Our dear Cuja Lula Belle has gone...

Our dear old kitty, Cuja Lula Belle, past away just before noon yesterday. We had decided the night before that the first thing we would do the next morning would be to take her to the vet for her very last ride. Painfully, the thought of her leaving us had become more real with each passing day. She had been with us for only 14 years ... just 14... but the horrible agonizing pain she had been enduring, had already gone on too long, it was enough and we knew it was time to let her go.All morning our daughter, Minka, and me did what we could to make her comfortable. Our little Doxie/Jack Russell dog, Rutgar, was never far from Cuja's side or mine. Cuja would crawl away to be alone and Rutgar was the only way we could find her.Unfortunately, our vet no longer works on Saturdays and he can be difficult to reach in an emergency outside of office hours. While we were deciding what to do next, I went to check on her and let her know that we were close-by. I knew the moment I bent down, and looked into her eyes gleaming sightlessly out from under the pink-room bed, she was gone.I ran to get Minka and we pulled her out from that private, sheltered place she expired in. She had well and truly died and was crossing the Rainbow Bridge at that moment as we stroked her soft fur made moist by our tears.She died at home, and that was a blessing.
I know all our dear fur family members are special and Cuja Lula Belle was no exception. Our son, Inyo, rescued her when he found a woman standing in the middle of the bridge that crosses the river near our home. In her hand she held a burlap gunnysack in which she had placed several heavy stones and a writhing and complaining kitten. She was about to toss it over the bridge railing when Inyo managed to grab it from her. He opened the bag and discovered the little orange kitten and the woman turned and left without a word.
He brought the kitten home and because the little tyke seemed like such a tough little fellow, he named him Cujo. Six months later Cujo had a litter of kittens and immediately her name was changed to Cuja and later Lula Belle was added. As soon as homes were found for her gorgeous babies, off she went to the vet for spaying.
Hers was a happy life. Time spent on the farm and surrounding forest, life in a small village and finally here in a beautiful home overlooking two lakes.
Her body lay in a rose embroidered shroud with flowers and tiny crystals laid upon her. One by one, the two dogs and remaining two kitties took turns sitting by her side. Modesto sat for several hours and Rutgar led visitors into where she lay and pointed to her with his nose. We buried her this morning with her crystal bowl and a few of her favorite toys, close to her old friends, Jack the dog and Vladimir, our daughter’s cat that left us earlier this year.
Modesto and Basshat will now be filling her position at Plume n’ Tails as Product Quality Control Managers. She is greatly missed by everyone here by those with fur and those without.
Good-bye Cuja Lula Belle

Skunked... Again!!!

There’s no room for smugness on my part now. I was being so careful not to let our little Mr. Rutgar out the door without first putting him on his leash. Then, I got a bit lazy and to save my sore back, not wanting bend over, I worked instead at becoming ‘pack leader’ with Rutty and my daughter’s two dogs, Kasper and Ms. Lilly Zha Zha.
All was going well. I was so proud of my progress. The three dogs sat nicely in quiet anticipation, waiting for me to open the door. Not until all three dogs were relaxed did I step through the door myself and release them into the brisk night air… Big mistake!
Ms. Lilly trotted grudgingly out the door, undoubtidly preferring to pee pee on the bathroom carpet. Kasper was right behind her moving fast and streaking right past him was Mr. Rutgar. What I hadn’t seen was the solitary skunk crossing the yard.
Surprisingly, Kasper pulled up short. "I guess he’s finally learned his lesson after all," thought I… but, Mr. Rutgar… Well, at the last minute he ‘caught wind’ of what lie ahead and he put on the brakes. Sliding to a stop he managed to spin around and luckily, was sprayed only on his rear-end.
So, another late night doggie bath, but at least now I can fully vouch for the baking soda, peroxide and dish detergent recipe. It really does work. I have not tried the apple cider vinegar wipe down that is recommended by friends who seem to have a lot of experience with Jack Russells and skunks, but I’ve got good home made apple cider vinegar ready to try… just hope I never have to.
Your back on the leash now Rutty!

Skunked!

I opened the window to let in the cool night air as we crawled into bed to snuggle under our warm comforters. The sound of trees rustling in the breeze and the soft scent of apple and cherry blossoms lulled us peacefully to sleep.
Without warning and abruptly waking us from our sleep, the apple and cherry blossom fragrance turned into the unmistakable smell of skunk. Anyone who is familiar with skunks close up knows that the smell is not unlike the stench of burning rubber and it just gets worse. The smell continued to grow stronger and stronger.
I switched on the light… midnight. “Oh my God, I wonder if one of the dogs has been left outside,” I said to my husband.
I threw back the covers and raced across the room to close the window. I turned to see Kasper, our daughter’s large part wolf-dog, standing next to the bed with a dripping yellow patch staining his white coat. A visiting friend had let him in before realizing that the dog had been sprayed. In no time, Kasper had toured the house looking for help and spreading the offensive odor throughout.
Kasper has been skunked several times. We are certain he thinks he’s going after the same stinky cat every time. He is so determined to catch that nasty offensive critter, he simply can’t stop himself.
Not wanting to deal with bathing him at that ungodly hour, I put him out on the porch for the night.
The next morning, looking miserable after being locked out and away from his usual cozy bed, we brought him in for the following de-skunking treatment:
1L of hydrogen peroxide (the kind from your First Aide Kit) 1/3 cup of baking soda1 tbsp of dish soap Mix together and massage into to the coat, watch around the eyes and face (a drop of mineral oil in each eye will protect his or her eyes), leave on for 15 min if possible, minimum of 5 minutes, then rinse off thoroughly, you may shampoo after if desired. You can add up to 4L of water for a large dog, but the effectiveness will be diminished. Adjust the amount of the mixture depending on the size of your pet to make sure coat is thoroughly saturated. Repeat as necessary. Do not store this mixture as it could explode, creating yet another mess.
This just in from a friend who has Jack Russell Terriers and we all know how ‘determined’ they can be. She claims that wetting a sponge with apple cider vinegar and then wiping the dog down with it, will miraculously dispel the stink. It’s worth a try, but I’m not looking for an opportunity to try it out. If anyone reading this has experience with it or the opportunity to try it, let me know how it works for you.
For garments that have been contaminated with the scent, try the following… I know this works. Place all the clothes into a large plastic garbage bag (make certain there are no holes in the bag)… NO, do not through it away. Simply tie the bag closed making a tight seal and leave it for two to three weeks depending on how bad they smell. When you open the bag… smell is gone. Good luck… and may your days be filled with only pleasant smells.

Mrs. MacCabe's Cats

The following is actually an enhancement, elaboration and compilation of stories of two such lovely elderly ladies I once knew... all names have been changed.



At 86 years old, Mrs. MacCabe, a proper Victorian lady, lived in the yellow and white cottage on the corner across from St. Andrew’s Anglican Church. Her husband died in 1952 in a boating accident and despite having several gentlemen callers, she remained true to the love of her life and never remarried.
She preferred the company of cats and she had three such companions, Pebble a large black and white fellow, Fat Freddy who lived up to his name and Gina, the shy little ginger cat that showed up at her back door one wintry Sunday morning after church.
Her summer afternoons were spent sitting on her porch, correctly attired in her lace blouse clasped tightly at her neck with the cameo broach her husband, Earl, brought back from Italy in 1945, pressed and pleated long gray skirt, thick support stockings and chunky heeled black shoes. The loose white curls on her head stirred softly in the breeze of the nearby lake as she sat drinking Earl Grey tea from her Royal Albert tea set. Nearby, her cats sipped milk from china saucers that had lost their matching cups.
Her closest neighbor, Thomas, who had moved into the village from up the lake, complained to everyone he met about that damn Fat Freddy who destroyed his flowerbed every chance he got. Thomas, however, would never mention Fat Freddy’s dreadful deeds to Mrs. MacCabe, knowing how mortified and upset she would be to think her beloved cat could be capable of pooping amongst the pansies and snapdragons in Thomas’s well cared for garden. Instead, he kept mum and chased Fat Freddy from his yard when Mrs. MacCabe wasn’t there to see.
It was in the darkest part of January last year when she didn’t show up at church that we realized something was amiss. Through out the morning’s service at every small sound that came from the vicinity of the broad oak doors, heads would turn in expectation of her arrival. No one could remember when she had missed a Sunday or had even been late.
At the end of the morning’s last hymn and closing prayer, two people attending worship who had seen her the day before, commented that she had looked pale and had a raspy cough. They quickly pulled on their coats and crossed the street to check on her.
They found her. Still in her blue flowered dressing gown and pink slippers, she sat silent in her overstuffed chair. Her chin resting on her chest and the little ginger cat curled in her lap. Her church going clothes were laid out neatly on the perfectly made bed. Pebble and Fat Freddy mewing persistently, weaved in and out between the parishioner’s legs. Mrs. MacCabe, and Gina were gone. It was as if Gina could not bear to be without her and in undying loyalty and love, accompanied her dear lady to heaven.
Fat Freddy and Pebble each went to stay with the two people who discovered them that sad day. Pebble later became the darling of the local retirement home. He resides there still, a nurturing presence amongst the elderly residents who lovingly stroke his velvet coat while enjoying the music of his purrs.
Two months after Mrs. MacCabe’s passing, I was combing through a basket of fabric remnants at our local thrift shop when I came across a plain, gray woolen scarf. I picked it up and was immediately met with a memory of her, wrapped in her brown winter coat, the gray scarf loosely wrapped around her neck, dressed as she was every Sunday morning when she came to church. I lifted the scarf to my nose and could still detect the faint scent of Coty’s White Shoulders, Earl’s favorite and the only perfume she ever wore.
I paid ten cents for the scarf and brought it home. I carefully cut it into several mouse shaped pieces, sewed up the seams, stuffed them with catnip I’d gathered the summer before, stitched them closed, and embroidered on faces. In memory of Mrs. MacCabe’s love for her feline companions, MouieWowies and Rattatudes were born… these are for you Fat Freddy, Pebble and Gina in heaven. You can see and acquire them at: http://www.plumentails.com/

The Trick

The following story is absolutely true. If you've ever lived with a Border Collie, you wont doubt me for one minute. Enjoy and read on...

My best friend and I waited anxiously at the Air Freight Depot in Spokane, Washington, for the delivery of our Border Collie Pups, arriving all the way from McLeansborough, Illinois. Unrelated for future breeding purposes, both were from champion stock and were being ‘shipped together in a safe and light weight crate,’ as promised by the breeder.
Certain the pups were flown in one of those new fiberglass animal carriers, our conversation was starting to get a little heated over which one of us would get to keep the shipping crate. When from behind the counter and over the din of noise in the open freight hanger could be heard the unmistakable of sound growling animals.
“Well, here we are ladies. They look a little worse for wear, but it was a bit of long flight and after all, they were stuck in Chicago for a few extra hours,” said the attendant, pushing the crate with his foot from behind the counter. There they were in a wooden lettuce crate, water can wired to one corner, wet and soiled newspaper beneath the dirty black and white snarling pups, their teeth locked together in obvious loathing.
“Ah, it’s ok with me, you can keep the crate… really, I don’t mind,” pretending generosity.
“Yeah… sure,” she replied. “Which one is which do you think?” She opened the crate and bravely reached in to separate the scrapping puppies. Hers was the larger pup, a male she had already registered as ‘Bramble’ and mine was the small female, Chrissy, who was to become our 'hired hand', working goats and sheep on our small British Columbia farm.
At only eight weeks old, Chrissy demonstrated her superior Border Collie intellect. We would throw or hide different toys in separate places and when told to retrieve a specific toy, she’d fetch the correct item every time.
Our pups were sent to us with training instructions and although I did my best to follow the directions to the letter, I was a total failure. Training sessions usually ended up with either my mouth feeling like dry cotton from my futile attempts at various kinds of whistle commands described in the book, or I’d be left standing with my arms flailing around in the air trying to get her attention with supposed hand signals. Fortunately it was only me that ended up confused and exasperated for our little gal was a lot smarter than me and was able to figure out on her own what was required and off she’d go and do it.
When there was no work for her to do, she would invent her own entertainment, usually pitting her fine brain against that of the farm cat and mealtimes provided the greatest opportunity for outwitting the poor unsuspecting feline. She would hunker down behind the kitchen cabinet and stare unblinking at the cat’s food dish, quietly waiting for the cat. Queen Pine Cone would approach the kibble dish. Chrissy, holding her breath, body tense and frozen, would wait for the cat to be fully engaged in her repast when she would leap out from behind the cabinet and hit the bowl with both front paws, sending kibble and cat flying in all directions. After a few such encounters, Queen Pine Cone stopped coming to her kibble dish, but Chrissy wouldn’t allow the game to end that easily. Taking the edge of the cat’s bowl carefully between her teeth, dragging it to another place on the kitchen floor, and moving to a new hiding place behind the stove, the game was on once again. To save Queen Pine Cone from eventual starvation, we built her a special feeding table, elevating her well above the collie’s reach.
Our son had an uncanny talent for training dogs, and with such an enthusiastic pupil, his ability as a trainer excelled. First, he taught her the shell game using a dried pea and three small matching bowls. She picked the right bowl every time but soon lost interest. Ready to move on to something new, one afternoon he proudly demonstrated the new 'card' trick he had taught the keen-eyed little collie.
Whenever he had an audience, he would call her over and shuffle a deck of cards. Fanning the deck face down in front of her and in a firm voice he would command, "Pick one… Just one card!" Dutifully, and with the intense eye and focus Border Collies are well known for, she would step forward and gently pull one card from the deck spread before her. For dramatic effect, the boy would hold the card up for all to see. He would then place the card back in the deck and reshuffle. Once again he fanned the cards out face down before her and in his strongest voice commanded, "Chrissy, which card was it?" With the same intensity, she would run her nose over the cards and gently pull out the correct card between her teeth. With a theatrical flourish our son waved the card before their audience for all to see.
This went on for most of the summer and as word spread in our small farming community, the duo became mildly famous in a ‘big fish, small pond’ kind of way. Curious friends and neighbors came, eager to see the show but Chrissy was getting more and more reluctant to perform.
One afternoon as guests gathered to see the boy and his dog perform the trick, her old enthusiasm for the game had surprisingly returned. Much to our son’s delight, she was back to her old self and eager to perform. He began his usual routine and all went well until she was asked to retrieve the one correct card. Her nose brushed over the cards once, then twice, and with a small hop forward, she gingerly removed a mouthful of cards from his hands and dropped them. Looking puzzled he asked her again and she grabbed another mouthful of cards, sat back down, tail wagging, panting pink tongue bouncing from the side of her mouth. She tilted her grinning face up at him to await his next command. As more cards fell to the ground, one by one their snickering audience began to drift away.
"I knew coming here was a waste of time," remarked one disgruntled visitor.
"Yeah, and I could have finished baling up my hay this afternoon. Now I gotta work 'til dark," said another.
In desperation while still trying to sound in control, he gave the command again and again she removed several cards at once and dropped them to the ground. He pleaded with her, "There's hardly any cards left… Pleeeez, ya dumb dog, just pick the right card!" By the time everyone had gone, she had pulled all but one card from his hands. There he stood holding one card, THE card. That was the last time she was ever asked to perform the ' trick.'

Spring brings new life!

The weather is beginning to warm, the first flowers of spring are pushing up through the soil, cherry blossoms are opening and more puppies and kittens are born at this time of year than at any other.

Every spring, so many unwanted kittens and puppies end up at animal shelters and the plea goes out once again: Please… Spay and Neuter your pets!

The statistics are alarming. There are forty-five cats and dogs for every person born. Just one out of ten puppies ever gets a home and only one out of twelve kittens. More than eight hundred cats and dogs are killed every hour in the United States, simply because there are too many to place in homes.

Here are some of the reasons I have heard for not spaying or neutering:
“I just can’t see doing it to him. He ought to have a bit of fun in his life.”
“His male urine keeps other animals out of the yard and off the property. If I get him fixed, he can’t effectively mark his territory any more.”
“I want her to have at least one litter so she can be fully matured and be a mother at least once.”
“If I get him fixed too young, he’ll be a wussy dog.”
“Her puppies (kittens) are so cute, everyone wants them. Finding home for the pups (kittens) wont be a problem. In fact, I can probably even sell them and make a few bucks.”

The reasons seem endless and they’re all wrong. Unless you are a conscientious, compassionate, responsible breeder of purebred animals, there is absolutely no justification for not spaying or neutering.

I admit I was under the illusion that our beloved guardian farm dog could do his job better if he remained intact. I was wrong. As he got older, he became increasingly unhappy, insecure and fearful. He started to wander and have health problems and when we took him in for his annual check up, our veterinarian had this to say, “Why don’t you neuter this fellow. He’s a perfectly nice dog who wants to please you and do his job, but he’s terribly conflicted. His mind is constantly drawn to the only other thing that matters to him, like the female in heat two miles away. He’ll still be a boy after the operation, very male and able to ‘mark’ his territory just fine, but his constant drive to find females will be gone and he’ll lead a much happier life.” He pointed out that some testosterone is made in other parts of the animal’s body besides the testicles but that the drive to mate was making the poor dog a nervous wreck. It made sense, so we opted for the operation and ended up with a dependable, well-balanced dog that was happy to stay on home ground.

There is no need to have a ‘first litter’ to make certain the dog or cat is mature enough for spaying or neutering. Often cats will still be nursing kittens and before they are weaned, she is already pregnant with her next litter. It is far better to spay cats and dogs before their first heat. In most cases five months old is not too early to spay or neuter. Your veterinarian is the best judge of when your dog or cat is ready. Another point to consider is spayed dogs are at lower risk for breast cancer and uterine infections.

Ah yes, those cute kittens and puppies that everyone wants. I don’t know how many times I’ve been told, “We have so many friends that want her puppies we could give away twice as many.” Then when it comes time to send them to their promised homes, there are more excuses than kittens as to why those same friends have changed their minds, “We just aren’t ready yet. Maybe next time.”

There is a new product on the market that should please the macho guy who wants to maintain the ‘masculine’ appearance of his dog. Testicular implantation for pets is now available. The company advertises that for the dog, “It’s like nothing has ever changed.” Seriously, the dog doesn’t care how he looks to other dogs or to people, but if it means that one more pet will be neutered and live a happier, safer and more balanced life… then kudos to the inventors of this seemingly unnecessary alternative.

During the current economic downturn the need to spay and neuter our pets is even more important, yet for many people the cost of these simple operations is prohibitive. Fortunately, there are many low cost spay and neuter clinics throughout the US and in the more urban areas of Canada. Responsible pet owners are encouraged to watch their local newspapers, radio and television stations for announcements of when and where clinics are taking place.

I saw a cartoon in which one dog was saying to another, “My people really love me and they are taking me to be tutored today.” It was a good laugh, but really it’s people who need the tutoring to neuter and spay the pets they love.

Be sure to visit http://www.plumentails.com where you will find our eco-friendly pet products and furniture… where you can indulge your pets while protecting the environment.

Help for Foreclosure Pets

The Humane Society of the United States (HSUS) is currently taking grant applications from qualifying rescue organizations and animal shelters. The goal is to help people who are affected by the current sub-prime mortgage crises to keep their family pets. Grants will start being handed out at the end of April. You can access information by going directly to their site at: http://www.hsus.org/press_and_publications/press_releases/grant_program_to_help_families_care_for_pets_032608.html

Of further note, on Friday, April 4th, Oprah Winfrey is speaking out against puppy mills. She will be a powerful advocate in shutting down these deplorable, factory style breeding businesses. Be sure to check times in your area and tune in for what will be an important show.
There are many responsible dog and cat breeders and they are not to be confused with puppy mills. If you are looking for a purebred dog or cat, information on how to find a compassionate and responsible breeder can be found at: http://www.hsus.org/

Looking through the classified ads section of our local papers, I have noticed that there have been a growing number of small mixed breeds being offered for relatively large sums of money. Most of us are familiar with Cockapoos (Cocker Spaniel and Poodle cross) and when we first heard it, we chuckled. Now the pets’ section is filled with puppies of mixed origin at purebred prices: Bichon Havanese cross puppies - $525, Pincher Chihahua pups - $300, Many puppies- terrier crosses and Chihuahuas $300 to $400, Bichon Shih Tzu puppies - $450, Jack Russell Poodle (Jackoodle) 9 months old - $500, (Chiweenies) Minature Dachshund Chihuahua puppies $450, White female Shih Tzu Jack Russell cross - $300. On and on it goes. It is easy to see what an enticement these prices offer to people wanting to make a fast buck from the indiscriminate breeding of their animals and before you know it, a puppy mill is born.
I’m not saying accidents don’t happen, they shouldn't’ but sometimes they do. Most responsible pet owners who are not planning to breed purebred dogs (or cats) will have their pets neutered or spayed. I once had a lovely, well bred Persian cat from champion stock. I had planned on breeding her and watched her very closely to make certain she couldn't get out and meet with any neighborhood tomcats. In spite of my diligence, she still managed to zip out the door like a blue-cream streak of fur. It was not until she was 10 feet away from the door that she demonstrated she was in heat. Although I tried most the night, there was no enticing her back in. Her kittens were beautiful and all four were eventually placed in wonderful homes… Realizing my inability to ensure she would not get out on her next heat and not wanting to cage her, I had her spayed.
Accidental breeding is unlikely in the aforementioned ads for mixed breed puppies. The breeding of these dogs is undoubtedly deliberate. One ad went on to offer ‘stud services’ for their mixed breed dog. This kind of haphazard breeding often results in a multitude of problems for pets and their owners, not the least of which are health problems, and a variety disabling deformities.
Mr. Rutgar, our own rescued Jack Russell terrier and Dachshund cross, has deformed front legs that may cause him problems later in life. The people he was taken from wanted $400 for him but because of the abuse and neglect that was also happening to him, he was surrendered to us with no money changing hands.
I am not opposed to charging something for ‘accidental’ puppies or kittens. After all in this society, everything has value and I don’t believe we do the animals any service by offering them ‘free to a good home.’ If some monetary value isn’t placed on them, then they are taken as valueless and that doesn’t necessarily translate to a ‘good home.’
What I am opposed to is selling these pets at purebred prices that motivates irresponsible and bad breeding practices purely for profit.
Stop the suffering. Don’t buy dogs from puppy mills or pet stores, many are supplied their animals from these same puppy factories. Remember too, the countless dogs, cats, puppies and kittens waiting for adoption at your local animal shelters waiting for their forever homes. You’ll be glad you did.
Stop in for a visit to our website: http://www.plumentails.com/ and take a look around at our pet furniture with an eco-friendly paw print.

Economic Downturn Creates Crises for Pets

Financial Crisis = Pain for Pets
© Emily Youngreen

It doesn’t matter what the cause of a disaster is, whether it’s caused by nature or at the hands of humans, it is usually our family pets that suffer first and often suffer most. We are all made aware of the pain children endure when there is a natural disaster, family breakup, or forced to live with the misery of poverty. But we as a society do whatever we can to mitigate their anguish and although we’re not always successful, we try. But pets are the invisible victims of a crisis, be it fire, famine, or financial collapse, because many consider them property, they are treated as expendable.
The U.S. is currently experiencing the devastating effects of the sub-prime mortgage disaster. Families are loosing their homes through foreclosure and it is increasingly a family pet that is left to suffer the consequences of this catastrophic financial crisis brought on by banks and lending institutions. This January alone saw a 57% rise in foreclosures.
But the numbers don’t begin reflect the pain and distress of families that are walking away from their homes with what little they can carry with them and leaving their pets behind.
In desperation, people hold on until the last minute in their hopes of avoiding eviction and when time runs out, they are forced to move in with family, friends or find affordable rental housing. None of these options offer a likely solution for bringing their pets along and faced with the dilemma of where to go, people panic. Dogs are left in deserted homes or tied in back yards, cats locked into houses, garden sheds or garages, and other small caged pets left in empty rooms to starve. As a result, thousands of animals have been abandoned and those that survive long enough to be discovered are swelling the numbers of animals shelters can take in.
With so much uncertainty in the housing market, the adoption rate at these shelters has dropped to an all time low. It cost money to feed and care for pets and for people struggling with possible homelessness while caring for their families, keeping a pet is not an option and because there is so little hope of adoption, especially for older animals, many previously loved small pets, dogs and cats face euthanization.
Here in Canada there is a financial crunch of another kind. Alberta is experiencing high employment, high wages and unprecedented growth while in other parts of the country the economy is sagging under low employment figures, low wages and the rising cost of living. It is no wonder that people from imporvished communities migrate to Alberta’s booming oil patch. People who are forced to move to earn a livable wage quickly discover that pets are no longer being accepted on airlines and left with no other choice, leave them behind.
CBC reported that an animal shelter in St, Johns, Newfoundland had an increase of 2,000 animals left by people leaving for jobs elsewhere. Unable to care for so many, 800 older, less adoptable pets were euthanized.
And the problem doesn’t stop there. Those who have managed to take their dogs and cats with them find that once they reach their destination, rental housing and work camps don’t welcome pets. Again, families are faced with having to part with a beloved family member. The SPCA along with other pet agencies in Ft. McMurray, Alberta has experienced the same kind of increase in the number of animals surrendered to their facilities.
So, what then is the solution? In these times, there really isn’t an easy or quick one. There are, however, some things we can do to help. It goes without saying that financial aid to animal shelters and rescue agencies is always a good place to start. But what if you find you’re one of those people or families faced with these hard choices. Here are a few suggestions:
1) If you are facing foreclosure, don’t wait until receiving an eviction notice before you start working on a solution for your pet’s care. The same applies if you have to ‘pull up stakes’ and move to earn a living wage.
2) Is there a trusted family member or friend who would be willing to care for your pet until you’ve found new pet friendly housing?
3) Investigate kennels and veterinary hospitals. Some are now offering low cost boarding.
4) Here’s a novel idea from the East Bay SPCA in Oakland, California. Create a dog or cat resume to show perspective landlords. Include training, the pet’s age and the number of years he or she has been a loved member of your family. A CGN (Canine Good Neighbor) certificate if you have one, medical history, spay or neuter record(s), vaccinations, and references. Be sure to include a picture of your pet(s). . There are excellent cat and dog sample resumes posted at http://www.sfspca.org/opendoor
5) Talk to the folks at local shelters, rescue agencies and veterinary hospitals as they may be aware of rentals or agencies listing pet friendly housing. Even if you don’t live in San Francisco, The Open Door Program at The San Francisco SPCA is a great resource and a great example of what kind of information may be available in your area and what to look for.
6) Visit the off leash dog parks in the area and talk to people. They may have been in the same position you’re in now and may have helpful suggestions.
7) If you have to give your pet up, find a suitable home where you can visit and assess what kind of care he or she will have. Don’t just give your pet away through “a good home only” ad
8) Check out the shelters in your area, but make this the last resort. When facing the extraordinary decision of parting with a pet, bring food and supplies and make a donation. Shelters subsist solely on donations from private citizens. They receive no government subsidies and to help ensure a better environment for your pet, and the hundreds, thousands that come after, leave a donation… as much as you can afford.
9) If you surrender your animal to a shelter, you can keep track of your pet. Call the shelter, check online, and donate whenever you can.

And NEVER under any circumstances, abandon an animal.