it has been about four and half years since Becki passed away and we have had the little dachshund beasties, Bill and Bailey.  In all those years we never put Becki's little pink socks away.  They somehow found themselves in a basket full of blankets in our loft, just waiting for somebody to come along.  Last month Bailey came along.  She picked up the roll of socks and started carrying it around with her.  It just perfectly fits in her petite little mouth for her to toddle off with to her next napping ground where she curls up with it next to her as if protecting it from loneliness.

My parents and I were in awe, jaws literally dropping at the site of it.  Bailey was toting around Becki's socks.  After the first time we saw it, I didn't think much of it.  I got that warm, tingly feeling down my spine that signals something special was happening each time Bailey had her roll of pink sock, but I figured I was just being a sentimental sop as usual.

It was only a few days ago I found myself delving for a deeper significance as to the meaning of Bailey and the little pink socks (which always reminded me of Mooch, there was a connection there!)  That's very typical of me, having to make something bigger of what is probably just a random occurrence.  But there I was, taking a shower one weekend morning, and suddenly I was bawling.  I was bawling in the way that one cries but tries her hardest not to make any noise because it's so silly to be crying and nobody should know about the tears behind the bathroom door because she'll have a hard time explaining herself.  It's not uncommon for some tears to fall when I think about Becki for too long.  It can happen with thoughts of any of our late pets, but mostly her.  And there I was, dripping wet and thinking, maybe this is Becki's way of saying that everything is alright.  These little guys (Bill and Bailey) are okay and she approves.  We're doing alright here and she doesn't mind after all.

The amazing part?  I typed this whole thing dry-eyed.  Whether it makes sense or not is another story.

Bird Brains

I just finished another animal-centric book.  And by "just," I'm talking this morning and it's 11:20am.  It didn't take me long to get through this book at all and not because it is simplistic or mediocre, but because I absolutely love it.

The book is Birdology by Sy Montgomery.  I had to buy the book because 1. I read Montgomery's book The Good Good Pig and fell in love and 2. it's a book about a woman's relationships and encounter's with birds of all kinds.  I knew this was a very dangerous move on my part considering the effects of animal-centric memoirs on my brain and desires, but I only have so much self-control.

Sy Montgomery is a great writer when it comes to connecting humans and animals.  If I had to emulate a writer, I would emulate her (which is one thing I tried to convey in my craft paper for my master's degree, but apparently I'm not very good with craft papers.)  I left this book craving interaction with birds, as I had expected.  To my relief (and probably to the relief of my parents and peers) I do not wish for any more birds on my future farm/very-large-yarded-house as a result of this read.  It affirmed my desire for hens and strengthened my admiration for birds of all types, but I am glad to announce that I am intelligent enough to know that a cassowary is not meant for farm life, especially in North America.

What really shocked me is that as fascinated as I am by parrots, and as much as I want to spend more time with a parrot (I say as if I have spent much time with parrots already), I don't actually want a parrot of my own.  This baffles me.  I baffle myself.  I am not upset, I just don't understand considering what all previous books have done to me.  I do want to read more about the famous parrot, Alex, and his scientist-human Irene (if you have read the book Alex and Me please tell me what you thought!)

But what did I really learn from this book?  I am one of those people who tends to humanize animals.  I believe animals deserve all the rights we give our fellow humans.  I believe other animals have feelings and intelligence.  Sy Montgomery made me realize that birds may actually have some of these characteristics, but in a way so very different from ourselves because birds are biologically and fundamentally as far from humans as possible.  To quote her and people she quoted almost directly, they are "living dinosaurs."  They are built differently and function differently but are capable of so many of the same things, in fact we probably underestimate many of their abilities.  This idea sends little sparkles of giddiness all through my being.

I've grown up in a mammal-loving family and always wanted mammalish pets, but I suddenly have this immense desire to root for the feathered.  GO BIRD!

I'm Certified!

What could I possibly be certified as when I'm already a certified nutcase?  Ok, so there is no official badge or piece of paper, but enough people hold opinions that I figured it was certifiable enough.

But seriously speaking, I took a Pet First Aid and CPR class yesterday and will receive my certificate in the mail within a couple of weeks.  I have been wanting to do something like this for awhile now, you know, have something on paper to say that I have a mass of knowledge about furkids in my brain-piece so that everyone does not just have to take me on faith.  Because of course this certificate will prove that my knowledge of rat mucus is, in all honesty, true.  Ha!

Lucky for me, Bill was not too upset to find out that rescue breathing and CPR from human to dog is not mouth-to-mouth but mouth-to-nose. It seems as if he's always trying to get his tongue in, or very close to our mouths.  Ewww. (We love him, just not his mouth yuckies in ours.)

This class was also the first step towards becoming a certified NDART volunteer.  That would be National Disaster Animal Response Team.  I have many more steps to go, but I'm itching with excitement!  Or it could be that I over-washed my hair this morning and my scalp is paying for it now.

The night before I stopped by the shelter to explain to one of two people who have some sort of authority and I know fairly well that I have a full-time job in the city and that is why I am never around there any more.  I have no time.  And that I would soon be certified because that's just awesome.  I was surprised I even had time to stop.  It was supposed to be a quick 5-minute visit to see if there is any off-site volunteering I can do and to drop off the bison-and-potato food that Bill and Bailey had rejected several weeks earlier.  There are no short trips to the shelter.  My chat stretched out into a long conversation and I socialized with my fur-buddies for a little while (without actually doing any volunteering).  I even managed to get nicely scratched up on the chest while holding one of the little rascals because I wasn't wearing a proper shirt and he wanted to go see another volunteer (apparently really badly).  For the next few days I get to choose my wardrobe carefully.  But, on a good note I will have plenty of off site volunteering to do!  I've felt very guilting lately now that my job has taken me away from walking dogs and feeding them, cleaning them up, and so forth.  I can't abandon them completely!

Now I just need somebody to buy me a nice sized house with a yard so I can adopt a couple of them...

Pet Food Buy Out

I recently got a full time job.  This means I don't get to sit around spoiling the dogs all day.

I think Bill is taking this the hardest.  We've caught him peeing indoors a couple of times which is very out of character for him.  Unless he has some sort of bladder infection, we think he's just angry that I'm not home all day for him anymore.  Bailey is just bummed.  When I get home at the end of the day they go bonkers and plaster me to the couch so I can't get up and can only pay attention to them, Lord and Lady Weenie.

When I was unemployed I was able to do all the dog food runs and keep up the dog chores very efficiently.  This past week while filling the food bowl I realized the food bin was pretty much on empty.  I had to make an emergency run to the pet store.

We usually buy their food from a small privately owned store down the street, but I had to run to the chain-store next door which does not carry Evo, which we have been feeding Bill and Bailey.  They love the read meat small bites and it's grain free and chicken free for Bill's allergies.  I bought a couple of flavors of Natural Balance which is another very good brand in the hopes that they'd like one of them.

After awhile they decided they'd eat the duck and potato if we really-seriously-weren't-going-to-give-them-the-good-stuff, but bison and sweet potato has been sorely neglected.  That bag will just have to be donated to the shelter.  I should mention that these dogs are extremely picky eaters.  It took awhile to find Evo and Thank The Lord.

So my dad went to the privately owned pet store yesterday to pick up a bag of Evo to mix with the Natural Balance.  This is a great store because it's locally owned and operated and everything in the store is grain-free.  But my dad couldn't find the Evo!  It turns out Innova who makes Evo has been bought out by Proctor and Gamble.  Proctor and Gamble bought out Iams years ago and completely destroyed the brand.  I don't condone feeding your animals Iams because they have done terrible things in the past which is very unnecessary.  I won't go into detail.  Anyhow, the store offered to order special, but won't carry Innova on its shelves anymore.  Well, we won't buy it anymore, either.  They gave us a bunch of food samples (they are fabulous about that, huge samples, too) to try out on the beasties.  It looks like we're back to square one!

Melted Heart: Why I Love Volunteering

After a too-long vacation from volunteering at the shelter, I wandered in the other day to find almost all new dogs.  Every time I am away for a long stretch and then go back in, I wonder why I waited so long to go back.

It was far too hot to take any of the dogs on a normal-length walk, so I spent most of my time indoors looking at all the new faces and rubbing chins.  One face wasn't new, but I hadn't gotten to know him when he was new a few weeks ago.

The little Norwich terrier had been very scared of everybody when he first came in and apparently he hasn't change too much.  I got a leash to take him outside and several volunteers warned me, "He nips, be careful," and "You're better off just putting him in the yard."  But with such a sweet wiry face, I had to give him a chance.  I'm all about the chances.

So I let him sniff me.  He saw the boo-boo on my thumb and started to lick my bandage.  He either knew I had a cut, or liked the taste of antibiotic cream.

Then he nudged me to pet him on the head and behind the ears.

Each time I tried to get the leash on his harness, he shied away.  I wasn't going to push it, that'd just make things worse for him.  So I knelt there in his cage and we became buddies.  This so called little nipper ended up semi-snuggling with me and giving me kisses all over.  I managed to get the leash on and only after the fact did he notice and put his mouth around my hand, barely pressing down.

I wasn't able to coax him out of his cage enough to get him outside, but the other volunteers were impressed that I got the leash on him.  I took the leash off (no nips at all) and stayed with him a few more minutes.  I felt guilty about leaving him and he looked so eager every time I passed his cage.

Later I looked him up on the shelter website and in his story it does mention that with patience he'll cuddle and love you, so I know I'm not the only one who has given him a go and that reassures me.

If I could, I'd snatch him up in an instant.  I've said that about plenty of dogs, though.  I hope he finds a good home, soon.

It's little victories like this that make volunteering at an animal shelter so wonderful.  With time, that little guy is going to be a great companion for somebody.  It's all about understanding and patience.

Then again, it's bittersweet because I can't have him for my own!

Turt Turt

If you ever asked me what sound a turtle makes, I'd probably say "turt turt" just for kicks.  It's not that I think it's that funny, but whenever I think of turtles, I think "turt, turt, turt" with long pauses between each turt.

I've never been especially attracted to turtles, either.  Or any reptilian creature for that matter.  They are reptiles, no?  I know somebody will see this and laugh at my incapacity for placing species in the correct categories.  I'm much better with the furry and feathered.

Turtles look old.  Even when they are quite young, they look very old and even wise.  It's got to be the leathery, wrinkly skin.  Such a stereotype.  There are plenty of leathery, wrinkly dimwits out there.

My dad found a dead turtle while driving the other day.  He the turtle, probably fifteen years old by his estimation, smashed on a street where a turtle probably wouldn't have been on a normal day.  It was the day after one of the tornado-like storms in the Chicago suburbs (our town escaped the actual tornados and only got massive, destructive winds).  Our theory is that the turtle got into the street and a driver, unable to see properly in the storm, smashed the poor dude.

Then my dad found another turtle.  On one of his walks while behind a shopping center he picked up a foot-long turtle and replaced him closer to the grass and out of harms way (hopefully).  The story makes my mom cringe, but I'd like to think I would have done the same.  Turtles aren't rare around here, they just usually aren't so out in the open.  They're down in the marshy areas and ponds, mostly man made near office buildings and housing subdivisions.

So with turtles on the mind, I came across this article about the oil spill and it's effect on some wildlife.  Specifically, the efforts to save sea turtle eggs that would otherwise be destroyed by the oil.  Sea turtles are more fascinating than your average land turtle (sorry, land turtle).  After all, they can live to over a hundred years old, they remember where they were born, they swim tremendous distances, and Squirt and Crush were friggin' awesome in Finding Nemo.  Amongst other things.

My first reaction was terror.  Thousands upon thousands of baby turtles could hatch and thrust themselves into a horrible, oily death.  BP, do you not deserve the detriment into which you have fallen?

My second reaction was awe.  Human beings are not half bad.  There are people out there attempting to rescue these babies pre-hatch and move them to a safer location.  Knowing that there are people who understand the effects of losing a species and are willing to take action not only makes me feel insignificant but also gives me a smidgen of hope.  A smidgen is more than nothing.

Good luck baby turts.

Oscar is Such a Great Name

I check a set few websites on a daily basis, one of course being Cute Overload.  It just would not be a complete day without a proper dose of cute and cuddly.

Sometimes there is a video or article posted that just begs to be passed on (and this goes above and beyond the duckling butts and tap-dancing geese).  For instance, Oscar the Cat.

The first time I watched this video, I did so without sound.  My laptop is normally on silent for various reasons, but I can usually get the gist of videos anyhow.  Watching Oscar get his new feet gave me that feeling deep in my stomach, the one that comes when somebody gets married or your own pet makes it through surgery alright (and yes, I put those two on the same level).

I just watched the video for the second time, this time with sound.  I felt a strong sense of joy and had a smile across my face.  I think I even said an audible "Awwww," but I didn't get the same intense feeling.  I didn't expect it.  It would be like watching the same movie over and over again and expecting to be surprised by the ending each and every time.  But there was a sprinkle of a different happiness that hadn't been there before because this time I heard the veterinarian's voice along with seeing his body language.

It makes me feel warm inside to know we have such proponents of animals out there.  Wouldn't most people just have put the cat down for losing two paws?  This guy gave it new paws!  Even if they do look like the stoppers at the bottom of chairs, they're paws!  (or pawz?)

So go ahead and give the video a peek (and a listen!).  Don't feel ashamed to shed a tear, either.