Pets

A FURRY SUNDAY HELLO FROM NAN

While all the other pups were sacked out in the sun, Nan patiently watched my every move from her place at the gate. As a reward, I did her portrait. Unlike Bonnie who runs and hides as soon as she sees the camera in my hands, Nan stands still and smiles.

Nan at the gate

Nan at the gate

Which means I have a lot more — and better — pictures of Nan than of any other dog. Because she will always give me her good side. I’m not sure she has a bad side!

WELCOME TO MY WORLD, WEEK 25

Share Your World – 2014 Week 25

What is your favorite type of dog?

My favorite kind of dog is the kind that I have. Currently, that would be a Scottish Terrier, a Norwich Terrier, a miniature Dachshund and an Australian Shepherd. Previously, there were others — PBGVs, mixed breeds, and others.

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If I were to foolishly express a preference for one or another of these fine canine citizens, I am sure that they would learn about it from their doggy friends on Facebook and would turn my life into a living hell.

Bish and Nan Biscuit Time

I love them all equally, as can be demonstrated from the fair and equitable distribution of biscuits, not to mention the endless stream of said treats starting with early in the morning and only ending when I finally limp down the hallway and close the door.

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Name one thing not many people know about you.

Off hand, since I started blogging, everyone in the known universe seems to know more about me than I know about myself.

Have you ever gone scuba diving? If you haven’t, would you want to?

No, and not really. I’ve gone snorkeling in the Caribbean and enjoyed it, but all the equipment you need for scuba diving is too much for me. It looks like work.

What was the most important event in your life last week?

waring mini oveen

I bought and got (I just love Amazon) a tabletop convection oven. Now I don’t have to use the great big oven for our itty bitty meals.

I’m hoping it will help get our electric bill under control. It works really well. Faster and neater than the big oven — all for under $100, including shipping!

TAKE IT SLOW

Extra, Extra - A beautiful photo is one thing, but a photo with an unexpected detail has personality and pop. This week, share a photo that has a little something extra.


It’s summer in the valley and at least one resident knows it’s time to take it slow and enjoy the sunshine down on the farm.

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BONNIE IS BACK!!

BONNIE IS BACK.

It was a long day for us, but Bonnie is fine. She had, I gather, a lovely day full of biscuits and romping with her new pal, a Boston Terrier. Garry and I are finally breathing!! Yay.

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Thanks to everyone who kept an eye out. She was apparently picked up by a motorist on Rt. 98 and taken home to Douglas where she had a fine mini vacation. Many thanks to the Uxbridge and Douglas Police, both of whom helped make sure she found her way back to us.

And especially thanks to Joyce, Uxbridge’s intrepid Animal Control officer for her support and assistance.

SHARING OUR WORLD, WEEK 22

Share Your World – 2014 Week 22

Regarding animals would you prefer not having them around or having domestics pets, farm animals, or seeing them in nature or the zoo?

We do not allow animals in our house. We don’t even like them.

Bishop joins the party 31

Are you a collector of anything?

fetishes

I don’t collect anything. Nothing. Never. Our home is clean and uncluttered.

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If you could know the answer to any question, besides “What is the meaning of life?”, what would it be?

 What are the winning numbers for tomorrow’s Power Ball drawing?

If you were to treat yourself to the “finer things” what would you treat yourself to?

A brand new house with no stairs and a really GREAT kitchen.

GOOD MORNING, ARF

bonnie and nan at the biscuit box

They love me for myself alone. It’s not the treats, it’s pure affection. Well, maybe a bit of biscuit too.

Bonnie is beginning to look like a rag-bag. Time for her summer “do.” Nan also. But first, It’s Greenie time. Just ask them!

GO DIRECTLY TO JAIL!

Uxbridge’s jail is part of the old city hall and in this century, it’s a storage area. At home, we have our own prisoners. Four furry internees.

dog prisoners in garden

I would let them run free if it weren’t for nasty old Rt. 98 at the top of the driveway. There isn’t a  LOT of traffic, but cars come around our blind (and reverse-banked) curve too fast. We have more fatal accident on our little stretch of road than anywhere else in the area … known as “death alley” to the cops. Motorcycles, cars, and once Garry nearly bought the farm when he and a telephone pole got too intimate. What chance does a dog stand?

I don’t know why they never run the OTHER way, into the woods where there are 75+ acres of trees and meadow — and no motor vehicles. But they always head for the road.

The “Beware of Dog” sign isn’t because they are dangerous, but because the world is dangerous to them. It’s to prevent delivery people from opening the gate thus letting free the incarcerated doggies.

They are getting older and aren’t as frisky or fast as they were. But even old Nan can hit the driveway running in a mad sprint of death. It’s not good for my heart. If I chase them (which in any case, I can’t do), they run away because “chase me” is a classic doggy game and they love it! I have to stay calm, call them back with biscuits — before they become road kill.

My heart is in my mouth the entire time they are loose, so they will remain prisoners of love. Not so terrible. Not such a cruel life, with their 24/7 doggy door and sofas for beds … and far too many biscuits.

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT AND FOREVER AFTER

First Sight

Whether a person, a pet, an object, or a place, write about something or someone you connected with from the very first second.
Sharing is caring.


She was so tiny, a little bit of fur and bone and two black button eyes. I knew we were meant to be together.

Bonnie, light of our lives, a Scottish Terrier. Mischievous, funny, strong-willed, patient and full of love.

WHAT TO DO ON A RAINY DAY

Ask Nan. She knows.

Cold? Drizzly? Perfect time to catch up on your sleep. Of course, that’s more or less her answer to everything, except for short excursions into the kitchen in the hope of cadging something tasty. Like a dry biscuit or a fallen piece of lunch meat (mm!).

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Bonnie, not to be out done, has taken over the sofa as her own personal napping area, not to be shared with dog or human.

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SAYING GOODBYE TO A FURRY FRIEND

There was a very poignant post on Facebook today showing police officers bidding farewell to one of their own, a K-9 partner. You could see the sadness in the eyes of the otherwise stoic law officers. It struck home.

One of our furry kids is in a bad place. The big dog, the affable enforcer in our canine family which includes a Scottie, a Norwich Terrier and a mini Dachshund. We call him Bubba because of his lovable personality. He’s our big, huggable Australian Shepherd.

Painfully shy when he came to live with us, he has gradually become part of our family, both human and 4-legged. Bubba used to be afraid of his shadow, but Bonnie, our unflappable Scottie — ring-leader of the fur people, took Bubba under her wing. Bonnie made it clear shyness doesn’t get you anywhere in our family. It certainly doesn’t get you attention. More importantly, it doesn’t get you those extra biscuits.

Bubba learned. He learned so well he began showing up in my office as I worked on my first cup of coffee in the morning. Not my best time of day.

Bubba’s finest moment came recently when Marilyn was taking pictures. Bubba wasn’t in the shot, but decided he wanted to be included. He just poked his head into the shot making it clear he wasn’t going to be left out of the festivities. Bubba had arrived!

We have a lot of strong personalities in the house. We’re not camera-shy or modest. Bubba made it clear he wanted billing above the title in our family soap drama.

dogs with bishop and gar

Something went wrong in the last couple of weeks. Bubba, not the most agile of dogs, has taken several tumbles on the stairs. We thought he had shaken them off but we were wrong. Bubba sustained a back injury while simultaneously has been developing his own serious case of arthritis. Arthritis is something of a plague in this household. Quite literally, everyone’s got it.

Now he’s dragging his rear end. The stairs are impossible for him. It’s painful to watch our big guy struggle to move around. Marilyn says big dogs are more prone to this kind of injury than small ones.The vet says there’s nothing to be done for him but to give him pain-killers and make him as comfortable as possible. Maybe he’ll get better. We can hope.

Bishop

Bubba is now living downstairs with the junior members of our family. He is actually their dog even though we feel he belongs to all of us. Bubba is still eating well and responds quickly to offers of biscuits. But something is different. It’s clear his energy is sapped. He moves slowly. Hard to believe, but we miss his baying at the moon and those furtive three o’clock in the morning shadows.

It’s about quality of life. Some family members are hoping for a miracle. We’ve all been down this road before. It’s not about us or our feelings. Saying goodbye will be difficult and we’ll hold off on it as long as we can. But, in the end, it’s about Bubba.

MARILYN’S FRIDAY: I’M SHOCKED!

Usually I’d wait til later in the day to write an update post since Marilyn’s return home Monday from complex heart valve surgery. But some funny and encouraging things have happened this morning. I figured I’d best write as coffee is slowly clearing the cobwebs in my mind.

Where to begin? Latest news at the top, right? Okay, Marilyn is waiting for the visiting nurse to arrive for today’s session. Visit number two. We’re properly attired, Marilyn in a clean nightgown and me in my “Dogfather” lounge pants and top.

Diane, Marilyn’s nurse has just arrived. Her first visit. We’ve greeted each other. I continue writing as Diane checks and examines Marilyn

Marilyn was able to put on her nightgown WITHOUT assistance, using her arms and with minimal pain. FIRST time since she came home. Give the lady a hug, kiss and round of applause after Diane leaves.

My Claude Rains moment came a little earlier this morning. I was relaxing on the love seat, sipping coffee and waiting for my brains to show some life. Nan, our Norwich Terrier, was lying at my feet watching Marilyn. Nan is Marilyn’s dog. Her faithful companion. She follows Marilyn wherever she goes. I’m normally ignored. I used to be a household name for more than 31 years as a Boston TV news reporter. I used to be somebody.

Well, Marilyn had to answer nature’s call. She got up by herself from the love seat. Another first this week. No, don’t stop the presses. Not yet. Marilyn walked slowly away and into the bathroom. Normally, Nan would be right behind her. Marilyn’s faithful companion usually follows her Mom right into the bathroom, pushing open the door and moving right up to where business is being conducted. Frequently, Nan grunts like a pig, signaling the other dogs Mom is in the bathroom. They scamper down the hallway and gaze from the bathroom door. Nan sends out sideline reports about Marilyn’s efforts. Wide, wide world of sports!

Not today. Nan didn’t budge as Marilyn left the living room. She stayed at my feet, grunting with satisfaction. Okay, now the “Louie Renault” moment. Marilyn called from the bathroom but Nan never moved. I was shocked! Absolutely shocked!

Diane’s just wrapped up her visit with Marilyn. They’re laughing. Marilyn’s blood pressure and heart rate look pretty okay. Here’s hoping the rest of this Friday is good.

AHAB, THE CAT WHO WANDERED

Back in another life, I lived in a little house on Long Island, not far from the university where I’d gone to school and at which my husband worked. We always had a dog and several cats. In those days, we let our cats outside. There wasn’t much traffic and everyone’s cats roamed the neighborhood.

One day, while we were out in the yard, we had a visitor, a medium-sized black and white cat. He was extremely friendly. Sidled right up to us, purring, and doing that little head butt that’s so endearing. Maybe he was hungry? Of course we fed him.

My son fell immediately in love and we said he could keep the cat.

ahab

My husband had a passion for the classics. He named the cat Ahab, which he said meant “wanderer.” Princeton University agrees, except the name in Hebrew means “uncle.” (Which is irrelevant but I threw it in because I did the research and wanted to do something with the information. Back to the story, already in progress.)

Ahab was a sweetheart, the most laid-back cat I ever knew. My 4-year old felt he needed a bubble bath in a bucket. Ahab purred his way through the bubbles and the rinse cycle, then continued purring all the way through dinner and a relaxed evening on the sofa with the whole family.

We couldn’t figure out why anyone would let a sweet fellow like Ahab go. He was young. Healthy. Litter trained, though he preferred going outside to do his business. His coat was shiny and he showed no sign of abuse or neglect. He oozed charm.

Ahab settled in like he’d always lived with us. He got along with the dog and the other cats. Loved children. Loved everyone. We made a date to take him to vet and get his shots.

He never went to the vet, at least not with us. The following day, without so much as a “by your leave,” Ahab moved down the block and took up residence with a different family. We were a little wounded. We’d never been abandoned by a cat before. His new family adored him but Ahab only hung around a few day, then moved on.

We eventually lost track of Ahab. He moved from house to house, charming everyone and purring his way to his next home. He never stayed longer than a few days and was always the perfect house guest.

Was he a stray? If he was, it was because that’s what he wanted to be.  Ahab was a wanderer by choice.