Ornaments

Just to protect your pet and yourself from excitable accidents, hang your delicate and treasured ornaments on the uppermost branches of the tree, and secure them to the branches tightly. In general, it is easier on the whole household if you select tree ornaments that are not likely to shatter. For delicate, glass or treasured ornaments, you might consider creating an area where they can be displayed that is out of reach for your dog or cat, such as from a garland that is hung across a mantel or window. Tinsel, for all its glittery prettiness, is one of the most dangerous tree decorations you can choose. If your pet ingests even a few strands of tinsel — and pets do this more often than you might guess — she is highly likely to suffer the ill, and even deadly effects of an intestinal obstruction. Same goes for edible ornaments, such as popcorn and cranberry strings and candy canes. Leave these things off your tree or your pet will be climbing the tree to get to them.

When I saw him for the very first time, he was only three-months old.

I must have scared him out of his wits because he was shaking and trembling all over. Silly boy! I would never have done anything mean to a little, stupid puppy! If he had been older, it would have been different story.

His name was Snoopy, but we changed that to “Schnoopel.” Somehow, “Schnoopel” fit him better, and when he stayed at our house, that’s what we called him. He spent many, many days, even months, with us as a houseguest.

When his guardians needed to go away, they would leave Schnoopel with us. And to tell you the truth, he didn’t mind that arrangement a bit! Well, why should he? He slept on the bed, used the most comfortable armchair for naps, and jumped up and down on the couch, I suspect purely to annoy me. And he had the same meal of chicken with rice and broth that I enjoyed every day for dinner.

Schnoopel was a cheerful mutt, and he always kept this irritating smile on his face. But in my opinion, as far as his looks were concerned, there was nothing to smile about.   He had a white coat with brownish spots and a tail like an outsized plume. That big tail got him in trouble once. There was a lit candle on a low table, and Schnoopel’s tail caught fire!

Call 9-1-1! Quick! Dog on fire!

Well, he wasn’t hurt or anything, but we certainly had a little excitement.

But let’s go back to the subject of many of Schnoopel’s visits to our house. I suddenly realized that, little by little, he started to invade my territory. I knew that I must do something about it. Take a stand. Defend what’s mine. Show him who THE DOG is in the household.

After a few hours of planning, I knew exactly what to do. As a penalty for Schnoopel’s shameless sucking up to everybody, I decided to pinch his cheeks. This is a mildly painful punishment, and it leaves no traces–which is a good thing.

Next, to teach him a lesson about who THE MASTER was, I decided to lie across the garden door in such a way that Schnoopel wouldn’t be able to enter the house. And of course, I knew that he would not dare to jump over me, which was rather a wise decision on his part.

And, if playing in the backyard became too exhausting for me, and Schnoopel would insist on going on, I would just sit on him and I am, believe me, pretty heavy!

Well, I did those nasty things many times, but Schnoopel kept smiling. He remained the “nice dog” that everybody liked.

Darn it! What to do?

I was worried. My plan hadn’t worked the way that I hoped it would.

His longest visit was the full four months that he spent with us when his guardians were expecting a baby. I just don’t understand people. What is the big fuss about having a baby? We dogs give birth to a whole bunch of puppies, not just one, and nobody pays much attention to those events. But anyway, it was decided that for the time being, Schnoopel would stay with us.

Well, I didn’t want to incite him to revolt, but the truth was that while Schnoopel had been banished from his own home, the three cats–Mercury, Zoe, and Raz–stayed in. This seemed to me to be extremely unfair to Schnoopel, even though he actually enjoyed staying with us.

I personally do not like cats. I don’t know much about them, and have never met one “nose to nose.” I can’t even imagine how I would have behaved in such a situation. But with Schnoopel, that was a different story. Those cats were his friends. I heard that he even let Zoe sleep on his doggy bed. Unheard of!

If you missed reading the previous chapter, see A Visit to Forget.

Do you feel guilty leaving you pup at home when you go out? Hopefully, America will open its movie theaters to canines in countries like Sweden! Stockholm residents were able to catch Marmaduke with their furry buddies this month.

Taking our pups to the movies–this is a great idea! When our partner doesn’t want to go to the flick that we want to see, our canine counterpart won’t care what we watch, as long as there are good eats. Pupcorn and hot dogs will be treats the dogs will love.

Dogs aren’t the only pets that will be allowed in Sweden’s annual pet exhibition movie theater. Cats, snakes, and other pets will be able to watch flicks next year. Canines and felines in the same room? Hmm… This could be interesting, and they may put on a better show than that on the big screen. Eww, I wouldn’t want to sit near the snakes! I wonder what other pets there will be at the theaters with their human companions?

To read more about Sweden’s annual pet exhibition, visit the People Pets website.

Sammy and Maya

Invariably, when M.W. and I leave the house, Sammy leaves a puddle.  Everything to Maya is a chew toy, including Boo Boo, Felix, and Delilah, our three cats.  Sammy has a chronic case of separation anxiety, and Maya is a Twinkie-sized terrorist.

We’re all one big, bloody marvelous crew.

When I first met M.W., he described Bela and Sammy as different as night and day.  Bela, a sleek, onyx mix of Lab and Rottweiler, was the independent, deep, soulful one, the one who took care of business.  Sammy, a 105-pound, lumbering yellow Lab is, as M.W. likes to say, “dumb as a bag of hammers.”  He does two things well:  devour and snore.  He short circuits around food, while Bela savores.  A perpetual puppy, he runs and plays in his dreams.  Bela was perfectly still, a light sleeper, seemingly braced to protect her family, even in her restful state.

When I got to know them, I made an observation:  “Sammy’s smarter than you think.”

“You’re crazy.  Here, watch this.”  M.W. stood up and delivered an impromptu I.Q. test involving commands, treats, and unnecessary knee-slapping.

“You’re mean.  Listen, hear me out.  How much you want to bet that, when Bela passes away, he steps up to the plate.  Seriously.  I think he’s got it all figured out.”

“Got what figured out?”

“He doesn’t have to exert himself because Bela does it for him.  And, he’s smart enough to wait until we’re in bed before he raids the trash.  When we pick up keys, he barks like nobody’s business, and he seems to know he’s large.  He’s super-careful with the other critters because he knows how big and powerful he is.”

As if on cue, Sammy cracked his head on the bottom of the kitchen table.

“Scratch that last one.”

M.W. was dubious–not to mention, red-faced, from all the whooping.

Unfortunately, I got the last laugh.  When Bela left us, Sammy became more aware.  When he hears an unfamiliar noise, he now positions himself between us and the door. As he is typically a gentle beast, when I watch him shred a branch or a bone, I shudder to think what kind of damage he could do.

Our wedding present to ourselves was a precious, little thing we call Maya.  Feeling at home from the get-go, she curled up in my lap on the ride home and didn’t make a peep.  Eyelashes a mile long, she knows just how to work it around her Daddy.  She climbs up onto his chest, kisses his nose, and stares at him with those beautiful, doe-like eyes of hers.  Turns him into putty every time.

Loaded with personality, she’s sweet, affectionate, spunky, and a bit of a bully.  One minute, she’s docile and compliant; the next, she’s dragging Boo Boo across the floor by her ear.

Sammy and Maya go together like mac and cheese.  One of Maya’s favorite places to tuck is alongside Sammy’s tummy.  She mimics him.  If he lays on his side, she lays on her side.  If he sprawls, she sprawls.  She chews on his ear and tongue and sticks her head in his mouth.  And he lets her.

She lets me speak for her.  When M.W. comes home, she jumps on the chair and says, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!!!”

“Were you good today, Maya?”

“Yes, very good.  But Mommy put gravel in my bowl again, anyway.”

“Listen, Daddy, I’ve been meaning to talk with you about something.  Can you teach me how to use that thingamajig so that I can order pizza crusts?”

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

Sammy lets me talk for him, too.  When M.W. teases him and calls him fat boy or tells him he’s dumb, he says, “Screw.  You.  Love you, man, I do, but I don’t need this crap.  I’ve about had it up to here with you and your little asides.  Fat boy.  Maybe you the fat boy, maybe you the one who ain’t too bright.  Huh?  Ever think of …  zZZzzZZzzZzz …”

They’re a trip.  I could watch them for hours.  Each one has a unique presence. They’re such a gift, such a blessing.  I kiss their heads and cuddle them every chance I get. I stroke their downy-soft ears and whisper on a religious basis: “I love you.  Thank you for being a part of my life.”

We’re treated to a rare behind-the-scenes peek into the life of a veterinarian in “Tell Me Where It Hurts” as the author, Dr. Nick Trout, takes us with him on a busy day at the huge Angell Animal Medical Center in Boston.  Several years of cases and clients are packed into 24 hours to give us an idea of what an animal surgeon might run into on a daily basis.

The cases are varied and yet not too surprising, given most pets’ talent for getting into trouble.  From a cat swallowing shoelaces, to a dog overindulging in kibble and ending up with a life-threatening case of bloat, or another pooch suffering a fractured jaw from chasing (and catching) a moving vehicle, there’s never a dull moment.

If you’re considering becoming a vet or a vet tech, you’ll gain a deeper insight of the profession from this book.  Although Dr. Trout’s writing style is more detailed than most “animal stories” books, his warm sense of humor and genuine concern for his helpless patients will keep you reading to find out how each case turns out.  You can always skip the medical details and skim through for the stories surrounding the critters and their colorful human families.

Dr. Trout highlights the bonds between his animal patients and their “parents,” as circumstances sometimes require tough decisions on everyone’s part.  Even in the most skillful hands, every animal won’t make it, and I often found myself reading faster to see if a favorite patient pulled through.  Every member of this amazing medical staff performs his work to the very best of his ability, trying to help every animal that comes through their doors.

Woven into the storytelling fabric is a strong introspective, philosophical thread as Dr. Trout shares his concerns about such issues as euthanasia, pain, grief, fear, and the financial sacrifices his clients often make to help their beloved pets.

While modern diagnostic equipment and advanced surgical techniques are now available for animals, they come with a hefty price tag that not everyone can afford.  That’s a frustration for both the doctors and the families.

Even when expensive tests are run, it’s sometimes difficult to sort out the data and arrive at a conclusive diagnosis – not unlike with people.  And in this case, the animals can’t even tell you where it hurts.

Dr. Trout shares his doubts and failures with surprising honesty and humility.  We’d like to think our vets can fix anything, but that’s sadly not true.  They’re only human, and though they do their very best, sometimes it’s just not enough.  But we also get to share his joy when healed pets are restored to their grateful families.

Though I wouldn’t consider this “light reading,” it’s a masterfully written, insightful look into the life and work of a veterinary surgeon.  The cases will intrigue you and keep you reading to find out how they turn out.  Think of it as the animal version of “House M.D.” and be grateful there are such dedicated, caring people in your pet’s life.

Today, Freekibble.com turns 2-years old! This is a website that a 12-year old Mimi started after volunteering at a local animal shelter and discovering that the shelter didn’t have enough food to feed all of its residents. Mimi decided to make sure that all the dogs and cats in animal shelters could enjoy a meal during their stay there.

Due to Mimi’s efforts, Freekibble.com feeds thousands of cats and dogs across the United States. Over 500 million pieces of kibble have been donated so far. Let’s help Freekibble.com double or triple this amount this next year, and help provide residents at animal shelters with meals while they wait to be adopted!

Congratulations Freekibble.com for all you have done for dogs and cats. And a BIG thank you to Mimi for her creative and helpful idea!

You can help feed dogs and cats that are waiting to be adopted at animal shelters by playing Freekibble.com trivia every day, and by visiting Mimi’s website daily!

Grant Daniels, 22, has surveyed 214 gardens in ten Hobart suburbs and found that those with dogs are more likely to have a healthy population of ground-feeding birds like the superb fairy-wrens.

Mr. Daniels, a graduate of the University of Tasmania School of Geography and Environmental Studies, said that it appeared the dogs ignored birds, and because of this lack of aggression, the birds in turn were happy to co-exist with the canines.

“Where there are dogs you are more likely to find fairy-wrens and possibly masked lapwings,” he said.

“Ground-feeders have learned they have nothing to fear from most dogs, unlike the threat posed by cats.”

Cats and dogs are always made out to be enemies, but this not always so! Enter Napoleon, the English Bulldog who defied the poor swimming skills of his breed to swim deep out into a lake and rescue a burlap sack containing six abandoned kittens. While two of the kittens didn’t make it, the other four were nursed back to health, leading to a hero’s welcome for Napoleon back at the local adoption center.