Showing posts with label adoption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adoption. Show all posts

Friday, January 29, 2010

Must Write Faster, One More Mouth to Feed

I know, I never call and I never write.

Actually, I write a lot, but I haven't had time lately to post. I've been working on House of Goats. A couple of times today I had a crisis moment, thinking this couldn't possibly interest anyone outside of our family, but then I'd start giggling about what happens next ....

Several hours later I then have another long moment of doubt ....

We also have a new kitten. It's not my fault! Okay, it's totally my fault. A friend of my son's called. Their cats weren't getting along with the new kitten, and they absolutely couldn't keep it, and they couldn't find a new home for it (cue violin music) and it's a little siamese sort of thing except it's sort of calico, and it's about six weeks old (yowza, too young!) and and and

and I said (totally lying to myself) that we could take her in, at least for a while, and if nothing else we'd find a new home for her.

Well.

She was older than six weeks, thank goodness, but she was pretty tiny compared to our cats. And she was decidedly not cute. My DH wasn't impressed either. Quote: That is the ugliest cat I've ever seen.

I don't know about the ugliest. True, it looks like her head was put away wet in a dark place until mold took hold. But oh, what lovely blue eyes. More to the point, she was quite ill. We're talking blood in the eliminants, both sorts, obvious signs of worms and fleas, lackluster appetite, overly sleepy, etc. We isolated her from the rest of the cats and I had my son call his friend back. Where did this cat come from? A friend of her mom's. Can we get this friend's phone number? Her mom doesn't have a phone number or any contact information. (Wow, must be a really good friend. ?!) Has the cat had any shots, and has it been tested for FIV or feline leukemia? No idea. I'm not sure she even knew those were issues.

So I made an appointment for the morning and wondered if the poor thing would make it through the night. She did, and she did exactly what I wanted her to. She fought like a crazy demon thing. They couldn't get a temperature on her, and it took three people holding her down to draw blood for the test.
She had strength and a will to live.
The stress from the tests and exam and worming and de-fleaing and change of environment took its toll, though. About an hour after we got her home, she got really wobbly and her gums turned pale. I fed her a mixture of 1/4 tsp of karo syrup with a few drops of heavy whipping cream, by the vet's order after a frantic phone call. She perked up, and after a good meal and a long night's rest cuddled up under the blankets in the master bed (we're such suckers for sad cases) she bounced back higher than she'd fallen. Now all she has to worry about is finding her spot in the kitty pecking order.

I'd better get back to writing. We have another mouth to feed!

New kitten specs:

Name: Veronica
Approximately 3 months old--I've decided she's a Halloween baby.
Weight: 3 pounds
FIV and feline leukemia free!
Likes long slinks through the living room, playing with socks, sitting or sleeping on shoulders while owners are typing (she's totally a writing cat) attacking toes under blankets, and sleeping under blankets--sleeping on top of blankets with no people to snuggle against is for cats who fail at life. She is on premium Iams kitten food, which often gets poached by the other kitties. Does not like the big white puppies, but Dakota is okay.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Oh Dear

Meet Katherine.  When I got home today a black and white kitty went into our garage.  It's been snowing and raining and hailing all day--I thought someone let Huntress out and she was taking shelter in the garage.  I called her name, assuming she'd follow me back to the house.  When she didn't, I figured she'd gone mousing.  Thought nothing of it.

The kids were out playing.  I went inside and got a snack, settled at the computer, read my email.  The kids march in.  "Hey mom!"
"Yeah?"
"This isn't Huntress."
"What?"  I have to get up and see what the heck they're talking about.  By now the black and white kitty thing has completely left my mind and so what they're saying sounds as sensible as "Hey mom, you're not an ostrich."  
I look at the cat in Orion's arms and, hmm, it has a white spot beside its nose.  That's not Huntress, I realize.  It all comes back to me now.  Actually, not all.  I still haven't made the garage connection.   "Where ...?"
"I was walking by the garage--" Orion begins--
Aha!  Now it's all really coming together--
"And," he continues, "I saw this cat and I thought it was Huntress, so I scooped it up and it started purring.  I turned it over onto its back to tickle its belly and that's when I realized it wasn't Huntress."
My mind starts turning, beginning with Oh Dear.  I send the kids on a mission.  Go forth next door and ask our neighbor TTBD if this is one of his cats.  He has three (?) cats, all feral adoptees, the most feral being far more feral than Wiz started out to be--difficult to touch after months of work but will come inside for food.  They return.  All of TTBD's cats are inside.
The inevitable words--
"Can we keep him?"
I look under the tail.  "Her.  This is a she cat, as far as I can tell."  So I give them the usual spiel about how we have to put an ad in the paper, contact the Humane Society, take it to the vet to see if it has a chip (and for a health checkup, of course) but we all know this is useless.  It would take a miracle to get rid of this cat.  I mean, it's in the house.  No one is going to claim a beat up, neglected little thing that was very likely dumped on the side of the road by a Super Poopyhead within the past day or two and washed up in our garage because the weather was so bad.  It has been owned at some point.  Its unstoppable friendliness and complete lack of alarm at being locked in the boy's room is evidence of that.

Please, please help us!  Surely someone knows this cat, and loves it, and will take it away.  It's a tuxedo kitty.  Argh!  As soon as it becomes comfortable it's going to turn into a yowler, I know it.  A 2am yowler no less.  And it's going to be a barfy yowler too.  With health problems.  

Sigh.

Hey kids, want to just take it to the shelter?  I'm sure someone will adopt it.

Noooooooooooooo!

People are such poopyheads.  But maybe I'm jumping to conclusions.  Maybe this is a poor, lost kitty and we'll see her posted on a sign somewhere--Lost, Kitty, Reward, Please Bring Our Beloved Muffin Home to Us, Children Crying Nightly ...

We've named it.  We're so doomed.

Sigh again, I say, and Sigh.

Friday, February 01, 2008

My Dog Lick Dog World

I got a question about what kind of dogs I have from someone thinking about getting dogs.  The images here are clickable if you want to see them full sized.  I kept them small for sanity's sake.

The thing about dogs is that they're the most wonderful animals in the world if you get the right one.  So far all my dogs have been the right one, sort of.  Bear in mind that I base the
 following stuff on my experiences.  There are others with far, far more experience and education than me and I may be dead wrong on some points.  Also dogs are individuals and breeding doesn't define everything about who they are.

We have two Great Pyrenees crosses.  Finn is more lab-like, and Brian is more golden retriever-like.  Since they're brothers, it's likely that mom was a Great Pyr and had an interesting night out around the fields, though the story given to the shelter was that she'd been with a golden retriever.    These dogs are my favorite dogs, but Great Pyrs tend to roam and if they get out they could be gone for hours or even days.  They're bred to be very independent.  They make their own decisions and can decide, if given a command, to not obey if they think it's in the best interest of whomever they've bonded with.  They're livestock guardians and are born to roam with herds of sheep over thousands of acres.  They'll stay with and defend wounded livestock (or you) and are very courageous.  They're gentle and nurturing, but if they're disciplined physically they will learn that physical punishment is okay when warranted and will of course then decide that they can physically punish someone or something else for transgressions.  Great Pyrs are best handled by experienced dog people.  Our cross breeds are not as aloof and independent as a full blood and are somewhat more obedient, especially if there's food involved.  They've run off before, which is terrifying.  But they are probably the most loving, beautiful dogs I've ever owned.  They need lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of space to run.  We have a large run for them and it's not big enough in their minds.  In their minds, about a five mile radius is a good run size.  They also are better outside than inside dogs.  There isn't a house big enough in the world for them and they will play in the house until the house falls down around them.  They also overheat easily.  A full blooded Pyr likes temps around 20 degrees F.  Our part bloods are happiest around 30-40 degrees F and wilt in summer.  Living in a year-round hot climate wouldn't be good for them.

We also have an airedale terrier mix named Beast.  This is another
 hard-headed stubborn dog (why am I attracted to the stubborn ones?)  He's a rough-and-tumble, sturdy guy who will forget that anything in the universe exists if he catches wind of a deer.  Since we're in deer country, when he gets out he'll run for miles.  Once when our dogs escaped, Brian came home, probably thanks to his love of comfort and his more people-loving golden bloodline.  Finn and Beast, on the other hand, were gone for five days.  Finn might have come home sooner, but I suspect that Beast either fell in the ravine or he got so caught up chasing the deer that he couldn't quite remember his way back and Finn of course would never, ever leave a friend stranded.  (I suspect that Brian will abandon a friend if the friend is being stupid, hence Brian being missing only until it started getting dark.)  Finn led the way home when they came back.  He probably knew the way all along but Beast probably didn't figure out that he should follow him until, well, five days had gone by.  If Finn hadn't been with Beast, I'm not sure Beast would have found his way back by himself.  Airedales are born to run and I think they are more beautiful to watch than a greyhound when they're on the chase.  They're extremely intelligent and will learn obedience and tricks quickly--and not just tricks you teach them.  Beast learned to lift the gate latch on his own just by watching us.  They will generally listen to you (unless they smell something good) but they'll think about it and take their time getting around to sitting or coming or whatever it is you ask them.  They need lots of space and are a terror in the house when you first let them in because they want to explore everything all the time.  Once they're settled they're fine, until they decide it's time to explore yet again just on the off chance that a deer or rabbit has found its way inside since the last time.

Nikita is our german shepherd.  She is the most amazing dog in the world.  They're one of the most popular breeds in the world, and for good reason.  In my opinion it is unnecessary and even dangerous to train a german shepherd to be a watch dog, and irresponsible to train them as an attack dog.  Believe me, they will watch and attack without any training whatsoever.  If you're nervous, they're nervous.  They're very responsive to their owners and it's easy to bond with a german shepherd.  They're also naturally territorial and usually will not roam and will fiercely defend the fenceline or threshold.  The challenge is to teach them to trust strangers and to wait for you to decide if a situation is dangerous or not.  They need lots of love, and they need to feel safe.  Once they're there, you will have an excellent companion for life.  These dogs can adapt to most living conditions but if they're in an apartment, especially when they're young, they need lots of exercise.  If they don't get it, they (and you) will pay for it in health problems later.  As they age they'll slow down like our Nikita and will sleep for long hours in a semi-alert state.  Until they go deaf they'll wake at any disturbance and bark until the problem is gone for several minutes or until you tell them it's okay.  For this reason some people have problems with their german shepherd, especially if the dogs are left alone, because they will bark non-stop for hours and hours if there are constant disturbances or simply because they don't know where you are and they're calling to try to get you to come to them.  BTW disturbances include neighbors working in the yard, cars driving by, people talking on the phone next door, etc. so this is not an animal you can leave alone unless you live on large acreage and even then only if you have forgiving neighbors.

Last but not least we have our wonderful Dakota who we fondly refer to as a miniature Irish wolfhound, meaning she's only 83 pounds thanks to the labrador retriever in her blood.
  Although they were bred to run down large game (and destroy wolves) unlike the terriers wolfhounds will not by choice run after other animals to the ends of the earth.  You can successfully call them off the chase without having to override their biological programming.  They're great house animals, despite their size, and become very inactive, even lazy when confined to an apartment.  They should be taken out for long walks to keep them from turning into complete slugs.  If they're left outside they adapt to outside life well, but they are one of the most human-needy animals I've ever owned and want to always be near their people.  If they're not, they easily become depressed and lonely.  Dakota is a very quiet dog.  She seldom barks, and her warning bark is one lone, sharp bark that is seldom followed by a second bark.  She prefers to watch rather than listen for problems, which probably explains why she likes to stay close.  She wants to keep an eye on things.  If she can't see it, usually it means it's not her problem, so she doesn't bark at cars or trucks, nor does she concern herself with other animals.  If she hears people making undue noise or pain sounds she immediately investigates and makes certain there's no hanky panky.  Rory has really been restricted to how much he can tickle or tease me now that we have Dakota.  She tells him when she thinks I've had enough with a long, level stare and we've decided we don't want to make her feel like she has to overcome her loyalty to Rory and intervene more stridently--that would be terribly stressful for her.  

My advice to anyone planning to adopt a dog:
Think long and hard before you get a purebred, especially a rare purebred.  Purebred dogs are often (not always) afflicted by problems that mutts usually don't have.  Depending on the breed they can have problems with hip displasia, skin allergies, food allergies, problems with hearing and eyesight, heart problems, digestive system problems like intestinal torsions, etc.  Some are more prone to attract fleas or are allergic to flea bites.  Some get worms readily.  Some have coats that require a professional groomer.  Dogs with very floppy ears combined with floppy skin are more prone to yeast infections and ear mites, and so on.  Most of all, I firmly believe that every family pet should be spayed or neutered, and if you own a quality rare breed animal you're essentially taking it out of the gene pool and if that gene pool is very small your adoption may endanger the breed further.  If you decide to keep the dog intact, you end up with all the problems and responsibility of a viable animal including heat, roaming, marking, territoriality, etc. and you get the added bonus of, when breeding, having additional vet bills and dealing with strangers and their animals.  If you do get a pure bred animal, become educated before investing in the breed.  Often there are wonderful purebred societies you can contact for information, and animals that were born outside standard requirements that make terrific pets.  Usually the breeder will have them spayed or neutered before selling them, and you'll get more info than you ever wanted about health risks and probably get a recommendation for a good local vet.  Educate yourself about puppy mills and try to avoid them.

When getting a dog, whether it's a mixed or pure bred, I hope folks will consider going to their local shelter or contacting a rescue society before going to folks who are gaining financially from breeding puppies in their house or worse, letting their animals roam and then getting away with their irresponsibility by foisting off their puppies on people who may or may not take very good care of them.  Many of these puppies end up in the shelter after new owners decided that they couldn't handle them anyway, so you'll be adopting the same animal you'd get in a newspaper ad.  It's important to talk to the shelter staff about your living circumstances and to allow them to guide you to an animal that they think would be a good fit for your household.  Shelter employees get to know their animals very well.  They know which ones are quiet, which ones are great with kids, which ones get along with other animals, and which ones might suit your personality.  Then spend at least an hour with your animal, whether it's at the shelter, at a breeder's location or in a private home.  It's very easy to get attached to the 'cute' one or to all of them, but try to be objective.  You may love that the little darling is chewing on your fingers, but remember that a chewy dog may chew long after teething is done.  The playful one that barks at you may be a very barky dog.  The shy one may be quiet and sweet, or it may have health problems.  

In general, look for a dog that is attentive toward you.  If the dog wants to please you, it will be much, much easier to train.  Look for a healthy, active animal that isn't frantic or wild.  Try to avoid fearful animals.  Nikita was a very fearful puppy who hid from us when we first met her.  Although I love her I know she's a biting risk due to her paranoia, so I'm very careful with her around strangers. 
 Although I adore puppies (like everyone else) consider adopting an older puppy or young dog.  The advantages are huge.  Often you don't have to house train the dog.  You'll have a better idea of the dog's disposition.  You'll have a much better idea of the dog's adult size.  Brian and Finn were both just under seven pounds when we adopted them.  (They were extremely malnourished and sickly.)  They're now just under 90 pounds, and no, they didn't have big paws until they were older (they're only a year old so they'll probably put on more weight and chest.)  Best of all, older dogs are past the teething stage so you can tell quickly if you're going to end up with a chewer that will slowly eat your couch down to a toothpick while you sleep.  Our latest adoptee, Dakota, we took in when she was 11 years old and it feels like she's always been here.  I don't miss raising her from a puppy at all.  

Also, when adopting a dog, if you know the house is going to be empty ten hours a day five days a week, consider getting two.  Dogs are pack animals, and a single dog at home alone is a stressed dog.  Not only will the dog be lonely, but there's a higher chance that it will develop behavioral problems due to stress.  Two aren't necessarily double the trouble, and two dogs definitely give more than twice the love.

I was going to try to keep this post short-ish, but here we are pages and pages later.  I hope folks found this information helpful.  For more information, take a snoop around the web.  There are even places that help you profile your lifestyle to help you choose a breed that's right for you.  Happy hounding!

Dogs in order of appearance:  Finn (facing the camera) and Brian age 1 year, Beast age 5 years, Nikita age 15 years, Dakota age 11 years, Sadie Sue (Kristi's gorgeous purebred miniature aussie shepherd) age 3 (?) Frey age 8 (and proof that having a mixed breed doesn't spare you from health issues--he was a very healthy puppy that developed food and skin allergies, early arthritis and died young) and Finn and Brian age 9 weeks.  Another aside--when you look at Finn and Brian's puppy pics they look healthy, right?  You have to touch the puppy you buy.  They weighed about half of what they should have at that size, less than our smallest cat, and felt like loose skin over dry bone.  Don't adopt a weak and underweight puppy unless you plan to give it full time care, access to puppy formula and/or high nutritional value puppy food, close vet supervision, and are willing to put up with lots of accidents, diarrhea, and sleepless nights worrying about your precious babies.  Thanks for reading!

Monday, January 14, 2008

Dreams of Death

I had a rough day yesterday, rough but fun.  Actually, just a rough morning.  I enjoyed lunch at McMenamins, great times with Rory, and accomplished some writing stuff in the evening.

It was the dream.  In classic Kami dreams about a lost pet mode, Mojo was darker than he was in life.  He was still white, but he had darker points--still patterned like a tabby, but brown and black striping like Wiz instead of ginger and buff.  I was so happy.  I knew in the dream that he'd died, but somehow he'd come back and I didn't care how.  I picked him up and held him close--and that's when the dream fell apart.  He was weightless in my arms and the illusion couldn't hold up to reality.  I woke so empty, not even being able to dream about him without my conscious mind stepping in and saying nope, it's not real, tough luck subconscious you can't enjoy this.  

This morning I dreamt that a friend of mine from high school got sick and died.  I got to tell him how bright, how strong and wonderful a human being he is, how the world needs people like him.  He seemed to be doing better, but then he died and I suffered through his funeral.  Once again I get to go through the morning with an ache in my chest and a lump in my throat.  

I'm sure he's fine.  It's just my brain thrashing around coping with something or other.  I might blame an external spiritual influence if this keeps up for no reason, but for the moment I think it's just my mind responding to lots of loss and change and potential.  Although growth and change can be very positive, even essential to survival, some very primitive parts of our minds want things to stay the same.  Any change, good or bad, causes stress responses.

In a tarot deck, the Death card represents change, whether it's good or bad.  Things are changing.  I'm not completely aware of what it is that's changing so much in the past few days that my dreams are affected, but I know it's been a big year.  Andy's death, two cancer announcements, my grandmother went blind in one eye, some relationship stuff, Mojo's death and Claire and Misty disappearing, the new pace in my attempts to publish, going to Radcon as a guest panelist with no actual publishing credentials, putting together the websites, never ending car trouble, financial pressure, losing the puppies and Beast and then having them all come home again, big vacations, a very busy OryCon including a bid to chair next year, Rory's book being accepted for publication--all lumped together in a twelve month period.  I'm sure I'm missing things too.

I started to write about how I feel like a delicate flower but on sober consideration, it really has been a big year.  I guess having a couple of death dreams in a row isn't out of line.  Writing about it helps.  The dreams help too, I'm sure, but it's not the easy sort of help.  More like physical therapy.  I can have a cheering section, but the heavy lifting I have to do by myself.  That's life, and love, in the big world.

Monday, October 22, 2007

Dakota

So this weekend, because we really don't have enough on our plates, we went to see a woman about a dog.

This all started with an email. Actually, it started with Andrea thinking about adopting a small dog to have as a house pet. So when we got the email, we were primed to be soft-touches.

Dakota is an eleven year old lab/irish wolfhound mix, emphasis on the lab. Her original owner, who trained her very, very well by the way, ended up in a housing situation (namely having no housing to call his own) where he couldn't both crash on the couches of generous friends and keep his two dogs. So Dakota ended up in a no-kill shelter. Along comes a family that takes Dakota home. This sounds like a happy ending, and it was happy for everyone, but then the youngest daughter's eczema started really acting up. They did some tests and ack! she is badly allergic to the dog. Not the snuffling, sneezing kind but the horrible rash kind. And medicating her heavily until she moves out of the house didn't sound like a good option. They'd already torn out all the carpet in the house trying to bring her eczema under control Dakota couldn't stay.

So they searched and searched, and their email was spread far and wide looking for anyone who could take Dakota in. She was posted online with various humane society groups. No nibbles. Two separate sets of friends offered to take her in, but they weren't dog people and probably wouldn't be able to handle dogness in the house. And Dakota is most definitely an inside companion dog, exactly what Andrea was looking for. So when a friend of a friend of this family emailed us, we gave it serious thought. And went to visit. Of course it was all over at that point. Dog in need, dog who is very quiet, obedient, smaller than we expected considering the bloodlines, dog who laid her head in Andrea's lap and gave her the worried help-me look, oh yeah, we were sunk.

That was Saturday, and Sunday they drove Dakota to our place. The sea of unconditional love went ballistic, of course, not in a bad way just waaaay to excited for a lone, older dog who is very shy and retiring. So we took her in the back way, putting off the introductions for now, set up her bed, her food, her water. Andrea took her for a walk around the back and let her sniff the other dogs through the fence. And in the evening, though poor Dakota was in distress and constantly looking for her people, things settled down and Dakota hung out with us while we watched tv. And at night, she got to sleep on Andrea's bed.

Today I think she's trying to figure out where everything is and what's off limits. I'm pretty sure this is the quietest house she's ever been to, one without small children and rush hour traffic and the ambient noise of city that isn't very loud but constant, like white noise on a tv. She's going to be sad, but the family has a relative out here in Washougal and they promised to visit her. They're also happy to dog sit should we go on vacation.

Dakota is another symptom of our madness, I'm sure. We really didn't need another dog. But here she is, and I'm very glad she is. Welcome home, Dakota.