daily dose of dogs (aka cats with your coffee)

Slumber

For today, I’d like to post a picture story of what I, personally, would like to be doing.  I would like to be sleeping.  I believe I have reached that critical saturation point of  “enough-Winter”.  My animals are much better at this than I am.  They seem to know that sometimes you’ve just got to rest.  While I’m racing around today doing chores and running my kennel, here is what some of my furry family members will be doing.  Sometimes I really envy these guys.     :-)

DiMarno.

                                                                                    Gideon.

Analeigh and Older Daughter's Blossom.

                                    Shaggy  (barely hanging on to her slumber spot on the stairs).

Younger Daughter's Stormy.

Older Daughter's Trace (one of the ONLY times I've seen him sleeping without adoptive brother Rolly).

Amelia.  If you can't find the right blanket or towel, the plastic on the paper towels makes a nice bed.  That's what I always say.

Twinkle, our most ancient now.  Like Shaggy, having a little trouble holding her spot on the stairs.

This weekend is the last weekend in February.  I like to claim March 1st as the unofficial gateway to Springtime.  Even with Kitten Season looming out there in my very near future, I still look forward to the warmth, sunshine, flowers, and newness of Spring.  I won't be posting tomorrow (Friday) because I'll be spending the next three or four days doing a BIG Spring cleaning at my kennel to get ready for another year of business.  I get a bit of a break from kennel business during January and February, but that's about to end.  Need to get ready for the coming three seasons of work.  Next week, I will finish up the brick stories from the Second Winnie's Wish Walkway Fundraiser.  Just in time to start thinking about the Third Winnie's Wish Walkway Fundraiser.  March is when I celebrate my Second Blogoversary.  I will launch another Brick Fundraiser as part of the celebration.  Of course, there will be one more TWOsday in February, when I will make a another plea for homes for some of the cathouse gang who have been here long enough.  Maybe March will be the month when some of those sweethearts get to go to their forever homes.

                          And here it is - one of the first harbingers of Spring here in the Midwest. 

Have a great weekend.

Max and Sammy

Heidi ordered two bricks to go in the Winnie’s Wish Walkway.  I love this story.  Clearly, Heidi’s boys were meant to be together and very much meant to be with Heidi and her husband.  Here is their story, in Heidi’s words:

My husband and I adopted two brothers from a local shelter in July 2006. I was in my 2nd semester of grad school and doing an internship at a local university. One of my co-workers there was fostering a cat and we would send PetFinder.com pictures back and forth. I fell in love with a picture of two boys - one a short haired "cow" kitty and his brother, a long haired boy. Their names at the shelter were Ralph and Lou but no one knew which was which. One Saturday I dragged my husband to the shelter, just to look. Well, looking led to visiting in the play room, which led to adoption. The shelter was over crowded, so all cats over 6 months were 1/2 off their adoption fee. (I would later joke that the boys were adopt one, get one free) At first Max (the short hair) was the more outgoing one. Sammy hid for a good week when they first came home with us. Soon, the roles reversed and Sammy was the bold, outgoing one and Max was more reserved.

At the time, our Sophie Bean was 7 yrs old and she did NOT take well to the "intruders." I was happy we adopted both boys together so they had each other to play with.

Sammy was mouthy and loud and loved people. He ran to the door if someone knocked or rang the bell. Halloween was great - he got tons of attention from the trick or treaters. He was the smallest cat in the house, but he ruled the roost. He soon decided I was his human and that was that. Max was my husband's boy. They would sit together at night with Max on his chest (not an easy feat as Max was a long and lean 18 lbs!) and then when he went to bed, Max would follow and sleep on his chest.

The boys died within 18 months of each other from an undiagnosed heart condition. Max went first, then Sammy. Saying goodbye to our boys was the hardest thing we've ever done. I miss them every day.

                                                                                         Max.

                                                                                         Sammy.

Heidi ~ THANK YOU.

TWOsome Tuesday

Today, I want to take another shot at getting someone interested in adopting TWO TWOgether.  Last TWOsday, I highlighted Percy and Golden, who, for now, we’ve decided to adopt out only together.   The TWOS I plan to highlight today are not SO bonded that they cannot go as singles.  In fact, I would be really happy if any of the kitties in today’s post were chosen - in pairs, as singles, a threesome. . . .  (smile).  Before I started this post, I remembered having done a “Pick A Pair” post back in the summer.  I went back and found it.  What I wrote then is the same today, except that Spritz has taken a step or two backwards.  (We’re working on that.)   Here are a couple of pairs, two twos, who would make a nice addition to someone’s family. 

From my 8/18/11 post: 

I have highlighted the Gray Girls in previous posts.   Today, I want to suggest that maybe someone out there would be interested in a pair of Grays.  Glitter and Spritz (sisters) would be a good combination.  Glitter is long-haired and very friendly.  Spritz is polydactl and much more shy.  I am thinking that if they went together, Glitter might be the security Spritz would need to make the transition.  I know none of you actually pick cats because they are physically beautiful, but it’s hard not mention that about this particular pair.  Glitter is a beauty with gorgeous fur and white eye liner.  Spritz is a tiger-looking, giant-pawed, many-toed girl with a stunning face.  After the initial fear of being in a new place, we think Glitter will adjust quickly.  Spritz is going to take patience on the part of the human who adopts her.  But we know Spritz’s personality.  She desperately wants love and attention.  As long as nothing spooks her, she comes to us in the cathouse and begs for notice.  She rubs on us and even follows us around.  She’s just more fearful than most and will take longer to adjust to a new home.

Two other gray girls (also sisters) that would make a nice pair are Cashmere and Mitts.  Their description is nearly identical to Glitter and Spritz’s.   Only in this pair, it’s the poly that is the super friendly one.  Mitts is ready right now this minute for a human of her own.  She actually was adopted when she was a kitten and she adjusted perfectly in her new home.  (Subsequently, she became very ill due to a string of events that included her not receiving vaccinations or being spayed.  She returned to us, and it was a  l-o-n-g road back to health.)  She would love, love, love the opportunity to have a family again.  Cashmere is a long-haired beauty who is much more cautious than Mitts.  She, like Spritz, desperately wants our attention when we go into the cathouse.  But she is slower to adjust and becomes spooked more easily.  Again, it’s possible that going to a home along with her sister might be the recipe for a happy ending.

So I wrote that last summer.  Certainly, Glitter and Spritz (if we can make some new progress with Spritz) would be a nice twosome.  Cashmere and Mitts are a nice pair as well.  But how many of you out there like “floofy”?  (“Floofy” was a word I only learned as a result of becoming part of the Cat Blogosphere.)  Anyway, if you’re into “floofy”, you could get a floofy twosome by combining Glitter and Cashmere.  Or Circe and Glitter.  Or just make it a threesome and pick ALL of our floofy girls.  (You would be surrounded by long-haired beauty.)  If it’s polydactl that you love, there’s Mitts and Spritz.  Help me get the word out, please, if you will.  If you can get today’s post on your Facebook page or tweet it (am I saying that right?), you never know when somebody out there will find their next furry family member right here at Winnie’s Wish.  Today’s post highlights the cats who have been here the longest.  Help us get the word out.  We need you.  Thanks.

Now here are some updated pictures of the stars of today’s post.   


Glitter.

                                                                                      Cashmere.


Mitts.

                                             Spritz (old picture, but she's just as beautiful today)


Circe.

                                                   Glitter and Circe (picture from a previous post)

  Glitter and Cashmere.

                                                            Circe, Cashmere, and Glitter.

Spread the word.  These girls have been here long enough!

 

Tomorrow - back to bricks.

One, Two, Three, Four

 

Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday of last week were good days for fosters.  FOUR of our fosters went to forever homes.  They were picked out on the shelter’s Facebook page, so they never had to spend a day in the shelter.  They were fostered by us and taken from here directly to their forever families. 

One.  The chihuahua puppies without a mother were named by a shelter volunteer: Blondie, Tootsie, and Dagwood.  Blondie went first.


Two.  The following day Tootsie went.

Three.  The next day Dagwood went.


And on the fourth day . . .    Chase was chosen.  The sweet little Chase kitten, who’d had such a rough start, was handed over to his new family.  




From foster home straight to forever home.  I’m exceedingly excited to have these sweethearts placed into their forever homes.  I would just LOVE to get a couple of our own cathouse gang into forever homes, too.  Would you be so kind to spread the word (again) about our current group?  Send anybody wonderful that you know to my *Winnie’s Wish post or to our Petfinder site (top of my sidebar).  The cathouse sweeties have been here long enough.  They need their very own homes for our mission to be truly fulfilled.  And even though it doesn’t feel like it outside, we’re rushing headlong into Spring . . . .     and the 2012 Season of Feline Rescues.   

If all goes as planned, we will have one more foster leaving.  This one isn’t going to a home quite yet because first she had to be accepted into a shelter somewhere.  You might remember my rescue friend, Mere Lyn, who recently needed a place for a female black lab named Sadie.  Sadie has been with us for a bit, and she has come out of her shell and put on some weight.  Well, Sadie WAS accepted into a shelter and will leave here on transport today unless something changes.  I wish her a short wait before being chosen into her own forever home.



                                This is Sadie, running in the kennel side yard with us last night.

One last word about fosters.  Last night, Beatrice With Babies was joined in our maternity ward by Paris With Packages.  (We found it so odd that both of these expectant mothers have the same middle name . . .)   We’ll announce new arrivals (Babies and Packages) as soon as they, well, . . .  arrive.

                                                                                          Paris

I want to thank you, AGAIN, for your words of support - this time about our losing Pitter Patter.  She lived a long happy life, felt good until very close to the end, and then moved on to the Bridge without a great deal of suffering.  I guess that’s as good as it gets.  Your comments and emails, once again, were so kind and so supportive. THANK YOU.

Tomorrow is a TWOsday in February.           

Pitter Patter, and the Rain was Appropriate

A week ago yesterday, Bouzzer died.  There is a fog that hangs around when you lose a furry loved one.  I was in that fog over the weekend.  In the midst of that, on Saturday evening, I noticed that Pitter Patter was sneezing.  I set her up in the downstairs bathroom, so I could watch her more closely and so she would be less likely to spread the sneezing thing to the other cats.  She ate well that night.  By Sunday evening, there was no more sneezing, but I thought her nose was running a bit.  She didn’t eat as well, and I thought she swallowed hard a couple of times.  SO - on Monday, I got her in to the vet.  Dr. A asked me if we had any other kitties with colds.  No, we didn’t.  She took Pitter’s temperature; she had a low-grade fever.  Dr. A asked me how old Pitter was.  I told her she was 14 years old.  I noticed Dr. A wasn’t her normal talkative self with me.  Her brow was furrowed as she examined Pitter.  She asked me if she was a good eater.  I told her that Pitter ate very well, and we were happy about that because she had gotten so bony in the last couple of months.  Finally, she sighed and said - Chrystal, I believe we’ve got renal failure here.  I reminded her that Pitter was only 14, and that wasn’t SO old.  After all, cats live to be 16 and 18, right?  She said - Fourteen is an old cat, Chrystal, any way you look at it.  Dr. O was walking through and he agreed.  He said - Well, if your cat makes it to 16 or 18, you’re really lucky.  Dr. A could see the look on my face, and she said - Look, let’s get this URI taken care of, and then we’ll see.  She gave fluids, and sent me home with antibiotic.

On Monday night, Pitter didn’t eat.  She didn’t eat overnight either.  On Tuesday, I spent time sitting in the bathroom floor with her, trying to encourage her to eat.  What some people call “making biscuits” or “kneading”, we call “pitting”.  And Pitter has ALWAYS been a “pitter”.  She pitted and purred each and every time I sat with her.  But she still wasn’t eating, and I was worried about whether or not she was drinking.  On Tuesday night, when Pitter still wasn’t eating, I decided I would call the clinic back on Wednesday to see what I needed to do next.  Older Daughter and I had talked about force-feeding, but we knew Pitter was having trouble breathing through her nose.  Also, Pitter was fighting us at medicine time every 12 hours.  We knew how stressful force-feeding would be on her.  We WOULD, however, get fluids and Older Daughter could administer those because of the fear of dehydration.  That was Tuesday night.  On Wednesday morning, everything changed.  I went into the bathroom early that morning to see if Pitter had eaten anything.  She had not.  She was standing, wobbling, facing one of the bathroom walls.  I called to her.  Nothing.  I picked her up, and she squirmed.  This was a cat who pitted, and purred, and drooled all over anybody who would pick her up.  She pushed away from me.  I set her down, and she wobbled.  I ran to get my daughter, and she took a look.  Pitter was facing the wall again.   And she not only did NOT want to be picked up, she didn’t want to be touched.  She had also vomited and there was blood in it.  I now felt panic.  I called to talk to Dr. A.  She wasn’t in, but Dr. O was.  By the time I got him on the phone, she had vomited again.  He said he thought she was going directly into full kidney failure.  They would get me in that afternoon.  Over the next two hours, I watched her vomit, walk in circles, stand and wobble, and face the wall.  She became increasingly confused.  She no longer seemed to know me, and it appeared to cause her pain to pick her up or even to touch her. 

I called back and talked to Dr. O again.  Chrystal - he said - your cat’s kidneys are shutting down.  The toxins are causing extreme nausea, disorientation, and pain.  I asked the question I always ask, even though I already knew the answer.  Is there any way out of this?  No - he said - it will only get worse.  I said I wasn’t ready, could I wait until the next day?  In the silence following my question, I realized what I was asking.  FOR ME, we could wait until tomorrow.  I wasn’t ready.  He told me the most humane thing to do would be to stop her pain.  As the toxins flooded her system, the nausea, pain, and confusion would only get worse.  I had a flashback to years ago when our Patches’ kidneys failed.  It, too, had come on really fast.  She had gone downhill overnight, and when I checked on her that morning, she was screaming in pain.  I knew I couldn’t allow Pitter to degenerate even further as the hours ticked by.  I told Dr. O I would call back.  I hung up, and I went into the family room and slumped into a chair.  Younger Daughter was there studying.  She said - We’re losing her, aren’t we?  I nodded and stared out the window.  It was just starting to sprinkle outside.  I told Younger Daughter that I wasn’t ready for this.  Even though Dr. A had said what she said on Monday, I projected months, even years into the future before I would be needing to make this horrible decision - again.  I said aloud - I’m not ready for this.  But I can’t let her reach the point of screaming.  I got up and called the clinic.  What time could we come?

Poor Dr. O was the one.  He has been through this with me so many times now.  After Pitter was gone, we talked.  It was very nice of him.  He said - Let me assure you that you just did the best possible thing for Pitter.  Look, Chrystal.  What you do is such a good thing.  But with numbers come probabilities.  It’s been a long stretch of loss for you, but you might need to consider that this is the way of your future.  Your own pets are aging.  And you take in young ones in terrible shape.  You may be in a bad stretch right now, but it isn’t going to get tons better.  I’ve done three euthanasias today.  This stuff will take you out if you don’t get your mind right.  Here’s what I know about you.  You always do the right thing, for the animal.  That makes it tough on you.  I hope you keep doing what you do, but I won’t blame you if you can’t keep it up.

I walked numbly out to my vehicle.  I pulled out on the road and slid a CD into the player.  I turned the volume up so loud that I know people in passing vehicles could hear it.  I wanted the loud music to drown out ALL of my thoughts.  But my mind went right on thinking.  I replayed what Dr. O had said.  And I thought about how Pitter had come to us as a kitten.  She had lived fourteen wonderful years with us.  We loved her each and every day.  She was old.  True, I had it in my mind that we had at least a couple more years with her.  But we had it as good as it gets with Pitter.  Dr. O is right.  I DO have an aging fur family.  Years ago, before I had other options, the strays we took in became our own pets.  Then, when our own home was full to overflowing, I found ways to get dogs on transports, and cats into forever homes.  My own group is old.  I will continue to lose them.  And if I stay in rescue work, I will lose some of the starving, sick, and neglected beings I take in.  This IS my future.   There WILL be hospice care here.  There is no other alternative. 

I got home, and Husband was not here.  I grabbed the shovel and walked to the west side of the property.  In  the pouring rain, I buried Pitter Patter beside Bouzzer.  We have a concrete angel that we move to each new burial site.  It had been on Bouzzer’s grave only a week.  I stuck a sprig of silk flowers into the mud in front of the angel.  Then with my tears and the rain running down my face, I walked the property line at the woods’ edge.  So many gone.  From the kittens with us only days to the most ancient of our own crew - none forgotten.

I didn’t blog yesterday because I couldn’t believe I was faced with another Farewell post.  But when I say that none of the animals here will be forgotten, part of what that means is to memorialize each one.  Pitter Patter deserves her memorial.  And so, once again, I say farewell.



Farewell Pitter Patter.      

No Post Today

Ivory

You might remember me talking about Mere Lyn on this blog.  She is another private animal rescuer here in southern Illinois that I have become friends with over the years.  She has boarded her own crew in my kennel on the few occasions that she and her husband have been able to get away.  But our relationship has developed to where it is today mostly through our rescue work.  I try to help Mere Lyn, and she tries to help me.  One of the things I have been able to offer her is the occasional run to house a stray dog in until she can find a transport or a home.  I mentioned on Monday that we have a new foster at the kennel who is NOT one from the shelter where Older Daughter works.  That foster is one of Mere Lyn’s rescues.  And her story is at the end of this post.  Before that, however, is a brick story.  Ivory was one of Mere Lyn’s own furry family members.  The brick today is hers.  In Mere Lyn’s words: 

Ivory was a neglected dog in the small town where we lived. One winter she had 8 pups under an abandoned house in subzero weather, nearly starving because she stayed with them to keep them warm...When I discovered where she and her pups were, I started feeding her, gaining her trust..wondering how I would get her pups out from under that old house...But, one day, she let them follow her out into the yard, letting me pluck them up, and take them all home..Eventually, her pups were old enough to be sent to a rescue, and Ivory stayed with us.

Ivory developed a bladder problem when she was about 8 yrs old.....It affected her kidney function at the end, making her very sick. She was put to sleep last May...

Ivory was afraid of storms, shy with strangers, ferocious with dogs that came into the yard, and was a faithful companion. We miss her, and wish she could've been with us longer....But, we know she's happy at Rainbow Bridge, waiting for her sister dogs and us!

Mere Lyn ~ THANK YOU.

This is usually where a story ends.  But with Mere Lyn, the story NEVER ends. . .     She, like me, finds herself continuously taking in dogs and cats, looking for homes and spending money she doesn’t have.  Her latest rescue was to take in a female dog who had strayed onto a farm.  There were two strays, and the family would give the small dog a home, but they didn’t want the bigger one - a black lab mix who chased their horses.  They were advised by neighbors to take her to the pound in the nearest town.  (There is no shelter in their area.  And even if there had been, shelters stay full and black lab mixes often do not get adopted from them.)  One neighbor knew of Mere Lyn and put the family in touch with her.  Mere Lyn told them that if they took the lab to the pound, she would be euthanized.  They didn’t want that, but they didn’t want to keep her either.  So Mere Lyn came to the rescue.  The problem is that she has been trying to get this sweet girl into a shelter up north for weeks now.  No takers.  Black labs are a dime a dozen.  Mere Lyn had her spayed, and she is heartworm negative.  That usually increases the odds of a dog being accepted into a shelter.  Unfortunately, it hasn’t worked for Sadie.  Mere Lyn will keep trying, and Sadie is cozy and warm and fed here in my kennel.  But if you wouldn’t mind - please put the word out about this sweet girl.  She is putting on weight and becoming less shy.  She needs a forever home.


Sadie.

See you tomorrow.

Happy Valentine’s Day (aka TWOSday TWOgetherness)

First of all, I have to start with a correction.  Last Tuesday, I launched a TWOSdays In February campaign hoping to interest someone out there in adopting a TWOsome from our cathouse gang.  I went on and on about TWOs.  I reminded you that on November 11th, I made a wish for eleven adoptions in as many months - eleven Winnie’s Wish kitties adopted between the first of December 2011 and the end of October 2012.  And we are on track.  There have been four kitties placed since I wrote that on 11/11.  HOWEVER, I made a big splash last Tuesday about how we had TWO kitties adopted in December, and TWO kitties adopted in January.  NOT true.  In my haste to make a point of TWOs, I failed to realize that Luna’s adoption was NOT in January.  It occurred on the 28th of December.  I was so certain that we drove Luna to Mindy during the first week of January, but no.  I believe it truly must have been the effect of having become lost in the Bermuda Triangle during that transport that has damaged my memory of that event.  Anyway, . . .   all of that noise about TWO in December, and TWO in January wasn’t even accurate.  (sigh)   SO . . .  we’re going to have to go with averages.  Thus far, there has been an average of TWO kitties adopted in the previous TWO months.  I’d love to keep that average going.  An average of TWO kitties per month throughout 2012 would have us quite prepared for whatever the upcoming NINE months of Kitten Season will bring us.

Here we go.

Today’s TWO to be highlighted . . . .     Percy and Golden.  I will highlight at least one pair on each of the remaining Tuesdays in February, but today’s pair is special.  They are SO in love with each other that I have decided not to adopt them out as singles.  I have mentioned before (and shown with pictures) how Percy and Golden are always together.  Percy came out of his shell only when we introduced a load of kittens into the cathouse.  He loved them all.  His personality blossomed.  As many of those kittens have gone to forever homes, Percy has had a CONSTANT companion - Golden.  She has glued herself to Percy’s side, and he seems to love it.  They sleep together and eat together.  They even walk around together.  Initially, I thought it was maybe one-sided.  I thought Golden was desperate for Percy, but that Percy, being the extremely good-natured soul that he is, merely allowed it to go on.  But I have spent time at the cathouse watching things.  Percy is completely enamored with Golden, too.  What a pair. 

In light of just how strong the bond between them is, Percy and Golden should go to a forever home as a pair.  Everything about Percy’s wonderful personality is because of being in the presence of the cathouse youngsters.  Golden is one of only two of the youngsters still there.  And she definitely needs him.  I believe she might grieve herself to death without him.  Also, because of watching Percy have SUCH a LONG adjustment period with us, I believe he will be so much better off going to a forever home with one of his own.  I would LOVE for someone out there to adopt these two together.  It’s Valentine’s Day.  Anybody want to celebrate by offering this loving pair a home TWOgether?   

I’m going to inundate you with pictures because these TWO are just TOO cute TOgether.

 













Look at this perfect graphic I found.   Perfect for a post about a perfect pair:



Happy Valentine’s Day!!

Bouzzer's Gift

You people are awesome.  I can’t thank you enough for your comments on my Friday’s post about losing Bouzzer.  Clearly, many of you hold beliefs similar to my own (or at least what I believe most of the time, when I’m not wondering and questioning).  I took GREAT comfort from what you said, and I appreciate SO much that you took the time to say it.  On Thursday night (after just losing Bouzzer and before I had the benefit of your comments), I thought a lot about what Bouzzer might have gone through had the accident not have happened.  I allowed myself to ponder the possibility that what happened might truly have been for Bouzzer’s Highest Good.  I even considered that he left on his own terms, as some of you then said.  I believe there is much we do not know.  I certainly entertain the thought that our animals are a little more on top of things than we humans are.  I’ve often wondered why animals must suffer at all.  They do not have the benefit of carrying out decisions in the same way we do.  Maybe they are just such noble creatures that they offer to humans EVERYTHING - companionship, unconditional love, acceptance, lessons.  Maybe they even have a say in how they exit this Life.  Or maybe they don’t.  But at least in Bouzzer’s case, having read what so many of you wrote, I have been able to strike a balance between the sadness of no goodbye and the possibility that Bouzzer left in a way that was meant to be.  And certainly - that he did not suffer.  I have seen the suffering . . .   over and over again.   I realize I cannot know this for sure, but it certainly appears that the better way out is to go quickly and without torment.  If Bouzzer’s soul had any way of affecting his own end, then I am happy for what he did NOT go through.  If Bouzzer’s soul had nothing to do with his end, I will still hold onto the good that came from him leaving this world without the pain and agony I’ve seen so many others go through.  And I have to agree with you - aside from the fact that I did not get to tell him goodbye - NOT watching Bouzzer suffer for a short or longer period before death was actually a gift.  Without a doubt, the most difficult thing about connecting with animals is watching them suffer in pain or fear.  Bouzzer let me off the hook there.  Anyway, thank you for your comments and emails.  As I’ve said SO many times before - I am supported by a network of animals lovers like never before in my life.  Animal loving people are the best!  Truly!      

Losing Bouzzer is the inspiration for going ahead and making a decision that I was already toying with.  If you check the sidebar, you’ll see that Muffin and Mandy are no longer there.  I stopped looking for a home for Jane and Tarzan some time ago.  I always felt that if some perfect-fit home showed up on my doorstep for that pair, I would let them go.  Otherwise, they would one day be incorporated into our own family, as Bouzzer and Rocky were a year ago.  Muffin and Mandy, on the other hand, still seemed young enough and adaptable enough that I actively worked on finding them a home.  Losing Bouzzer, and thinking about how he was exactly where he should have been (here with us) has solidified my wavering urge to keep Muffin and Mandy here as well.  This is all they’ve known.  I had always wished for something better for them than our “shelter area”.  It never came.   Many years passed while Bouzzer, Rocky, Jane, Tarzan, Muffin, and Mandy waited to be chosen.  Our lives will change when the girls move out this Summer.  Waggles and Bouzzer are gone.  Incorporating Jane and Tarzan is a no-brainer now.  But Muffin and Mandy deserve just as much.  As our circumstancies continue to change, we will find a way.  2012 is the year that there will be no more “homeless” group of dogs here.  We will work this year to incorporate these four dogs into our own family.  They will be given “the good life” INSIDE our home.  It is time.

Tarzan.


Jane.  (Jane HATES cameras, so getting even one picture of her is difficult.)


Muffin.


Mandy.


Last Friday, the plan for the blog was to catch you up on the ins and outs of the fosters here.  Since it’s all good news, let me do that now.  First, you might remember Willow - the momma cat with three kittens that we offered to foster until the kittens could receive vaccinations.  We lost Liberty to pneumonia.  The other two kittens remained healthy and happy.  We also had Chase - a struggling kitten with multiple health problems and no family.  I am happy to report that Chase has come all the way to health.  AND - we recently tried out Momma Willow and her two remaining kittens with the possibility of adopting Chase into that little family.  Willow accepted him without blinking an eye.  Hershey wanted him to play with her immediately (he hissed and hid from her for two days).  And Maxson did NOT want this newcomer in his world.  Over the course of a few days, however, all became friends.  And . . . (mini drumroll) . . . .    Maxson was viewed on the shelter’s Facebook page and chosen for adoption.  Now old enough for the first vaccination, he went to his new home yesterday.


Here is the family when they first came to us.  Mom Willow with left to right kittens - Hershey, Liberty (the one we lost), and Maxson.

The new group, left to right - Chase, Hershey, Maxson.  Maxson has gone to his forever home.

We also took in three little chihuahua puppies last week.  Too young for vaccinations and without a mom, Older Daughter was afraid they would get sick at the shelter.  They have been posted on the shelter’s Facebook page and I’m certain they will be snatched up as soon as they are old enough (which is very soon).



Finally, we have a new foster cat from the shelter.  Meet Beatrice With Babies.  That is her full name.  First name Beatrice.  Middle name With.  And last name Babies.  Why?  Because Beatrice is expecting.  Rather than have her in the midst of the chaos of the shelter, we have her set up in my kennel where she can deliver in peace.  Have no idea how long it will be.



We have one more foster I didn’t mention today - a skinny, adult, black lab mix.  I’ll talk about her on Wednesday when I do a certain brick post.  She doesn't belong to the shelter, so I might have you help me get the word out that she's looking for a home.

Thank you, Friends, for your amazing support in response to our loss of Bouzzer.    

Bouzzer - Gone without Goodbye

I had no time to prepare myself for this one.  It still doesn’t seem real.  Let me just warn you that this is about the loss of another one of my own dogs.  If you prefer not to read, I encourage you to click out and go about your Friday.  No matter how supportive you want to be, sometimes it’s just too much to hear about another loss.  I had a cute little post in the works for today - some precious pictures and good news about healthy kittens, new chihuahua puppies, and a new foster dog.  These would be the ingredients of a great (light) Friday post.  A nice way for me to end the week, and a nice post for you to read as you head into your weekend. 

I could have waited to write this post.  Maybe over the weekend.  Maybe Monday.  Maybe two weeks from now.  At first, I thought I would have to wait.  I didn’t think I could sit at the computer and put together feelings and words.  But as with other sad events involving my animals, I am hoping to find solace in writing.  It has helped me before.

Bouzzer ran in front of my neighbor’s truck yesterday afternoon.  He was struck and killed instantly.  There is a gravel road that separates our house from the fields, woods, and ponds I have written about.  We have to cross that road to take our walks, to run our dogs in the wide open spaces, to sit on the banks of the ponds.  When we take the “shelter” dogs - Muffin, Mandy, Jane, and Tarzan - we escort them carefully across the gravel road.  They are not as predictable as our own crew.  Bouzzer, Rocky, Miracle, (and not long ago, Waggles) have taken so many walks with us that we had become complacently confident.  Yesterday, Bouzzer, his runnin’ buddy Rocky, and Miracle had all been out with us.  I was back in the house, and would be calling the dogs into their basement room instead of the backyard.  There was a deep chill in the air as a cold front approached, due to arrive today and plunge us into the teens.  I had just taken my coat off but not yet my boots so that I could round up the dogs.   I didn’t know it had happened.  I put a pot of water on the stove so that I could make hot chocolate from a packet.  Something to warm my bones.  I saw my neighbor pulling into our driveway, and I threw my coat right back on to go out and meet him.  He told me what had happened. 

When my neighbor drove away, I went to get a blanket.  I wrapped Bouzzer’s body, slowly and carefully.  But the event overtook me.  Kneeling there on the shoulder of the gravel road, I buried my face in Bouzzer’s fur and sobbed.  Time stood still.  It rushed over me that I had not gotten to tell him goodbye.  He was gone in an instant.  I had only been there a few moments when I felt a nose on my cheek.  I lifted my face from Bouzzer’s fur and there stood Rocky.  He started licking my face, over and over.  I put my arm around him and told him how sorry I was that his buddy was gone.  He sniffed Bouzzer’s fur, and he whined.  I don’t know if he whined because I was so distraught or if he knew what was happening.  I sat there in the weeds, crying, my hand on Bouzzer, with Rocky sitting directly beside me.  Every time I turned toward him, he licked my face.  I finished wrapping Bouzzer and carried him to the tree line on the west side of our property.  That is where all of our fur babies are buried.  I got Rocky and Miracle inside, and I called my husband.  He buried Bouzzer beside Waggles, near Milo and Daphne and ALL of the bodies of the souls we have lost. 

Bouzzer was our seizure dog.  He received his seizure medication every twelve hours, day in and day out.  He still had an occasional seizure, but they were few and far between.  This week, however, he had two.  Some time back, I explained that Rocky had always sounded an alarm when Bouzzer had a seizure.  He scream-barks a screeching, high-pitched sound over and over and over.  There is no mistaking this bark.  One afternoon last week, the dogs were on their couches in the basement.  From the kitchen I heard Rocky.  I jerked my head around, and started running as I said to the girls - Who is that?  Who is that barking?  But I was already on my way to the basement stairs as Younger Daughter blurted back - Oh, no - that’s Rocky.  Sure enough.  When we all three arrived in the basement, there was Bouzzer in a full-blown seizure.  It took forever.  I thought he would never come out of it.  I held him and calmed him while the girls comforted Rocky.  When it was over, we talked about how we never know what triggers one of Bouzzer’s seizures.  He received his medication without fail.  It was worrisome because he had been on the meds for years.  Our vet had discussed the liver failure issue with us - a side effect of such a long period of time on seizure meds.  We had Bouzzer on another medication to protect his liver as much as possible.  But we knew we were up against a ticking clock.  Bouzzer was getting older, and his seizures could not be controlled without the twice daily meds.  We knew we would probably face liver failure with him at some point in the near future.

As I said, Bouzzer’s seizures occurred very infrequently.  But the very next day, with Bouzzer in the backyard, and Rocky in the basement, Bouzzer had a seizure without his alarm nearby.  I might not even have known he was having one except for Bailey barking frantically from the screened-in porch.  I wondered what had her so excited, so I went to see.   She was looking directly in Bouzzer’s direction.  He was on his side, wedged against the walk, having another full-blown seizure.  I got him to the basement and onto his couch.  I hardly slept that night for fear we were entering a new stage.  NEVER had he had two seizures back to back.  I worried about what we would do.  MORE medication?  I called to talk to someone at the clinic. Watch to see.  We might be reaching a stage of decline.  Let them know if there was a third seizure.  We would have to come up with a game plan.

But now it’s over.  Bouzzer won’t die of liver failure.  And there will be no more seizures.  I have said many times that there are worse things than death.  But I haven’t been able to shake the horror of not being able to tell Bouzzer goodbye.  It broke my heart to lose Waggles and Daphne, but I spent time with each of them at the end.  I talked to them, and showered them with love.  Even with Milo, who left us too quickly to allow us to prepare, there was the opportunity to say goodbye. 

Years ago, a co-worker said to me -  If I could pick my death, I would pick cancer or something like it.  I was horrified.  It seemed to me that knowing would be terrible.  But he said he would rather have time to say his goodbyes.  I could only think about the deep sadness that would come with those goodbyes.  Now, I’m not so sure.  Bouzzer’s life ended in an instant.   Most of the other animal deaths I’ve been through were expected.  Some suffered little because of a swift death, or a decision by us to assist.  Others lingered longer.  I never believe long suffering is what is best.  But being left with no time at all - not even one minute - to say goodbye is a trauma all its own.

Bouzzer, like EACH and EVERY animal, was a wonderful, unique, joy-inspiring individual.  His stories are written into this blog: how it was that Bouzzer ended up with us - *Part I and *Part II, and how he went from wishing for a home to becoming *one of our own. 

As I held Bouzzer this week on two separate occasions through two severe seizures, I told him over and over how much I loved him and that everything would be OK.  I did not get to tell him goodbye.  But I did get to tell him I loved him.


Farewell Bouzzer.