New toy review

Mom got me a yellow and black ball that is flat on the top and bottom, called the Dog Dizzy.  She puts little bits of cat food inside and then I have to roll it around to get the cat food out.  Sounds easy enough, right?  Uhm, no.  It is not easy.  The darn thing doesn't roll.  It also doesn't come apart when you chew it.  I got a bizzilion tooth marks on it but it hasn't broken at all in over 24 hours.  Very few toys can say THAT!!!

Mom here~ it's an intelligence test toy made in Sweden by the Nina Ottosson company.  He tried to break it for quite a while, but that wasn't working for him.  I was very impressed that this toy survived his first attempts.  He has gotten treats out and knows they come out of the hole in the side.  It's weighted so it almost never gives out treats, because the part with the hole is on the light side and points up.  The next method was to pick it up and drop it, which sometimes worked and sometimes didn't.  He has gotten to the point of forcing it to move with his paws and grip, even laying on his side to get the treats off the floor.  Yukon is a pretty smart doggy, if I do say so, myself.

Kat Sqwatch Feva!!!

So, my MIL Pat lives across the block and just moved in last Sept.  She had to leave her outdoor barn cat in the country, so Pat was thrilled to find two wild alley cats ensconced under her house.  She began feeding them several times a day, canned food, dry food, people food scraps,anything to help her tame them.  Finally she gets to pet the calico, only to feel kittens wiggling inside....of course.

So I made an appointment at the S/N vet clinic for a free "feral" spay, except that the day we needed to bring the cat to the vet's, she didn't show up.  Pat was certain "Spotty" had hidden under the house to have her kittens, and we missed the appointment.  CWAP!  Next morning, still no cat at the back porch.  Mom was convinced she'd had the kittens.  She went to the garage to head for the post office and who was looking out the garage door (human sized) but "Spotty"....not only was she basically captured, but also extra hungry!!!  WaHoo!

Pat called me and I came over with my cat carrier and a can of really cheap stinky tuna flavor cat food.  Sure enough, Spotty came right up and let mom pat her all she wanted.  Unfortunately, mom's got limited mobility and couldn't get a hold of "Spotty"...so I waited until the cat went under a tool bench and grabbed her.  Now, just because you can pet a feral cat, does not mean you can pick up a feral cat....and it most certainly does not mean you can stick a feral cat into a small cat carrier and shut the lid...."Spotty" was certain she was fighting for her life and I was the enemy trying to take her life from her.  Eventually, I let go...but not before extensive damage was done.  We left Spotty to eat her stinky fish in peace while I went to the ER.

Now, it turns out that the ER does not do a whole lot about cat bites, even multiple bites with deep tissue punctures and long scratches.  I got a tetanus booster and some antibiotics and a "don't do that again" lecture.  Then I went to the S/N vet and asked for a loaner trap....and if one more person asks why I didn't do this in the first place, I will stop talking to them also...along with a half dozen other of my one-time-friends.  I went home to soak my hands (both) in Epsom's salt water.

My hubs went to his mom's and almost immediately (accidentally) released Spotty from the garage.  OOPS!  He then proceeded to catch Spotty's 1 year old son "Fang", whom we took to the clinic for a snip, and two neighborhood cats, one of whom we took in for a snip, but turned out to be a tame neighbor cat--already snipped and chipped.  We returned the neighbor's abducted cat....and set up a trash-can trap for Spotty, until we got the neighbor's cat back to it's owner and could use the trap...meanwhile, my hand had swollen 2x normal and I couldn't type, let alone pour a cup of coffee.  I started shaking, teeth chattering, with a fever...that only lasted about 2 hours, but scared me into going to my own Dr. for follow up.  He extended my antibiotic an additional 5 days.

We did catch Spotty last night (finally) with the vet's trap (Hubs was crushed that she chose the metal trap over his trash-can and stick trap with the actual sardines....I knew that would hurt his feelings....sorry babe.) and took her to the S/N vet's for the emergency spay.  We were still in time to stop the kittens from being born (I know that's not something a lot of "No Kill" rescuers want to hear....but no body wanted to hear my "heartless" solution to unwanted kittens....)Which was the main reason speed was of the essence in catching her to begin with....

The local Feral Trap/Neuter/Return volunteers care for the cat until it is healed enough to be returned to the neighborhood.  Fang should be ready on Sat.  Spotty--whose been re-named Hellynn-- will be home late next week.  I did apologize to mom for cussing so much while I "petted" her cat, hope I've been forgiven.  Now, on day 4, I am able to type after a 1 hour soak and 2 Ibeprophen.  Darn cat...but she has given mom a hobby in the big city...and mom has offered to help brush bunnies this afternoon, since I'm still bunged up.  That should be an experience.  Can't wait.  KIM

baby bunny goes bink-about

Last night when I was going to let the dogs in from their last perimeter check, I noticed a golden golfball in the middle of my kitchen floor. It was the largest of Tulip's week old kits!!! Come to visit? Well, she'd had to escape the nest box, and the cage bars, survive a 4 inch drop, waddle across the pantry, squiggle through the diamond mesh baby gate (the purpose of which is to keep the dogs OUT) and across the vast wasteland of linoleum.

Not only is this the most intrepid adventurer, this kit still has his/her eyes shut, she is also the most lucky of buns. If I'd let the dogs come rushing in from their romp in the snowy yard, she'd likely have been crushed in the stampede. I'm thinking of naming her after an explorer, possibly Marko Polo, since she was found in the middle of nowhere like a child in a swimming pool with it's eyes shut.

I returned said adventurer to the nest box and hurriedly counted wiggling noses. All present and accounted for. This indoor cage is actually a dumb cage to use for kits, but it's the biggest cage I have with a tray. It's a re-purposed guinea pig cage with big wire clamps on the sides that held the cage to the tray before I put floor wire under the cage part, to suspend my woolers above their waste. Now these wire clamps just flap about, getting in the way, and make it impossible to add a screen to the outside of the cage. I tried putting a cardboard "bumper pad" inside the cage to stop any future wanderers but mamma-Tulip instantly began digging, shredding, tossing the panels about. DH suggested that I wrap a beach towel around the baby gate to stop any future romps inside the pantry and away from the dogs. (This partial solution does not solve the problem of the house mouser...who's prime hunting grounds include the pantry) I have tried and failed to remove the clamps, so unless DH can figure out a solution, I'm stymied. While I wait for him to get his sleep in, (He's on 3rd shift this weekend) I'll cut a screen out of 1 inch cage wire to wrap around the cage at floor level. Off set from the bars, it should be too small for another bink-about break-out.

let your weakness become your strength

 Subject: let your weakness become your strength
> 
> http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2014286/Get-patch-How-tigers-left-tails-legs-scared-protective-mother-bear.html
> 
> If she hadn't been a "single mother" she wouldn't have charged....
> 
> While working at the women's prison, an offender asked me what scared me most about finding a new job. I said I was old. She gave me the game show buzzer sound and told me I was experienced. I said I'd been at the same job for so long maybe I couldn't do anything else. Buzzer sound again....she told me I had endurance and loyalty. 
> 
> The point was, she was a felon  and looking for housing and work would be a major challenge for her. She'd been incredibly young when incarcerated and had no outside work history. But inside the prison, she'd consistently held high status positions (which is very risky because jealous inmates can undermine them and spread false accusations pretty easily.) Having been in prison was going to be her strongest selling point. One of the college professors had just been talking to her about it...the college classes have since been cancelled.."In this economic climate."
> 
> This isn't a hard thing to do...just ask yourself what is the most scary thing about this problem? For the bear, the risk to her cubs was the one thing she could not allow, and it probably saved her life. When I went to grad school, I was certain my brain had "rusted shut" in the 11 years I'd been working in factories. So I studied more than I did in undergrad and kept my personal life out of drama mode, which had been a big distraction "back in the day." My grades weren't that impressive, but I made it through while keeping my kids housed and fed. Whatever scares you, let that fuel your success. KIM
> 
> "I refuse to be driven crazy by these events."

A Christmas Poem by Yukon

A Christmas Poem

To pee,
Or not to pee?
That is the question.
Why bring
an evergreen
tree
into the house
if not for ME?
and my investigation...
What's with the bitter apple spray
And Baby-saver screen?
What rates all this attention?
You hang last year's beads
and baubles upon the branch
I'll give it what it needs,
My very own addition.

The End. Yukon

animated story--true

quick story..  ..back in the day, our family lived with my aunt's family  for several months as we were between houses. Us 4 cousins "younger" kids (10 thru 5) were sitting quietly at the dining room table  watching through the door to the kitchen stove  where our mothers were cooking something mysterious.  We voted and my younger brother was elected to "interrupt" and spy on the upcoming meal..  ..he heard my aunt say, "Do you think we should tell them what it is?" and my mom said, "If we do, they won't eat it."  

Now I had eaten beef tongue,  what could be worse than eating a steer's tongue?!?!  

My brother got in trouble for leaving the table,  but he did get a good look in the skillet. "It's long strips," he said. "and they're all curled around like octopus arms."  

We were silent. Sure enough, my aunt brought the skillet to the table  and my brother was right....they were trying to feed us OCTOPUSES!!! We bowed our heads and thanked the Lord,  but we wished for once the prayer had been longer.  However, as we passed our empty plates to my aunt, my little brother burst into tears. "Please don't make us eat octopus," he wailed.  

My aunt was horrified,  "Oh, honey. No. We would never make you eat octopus! This is beef heart. It's good, I promise you."  We were so relieved that it came from a cow  and not an octopus, that we cleaned our plates and asked for more.  (It was a cheap cut of meat that they couldn't have served to their husbands, no matter how lean times had become.)    

past dog visits

When I was a young'un, my little brother and I rode our ponies all over the world. Since there were no cell phones or GPS, our adults never knew exactly where we were. We'd just leave a note on the kitchen table and head out....sometimes things came up and we changed directions and there was basically no way anyone would know (raspberries ripe!?!@? Let's GO!!) There were times when mom would call around the neighborhood and some lady would see us riding by. Either she would yell out the door, or call the next woman on the party line to give us a holler cause our mom wanted us for some reason (prolly in trouble related to the non-accomplishment of one chore or another)

On many of these adventures, a little golden standard Pomeranian would tag along. His name was Sparky, and if he got tired, he would put his paws on my (or my brother's) foot and bum a ride on the pony, with a hike from us and his collar. Then he would scurry around back and stand on the pony's rump with his legs acting like shock absorbers, no matter how fast or rough the horse ran.

Being a farm dog, back in the day was a rough life, full of huge animals, loud machines, poor food and basically no medical attention, but there was a freedom in it that today's pets will never know. That freedom came at a high price and for Sparky, it came with a calamitous but quick end. He was one of many in a long line of hard living dogs that passed beneath our stroking hands, but he was much missed and long remembered.

This week, Sparky's reincarnation arrived at my home in Indianapolis, complete with sex change. We're calling "him" a variety of Sparky derivatives--Spunky, Sprocket, Sparkles, plus Missy and Foxy. Nothing seems to get a response, but she is very affectionate and submissive (although playful) with the other dogs. Took her to the vet's. She's intact and chipless. In some ways, she's also clueless--such as, taking food off my plate as though it belongs to no one...not coming when called, heading straight for Rural St. when she escapes the house. That being said, she's pretty smart....figured out going to the back yard whenever the pack heads out. Has staked out the pillow area of the big bed, so she doesn't get stepped on or rolled over in the snooz-a-thon melee. She also is submissive with the tomcat although Precious still swats her daily for random irritations.

She has glued herself to my side, even though I'm not convinced she should live here. I'm sure she'd have a home the first day on the HSI show room floor. Although Gretchen and she play very nicely and Spark-ette can run circles around her, I still worry. One snap from Gretchen and this small dog would not need a vet. She's a brain oriented dog, not a heart oriented dog. She'd do great at agility if I knew enough to train her. And she's cute as heck. Hubs is all for keeping her, but I feel like she should belong to my younger brother and his kids. Think I'll give him a call.