Spring is trying to make an appearance here in Wisconsin (despite the three inches of snow we got yesterday) which turned our minds to adopting a dog. I’d been surfing the various pet rescue and adoption sites sending photos to Mike. We saw this one Molly that appealed to both of us and I sent two e-mails. However, bad dog didn’t reply. She disappeared from the sites and we figured she’d gotten her forever home. (more…)
It’s been over a month of careening from one family crisis to the next. Things are finally starting to settle down. Mo is doing much better and can even jump up on the bed and chairs without assistance. Her back left foot is finally correcting itself.
Rappy has improved leaps and bounds. She can go potty by herself now and walk about on flat ground. Stairs we still have to lift her up and down most the time. However a few times when she is well rested she has taken them down without help and up with us steadying her back end.
I am slowly recovering from my back injury. It’s set back by the lifting of the dog but whatcha gonna do but deal with it.
Mike’s black eye from the doggie slinging her head in pain as he carried her to the car for the initial vet visit is healing. His back is fine but now he has a bad head cold. Poor man, he kept quiet this weekend while I worked Saturday and we both rested Sunday.
Aaron is doing well in his AIT school. He actually called this week and we got to hear his voice. He’s making arrangements for his classes in the Fall.
That’s it in a nutshell. We’re still the family with half of the members in physical therapy but we’re healing as best as aging cat, dog, and woman can.
Until Next Time.
Okay I have to say I’m exhaustipated (too tired to give a sh**t) today. Doggie rehab is tough when one is working. Today is my first day off since we got back. She goes in for e-stim today and then when get her physical therapy info today. Though she is improving. She met me on shaky legs when I got home from work last night. She now gets her front end up when I sling her back end.
So I don’t have the energy right now to go though the trip pictures so I tell the tale of the box throne last night…
As you know Mr. Blue belongs to the box of the month club and he thoroughly enjoys his boxes. However, they are HIS boxes being the alpha of the animals. Last night the wannabe alpha Mr. Red got into Mr. Blue’s current box! I know, I know, I hear your gasps of horror, shock, and indignation. I too was astounded at the outright gall it took. I watched as I did Rappy’s massage therapy. Mr. Blue stood up from his chair and yowled at the usurper.
That led to a big cat fight of screeches, yowls, growls, and posturing. He hopped down and went back to claim his cardboard throne. There was much noise and odd body postures that led to a few slaps (no claws). Red went from “what, what?!?” to challenging then to submissive and slinked out of the box and away to take the cat bed in the office.
Mr. Blue being triumphant sat in his box throne for a long time before settling in for a nap. Yes we think no less of our feline alpha for napping in his box with his catnip mouse. He had show regal restraint while asserting his authority after all.
Time for the vet trip. Until next time!
Years ago we adopted a retired greyhound racer. Her name is Arapahoe’s Ace but we call her Rappy for short. She’s definitely MY dog. It was her choice, not mine per se. She was gotten to be a family dog but in the end Mike and Aaron both refer to her as ‘your dog’ when talking to me. It’s okay I love ’em all.
Greyhounds are an odd breed. They are one of the oldest domesticated breeds. Yep that ancient Egyptian Anubis sitting with ears up waiting… is a black greyhound waiting for something. Rappy assumes that pose when I’m getting ready for walk, the treat jar rattles, someone says something about a car ride or the doggie park. Another of their quirks is stairs. The have two settings when it comes to stairs “won’t go” and “full speed ahead.”
Yesterday Rappy took an emergency trip to the vet after a terrible spill down the stairs. She wouldn’t get up and had to be carried. (no not me after injuring my back – Mike and Vet tech). We feared the worst – shattered hip or spiral fracture of the a hind leg. I anxiously awaited news at home as they worked her in between scheduled patients.
Good news – nothing is broken. Bad news she threw out her back. Greyhound have very complicated spines. Unlike ours designed for flexible stability – their does that and is designed to aid in acceleration even on turns, a rare mammal design they share with cheetahs. So they have more cushions and stuff to aid in that. Hers is all swollen. Vet is keeping her a few days, treating her with pain meds and anti-inflamatories while he watches her for any signs of damage the swelling may be covering at this point.
So yesterday was a stressful day in which I basically took care of the dog and rode a very emotional roller coaster. Today is packed making up for yesterday. Please excuse the missed post due to emergency- I’ll have a vet bill as proof.
Until next time.
A special thanks to Diatribe and Ovations blog for reminding me of this skunk story. It always makes me cringe and laugh.
First let me set the scene, it was in my early days of working for this company. I was in one of three cubes in a large room that was once a waiting room like area for 4 offices. We were administration support for the production team leaders in the offices. Office doors never closed, we all got along and liked each other. It was like a big processing family with shouting and laughing back and forth. The radio played in the background as keys clicked and copiers whirled with the sounds of great people doing a good job. You know a good work environment like that couldn’t last and with layoffs it was decimated leaving those of us that remained over worked and separated. However in this golden era of enough work for everyone and camaraderie too boot is where the skunk story sets.
So in walks the young and newest production team leader. He’s not his usual self but quiet and withdrawn. He hangs up his coat in his office and gets to work. Everyone has a bad morning and we all figure it’s his. We leave him to his coffee and morning e-mails for an attitude adjustment what ever is needed.
It’s not long before people start asking one another “Do you smell a SKUNK?” Now this is odd because we are all in the center of a large shielded building. We processed radioactive waste and the office area has no windows or outside walls. Add to it that it is in an accessed controlled area that is fenced in and wild life is kept out. I know I walked the fence line regularly as part of my job. So needless to say it was odd to smell a wild animal.
Sheepishly from the unusually quiet office came the answer. “It’s my coat. I’ll take it outside.” He quietly walks the aisle between the cubicles holding out the offending barn coat. Yep, we all got a good strong whiff it was the coat. I’m sure every office from our quad to the door got a good whiff of that coat! As it warmed up it got more pungent.
Now we are all curious – how did his coat come to smell like a skunk? Needless to say all 6 of us were waiting for his return. Once he came back, clothes changed to scrubs (we wore scrubs under the canaries yellow protective gear and respirator to keep from risking contamination on street clothes) we all stuck our heads out to hear the answer. It was up to Oscar, the senior team leader, to ask the embarrassed young man what happened.
It all started with his new hunting dog. He’d been working with the dog and had gotten very close to it. So much so the dog went wild when it was about time for him to get home. So his wife, who was home with the new baby, had taken to letting the dog out about half hour before he got home so the excitement of doggie anticipation didn’t wake the napping infant. (The production shift changed at 3pm). Usually when he got home the dog would run circles about the yard in joy and greet him once he was out of the truck, having mastered the rules of stay back from the auto gate and running truck. Only that previous afternoon was different. As he drove down the road to his house the dog didn’t greet him at the fence and run the length of it barking welcome to the truck. As he pulled into the driveway, no dog in view. He was worried. He loved that new dog. Then suddenly from around the back of the house there came the dog tearing toward the truck with all he’s got. “Oh he was off doing doggie stuff at the woods and missed hearing me. Now he’s making up for it!” the young man thought. Well, before he could get out of the stopped truck, the dog jumped into his lap through the open door. “Aww it’s okay boy! You don’t have to run the fence welcoming me!” Then it hit him. The dog had just been sprayed by a skunk. Now it was all over him and the dog was rubbing his burning eyes on the truck passenger seat!
That was when he began the mantra of “I love my dog, I love my dog.” His eyes started watering from the smell! He got out and got sick as the stench was too great. Seems that the dog wasn’t the only one getting the tomato juice bath that night. The coat was washed and dried so many times and the truck sat with door wide open and fans blowing on the wet upholstery from a good vinegar and baking soda scrub. The dog was at the vet being shaved and treated for its eyes were chemically burned from the spray. This poor guy rode to work in snowy weather with his windows down sitting on garbage bags placed over the wet drivers seat. He’d parked his truck in the far lot and left it open to air out more. Now the offending coat hung on the open driver door and the clothes aired out in the bed of the vehicle. All told the infamous “skunk dog welcome” as it came to be known in the office cost the guy a bundle in vet bills, truck cleaning bills, and new winter coat. Yes at times his new mantra of “I love my dog, I LOVE MY DOG” became audible as he dealt with the incident.
Now whenever I hear a skunk story I remember the skunk dog welcome and how it took some time for our enclosed office to shed the smell. Until next time peeps.
There was a very sad crisis at my house this morning. The new bag of doggie biscuits could not be found. I KNOW tragedy of epic proportions! Call in the Avengers! Where is the Closer when you need her? It was sad and perplexing.
I did not feel well last night. I went to bed early. The doggie treat jar was empty and is our ritual before I go to bed I let her out and gave her a treat. Not feeling well I didn’t take time to wash the jar and put the new treats in it. I just left the bag of treats on the counter. Aaron and Sara came home to make their dinner as I was heading off to bed. I didn’t care all I wanted was bed.
Cut to 5am this morning, doggie wanted out. I got up and let her out. I reached into the treat jar. Not normal time for a treat but I was still groggy and not up to my usual form. It was empty. My sleep rattled brain remembered I’d left the bag out. I reached for it in the dark, not there. I flipped on the light and looked around the kitchen. Dirty dishes piled in the sink, ran water in them. Yep Aaron’s cooked and moved the treats but where? Dunno. Oh well she’s not supposed to get a treat now any way. I turned off the light and shuffled to bed leaving a very dejected greyhound in my wake.
“But, but you rattled the treat jar…. I was a good girl. You were going to give me a tasty treat. What, what happened? ” Rappy sighed heavily and was left staring at the empty jar. “Momma don’t love me no more.”
Then this morning I got up and went through the morning routine. Rappy out and in again. This time it’s morning treat time. We start and end our days together with tasty basted biscuit treat of love. It’s been our routine for years. I reach for the jar and remember, “Oh yeah Aaron.” I look about the kitchen no treat bag. I shout up to ask Aaron what he did with it. He doesn’t remember. I don’t find it in the storage cubby, in the pantry, in the dog food drawer or cabinet. It’s gone. I show Rappy my empty hands and tell her Aaron ate all the treats. She’s dejected and shuffles off to her day bed in my office.
I take to emptying the dishwasher and loading the dishes in the sink into it. I’m puzzling over where that bag could have gone. Then I see it! It’s on top of the fridge! I’m short I don’t always look up for something. Much less look for doggie treats in non doggie places. Still I found it! The tasty basted biscuit treat of love are back!
I immediately called Rappy, the depressed old greyhound that had moped about the corners of my morning. “Here girl!” I handed her two, yes TWO, treats one stacked on top of the other. I found them! Her eyes lit up, her ears went up, her back feet did the happy tap dance with the big tail wags. “MOMMA STILL LOVES ME!” She roo’d. She grabbed the treats and ran to her bed to enjoy them.
I enjoyed watching her savor them. Then I went and filled up the empty treat jar. All is right with the furry household now. Momma loves Rappy. The treat jar is full. Life is as it should be for doggie and me. If only I could get my printer working. Maybe I should show it the full treat jar…
It all started when I wanted a big crisp dinner salad. No dinner salad is complete without a boiled egg.
So as afternoon was rolling in it found me standing over the garbage in the kitchen looking out the window peeling boiled eggs. (I always make few extra). Rappy was out in the backyard and I was enjoying the feeling better stage after a week of being ill.
I noticed how much more had bloomed and greened since the last time I felt well enough to assess the yard. The red tulips had come out and were flanking the yellow custard ones with the same number.
The perennials in the same bed are greening up nicely. Their winter trash getting cleared away. I wondered if Mike had done it this weekend, I bet he did. The purple tulips are just making a showing as the frilly jonquils are doing their finale. The lilac bush Mike had trimmed so harshly not only has leaves but is getting ready to bloom. The cat nip by the fence has grown in leaps and bounds.
As I stood there watching the wildlife began its activities with no human clamoring around in the small space. Squirrels perched on the back fence running back and forth to keep an eye on Rappy as she romped in the grass. Soon they took a perch up on the peak of the back neighbor’s garage to survey when it was safe to make a run to the currently full bird feeder.
While they wearily watched Rappy a nuthatch landed in the lilac bush. They always make me laugh because they seem to look at the world upside down for most of the time. He’d dart out and land on the feeder to eat a few bite before the chittering of the squirrels made him dart back to the cover of the heart-shaped lilac leaves. It was so loud I could hear them through the glass of the windows. Greedy buggers didn’t want to share with the tiny nuthatch. But remember there’s always someone bigger than you keeping watch, in this case it was Rappy. The chittering would perk Rappy’s ears. She’d prance around looking for squirrels and they’d go silent hunkering down on the shingles of the neighbor’s roof. Then the nuthatch would dart out again to eat. Once Rappy settled down to watch out the gate the squirrels would scold the nuthatch, it would dart for cover and Rappy would prance about on patrol. Then rinse and repeat again.
As this went on a large robin bopped into the scene. He wasn’t concerned with Rappy, squirrels in the balcony, or nuthatches nibbling birdseed. He was collecting the dried vines from last year’s morning glories. Then he was back to pull out the dried leaves from the perennials. He made several trips to our yard then up to our garage’s peak the off in a Northernly direction to return shortly and clean up my yard some more. So maybe Mike had some help with that.
This was just a moment peeling eggs and looking out the window. Yet it was just what I needed after a week of being in bed ill. The freshness of it all, the simple fun and quiet activity that goes on all the time unnoticed. I’m not up to a full day’s activity yet but it was good to see it go on.
Now excuse me I’ve a dinner salad to make now that the eggs have chilled. As always it’s good to hear from you. Until next time.
Mike says he can always tell when I’m coming into a room because I’m preceded by my furry entourage. Currently there are four members, and yes at home you generally find them with me. Part of that is I work from home and they are social creatures, so we hang together. Part of it I like to think is because I’m the Queen, the leader of the pack, the big honcho of the house, you get the idea. To show no particular favoritism we’ll go in order of age with oldest first.
Meet Miss Mo. Her name is Mohican because she’s the sole survivor of her litter. I’ll tell her full biography in her own post. However when Aaron was little he dubbed her Kitty Mo. Over the years it has become Miss Mo about the time the furry boys got their Mr. designation. Her position in my entourage is princess. She’s the most verbal of the entourage so she does announcements such as “The stinky dog is getting up and stirring up her doggie smell.” Now that she’s older there’s many “pick me up and put me_____ .” She’s arthritic now being old and can’t jump up on seats or beds as easily as before. So once we settle into a room like my office she might shout to be put on the chair next to me. Generally she brings up the end being knocked kneed and all.
The next two are brothers, litter mates even. So again in no particular order we’ll start with Mr. Boots Red aka Mr. I-eat-it.
He and his brother were fostered by us and came named Puss & Boots. However when I got collars by chance he got the red one since the brothers look very much alike (more so when they were young) Mike took to calling them by their collar color. Along the years they got full names with Mr. on them.
His job is being the troublemaker. If there’s a crash in the room he’ll be the one casually strolling out tail up trying to look nonchalant. “What crash? You heard a crash?” He’ll dart around the entourage very unregal like – much to the disgust of his very proper brother and Miss Mo. Also if there’s anything new he’ll eat it. You have to put ear buds in drawers because he’ll eat the cords and gnaw the buds. He’s the only cat I’ve ever known that will eat fruit. Thus his nickname is I-eat-it because that’s what he says when he encounters something “I eat it!” then he inspects it. He’s the least verbal of the felines but will speak if he feels he needs my immediate attention.
Meet Mr. Red’s brother Mr. Blue our gentleman feline. He’s the alpha among the animals of the house but defers to me or Mike in a very courtly manner when we’re present. He’s very nice and polite. He’s always tried to divide his time evenly among those humans in a room. He’d visit each person to sit with them. When I’m writing like now chances are he’ll be lounging on the back of my chair with his front paw on my shoulder. When he enters a room he always greets me with a short chirped “Meow-meow.” I do the same in return and it’s become a way I can call just him.
Finally one you saw yesterday Arapaho’s Ace aka Rappy. She’s a retired racing greyhound. She’s a very timid girl but over the years of retired life she’s come out of her shell. Still she’s the gawky large member of the entourage that always waits for the others to get settled in the room then she settles. She’s bossed about by the felines, yes a dog who made her living chasing small furry things on sticks cowers now follows the small furry ones in our house. Honestly she’s not the smartest animal I’ve ever known. Actually she’s one the slowest and simplest animals I ever met second only to Chatterbox (a cat I’ll tell her tale another day).
So that’s my in house entourage. From the gentleman feline to the demur simple greyhound. I love them all each has a special place in my heart.
As always thanks for reading. I’d love to hear from you feel free to comment or contact me. Also likes and star ratings make me smile. Until next time!
Mary Louise Eklund 