Moving back to the farm has taken up almost all my time, leaving very little for creative endeavour. So, here I am, trying to squeeze past the 'hungry ghost' and start working on my blog once again.
Summer started early here in British Columbia and now our forest are tinder dry. At present there are more than 184 wildfires burning across the province and the last announcement from those in charge of fighting the fires say that we can expect up to 30 more fires every day! The provincial government has requested help from Australia and New Zealand. More fires in Alberta and 13,000 people out of their homes in Saskatchewan. The land is burning. Climate change is real.
We are a rural folk nestled in the dry forest and the smell of smoke has prompted me to began gathering those things that are most important should we be faced with an evacuation here. Prescriptions, spare eyeglasses, cash, debit & credit cards, insurance papers, photos, laptops, and whatever other valuables that come to mind that can be moved quickly. The province provides a good list that can be downloaded from the BC government site and I strongly recommend every home have a copy. The list would be basically the same regardless of the emergency be it fires, storms, or floods .
At the top of my list are our three cats and one small dog. Plans for their safety are foremost in my preparations for a possible evacuation. In any evacuation anxiety is high and it is vitally important to remain calm. The stress, fear and confusion can transfer to your pets, making it more difficult to secure them and move them to safety. Better to be prepared and hope that you may never need to put your plans into action.
I have a closed in porch and in the corner I have stacked three pet carriers with the doors open. I have place a can of cat food and dog food in each carrier and I have tossed kitty treats and fresh catnip everyday in the carriers. Our son's old cat has claimed the middle one as her own and the other two boys have taken turns trying out the top and the bottom ones. If and when we have a fire locally my hope is that they have already become so accustomed to the boxes there should be little trouble getting them into the carriers. Mr. Rutgar, our dog who is so used to going on 'car rides' would sit beside us in the vehicle.
Please be safe out there. Climate change is real and we've been warned that these events will continue to get worse.
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Saying goodbye to beloved pets
Looking back at 2013 and saying goodbye to two or our fur family.
Discipline, that’s what it takes, and I’ve never been able to discipline myself very well when I’ve only my self to answer to. Then there’s the New Year’s resolution that I’ve never managed to keep. This year it was to be to write on my blog on January 1st and to continue to post regularly and often to keep my brain agile. Well… January 9th isn’t too bad. So here I am, trying to keep the ‘hungry ghost’ at bay with all the many important distractions that gobble up my time and keep me from my paints, drawing pens, pencils, and this blog.
All that aside, as I was taking a quiet moment to reflect on the year past, I realized that we lost two of our fur family. Our son’s old Pitt Bull or as he says, American Bull Dog, crossed the Rainbow bridge late last Spring.
Jupiter was a fine fellow and I’ll never forget the first time I met him. Our son was recovering from a dirt bike accident. When he was discharged from the hospital, he had Jupiter returned to him to keep him company. We gathered up food and whatever else we thought our son would need and went to pay him a visit. We were met by Jupiter, “Don’t look him in the eye,” we were warned and of course, I did. I saw only a white blur flying toward me. I was launched backwards into an old easy chair with 85 pounds of dog standing over me… licking my face. “I warned you,” said our guy. “He just gets a little over enthusiastic when he meets people. He really like you!”
The next year when I was caring for Jupiter while our son was away working, I was home with the flu and feeling too sick to move out of bed except for the necessity of making occasional visits to the bathroom. When I had to make the trip I was so unsteady, I was afraid I might feint. As I started out, I was suddenly aware that Jupiter was standing against my leg as if to steady me. I lowered my hand to his strong shoulders as he accompanied and supported me both in going and returning to my bed. Jupiter wasn’t trained to do this, it was just who he was. His behaviour prompted me to research the breed and learn a bit more about them. Most of what I had been told about these dogs was stereotypical nonsense… about how vicious they are and how much stronger their jaws are than that of other breeds. I learned that despite being bred to fight in the ‘pits’ and the name ‘bull’ attached to the breed referring to their use to manage dangerous bulls by biting and clinging to the massive animal’s nose, they were also known early in the last century as the “nanny dog.” Loyal and protective, upper-class families kept them to watch after their children. The silly dog with the circle around his eye in the original “Little Rascals” was a Pitty. There are many photographs and paintings of children with these dogs lovingly portrayed as furred family members.
When Jupiter first met our little dog we had been worried that a fight would ensue but at the same time, hopeful because our little Rutgar was still a pup and would most likely not be seen as a threat. Jupiter handled it in his own memorable doggie way. He had done a large poop on our lawn and before anyone could get to a shovel to clean it up, he rolled Rutgar right through the pile, covering almost every inch of the little dog in smelly feces. Gales of laughter and somehow I had been elected to pick up the stinky pup and carry him to the bathroom to spray him off and bathe him. After that, the two dogs became fast friends, reminding me of the old cartoon bulldog character, Spike, and his little buddy, “Go get ’em Spike. You can do it, you can do it,” said the little dog, bobbing up and down . I can look back now and laugh, but at the time it really wasn’t funny.
Jupiter made me feel safe when I was staying alone at the old homestead. I didn’t worry about strangers coming unannounced to the house and although we had regular visits from neighbourhood bears, Jupiter would stand on the deck and bark them away.
It’s been months since his passing but I still see him from time to time, curled up on the sofa, or standing next to the bathtub waiting for someone to turn on the water so he could drink from the tap… until I flick on the light switch… gone. We still miss him. He will always be remembered.
Then there was our son’s cat, Opal. She was a tough little black and white Hemmingway cat, polydactyl with 6 toes on each front foot. She and her sister, Emerald, ruled this house with an iron claw. Little dogs, big dogs, and other cats were summarily put in their places or chased away altogether by Opal and Emerald. Then, one day Opal didn’t come back. We have had no word of her. It was thought at the time that she might have hitched a ride in a friends truck as she really liked riding on top of vehicles but after phoning friends, no one recollected having seen her. We fear that she must have met with coyotes, wolves, eagles or any other predator that frequents these mountain forest. She surely wouldn’t be the first to be carried off.
She made Rutgar’s life a misery, always waiting to ambush him at the most inopportune moments. He was really afraid of her and with good reason. She could keep him trapped in a room and away from friends and food for lengthy periods of time. She used her claws and didn’t hold back. She was the obvious leader of the two cats and once she was gone, Rutgar was once again able to move about without checking every nook and cranny. Emerald will threaten him from time to time, but generally keeps her distance, except to sleep in his personal bed during the day when he’s not using it.
Emerald looked awful after loosing her sister and constant companion. She had pulled out most of her hair, all that she could reach. Then we brought home two orange tabby male kittens and tufts of her hair were floating everywhere in the house. I assumed she was doubly stressed. Her sister gone and two strangers had moved in. Unbearable.
Right after the first snow of winter, Rondo climbed straight up the cedar tree closest to the house. Up up and up he went and then he realized that he didn’t know how to get down. Our son had to prop up the ice covered extension ladder and climb up to rescue the young cat.
It was only a short time after that when I noticed that Emerald’s hair started to grow back in. I saw her jump on the kittens and give them swats whenever they came near and got too pushy with her then I saw her outside half way up a tree with both Rondo and Turk. I realized then that she had taken them on as hers and was teaching them everything she knows. All three cats hang out together now and she’s the Queen of the castle. After a bit of cat-nip all three engage in a swat fest, no harm inflicted, and Emerald now has a thick velvety coat.
I will attempt to post pictures but don’t hold your breath. After many attempts to get ‘high-speed’ we are still on slow dial-up. Cheers to all!
Discipline, that’s what it takes, and I’ve never been able to discipline myself very well when I’ve only my self to answer to. Then there’s the New Year’s resolution that I’ve never managed to keep. This year it was to be to write on my blog on January 1st and to continue to post regularly and often to keep my brain agile. Well… January 9th isn’t too bad. So here I am, trying to keep the ‘hungry ghost’ at bay with all the many important distractions that gobble up my time and keep me from my paints, drawing pens, pencils, and this blog.
All that aside, as I was taking a quiet moment to reflect on the year past, I realized that we lost two of our fur family. Our son’s old Pitt Bull or as he says, American Bull Dog, crossed the Rainbow bridge late last Spring.
Jupiter was a fine fellow and I’ll never forget the first time I met him. Our son was recovering from a dirt bike accident. When he was discharged from the hospital, he had Jupiter returned to him to keep him company. We gathered up food and whatever else we thought our son would need and went to pay him a visit. We were met by Jupiter, “Don’t look him in the eye,” we were warned and of course, I did. I saw only a white blur flying toward me. I was launched backwards into an old easy chair with 85 pounds of dog standing over me… licking my face. “I warned you,” said our guy. “He just gets a little over enthusiastic when he meets people. He really like you!”
The next year when I was caring for Jupiter while our son was away working, I was home with the flu and feeling too sick to move out of bed except for the necessity of making occasional visits to the bathroom. When I had to make the trip I was so unsteady, I was afraid I might feint. As I started out, I was suddenly aware that Jupiter was standing against my leg as if to steady me. I lowered my hand to his strong shoulders as he accompanied and supported me both in going and returning to my bed. Jupiter wasn’t trained to do this, it was just who he was. His behaviour prompted me to research the breed and learn a bit more about them. Most of what I had been told about these dogs was stereotypical nonsense… about how vicious they are and how much stronger their jaws are than that of other breeds. I learned that despite being bred to fight in the ‘pits’ and the name ‘bull’ attached to the breed referring to their use to manage dangerous bulls by biting and clinging to the massive animal’s nose, they were also known early in the last century as the “nanny dog.” Loyal and protective, upper-class families kept them to watch after their children. The silly dog with the circle around his eye in the original “Little Rascals” was a Pitty. There are many photographs and paintings of children with these dogs lovingly portrayed as furred family members.
When Jupiter first met our little dog we had been worried that a fight would ensue but at the same time, hopeful because our little Rutgar was still a pup and would most likely not be seen as a threat. Jupiter handled it in his own memorable doggie way. He had done a large poop on our lawn and before anyone could get to a shovel to clean it up, he rolled Rutgar right through the pile, covering almost every inch of the little dog in smelly feces. Gales of laughter and somehow I had been elected to pick up the stinky pup and carry him to the bathroom to spray him off and bathe him. After that, the two dogs became fast friends, reminding me of the old cartoon bulldog character, Spike, and his little buddy, “Go get ’em Spike. You can do it, you can do it,” said the little dog, bobbing up and down . I can look back now and laugh, but at the time it really wasn’t funny.
Jupiter made me feel safe when I was staying alone at the old homestead. I didn’t worry about strangers coming unannounced to the house and although we had regular visits from neighbourhood bears, Jupiter would stand on the deck and bark them away.
It’s been months since his passing but I still see him from time to time, curled up on the sofa, or standing next to the bathtub waiting for someone to turn on the water so he could drink from the tap… until I flick on the light switch… gone. We still miss him. He will always be remembered.
Then there was our son’s cat, Opal. She was a tough little black and white Hemmingway cat, polydactyl with 6 toes on each front foot. She and her sister, Emerald, ruled this house with an iron claw. Little dogs, big dogs, and other cats were summarily put in their places or chased away altogether by Opal and Emerald. Then, one day Opal didn’t come back. We have had no word of her. It was thought at the time that she might have hitched a ride in a friends truck as she really liked riding on top of vehicles but after phoning friends, no one recollected having seen her. We fear that she must have met with coyotes, wolves, eagles or any other predator that frequents these mountain forest. She surely wouldn’t be the first to be carried off.
She made Rutgar’s life a misery, always waiting to ambush him at the most inopportune moments. He was really afraid of her and with good reason. She could keep him trapped in a room and away from friends and food for lengthy periods of time. She used her claws and didn’t hold back. She was the obvious leader of the two cats and once she was gone, Rutgar was once again able to move about without checking every nook and cranny. Emerald will threaten him from time to time, but generally keeps her distance, except to sleep in his personal bed during the day when he’s not using it.
Emerald looked awful after loosing her sister and constant companion. She had pulled out most of her hair, all that she could reach. Then we brought home two orange tabby male kittens and tufts of her hair were floating everywhere in the house. I assumed she was doubly stressed. Her sister gone and two strangers had moved in. Unbearable.
Right after the first snow of winter, Rondo climbed straight up the cedar tree closest to the house. Up up and up he went and then he realized that he didn’t know how to get down. Our son had to prop up the ice covered extension ladder and climb up to rescue the young cat.
It was only a short time after that when I noticed that Emerald’s hair started to grow back in. I saw her jump on the kittens and give them swats whenever they came near and got too pushy with her then I saw her outside half way up a tree with both Rondo and Turk. I realized then that she had taken them on as hers and was teaching them everything she knows. All three cats hang out together now and she’s the Queen of the castle. After a bit of cat-nip all three engage in a swat fest, no harm inflicted, and Emerald now has a thick velvety coat.
I will attempt to post pictures but don’t hold your breath. After many attempts to get ‘high-speed’ we are still on slow dial-up. Cheers to all!
Thursday, December 19, 2013
I’m back!! Yes, it’s been a very long time and so much has happened. We are now retired and we have moved back to our 28 acres in the Slocan Valley. It’s been a huge change from the big five bedroom house and the open space overlooking Kootenay Lake to being full time here, nestled against the mountain with tall trees dwarfing our little forest home.
It was a challenge to move the contents of the big house into our small three bedroom cabin. Boxes have remained unpacked for well over a year. No place to put anything and it’s been a lesson in having too much stuff. We definitely need to downsize! I sometimes look around and wonder at how we managed to raise two children here but we did.
I just had my 69th birthday and I still hope that I will be able to have a horse (or two) before I’m too old and out of shape to enjoy having them. I bought a saddle and still have a full tack box so I haven’t given up yet. My sister is raising Gypsy Vaner horses in California. They are truly remarkable and beautiful animals. She wants me to come for a visit and ride her beauties on the beach at Monterey. Sounds wonderful and hopefully I will be able to realize that dream.
Our son’s sweet old Pitty, Jupiter, crossed the rainbow bridge last year and our little Mr. Rutgar still perks up his ears whenever anyone mentions his old pal. For weeks Rutgar would run to meet our son when he returned from work, obviously looking for Jupiter to return. We drove through town recently and when Rutgar saw a pit bull that closely resembled Jupie, he cried and tried to claw his way through the window.
Our daughter was given a long hair tea-up Chihuahua. A sweet tiny guy. We were a bit worried that our 19 pound Mr. Rutgar might do him harm as he’s a bit of a bully around other dogs but to our relief, he simply doesn’t acknowledge little Angelo. We all held our collective breath at their first meeting but the only recognition from Rutgar was a quick sniff and a butt bump… done.
We have two new cats. They were 1½ years old on December 8th. Rondo and Turk are a pair of rascals. They are brother ginger cats and my experience of with orange kitties is that they are the silliest, craziest, get into everything kind of fur babies. As a result, they have their own room at night just so we can sleep without the crashing, banging and scratching. We wanted them to be strictly indoor cats but with all the confusion and activity of moving, they managed to escape into the big wide world. That hasn’t come without a price. They both developed salmonella last spring after eating wild birds and we nearly lost them. With the wet spring we had, there was an outbreak of salmonella apparently due to dirty and mouldy bird feeders and subsequently, sick, slow, and easily caught, birds. We now have the two boys somewhat trained to a routine of coming in as soon as it begins to get dark, now about 3:pm. During the day they come in to use their litter boxes. I’ve had to explain to the household that the cats are most vulnerable outside when the are focused on doing their ‘business’. We have so many predators here, coyotes, coy wolves, wolves, cougars, bob cats, lynx, neighbour’s dogs… and oh yes, eagles. One of our neighbours lost her cats to eagles and I’ve noticed that our kitties dart under our deck whenever a large bird flies overhead.
I must not forget our son’s cat, Emerald, who lives here too. She is a black and white ‘Hemmingway’ cat, with 6 toes on each of her front feet. She wasn’t pleased when these two arrived. Lots of caterwauling, hissing and clawed smacks. She had lost her sister the year before, most likely to a coyote and was the house queen but I believe, lonely. She had been pulling her fur and was nearly naked but it seems that condition has resolved itself since the boys have been here. She realized they were here to stay and it now seems she has become their mama, teaching them everything she knows. The first lesson was how to climb down a tree and that’s a good thing as the very first thing Rondo did after his escape from the house was to climb 70ft up into a cedar tree, necessitating our son climb to rescue him. Once they learned how to navigate up and down, the tree-tops became their playground, leaping from tree to tree, following the blue jays that they harassed and thus the jays teasing and harassing them. I mentioned it to our vet when we took them for their neutering. He scowled at me and said, “That is not a survival instinct.”
The whole plan with the cats, all three, was that they would help to eliminate the mice that move into these warmer digs every winter. Unfortunately, with so much stuff and yet to be unpacked boxes, the cats are unable to get to the mousy hiding places. Mr. Rutgar is a natural ratter and has been focused on the pack rat that has moved in under the bathroom. We are trying to figure out how we can open things up enough so that the cats and dog can ease their frustration and catch a few varmints.
Hopefully I will get back to my painting and drawing soon. Most of my art supplies are still packed and I’ve not been able to make space enough yet in the ‘studio’ to immerse myself in my art. Fresh canvases wait for me and new untouched drawing books are now unpacked and shelved, waiting for me to get going… and I guess there’s no time like NOW.
I will include some photos of the crazy cats as soon as possible.
WISHING YOU ALL A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS, WARM AND JOYOUS YULE AND A NEW YEAR FILLED WITH LOVE, HEALTH, HAPPINESS AND AN ABUNDANCE OF ALL THINGS WONDERFUL. Cheers!
It was a challenge to move the contents of the big house into our small three bedroom cabin. Boxes have remained unpacked for well over a year. No place to put anything and it’s been a lesson in having too much stuff. We definitely need to downsize! I sometimes look around and wonder at how we managed to raise two children here but we did.
I just had my 69th birthday and I still hope that I will be able to have a horse (or two) before I’m too old and out of shape to enjoy having them. I bought a saddle and still have a full tack box so I haven’t given up yet. My sister is raising Gypsy Vaner horses in California. They are truly remarkable and beautiful animals. She wants me to come for a visit and ride her beauties on the beach at Monterey. Sounds wonderful and hopefully I will be able to realize that dream.
Our son’s sweet old Pitty, Jupiter, crossed the rainbow bridge last year and our little Mr. Rutgar still perks up his ears whenever anyone mentions his old pal. For weeks Rutgar would run to meet our son when he returned from work, obviously looking for Jupiter to return. We drove through town recently and when Rutgar saw a pit bull that closely resembled Jupie, he cried and tried to claw his way through the window.
Our daughter was given a long hair tea-up Chihuahua. A sweet tiny guy. We were a bit worried that our 19 pound Mr. Rutgar might do him harm as he’s a bit of a bully around other dogs but to our relief, he simply doesn’t acknowledge little Angelo. We all held our collective breath at their first meeting but the only recognition from Rutgar was a quick sniff and a butt bump… done.
We have two new cats. They were 1½ years old on December 8th. Rondo and Turk are a pair of rascals. They are brother ginger cats and my experience of with orange kitties is that they are the silliest, craziest, get into everything kind of fur babies. As a result, they have their own room at night just so we can sleep without the crashing, banging and scratching. We wanted them to be strictly indoor cats but with all the confusion and activity of moving, they managed to escape into the big wide world. That hasn’t come without a price. They both developed salmonella last spring after eating wild birds and we nearly lost them. With the wet spring we had, there was an outbreak of salmonella apparently due to dirty and mouldy bird feeders and subsequently, sick, slow, and easily caught, birds. We now have the two boys somewhat trained to a routine of coming in as soon as it begins to get dark, now about 3:pm. During the day they come in to use their litter boxes. I’ve had to explain to the household that the cats are most vulnerable outside when the are focused on doing their ‘business’. We have so many predators here, coyotes, coy wolves, wolves, cougars, bob cats, lynx, neighbour’s dogs… and oh yes, eagles. One of our neighbours lost her cats to eagles and I’ve noticed that our kitties dart under our deck whenever a large bird flies overhead.
I must not forget our son’s cat, Emerald, who lives here too. She is a black and white ‘Hemmingway’ cat, with 6 toes on each of her front feet. She wasn’t pleased when these two arrived. Lots of caterwauling, hissing and clawed smacks. She had lost her sister the year before, most likely to a coyote and was the house queen but I believe, lonely. She had been pulling her fur and was nearly naked but it seems that condition has resolved itself since the boys have been here. She realized they were here to stay and it now seems she has become their mama, teaching them everything she knows. The first lesson was how to climb down a tree and that’s a good thing as the very first thing Rondo did after his escape from the house was to climb 70ft up into a cedar tree, necessitating our son climb to rescue him. Once they learned how to navigate up and down, the tree-tops became their playground, leaping from tree to tree, following the blue jays that they harassed and thus the jays teasing and harassing them. I mentioned it to our vet when we took them for their neutering. He scowled at me and said, “That is not a survival instinct.”
The whole plan with the cats, all three, was that they would help to eliminate the mice that move into these warmer digs every winter. Unfortunately, with so much stuff and yet to be unpacked boxes, the cats are unable to get to the mousy hiding places. Mr. Rutgar is a natural ratter and has been focused on the pack rat that has moved in under the bathroom. We are trying to figure out how we can open things up enough so that the cats and dog can ease their frustration and catch a few varmints.
Hopefully I will get back to my painting and drawing soon. Most of my art supplies are still packed and I’ve not been able to make space enough yet in the ‘studio’ to immerse myself in my art. Fresh canvases wait for me and new untouched drawing books are now unpacked and shelved, waiting for me to get going… and I guess there’s no time like NOW.
I will include some photos of the crazy cats as soon as possible.
WISHING YOU ALL A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS, WARM AND JOYOUS YULE AND A NEW YEAR FILLED WITH LOVE, HEALTH, HAPPINESS AND AN ABUNDANCE OF ALL THINGS WONDERFUL. Cheers!
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Goodbye Kaspar
The time had arrived to usher dear Kaspar to the Rainbow Bridge. Kaspar had been part of all lives since our daughter Minka and son-in-law Jamie brought him home from the vet’s just over 14 years ago. We phoned Dr. Pat first thing yesterday morning and with heavy hearts, awaited his arrival yesterday afternoon.
Kaspar’s health had been deteriorating rapidly over the past few months. He was becoming weaker and weaker and no longer steady on his legs. He had become little more than a shadow of his former self. But he was still so ‘present’ that it seemed too soon, too soon to say goodbye. Eventually, the choice had to be made. His sad eyes told us that it was time and he needed to return to the oneness from whence he came.
It had been from Dr. Pat’s rescue kennel that Kaspar had come those many years ago and it seemed only fitting that he would be here to ease Kaspar away from suffering at the end. “What a day,” Dr. Pat said. “This morning I had to put my 40 year old horse down. Had him for 20 years and now, Kaspar.”
I’ll never forget the first time I saw Kaspar. Minka and Jamie took me to see him when they were considering adopting him. Pat led us into the back where there was a single row of kennels filled mostly with hospital patients. “I think he may have a bit of coyote in him, but just take a look and let me know what you want to do.”There he stood. Cleaned up, white, skinny, long legs and the biggest feet you can imagine. “Goodness, this is not going to be a small dog. When he grows into those feet, he’s going to be a pretty big fella.” I told my young couple. “When I was a vet tech, I saw lots of pups, and this one’s got a heck of a lot of growing to do.” So, home he came on Christmas day and given the name “Kaspar” after the Slavic word meaning Court Jester…How appropriate!
He wasn’t an easy pup to take in and care for. I’ll never forget my daughter’s raging call two days later. “Mom… I don’t know what we’re going to do. We left him in the bathroom as you suggested and he’s torn the bathroom apart! He’s torn up the floor and eaten the walls. I don’t think we should try to keep him in there anymore.” I had recommended keeping him in the bathroom at night as part of his house training. The space was small and seemingly there was little damage he could do. In such a small space, we thought he would be okay and would go out dutifully in the morning. After all, he hadn’t gone potty and was holding… holding pieces of the linoleum, and drywall in his mouth that is.
The next day started with another tearful and panicked call, “Oh my God! Mom, he’s eaten the kitchen wall and torn up the floor. The living room is a disaster. He’s ripped back the carpet and there isn’t a piece of underlay left larger than one inch in diameter. I don’t think we can keep him. What am I to do?” Unfortunately my usual recommendation of having him sleep near you with a light line tied between you and him wouldn’t work as they slept in a loft only accessible by a ladder.They called Pat and described the situation they found themselves in. “Oh, he’s chewing a lot is he? Well, that’s to be expected of pups, especially pups that might be a little bit coyote.”
‘Hmm,’ I thought when I heard Pat’s response. ‘I think he knows more than he’s telling us.’
Things were not looking great with Kaspar, who was beginning to look more ‘wolf like’ with each passing day. “ Oh Mom… He’s ripped out the sofa cushions and shredded them. There’s just no stopping him. He’s ruining everything. We wont have anything left.”The next call brought, “Now he’s really done it,” Minka said. “He’s chewed up the television remote. Jamie tried to tape it back together but after he chewed it up a second time… Oh well.”
Things weren’t any better outside the house where he dug a great den under the porch stairs. He also chewed the TV cable off the place…twice, as well as the garden hose. And, he had developed a ‘wander-lust.’ The fences grew higher but unable to contain him. He could slip a chain and as we are all opposed to chaining a dog, it wasn’t an option anyway.All this time, he was growing into a magnificent animal. He was something to see looking very much the wolf. He moved with such fluid grace. We eventually learned of his origins from a Salmo breeder, and indeed he was a half wolf half husky.
Kaspar eventually stopped eating the house and endeared himself to his Minka and Jamie. Of course, he developed other doggie proclivities that both entertained and annoyed us. He was sneaky. He could disappear right before your eyes and especially so in winter. With his white coat he would slink down in the snow, move from shadow to shadow and evaporate and only return when he was good and ready. The dogcatcher made it her personal mission to catch the scoundrel but he outwitted her for years and she never got him and now she never will. He loved to ride in the back of Jamie’s pickup truck and was known around town as the ‘Drive by Barker,’ infuriating every neighborhood canine into a frenzy.
Over the past year he still attempted to chase the deer from our apple trees, but they no longer considered him a threat and bounded only a short distance away to look back to see if he was still in pursuit. While the deer went back to their browsing Kaspar would lay down in the grass to watch them.
A couple of days ago we had let Kaspar out for his morning constitutional and after a couple of hours he hadn’t returned. Worried, I went looking for him and found him lying down, asleep in the driveway with the same two deer standing quietly over him. I clapped my hands and the deer moved a few feet away and Kaspar picked up his head and looked at me with sad eyes, painfully pulled himself to his feet and followed me back to the house. Seeing him there with the deer, I felt my heart tighten. I knew then that the time had come to say goodbye... for now.
Kaspar’s health had been deteriorating rapidly over the past few months. He was becoming weaker and weaker and no longer steady on his legs. He had become little more than a shadow of his former self. But he was still so ‘present’ that it seemed too soon, too soon to say goodbye. Eventually, the choice had to be made. His sad eyes told us that it was time and he needed to return to the oneness from whence he came.
It had been from Dr. Pat’s rescue kennel that Kaspar had come those many years ago and it seemed only fitting that he would be here to ease Kaspar away from suffering at the end. “What a day,” Dr. Pat said. “This morning I had to put my 40 year old horse down. Had him for 20 years and now, Kaspar.”
I’ll never forget the first time I saw Kaspar. Minka and Jamie took me to see him when they were considering adopting him. Pat led us into the back where there was a single row of kennels filled mostly with hospital patients. “I think he may have a bit of coyote in him, but just take a look and let me know what you want to do.”There he stood. Cleaned up, white, skinny, long legs and the biggest feet you can imagine. “Goodness, this is not going to be a small dog. When he grows into those feet, he’s going to be a pretty big fella.” I told my young couple. “When I was a vet tech, I saw lots of pups, and this one’s got a heck of a lot of growing to do.” So, home he came on Christmas day and given the name “Kaspar” after the Slavic word meaning Court Jester…How appropriate!
He wasn’t an easy pup to take in and care for. I’ll never forget my daughter’s raging call two days later. “Mom… I don’t know what we’re going to do. We left him in the bathroom as you suggested and he’s torn the bathroom apart! He’s torn up the floor and eaten the walls. I don’t think we should try to keep him in there anymore.” I had recommended keeping him in the bathroom at night as part of his house training. The space was small and seemingly there was little damage he could do. In such a small space, we thought he would be okay and would go out dutifully in the morning. After all, he hadn’t gone potty and was holding… holding pieces of the linoleum, and drywall in his mouth that is.
The next day started with another tearful and panicked call, “Oh my God! Mom, he’s eaten the kitchen wall and torn up the floor. The living room is a disaster. He’s ripped back the carpet and there isn’t a piece of underlay left larger than one inch in diameter. I don’t think we can keep him. What am I to do?” Unfortunately my usual recommendation of having him sleep near you with a light line tied between you and him wouldn’t work as they slept in a loft only accessible by a ladder.They called Pat and described the situation they found themselves in. “Oh, he’s chewing a lot is he? Well, that’s to be expected of pups, especially pups that might be a little bit coyote.”
‘Hmm,’ I thought when I heard Pat’s response. ‘I think he knows more than he’s telling us.’
Things were not looking great with Kaspar, who was beginning to look more ‘wolf like’ with each passing day. “ Oh Mom… He’s ripped out the sofa cushions and shredded them. There’s just no stopping him. He’s ruining everything. We wont have anything left.”The next call brought, “Now he’s really done it,” Minka said. “He’s chewed up the television remote. Jamie tried to tape it back together but after he chewed it up a second time… Oh well.”
Things weren’t any better outside the house where he dug a great den under the porch stairs. He also chewed the TV cable off the place…twice, as well as the garden hose. And, he had developed a ‘wander-lust.’ The fences grew higher but unable to contain him. He could slip a chain and as we are all opposed to chaining a dog, it wasn’t an option anyway.All this time, he was growing into a magnificent animal. He was something to see looking very much the wolf. He moved with such fluid grace. We eventually learned of his origins from a Salmo breeder, and indeed he was a half wolf half husky.
Kaspar eventually stopped eating the house and endeared himself to his Minka and Jamie. Of course, he developed other doggie proclivities that both entertained and annoyed us. He was sneaky. He could disappear right before your eyes and especially so in winter. With his white coat he would slink down in the snow, move from shadow to shadow and evaporate and only return when he was good and ready. The dogcatcher made it her personal mission to catch the scoundrel but he outwitted her for years and she never got him and now she never will. He loved to ride in the back of Jamie’s pickup truck and was known around town as the ‘Drive by Barker,’ infuriating every neighborhood canine into a frenzy.
Over the past year he still attempted to chase the deer from our apple trees, but they no longer considered him a threat and bounded only a short distance away to look back to see if he was still in pursuit. While the deer went back to their browsing Kaspar would lay down in the grass to watch them.
A couple of days ago we had let Kaspar out for his morning constitutional and after a couple of hours he hadn’t returned. Worried, I went looking for him and found him lying down, asleep in the driveway with the same two deer standing quietly over him. I clapped my hands and the deer moved a few feet away and Kaspar picked up his head and looked at me with sad eyes, painfully pulled himself to his feet and followed me back to the house. Seeing him there with the deer, I felt my heart tighten. I knew then that the time had come to say goodbye... for now.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Mr. Big
“Flashy,” that was how he was described to us, the owners of the newly opened Circle R Spur Guest Ranch. “He’ll add a lot a color to your dude string,” promised Pete, our part-time ranch-hand who was always on the lookout for good, ‘gentle’ horses. “Okay, bring ‘em over,” I said, “and let’s have a look see.”
Later that afternoon Pete arrived in his big white pick-up with the home built enclosed horse slip on the back. Pete stepped out of the truck and walked to the rear. “Just you wait, you’re gonna like this one. He’s a beauty. I picked him up over at the Santa Rosa auction.” Pete went on dropping the tailgate and unlatching the door to the slip. The truck rocked as the horse inside adjusted to the change in the light when the door opened. Pete picked up the rope that lay on the floor of the slip and pulled. Shaking and trembling emerged a great black and white paint gelding.
“I got him for only a few hundred dollars,” which actually meant he spent little more than a hundred. “But I’ll let you have him for what I paid. I just know you’re gonna like ‘em.” Pete pushed his cowboy hat back a bit from his ‘honest’ face to look directly at me, “Well, you gonna try ‘em?”
I was still a toddler when I first sat on a horse and before getting married and opening the Circle R Spur I had worked the previous summers as a wrangler at a mountain pack station. So, having the most horse savvy, it became my responsibility to decide which horses to buy and which to pass on.
“Okay, throw a saddle on him and let’s see what he’s got.” I said, looking him over. He was indeed flashy. One of the most impressive paint horses I’ve ever seen and big, over 16 hands at the withers. His heavy neck and muscling warned that he could be a handful as he was probably a stallion for much of his ten years.
The instant I placed my foot in the stirrup, I became aware of the great power, strength and fear in the big animal. I swung into the saddle and picked up the reins. I touched him lightly with my heels and we were off -- like a rocket. I gave a quick pull on the reins and there was no response. I don’t think there is anything much scarier than being stuck on a runaway horse.
Straight for the ranch entrance and out on to Highway 20. I gave a few more pulls on the reins but to no avail. He didn’t cross the highway as hoped. If he had, I could have ridden him straight into Clear Lake on the other side of the highway and surely the water would have stopped him. Instead, he made a quick turn to the left and ran straight up the double line. I started to ‘saw’ the bit in his mouth, hoping to release the bit from his teeth and get his attention. No chance of that either. I looked up to see a Mac truck come around the corner headed right for us. No time for the driver to slow down, I knew we would collide head on. I was screaming although no sound escaped my lips just a pitiful “help me, oh lord, help me.” I pushed my foot hard into the left stirrup and pulled with all I had on the left rein. As in answer to my pleading prayer, he turned just in time on to what little was left of the shoulder on that side of the highway. From that point on it was shear cliff above the road and a twenty-foot drop off into the lake on the other. The truck raced past me with only inches to spare, my hair blowing wildly around my face as it passed. In that brief moment the big horse had paused in his mad run, fearing he would take off again, I took the opportunity to jump down from the saddle, I stood shaking in my boots, holding the reins and trying to calm myself before leading the big horse the few hundred yards back to the ranch. I turned to see my husband, our ranch hands and Pete running toward me.
“Good God girl, how did you get him stopped?” asked Jean, our cabin cleaner. “I would have been screaming my head off.” “I was,” came my whispered response.
“I thought I was going to loose you for sure on the front of that truck,” said my husband, shaking almost as much as I was.
Pete stood mute, nothing to say until we were safely back at ranch. “I guess you ain’t gonna be wanting this one.”
I don’t know what I was thinking, but I bought him anyway with a huge discount making no one really happy. I tried him again, but I didn’t use a bit choosing instead to use a hackamore with long side shanks working like a fulcrum, putting pressure on a different part of his nose and jaw. For the most part, it worked but I was always extra cautious whenever I had to ride him.
He was our Mr. Big and a bit of a bully as horses go until me met the little black mustang stallion we bought later on that same summer but that’s another story. None-the-less, he became the favorite mount of one young man who came up from the city all summer long just to ride him. There were others too who enjoyed the excitement of riding such a powerful horse. I only rode him when I had to and I never toke pleasure in riding him after that first time. Well, that’s not exactly true, he was a strong swimmer and I did have fun riding him far out in the lake. No way he could run away out there.
Later that afternoon Pete arrived in his big white pick-up with the home built enclosed horse slip on the back. Pete stepped out of the truck and walked to the rear. “Just you wait, you’re gonna like this one. He’s a beauty. I picked him up over at the Santa Rosa auction.” Pete went on dropping the tailgate and unlatching the door to the slip. The truck rocked as the horse inside adjusted to the change in the light when the door opened. Pete picked up the rope that lay on the floor of the slip and pulled. Shaking and trembling emerged a great black and white paint gelding.
“I got him for only a few hundred dollars,” which actually meant he spent little more than a hundred. “But I’ll let you have him for what I paid. I just know you’re gonna like ‘em.” Pete pushed his cowboy hat back a bit from his ‘honest’ face to look directly at me, “Well, you gonna try ‘em?”
I was still a toddler when I first sat on a horse and before getting married and opening the Circle R Spur I had worked the previous summers as a wrangler at a mountain pack station. So, having the most horse savvy, it became my responsibility to decide which horses to buy and which to pass on.
“Okay, throw a saddle on him and let’s see what he’s got.” I said, looking him over. He was indeed flashy. One of the most impressive paint horses I’ve ever seen and big, over 16 hands at the withers. His heavy neck and muscling warned that he could be a handful as he was probably a stallion for much of his ten years.
The instant I placed my foot in the stirrup, I became aware of the great power, strength and fear in the big animal. I swung into the saddle and picked up the reins. I touched him lightly with my heels and we were off -- like a rocket. I gave a quick pull on the reins and there was no response. I don’t think there is anything much scarier than being stuck on a runaway horse.
Straight for the ranch entrance and out on to Highway 20. I gave a few more pulls on the reins but to no avail. He didn’t cross the highway as hoped. If he had, I could have ridden him straight into Clear Lake on the other side of the highway and surely the water would have stopped him. Instead, he made a quick turn to the left and ran straight up the double line. I started to ‘saw’ the bit in his mouth, hoping to release the bit from his teeth and get his attention. No chance of that either. I looked up to see a Mac truck come around the corner headed right for us. No time for the driver to slow down, I knew we would collide head on. I was screaming although no sound escaped my lips just a pitiful “help me, oh lord, help me.” I pushed my foot hard into the left stirrup and pulled with all I had on the left rein. As in answer to my pleading prayer, he turned just in time on to what little was left of the shoulder on that side of the highway. From that point on it was shear cliff above the road and a twenty-foot drop off into the lake on the other. The truck raced past me with only inches to spare, my hair blowing wildly around my face as it passed. In that brief moment the big horse had paused in his mad run, fearing he would take off again, I took the opportunity to jump down from the saddle, I stood shaking in my boots, holding the reins and trying to calm myself before leading the big horse the few hundred yards back to the ranch. I turned to see my husband, our ranch hands and Pete running toward me.
“Good God girl, how did you get him stopped?” asked Jean, our cabin cleaner. “I would have been screaming my head off.” “I was,” came my whispered response.
“I thought I was going to loose you for sure on the front of that truck,” said my husband, shaking almost as much as I was.
Pete stood mute, nothing to say until we were safely back at ranch. “I guess you ain’t gonna be wanting this one.”
I don’t know what I was thinking, but I bought him anyway with a huge discount making no one really happy. I tried him again, but I didn’t use a bit choosing instead to use a hackamore with long side shanks working like a fulcrum, putting pressure on a different part of his nose and jaw. For the most part, it worked but I was always extra cautious whenever I had to ride him.
He was our Mr. Big and a bit of a bully as horses go until me met the little black mustang stallion we bought later on that same summer but that’s another story. None-the-less, he became the favorite mount of one young man who came up from the city all summer long just to ride him. There were others too who enjoyed the excitement of riding such a powerful horse. I only rode him when I had to and I never toke pleasure in riding him after that first time. Well, that’s not exactly true, he was a strong swimmer and I did have fun riding him far out in the lake. No way he could run away out there.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Wildlife Pays the Price
As of yesterday, August 19, 2011, 163 Black Bears and 4 Grizzly Bears have been ‘euthanized’ (killed) across British Columbia. In every case, their demise could have been avoided if the humans who share their environment had cared enough to keep their garbage secured.
Bears are omnivore opportunist. In other words, they’ll eat just about anything. I have seen bear scat with everything from cherry seeds and walnut shells to plastic bags and bottle caps. They’re not very discerning and when I see such ‘un-natural’ items in their deposits, it’s a sure thing they’ve discovered someone’s left out garbage.
For bears feasting on such delights, humans have become the source of easy pickings and how could you blame them? But blame them we do, and they get to pay the price with their lives.
I fully support heavy fines for leaving garbage out where wildlife has easy access. Keep it locked in the garage, porch, or storage shed until pick up day or take it to the dump yourself.
It’s become too easy to blame wild animals for our own shortsightedness. Just in the last few weeks there have been the following examples.
*A man, walking on a rural path got between a mother black bear and her 3 cubs. She attacked him… But, he had no major injuries. In fact, he had little more than bruises and scratches. It was a frightening experience to be sure but if she had intended to kill him, she could have very easily done so. She was hunted and killed in front of her three wailing and traumatized cubs. The now orphaned cubs are being raised in a wildlife rescue centre. Was it really necessary to kill this mother bear?
*A gentleman riding his bicycle on a hiking trail came upon a cougar trotting along the same path. He did the smart thing by picking up his bike, holding it above his head to make himself look larger and screamed at the cat. Curiosity held the big cat for a few moments longer before it ran off into the forest. The cougar was later tracked down and killed. Was it really necessary to kill the cougar?
*While browsing through a yard sale, I overheard a neighbor complain about the bear who had tracked garbage all over his front yard. Yes, it really was a mess but was the bear to blame? No matter, he had been assured that the ‘Conservation’ officer would be out soon to dispatch this problem bear.
*We live in Lake country and our adjoining property is time-shared between several families from the city. The first family of the season arrived with their 3 children and went about setting up their above ground pool when they saw, way off in the distance, a bear leisurely eating plums from a abandoned tree. They hurried their kids inside and looked fearfully back at the bear. Because we were nearby, we suggested we get the kids out to get a closer look at a still safe distance and use the opportunity to teach the children about the wildlife that abounds in this area and the rules for living with them safely. There was no convincing their parents, so once again, the Conservation officer was called to rid the area of the potentially dangerous bear.
There are so many of these examples and for every example there is a dead bear or cougar. At one time, they were trapped in barrel cages and relocated. Now we are told that it isn’t practical or economical to relocate problem bears. They only eventually come back. Although that may be true in some cases, it isn’t in every case. Killing them because they may be a potential threat gives them no chance at all. It not only isn’t fair it’s a kind of genocide.When will the killing stop? When there’s nothing left to kill?
Bears are omnivore opportunist. In other words, they’ll eat just about anything. I have seen bear scat with everything from cherry seeds and walnut shells to plastic bags and bottle caps. They’re not very discerning and when I see such ‘un-natural’ items in their deposits, it’s a sure thing they’ve discovered someone’s left out garbage.
For bears feasting on such delights, humans have become the source of easy pickings and how could you blame them? But blame them we do, and they get to pay the price with their lives.
I fully support heavy fines for leaving garbage out where wildlife has easy access. Keep it locked in the garage, porch, or storage shed until pick up day or take it to the dump yourself.
It’s become too easy to blame wild animals for our own shortsightedness. Just in the last few weeks there have been the following examples.
*A man, walking on a rural path got between a mother black bear and her 3 cubs. She attacked him… But, he had no major injuries. In fact, he had little more than bruises and scratches. It was a frightening experience to be sure but if she had intended to kill him, she could have very easily done so. She was hunted and killed in front of her three wailing and traumatized cubs. The now orphaned cubs are being raised in a wildlife rescue centre. Was it really necessary to kill this mother bear?
*A gentleman riding his bicycle on a hiking trail came upon a cougar trotting along the same path. He did the smart thing by picking up his bike, holding it above his head to make himself look larger and screamed at the cat. Curiosity held the big cat for a few moments longer before it ran off into the forest. The cougar was later tracked down and killed. Was it really necessary to kill the cougar?
*While browsing through a yard sale, I overheard a neighbor complain about the bear who had tracked garbage all over his front yard. Yes, it really was a mess but was the bear to blame? No matter, he had been assured that the ‘Conservation’ officer would be out soon to dispatch this problem bear.
*We live in Lake country and our adjoining property is time-shared between several families from the city. The first family of the season arrived with their 3 children and went about setting up their above ground pool when they saw, way off in the distance, a bear leisurely eating plums from a abandoned tree. They hurried their kids inside and looked fearfully back at the bear. Because we were nearby, we suggested we get the kids out to get a closer look at a still safe distance and use the opportunity to teach the children about the wildlife that abounds in this area and the rules for living with them safely. There was no convincing their parents, so once again, the Conservation officer was called to rid the area of the potentially dangerous bear.
There are so many of these examples and for every example there is a dead bear or cougar. At one time, they were trapped in barrel cages and relocated. Now we are told that it isn’t practical or economical to relocate problem bears. They only eventually come back. Although that may be true in some cases, it isn’t in every case. Killing them because they may be a potential threat gives them no chance at all. It not only isn’t fair it’s a kind of genocide.When will the killing stop? When there’s nothing left to kill?
Monday, April 18, 2011
A Timely Warning: Spring – Coyotes – Cats & Dogs
Here in the North West it hasn’t felt much like spring with what seems an endless chill in the air, but it is indeed spring and with it comes the annual abundance of new life. Coyotes, having bred from January to March, are now having pups and their dens will have from 5 to 15 little mouths to feed. Although I advocate for wildlife, I love my pets too. Unfortunately, our cats and small dogs are easy prey for these stealthy, almost invisible hunters that can run up to 65 kms/hr. I have witnessed a neighbor’s cat swiped in broad daylight, in the blink of an eye, from atop a stack of firewood. I’ll never forget the horrible shrieks that woke us at 3:am last spring when one of our cats had became a coyote family’s meal. It was a crushing blow to lose a beloved pet this way. A few evenings ago we watched three deer browsing on our lawn in the twilight. Suddenly they raised their heads, ears pricked forward, alerted to something on the other side of our hedge. Just then we saw our neighbor’s orange tabby sprint by, puffed up and looking like he was being chased. A moment later, almost invisible in the diminishing light, we saw the coyote in full pursuit. Fortunately the cat barely made it to a tree and was able to escape but it took a lot of patient coaxing to get the terrified cat down from the safety of his perch high in the branches. I was recently told about a young woman who watched helplessly as her small dog was attacked and eaten by coyotes. Horrified, she watched, unable to drive them off before it was too late. Coyotes are part of our wild natural landscape and it would be a poorer place without them. Who hasn’t been thrilled by the sound of their wild yips and howls on a moonlit night? But as pet owners, or pet guardians, it is our responsibility to protect our pets from harm. Every spring I see notices for missing cats posted on bulletin boards and telephone poles, obviously put there by people who love their pets. I encourage everyone to keep their kitties indoors, particularly at night and especially at this time of year, even if it does means having to clean a litter box. The same warning extends to small dogs. Never leave a little dog outside by him/herself as small dogs are also at risk of being taken even from a closed yard. By protecting our pets, we help to protect wildlife by preventing these tragic encounters. After all, the wildlife is one of the reasons I enjoy living here.
Monday, January 24, 2011
What's happening to the birds and fish?
We are being told by authorities in government and the media that the worldwide occurrences of bird and fish die offs are normal, however I feel that they are worrisome to say the least: I can’t believe so many deaths in so short a period can be normal. Especially when the reasons that have been provided by experts in several of these cases just sound incredibly weak. Birds flying too high, fireworks, water too cold, water too warm, etc.
Not included in this list is the recent incident of 200 cattle dying in Wisconsin. In that case, veterinarians attributed their demise to a pathogen causing pneumonia, killing them over a period of three days, probably so if they were being raised in a feedlot. None-the-less, it may be worthwhile to keep our eyes open on this.
This is a global phenomenon and I fear it’s not over yet.
The current list:
1.
-70 Mexican Free-tailed bats found dead on a walking path underneath a bridge in Tucson, Arizona. Officials claim that these bats should have migrated to Mexico.
-500 Dead penguins in New Zealand, has been going on since beginning of December.
-150 tons of red tilapia found dead in Vietnam on 41 separate river farms.
-100 pelicans die in North Carolina. (occurred on different days in December)
2. Friday, December 31st, 2010:-5,000 dead red-winged blackbirds fall from the sky in a square-mile area in Beebe, Arkansas.
3. Saturday, January 1st, 2011: -100,000 dead drum fish washed up along the shore of the Arkansas River.
4. Monday, January 3rd, 2011: -500 more birds in a square-mile stretch along a highway in Labarre, Louisiana.
5. Tuesday, January 4th, 2011:-100 shad fish dead, supposedly of a temperature shock, in Ontario, Canada.
6. Wednesday, January 5th, 2011: -2,000,000 juvenile spot fish, dead, along the shore of the Chesapeake Bay, Maryland.
-100 jackdaws found dead in the Falkoping, Sweden.
-100 snapperfish found mysteriously dead, many with missing eyes, along a beach in New Zealand. Officials claim fish died of cold, but residents say the fish looked fat and healthy.
-40,000 'devil' (velvet) swimming crabs found dead on a beach in the UK. And among that, there's dead lobster, anemone, starfish, sponges, etc.
7. Friday, January 7th, 2011:- 8,000 turtle doves fall from the sky in Faenza, Italy. Mysteriously, these birds have blue stains on their beaks. Lab tests show the stain was either caused by poisoning or high-altitude flying causing a lack of oxygen called hypoxia.
-100 dead starfish washed ashore on Folly Beach, South Carolina.
8. Saturday, January 8th, 2011:-100 birds found dead, clustered on the ground in Sonoma County, California.
9. Tuesday, January 11th, 2011:- 1000+ gizzard shad, dead along a Chicago lakefront within a 5 inch range, being eaten by Canada geese and mallard ducks. Experts claim it is bizarre and abnormal, because Canada geese and mallard ducks don't usually eat fish-so why dead ones. An expert also claims that both of these animals are, however, "opportunistic".
As of January 11th, 2011: OVER 2,155,570 animals have died, mysteriously, in a matter of 12 days! Surely, this is cause for concern.
Not included in this list is the recent incident of 200 cattle dying in Wisconsin. In that case, veterinarians attributed their demise to a pathogen causing pneumonia, killing them over a period of three days, probably so if they were being raised in a feedlot. None-the-less, it may be worthwhile to keep our eyes open on this.
This is a global phenomenon and I fear it’s not over yet.
The current list:
1.
-70 Mexican Free-tailed bats found dead on a walking path underneath a bridge in Tucson, Arizona. Officials claim that these bats should have migrated to Mexico.
-500 Dead penguins in New Zealand, has been going on since beginning of December.
-150 tons of red tilapia found dead in Vietnam on 41 separate river farms.
-100 pelicans die in North Carolina. (occurred on different days in December)
2. Friday, December 31st, 2010:-5,000 dead red-winged blackbirds fall from the sky in a square-mile area in Beebe, Arkansas.
3. Saturday, January 1st, 2011: -100,000 dead drum fish washed up along the shore of the Arkansas River.
4. Monday, January 3rd, 2011: -500 more birds in a square-mile stretch along a highway in Labarre, Louisiana.
5. Tuesday, January 4th, 2011:-100 shad fish dead, supposedly of a temperature shock, in Ontario, Canada.
6. Wednesday, January 5th, 2011: -2,000,000 juvenile spot fish, dead, along the shore of the Chesapeake Bay, Maryland.
-100 jackdaws found dead in the Falkoping, Sweden.
-100 snapperfish found mysteriously dead, many with missing eyes, along a beach in New Zealand. Officials claim fish died of cold, but residents say the fish looked fat and healthy.
-40,000 'devil' (velvet) swimming crabs found dead on a beach in the UK. And among that, there's dead lobster, anemone, starfish, sponges, etc.
7. Friday, January 7th, 2011:- 8,000 turtle doves fall from the sky in Faenza, Italy. Mysteriously, these birds have blue stains on their beaks. Lab tests show the stain was either caused by poisoning or high-altitude flying causing a lack of oxygen called hypoxia.
-100 dead starfish washed ashore on Folly Beach, South Carolina.
8. Saturday, January 8th, 2011:-100 birds found dead, clustered on the ground in Sonoma County, California.
9. Tuesday, January 11th, 2011:- 1000+ gizzard shad, dead along a Chicago lakefront within a 5 inch range, being eaten by Canada geese and mallard ducks. Experts claim it is bizarre and abnormal, because Canada geese and mallard ducks don't usually eat fish-so why dead ones. An expert also claims that both of these animals are, however, "opportunistic".
As of January 11th, 2011: OVER 2,155,570 animals have died, mysteriously, in a matter of 12 days! Surely, this is cause for concern.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
A Christmas to Remember and a Warning: Bad to the Bone
Christmas Eve, and we were expecting eleven friends and family for the holiday festivities. Decorations up, a sparkling tree bolstered by gifts spreading out across the floor, garlands wound from floor to ceiling.
To keep Kaspar and Rutgar from underfoot and barking every time someone came to the door, they were given their annual Christmas raw beef bones. In the confusion of last minute preparations and greeting guest, we had not noticed how much of his bone Rutgar had consumed.
I usually take the bones away after 15 minutes to half an hour and discard them and I usually only give them the occasional large knucklebone. This year, however, I was so busy that it wasn’t me who chose their bones and Mr. Rutgar got a bone that he was able to chew off chunks and swallow.
Christmas morning, stockings distributed me and my hubby snuggled under the covers, eager to see what ‘Santa’ had filled our stockings with. I invited Rutgar to hop up on the bed as he usually does on these cold winter mornings while we have our first cups of coffee. I looked down beside the bed where he was huddled, looking pitifully up at me. I had a sinking feeling. I could tell he was in some kind of distress. I reached down and picked him up. He was trembling in pain. He’s had the occasional tummy ache, but this looked more serious. I wondered if he had somehow gotten a piece of chocolate or some other forbidden delicacy. Then I remembered, the bone… I had taken it away from him but as I thought about it, I realized that when I did, it was a lot smaller than when I had first seen it.
I watched him for a little while longer and realized he needed professional help and fast. I called the vet’s emergency line. “Get here fast,” he said. “Can you be here in 20 minutes?”
The family was getting ready for breakfast followed by the ritual gift exchange. “Sorry everyone, but we have to get to the vet right away. Just go on without us and we’ll get back as soon as we can,” I implored in a bit of panic.
Still in our pajamas, we scrambled to throw on clothes and get out the door quickly with our very sick little dog. It had snowed Christmas Eve and the roads were unplowed and icy. The drive to the vet hospital seemed to take forever with Rutgar trembling in my arms all the way.
Dr. Pat was waiting and we rushed our little guy on to the scale and then into the exam room. Dr. Pat palpated Rutgar’s tummy and could feel an impaction in the lower intestine. With rubber gloves he examined Rutgar internally. (A polite way of describing the ‘up the bum’ examination) The procedure was extremely painful for Rutgar and was followed by several enemas and a large dose of laxative. Little by little tiny pieces of bone started to come leaking out, but there was still so much the Dr. couldn’t reach. He sent us home with instructions to give Rutgar more laxative and small amounts of water every half hour.
When we arrived home everyone was sitting on the couches around the living room, waiting for our return before opening gifts, but our heats weren’t really into it. We watched Rutgar sitting hunched in the corner and in obvious pain. Rutgar loves Christmas and especially loves opening his own gifts, but this year, he made a couple of futile attempts and just laid down, looking sorrowfully up at us.
Boxing Day and he was no better. I had dutifully stayed up all night giving him 36cc of water every 30 minutes otherwise he would drink and drink until he would vomit, exacerbating dehydration. Dr. Pat was going to be away for the day so he had asked us to call him at 6:30am to give him a progress report. “Better bring him back and let me have another look,” he said. So, it was off again for another torturous treatment, exploring for bone shards, followed again by more enemas and laxative. “Looks like full blown pancreatitis. He needs to continue getting the laxative and small amounts of water around the clock.” He called later that night to see how Rutgar was doing. “Not much better I replied. Not passing much but a bit of bloody diarrhea.” I told him.
“Give me a call tomorrow morning and let me know how he’s doing. I’m going to be away again and if he needs surgery, I wont be able to get to him until Wednesday,” he advised. My heat fell, although I really didn’t want Rutgar to have surgery, I didn’t have much hope that he would last another two days. “I may have to put him on an IV if he further dehydrates. Just keep giving him water every 45 minutes to an hour,” added Dr. Pat. I was already exhausted from two nights without sleep and facing yet another.
Monday morning and Rutgar was showing little sign of improvement. “Bring him back in,” said Dr. Pat. We drove off again for more of the same treatment with Rutgar howling and whining in pain. “I wish I could give him a sedative but after listening to his heart, it’s too risky.” In exasperation he went on, “Gosh, he feels empty, but no… I still feel something hard but I can’t reach it. Well, go home. Give him a bit more tonic lax and continue with small amounts of water often and I’ll call you later to see how he’s doing.”
It was heartbreaking watching Rutgar painfully straining to pass the offending impaction. We were all worried that there might be a bone shard stuck into his lower intestine that would require surgery. We tried to walk him as Dr. Pat advised but Rutgar didn’t want to go more than a few paces before stopping and straining again.
Then, Tuesday and Rutgar gave a mighty push and I saw something solid drop onto the snow. There it was, a chunk of bone the apparent same diameter as his colon. Rutgar looked relieved but I was afraid to be too optimistic, fearing that there might be another large piece of bone stuck somewhere up inside. I knew that there was certainly more of the calcified cement like bone granules left that this large chunk had been blocking.
“I’m so glad,” said Dr. Pat. “I really wasn’t looking forward to surgery. It’s an awful operation. Just keep me informed and let’s see how he does.”
Hour by hour, minute by minute, little Mr. Rutgar was improving. I no longer had to withhold water and his appetite had returned. Three small meals a day of rice, wet food, bits of elk and lamb to round out his meals and he was wanting more. He was back to begging at the table and although it’s a bad habit, it warmed me to tears to see him so interested in what we were having.
Thursday morning I took him for walk and this time there was no hesitation. As soon as he realized the car wasn’t coming out of the garage and there would be no trip to the vet, he step became buoyant. He joyfully dipped his head in the new fallen snow, lifted his nose to the cold air and trotted out ahead of me. I have never seen him so excited and happy to be going for a walk on such a cold day. He simply couldn’t get enough of it. I’m certain he was expressing, “I’m alive… I’m alive… And all is well with the world!”
He’s back to his funny little self. My husband is a cartoonist and for years his cartoon dogs looked just like Mr. Rutgar, and when Rutgar came along it was as if he was a living manifestation of my husband’s drawings.
Rutgar is back to eating regular meals and enjoying his Christmas toys. Hearing the constant squeak – squeak - squeak as he chews and tugs at them is the best sound we could hear right now even though I know it will drive us crazy before long.
So, here’s a bit of advice when faced with a pet emergency.
1) Our vet isn’t opposed to large, raw knuckle bones (beef or buffalo only) but they should be taken away if pieces start to break off and for safety sake, take them away in 15 minutes to half an hour.
2) Have a clear description of what has occurred leading up to the emergency to give your vet some idea of what is happening and to prepare for your arrival at the hospital.
3) If treatment takes place at home, it is important to keep accurate notes. You want to be able to answers your vet’s questions. When did she last have water? When did he last vomit? Is he able to walk? Is she straining? Is she urinating? You get the picture…
This all could have ended tragically but… thankfully it didn’t. So, let’s make 2011 the best Year ever and take time to appreciate those we love. Those with fur and those without… Cheers everyone.
To keep Kaspar and Rutgar from underfoot and barking every time someone came to the door, they were given their annual Christmas raw beef bones. In the confusion of last minute preparations and greeting guest, we had not noticed how much of his bone Rutgar had consumed.
I usually take the bones away after 15 minutes to half an hour and discard them and I usually only give them the occasional large knucklebone. This year, however, I was so busy that it wasn’t me who chose their bones and Mr. Rutgar got a bone that he was able to chew off chunks and swallow.
Christmas morning, stockings distributed me and my hubby snuggled under the covers, eager to see what ‘Santa’ had filled our stockings with. I invited Rutgar to hop up on the bed as he usually does on these cold winter mornings while we have our first cups of coffee. I looked down beside the bed where he was huddled, looking pitifully up at me. I had a sinking feeling. I could tell he was in some kind of distress. I reached down and picked him up. He was trembling in pain. He’s had the occasional tummy ache, but this looked more serious. I wondered if he had somehow gotten a piece of chocolate or some other forbidden delicacy. Then I remembered, the bone… I had taken it away from him but as I thought about it, I realized that when I did, it was a lot smaller than when I had first seen it.
I watched him for a little while longer and realized he needed professional help and fast. I called the vet’s emergency line. “Get here fast,” he said. “Can you be here in 20 minutes?”
The family was getting ready for breakfast followed by the ritual gift exchange. “Sorry everyone, but we have to get to the vet right away. Just go on without us and we’ll get back as soon as we can,” I implored in a bit of panic.
Still in our pajamas, we scrambled to throw on clothes and get out the door quickly with our very sick little dog. It had snowed Christmas Eve and the roads were unplowed and icy. The drive to the vet hospital seemed to take forever with Rutgar trembling in my arms all the way.
Dr. Pat was waiting and we rushed our little guy on to the scale and then into the exam room. Dr. Pat palpated Rutgar’s tummy and could feel an impaction in the lower intestine. With rubber gloves he examined Rutgar internally. (A polite way of describing the ‘up the bum’ examination) The procedure was extremely painful for Rutgar and was followed by several enemas and a large dose of laxative. Little by little tiny pieces of bone started to come leaking out, but there was still so much the Dr. couldn’t reach. He sent us home with instructions to give Rutgar more laxative and small amounts of water every half hour.
When we arrived home everyone was sitting on the couches around the living room, waiting for our return before opening gifts, but our heats weren’t really into it. We watched Rutgar sitting hunched in the corner and in obvious pain. Rutgar loves Christmas and especially loves opening his own gifts, but this year, he made a couple of futile attempts and just laid down, looking sorrowfully up at us.
Boxing Day and he was no better. I had dutifully stayed up all night giving him 36cc of water every 30 minutes otherwise he would drink and drink until he would vomit, exacerbating dehydration. Dr. Pat was going to be away for the day so he had asked us to call him at 6:30am to give him a progress report. “Better bring him back and let me have another look,” he said. So, it was off again for another torturous treatment, exploring for bone shards, followed again by more enemas and laxative. “Looks like full blown pancreatitis. He needs to continue getting the laxative and small amounts of water around the clock.” He called later that night to see how Rutgar was doing. “Not much better I replied. Not passing much but a bit of bloody diarrhea.” I told him.
“Give me a call tomorrow morning and let me know how he’s doing. I’m going to be away again and if he needs surgery, I wont be able to get to him until Wednesday,” he advised. My heat fell, although I really didn’t want Rutgar to have surgery, I didn’t have much hope that he would last another two days. “I may have to put him on an IV if he further dehydrates. Just keep giving him water every 45 minutes to an hour,” added Dr. Pat. I was already exhausted from two nights without sleep and facing yet another.
Monday morning and Rutgar was showing little sign of improvement. “Bring him back in,” said Dr. Pat. We drove off again for more of the same treatment with Rutgar howling and whining in pain. “I wish I could give him a sedative but after listening to his heart, it’s too risky.” In exasperation he went on, “Gosh, he feels empty, but no… I still feel something hard but I can’t reach it. Well, go home. Give him a bit more tonic lax and continue with small amounts of water often and I’ll call you later to see how he’s doing.”
It was heartbreaking watching Rutgar painfully straining to pass the offending impaction. We were all worried that there might be a bone shard stuck into his lower intestine that would require surgery. We tried to walk him as Dr. Pat advised but Rutgar didn’t want to go more than a few paces before stopping and straining again.
Then, Tuesday and Rutgar gave a mighty push and I saw something solid drop onto the snow. There it was, a chunk of bone the apparent same diameter as his colon. Rutgar looked relieved but I was afraid to be too optimistic, fearing that there might be another large piece of bone stuck somewhere up inside. I knew that there was certainly more of the calcified cement like bone granules left that this large chunk had been blocking.
“I’m so glad,” said Dr. Pat. “I really wasn’t looking forward to surgery. It’s an awful operation. Just keep me informed and let’s see how he does.”
Hour by hour, minute by minute, little Mr. Rutgar was improving. I no longer had to withhold water and his appetite had returned. Three small meals a day of rice, wet food, bits of elk and lamb to round out his meals and he was wanting more. He was back to begging at the table and although it’s a bad habit, it warmed me to tears to see him so interested in what we were having.
Thursday morning I took him for walk and this time there was no hesitation. As soon as he realized the car wasn’t coming out of the garage and there would be no trip to the vet, he step became buoyant. He joyfully dipped his head in the new fallen snow, lifted his nose to the cold air and trotted out ahead of me. I have never seen him so excited and happy to be going for a walk on such a cold day. He simply couldn’t get enough of it. I’m certain he was expressing, “I’m alive… I’m alive… And all is well with the world!”
He’s back to his funny little self. My husband is a cartoonist and for years his cartoon dogs looked just like Mr. Rutgar, and when Rutgar came along it was as if he was a living manifestation of my husband’s drawings.
Rutgar is back to eating regular meals and enjoying his Christmas toys. Hearing the constant squeak – squeak - squeak as he chews and tugs at them is the best sound we could hear right now even though I know it will drive us crazy before long.
So, here’s a bit of advice when faced with a pet emergency.
1) Our vet isn’t opposed to large, raw knuckle bones (beef or buffalo only) but they should be taken away if pieces start to break off and for safety sake, take them away in 15 minutes to half an hour.
2) Have a clear description of what has occurred leading up to the emergency to give your vet some idea of what is happening and to prepare for your arrival at the hospital.
3) If treatment takes place at home, it is important to keep accurate notes. You want to be able to answers your vet’s questions. When did she last have water? When did he last vomit? Is he able to walk? Is she straining? Is she urinating? You get the picture…
This all could have ended tragically but… thankfully it didn’t. So, let’s make 2011 the best Year ever and take time to appreciate those we love. Those with fur and those without… Cheers everyone.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Looking for their Forever Homes
This comes from a good friend in California. ( 4275 North Elton, Baldwin Park, Ca 91706 Phone 626 430 2378 ) You will need to sign into Facebook in order to view all these wonderful canine companions who are waiting to be adopted to their forever homes. If you are in California and near this shelter, take a look at this beautiful, heart melting face and take her home.
10 Week Old BRIDGET (A4165510) on Borrowed Time at Baldwin Park
URGENT URGENT URGENT, please help network her out of the shelter. Thank you. A4165510 Bridget is a bouncy, happy, kissy ten week old chocolate and white spayed female pit bull who was returned to the Baldwin Park Shelter on September 2nd, because she h...ad an upper respiratory infection. Weighing twelve pounds, Bridget will likely be fifty pounds when full grown. She loves toys and other dogs – in fact, she seems to love everything she meets. She’s attentive and focused, and seems to be affirmatively looking for direction and training. When Bridget’s tail wags her whole body wiggles! Bridget will make the perfect indoor pet for an active family in a private home. To watch a video of Bridget please click here: www.youtube.com/watch?v=QYEw0UZHCqg 4275 North Elton, Baldwin Park, Ca 91706 Phone 626 430 2378 See More
By: Ryoko Matsui
If you don't live near this shelter, I'm sure there is one near you with more adoptable and loving pets just waiting to meet you.
10 Week Old BRIDGET (A4165510) on Borrowed Time at Baldwin Park
URGENT URGENT URGENT, please help network her out of the shelter. Thank you. A4165510 Bridget is a bouncy, happy, kissy ten week old chocolate and white spayed female pit bull who was returned to the Baldwin Park Shelter on September 2nd, because she h...ad an upper respiratory infection. Weighing twelve pounds, Bridget will likely be fifty pounds when full grown. She loves toys and other dogs – in fact, she seems to love everything she meets. She’s attentive and focused, and seems to be affirmatively looking for direction and training. When Bridget’s tail wags her whole body wiggles! Bridget will make the perfect indoor pet for an active family in a private home. To watch a video of Bridget please click here: www.youtube.com/watch?v=QYEw0UZHCqg 4275 North Elton, Baldwin Park, Ca 91706 Phone 626 430 2378 See More
By: Ryoko Matsui
If you don't live near this shelter, I'm sure there is one near you with more adoptable and loving pets just waiting to meet you.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
The hazard of living close to wildlife.
Due to health problems, our daughter moved back in with us three years ago. Since then, she has lost one loved cat to diabetes. Early two days ago, both her cats were accidently let out by a young man who rents a room with us. Unfortunately, we've had coyotes hanging around quite close to the house. Now after two mild winters, the coyotes most likely have large litters to feed. So far the coyotes have killed two skunks and a young raven close by. They're very stealthy and now it looks like they've taken our daughter's cat, Desto. I never let our little dog out at any time without someone being right there with him. This was a tragic mistake for our daughter and her poor cat. We've all grown to love him dearly and he leaves a huge hole in our hearts. Our daughter is inconsolable.
We heard the coyotes howling just before dawn and then we heard a cat screaming. I'll never forget that horrible sound right outside our bedroom window. First thing I did was to ask my husband where the cats were. We thought they were safely inside... this is too sad to continue. Please, let this be a warning to anyone who has small pets in coyote country, and that's just about everywhere. It's just too easy for our dear ones to slip out the door, especially when you have summer visitors. We even had a sign on the door that said, "Do NOT let the cats out."
We hoped and prayed that the fur we found in the tall weeds below our bedroom window wasn't Desto... but it must have been. He never returned. We finally located the other kitty late yesterday. Bhasat, had been hiding in the space between the upstairs deck and the roof. He was terrified. He's back to his normal self this morning and already 'sharking' the doors. We're all being extremely careful to make certain he doesn't get out and that's not easy with so many people going in and out.
I just spoke to the neighbor below us who said she saw a coyote in her yard yesterday afternoon and the other neighbor to the north of us lost 5 chickens. These coyotes are getting very bold.
We just learned that another neighbor's ShiZhu went missing during the last thunder storm and that was several days ago. No doubt the thunder storm frightened the little dog away but unfortunatly with the kind of coyote activity we've had lately, it's unlikely she will return.
In the meantime, our little dog and the remaining kitty are obviously grieving as both have refused food since the loss of Modesto.
Coyotes thrive even in downtown Los Angeles. Please, keep your pets close. Even a large dog can be taken down by a pack of coyotes.
We heard the coyotes howling just before dawn and then we heard a cat screaming. I'll never forget that horrible sound right outside our bedroom window. First thing I did was to ask my husband where the cats were. We thought they were safely inside... this is too sad to continue. Please, let this be a warning to anyone who has small pets in coyote country, and that's just about everywhere. It's just too easy for our dear ones to slip out the door, especially when you have summer visitors. We even had a sign on the door that said, "Do NOT let the cats out."
We hoped and prayed that the fur we found in the tall weeds below our bedroom window wasn't Desto... but it must have been. He never returned. We finally located the other kitty late yesterday. Bhasat, had been hiding in the space between the upstairs deck and the roof. He was terrified. He's back to his normal self this morning and already 'sharking' the doors. We're all being extremely careful to make certain he doesn't get out and that's not easy with so many people going in and out.
I just spoke to the neighbor below us who said she saw a coyote in her yard yesterday afternoon and the other neighbor to the north of us lost 5 chickens. These coyotes are getting very bold.
We just learned that another neighbor's ShiZhu went missing during the last thunder storm and that was several days ago. No doubt the thunder storm frightened the little dog away but unfortunatly with the kind of coyote activity we've had lately, it's unlikely she will return.
In the meantime, our little dog and the remaining kitty are obviously grieving as both have refused food since the loss of Modesto.
Coyotes thrive even in downtown Los Angeles. Please, keep your pets close. Even a large dog can be taken down by a pack of coyotes.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Is it too late to save the world?
I have refrained from making political statements on this blog and have kept my writing mostly light-hearted and pet related, but I can no longer ignore the big picture. After all, as indicated in my description for this site, we share this planet with our pets and all other life forms. In view of the ongoing catastrophe in the Gulf of Mexico, I now feel compelled to make comments regarding this disaster that affects us all, no matter where we happen to live.
Recently, the CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation) our national radio and television network, invited listeners to submit answers to the question, “What do you feel is the most important issue facing us today… be it local, national or international?”
For me, the answer can only be the need to stop the abhorrent destruction and desecration of this glorious Mother Earth. Think about it. A friend wrote to me that he finds the saddest thing in all this is that he’s afraid that American taxpayers are going to have to pay for the clean up. To me, this argument pales if we can't survive as a species on this planet. What do governments, corporations, politics, taxes, profits, liars, cheaters, saints and sinners matter if nothing of us or other life on this planet survives and all that remains is the devastation and havoc we've created?
The oil continues to gush into the Gulf waters with no real end in sight. BP is back to trying to cap the ‘leak’, something that’s already been tried and failed. In the meantime, The National Wildlife Federation’s very conservative estimates reports that already more than 150 threatened or endangered sea turtles are dead and 316 sea birds, mostly brown pelicans and northern gannets, have been found dead along the Gulf Coast as a result of the spreading oil. This does not include the number of mammals, (dolphins, whales, manatees, etc.) or the impact to oyster beds, shrimp harvest, or blue fin tuna. Really, the list is endless from the tiniest life forms right up to the top of the food chain. While these numbers continue to climb, the workers and volunteers who are struggling to clean up the mess are getting sick from the toxic chemicals that have been used to break up the oil slick. It wouldn’t surprise anyone to see increases in cancer and related diseases amongst these folks in the coming months and years.
We all have to share some responsibility in this. Long ago we bought into being a petroleum based global culture. If we pulled every gasoline-powered vehicle off the roads tomorrow, it would certainly help but that’s not our only use of oil. Like lead to the Romans, oil and our addiction to its many uses in the products we use every day will ultimately cost us far more in terms of our existence than any benefits we may reap.
When I got into my car yesterday, I realized I was surrounded in plastic, another petroleum based product. Even the low cost candles I grabbed when the lights went out during a recent storm are made from petroleum.
What is the alternative? I wish I had an answer… I sure wish someone would have an answer. This endless assault on the planet has to stop. I do my part. I recycle and try to limit my use products that are harmful to the environment, but… my part is so small in the face of the magnitude of what is happening worldwide. Yet, we must continue to be vigilant, do what we can as individuals to ‘stem the tide, and to have hope that it’s not too late.
I encourage everyone reading my blog to view this slideshow. Regardless of what some may think of Michael Jackson, he certainly had this right. This slide show, backed with his Earth Song is powerful stuff. I couldn't stop the tears. What have we done?!?
Mother Earth is under assault from every direction... She will survive but we may not.
Please watch and pass it on. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iw4-HQeduu8
Recently, the CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation) our national radio and television network, invited listeners to submit answers to the question, “What do you feel is the most important issue facing us today… be it local, national or international?”
For me, the answer can only be the need to stop the abhorrent destruction and desecration of this glorious Mother Earth. Think about it. A friend wrote to me that he finds the saddest thing in all this is that he’s afraid that American taxpayers are going to have to pay for the clean up. To me, this argument pales if we can't survive as a species on this planet. What do governments, corporations, politics, taxes, profits, liars, cheaters, saints and sinners matter if nothing of us or other life on this planet survives and all that remains is the devastation and havoc we've created?
The oil continues to gush into the Gulf waters with no real end in sight. BP is back to trying to cap the ‘leak’, something that’s already been tried and failed. In the meantime, The National Wildlife Federation’s very conservative estimates reports that already more than 150 threatened or endangered sea turtles are dead and 316 sea birds, mostly brown pelicans and northern gannets, have been found dead along the Gulf Coast as a result of the spreading oil. This does not include the number of mammals, (dolphins, whales, manatees, etc.) or the impact to oyster beds, shrimp harvest, or blue fin tuna. Really, the list is endless from the tiniest life forms right up to the top of the food chain. While these numbers continue to climb, the workers and volunteers who are struggling to clean up the mess are getting sick from the toxic chemicals that have been used to break up the oil slick. It wouldn’t surprise anyone to see increases in cancer and related diseases amongst these folks in the coming months and years.
We all have to share some responsibility in this. Long ago we bought into being a petroleum based global culture. If we pulled every gasoline-powered vehicle off the roads tomorrow, it would certainly help but that’s not our only use of oil. Like lead to the Romans, oil and our addiction to its many uses in the products we use every day will ultimately cost us far more in terms of our existence than any benefits we may reap.
When I got into my car yesterday, I realized I was surrounded in plastic, another petroleum based product. Even the low cost candles I grabbed when the lights went out during a recent storm are made from petroleum.
What is the alternative? I wish I had an answer… I sure wish someone would have an answer. This endless assault on the planet has to stop. I do my part. I recycle and try to limit my use products that are harmful to the environment, but… my part is so small in the face of the magnitude of what is happening worldwide. Yet, we must continue to be vigilant, do what we can as individuals to ‘stem the tide, and to have hope that it’s not too late.
I encourage everyone reading my blog to view this slideshow. Regardless of what some may think of Michael Jackson, he certainly had this right. This slide show, backed with his Earth Song is powerful stuff. I couldn't stop the tears. What have we done?!?
Mother Earth is under assault from every direction... She will survive but we may not.
Please watch and pass it on. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iw4-HQeduu8
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Useful and fun places to visit on the web
In today’s blog, I’ve included several great places to help you look after your pets.
I heartily recommend subscribing to Dr. Phil Zeltzman’s, newsletter. Dr. Zeltzman is a veterinarian who always has good and practical advice for caring for your dogs and cats. Be sure to visit his site to subscribe to his great newsletter.
www.drphilzeltzman.com
Another wonderful resource for pet owners can be found at: http://www.goodnewsforpets.com/
Let’s not forget one of my favorites: www.freekibble.com Every time you click on either bow wow or meow, you are helping to feed dogs, cats, puppies and kittens in rescue shelters around the country. Your click automatically donates 10 pieces of kibble and it’s free! You only need to answer the multiple choice trivia pet question and no matter if you are right or wrong, the kibble gets donated… and it’s fun.
And for something really special to brighten your day, enjoy this wonderful video and song. I guarantee you wont go a day without humming this lovely little tune. GoD And DoG by Wendy J Francisco
I would love to hear back from you. Please feel free to leave a comment, or suggest another wonderful site that you are fond of.
I heartily recommend subscribing to Dr. Phil Zeltzman’s, newsletter. Dr. Zeltzman is a veterinarian who always has good and practical advice for caring for your dogs and cats. Be sure to visit his site to subscribe to his great newsletter.
www.drphilzeltzman.com
Another wonderful resource for pet owners can be found at: http://www.goodnewsforpets.com/
Let’s not forget one of my favorites: www.freekibble.com Every time you click on either bow wow or meow, you are helping to feed dogs, cats, puppies and kittens in rescue shelters around the country. Your click automatically donates 10 pieces of kibble and it’s free! You only need to answer the multiple choice trivia pet question and no matter if you are right or wrong, the kibble gets donated… and it’s fun.
And for something really special to brighten your day, enjoy this wonderful video and song. I guarantee you wont go a day without humming this lovely little tune. GoD And DoG by Wendy J Francisco
I would love to hear back from you. Please feel free to leave a comment, or suggest another wonderful site that you are fond of.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
A Strange Winter
The winter here in SE British Columbia has been unseasonably warm and we wonder what this will mean especially to wildlife.
In mid-winter we were told that two bears were wandering close by and that does not bode well as there is nothing for them to eat. Yesterday I saw evidence that more bears are coming close to human habitation.
We will be emptying what's left of our apples and some rotting squash into our compost that is some distance from our house but lies half-way between our house and our closest neighbor. Hopefully that wont become a problem for us or the bears.
Hardly a night goes by that we don't hear coyotes trying to yowl up a meal or two and our little dogs, and even our big guy, could easily become tidbit, morsel or full meal deal if we didn't keep a close eye on them.
Thankfully there seem to be a record number of deer and although they are so lovely to watch, they provide the main diet for the cougars that have frequented our property all winter long. I'd like to believe that they actually prefer venison to a canine or feline repast. However, I'm not foolish enough to think that they would pass up whatever meal presents itself.
A few nights ago as we laid ourselves down to sleep, we could hear the bugling or whistling of two bull elk calling across the lake to their cows joined by the serenading coyotes. Ah, give us the sounds of the wild over the sounds of cars honking any day. What a wonderful lullaby to fall asleep to.
So for now, this is early spring in the Kootenay mountains. We are so fortunate.
In mid-winter we were told that two bears were wandering close by and that does not bode well as there is nothing for them to eat. Yesterday I saw evidence that more bears are coming close to human habitation.
We will be emptying what's left of our apples and some rotting squash into our compost that is some distance from our house but lies half-way between our house and our closest neighbor. Hopefully that wont become a problem for us or the bears.
Hardly a night goes by that we don't hear coyotes trying to yowl up a meal or two and our little dogs, and even our big guy, could easily become tidbit, morsel or full meal deal if we didn't keep a close eye on them.
Thankfully there seem to be a record number of deer and although they are so lovely to watch, they provide the main diet for the cougars that have frequented our property all winter long. I'd like to believe that they actually prefer venison to a canine or feline repast. However, I'm not foolish enough to think that they would pass up whatever meal presents itself.
A few nights ago as we laid ourselves down to sleep, we could hear the bugling or whistling of two bull elk calling across the lake to their cows joined by the serenading coyotes. Ah, give us the sounds of the wild over the sounds of cars honking any day. What a wonderful lullaby to fall asleep to.
So for now, this is early spring in the Kootenay mountains. We are so fortunate.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Lets Send Gunny to the Rose Bowl!
This just in:
We are working feverishily to Get Gunny to the rose Bowl Parade.
Please read his story..you will understand. We will need worldwide support daily for this.
PLEASE...for all the Pitties...
Thanks..and CROSSPOST WORLDWIDE.
Gunny is a rescue pit bull who was used as a "bait" dog at a dog fighting kennel in North Carolina. I encourage you to view the video. Heartbreaking as his story may be, you will be gladdended by the wonderful people and fur friends that have come to his rescue.
http://network.bestfriends.org/campaigns/pitbulls/forum/p/32722/146020.aspx#146020
Jupiter, a Pitty, was adopted by our son and he has certainly changed our minds about the breed and opened our hearts. He's been a high energy and loving character. He's become a most beloved fur member of our family.
Please, for Gunny's sake and for all the abused and neglected pets out there, lets send him to the Rose Bowl and raise awareness everywhere we can.
We are working feverishily to Get Gunny to the rose Bowl Parade.
Please read his story..you will understand. We will need worldwide support daily for this.
PLEASE...for all the Pitties...
Thanks..and CROSSPOST WORLDWIDE.
Gunny is a rescue pit bull who was used as a "bait" dog at a dog fighting kennel in North Carolina. I encourage you to view the video. Heartbreaking as his story may be, you will be gladdended by the wonderful people and fur friends that have come to his rescue.
http://network.bestfriends.org/campaigns/pitbulls/forum/p/32722/146020.aspx#146020
Jupiter, a Pitty, was adopted by our son and he has certainly changed our minds about the breed and opened our hearts. He's been a high energy and loving character. He's become a most beloved fur member of our family.
Please, for Gunny's sake and for all the abused and neglected pets out there, lets send him to the Rose Bowl and raise awareness everywhere we can.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Summer's Gone and soon Fall too...
Well, summer is gone and it's been awhile since my last posting here so this is an attempt to catch up.
This was an odd summer and fall as there were no bears frequenting our apple trees. Of course, we're told that it's a good thing but I'm wondering what has happened to them. We were told that there was a bumper crop of huckleberries so the bears didn't need to visit our fruit trees or the neighbors garbage, neglectfully left on their deck. But huckleberries are seasonal and they didn't last all summer, much less into the fall. Every year conservation officers destroy 'problem bears' that come into town looking to fatten up on carelessly discarded rubbish, pet food left outdoors and front lawn fruit trees. I fear that so many bears have been killed that it's made a serious impact on their numbers and that may be why we're not seeing them this year.
One concerned citizen has taken it upon herself to plant apple tree saplings in remote mountainside areas of the forest. She's been chastised for doing so as apples are not considered to be a 'natural' food source for them. But what then is natural? Surely our continual encroachment into their habitat can't be natural either. I personally commend her efforts to save their precious lives by providing a food source away from town and the confrontations that ultimately end in their tragic loss.
What has made a few visits to our neighborhood has been a cougar cub. The young cat was first sighted by our daughter when returning home late one night. The cougar was caught in her headlights, sitting in the middle of our road. At first our girl thought it was a domestic cat until it got up to run off. It's pale tawny color and long tail gave it away. We've heard its plaintive yowling, much like baby crying from up the side of the mountain behind our home and a few nights ago it ran across our flower boxes outside our bedroom window. It surely knows that we have two small dogs and two kitties living here... now that's food for thought (and for young cougars too). I think this young lion is one of two that was orphaned over the summer by the lion hunter that was hired by the conservation department to eliminate these dangerous animals. It will undoubtedly be a hard winter for the cub, but there is little we can do for it and we have no plans to donate our little dogs or kitties.
Snow is due any day now. Our pantry is packed with our summer harvest, the shelves filled with canned fruit, jams and jellies. Our woodshed is almost full and we're getting ready to settle in for the winter. It's time to make sure our pets are ready for winter too. Our little Mr. Rutgar has a new yellow coat, lined in faux leopard... quite classy and very warm. He's never been one to enjoy wearing clothes, but as soon as the temperatures dropped, he seemed eager to wiggle into his winter gear. He's happy to crawl under his special blanky every night too. I always make certain the pets have fresh water and I fill their bowls several times a day. The water from our tap is very cold in winter and I know I sometimes have trouble drinking icy water so I add warm water to their bowls and I've noticed that they tend to drink more as a result.
So, as I rake up the last of the leaves and put away the hoses for another year, I will be thinking of more hopefully interesting things to add to my blog. Stay tunned!
This was an odd summer and fall as there were no bears frequenting our apple trees. Of course, we're told that it's a good thing but I'm wondering what has happened to them. We were told that there was a bumper crop of huckleberries so the bears didn't need to visit our fruit trees or the neighbors garbage, neglectfully left on their deck. But huckleberries are seasonal and they didn't last all summer, much less into the fall. Every year conservation officers destroy 'problem bears' that come into town looking to fatten up on carelessly discarded rubbish, pet food left outdoors and front lawn fruit trees. I fear that so many bears have been killed that it's made a serious impact on their numbers and that may be why we're not seeing them this year.
One concerned citizen has taken it upon herself to plant apple tree saplings in remote mountainside areas of the forest. She's been chastised for doing so as apples are not considered to be a 'natural' food source for them. But what then is natural? Surely our continual encroachment into their habitat can't be natural either. I personally commend her efforts to save their precious lives by providing a food source away from town and the confrontations that ultimately end in their tragic loss.
What has made a few visits to our neighborhood has been a cougar cub. The young cat was first sighted by our daughter when returning home late one night. The cougar was caught in her headlights, sitting in the middle of our road. At first our girl thought it was a domestic cat until it got up to run off. It's pale tawny color and long tail gave it away. We've heard its plaintive yowling, much like baby crying from up the side of the mountain behind our home and a few nights ago it ran across our flower boxes outside our bedroom window. It surely knows that we have two small dogs and two kitties living here... now that's food for thought (and for young cougars too). I think this young lion is one of two that was orphaned over the summer by the lion hunter that was hired by the conservation department to eliminate these dangerous animals. It will undoubtedly be a hard winter for the cub, but there is little we can do for it and we have no plans to donate our little dogs or kitties.
Snow is due any day now. Our pantry is packed with our summer harvest, the shelves filled with canned fruit, jams and jellies. Our woodshed is almost full and we're getting ready to settle in for the winter. It's time to make sure our pets are ready for winter too. Our little Mr. Rutgar has a new yellow coat, lined in faux leopard... quite classy and very warm. He's never been one to enjoy wearing clothes, but as soon as the temperatures dropped, he seemed eager to wiggle into his winter gear. He's happy to crawl under his special blanky every night too. I always make certain the pets have fresh water and I fill their bowls several times a day. The water from our tap is very cold in winter and I know I sometimes have trouble drinking icy water so I add warm water to their bowls and I've noticed that they tend to drink more as a result.
So, as I rake up the last of the leaves and put away the hoses for another year, I will be thinking of more hopefully interesting things to add to my blog. Stay tunned!
Monday, June 8, 2009
Help fight Canine Cancer
This plea for help comes from Melissa Becall, our friend in California on behalf of Tish Graber and her beautiful Sydney. Even though tomorrow is June 9th, Sydney's nineth birthday, it's never too late to help eliminate cancer in dogs. I recently read the alarming statistic that one in three dogs dies of cancer. What we help to cure in our fur families, we also cure in ourselves... we are one.
*****
Sydney was been diagnosed with Melanoma Cancer and most likely Osteosarcoma (bone cancer). I am involved with an organization called We Are The Cure.
The National Canine Cancer Foundation is a nationwide, contribution funded, 501 (c)(3) non-profit corporation dedicated to eliminating cancer as a major health problem in dogs by funding grants for the scientific efforts of cancer researchers who are working to save lives, find a cure, find better treatments, find more accurate, cost effective, diagnostic methods in dealing with cancer, and diminishing dogs’ suffering from cancer through research, education, advocacy, and service.
My goal is to raise $1K before Sydney’s 9th b-day on June 9th. In the last few weeks I have raised $670. Every little bit helps and would very much appreciate your support. Please forward this link www.wearethecure.org/friends/sydney to any animal lovers that you may know.
The donation amount is not important as no amount is too small.
Please pray for my girl as she is really struggling to be strong.
Tish Grabar
Sydney was been diagnosed with Melanoma Cancer and most likely Osteosarcoma (bone cancer). I am involved with an organization called We Are The Cure.
The National Canine Cancer Foundation is a nationwide, contribution funded, 501 (c)(3) non-profit corporation dedicated to eliminating cancer as a major health problem in dogs by funding grants for the scientific efforts of cancer researchers who are working to save lives, find a cure, find better treatments, find more accurate, cost effective, diagnostic methods in dealing with cancer, and diminishing dogs’ suffering from cancer through research, education, advocacy, and service.
My goal is to raise $1K before Sydney’s 9th b-day on June 9th. In the last few weeks I have raised $670. Every little bit helps and would very much appreciate your support. Please forward this link www.wearethecure.org/friends/sydney to any animal lovers that you may know.
The donation amount is not important as no amount is too small.
Please pray for my girl as she is really struggling to be strong.
Tish Grabar
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Getting By or Getting Better
Hard economic times may require some hard choices, but imagination and a little creativity can go a long way towards changing ‘getting by’ to ‘getting better.’ As I grappled with what my next topic would be for this post, I came to realize that our family has had to deal with financial difficulties many times over the years. We had a small 29-acre truck farm in the mountains of South Eastern British Columbia. We raised pigs, goats, chickens, horses and sheep. Although there was little change jingling in our pockets, we never really felt ‘poor.’
Our vegetable garden provided the basics and then some. Our goats provided milk and cheese and the piggys… well, we wont go into that, we aren’t vegetarians but they were happy for the time they were with us.
Looking back, I am still impressed with the creative solutions we came up with when there was no money to purchase feed for the animals.
The horses and goats required hay over the winter and our farm was too small and too rocky to grow what we needed, yet they stayed fat and productive and this is how.
In one of my early morning rides on my big pinto horse, Dancer, I noticed several uncut fields of rich grass belonging to our neighbors. When I got home, I phoned them and asked if they were planning to cut and bale hay. Most didn’t have animals and weren’t planning to do anything but continue to let the fields go fallow but if I wanted the hay, I could have it. I then called a friend who had a hay mower and baler and made this arrangement. The owner of the pasture would get one third of the hay to sell, the owner of the mower and baler would get one third and I would get one third just for making a few phone calls. Before long, our hay shed was full with excellent grass hay.
Our goats were so productive I was able to exchange their surplus milk for vegetables we weren’t able grow and even for the services of a massage therapist when my back got sore from lifting all those heavy bales of hay.
I milked our neighbor’s cows for a few summers so that they could take an occasional vacation. With our goat’s milk and the milk from their cows there was plenty to go around. My husband made wonderful cheeses and the heavy Jersey cream from the cow’s milk was a luxury few could afford. I was reminded of that fact when I was in the market and saw strawberries on sale. We had so many strawberries in our garden that they were part of our daily meal to the point of monotony. “Good grief, I’m getting sick of strawberry shortcake,” I said and was met with a scowl from a nearby shopper.
The work was hard and the days were long but we were rewarded for our efforts with the abundance that graced our table and filled the barn with sweet smelling hay… a gift from Mother Earth made possible with a bit of creative problem solving.
Obviously not everyone lives on a farm so these specific solutions wont work for everyone, but the basics are the same. If money is in short supply, accept the challenge and tap into your creative self. Money doesn’t have to be the only medium of exchange. Everyone has something to offer. Child minding, house keeping, tutoring a student, shopping for a ‘shut-in,’ tending someone’s garden for a share, just to name a few.
At Christmas I traded some of my small oil paintings for beautiful artful things friends were making thus providing a variety of gifts we were able to give and some of my artwork was even traded for expensive gourmet coffees and other tasty holiday treats.
The biggest surprise came when we were having particularly tough time. I had all our bills collected in a basket on the kitchen table. While enjoying the excellent gourmet coffee with a friend, she pulled our electric bill from the basket and said, “I’ll pay this, just do a small horse painting for my Mom. It’s her birthday and she loves your work.”
You just never know where the solutions are likely to come from, but I have faith that as long as we remain open to the abundance the universe provides, all our needs and those of our fur kids will be met.
Our vegetable garden provided the basics and then some. Our goats provided milk and cheese and the piggys… well, we wont go into that, we aren’t vegetarians but they were happy for the time they were with us.
Looking back, I am still impressed with the creative solutions we came up with when there was no money to purchase feed for the animals.
The horses and goats required hay over the winter and our farm was too small and too rocky to grow what we needed, yet they stayed fat and productive and this is how.
In one of my early morning rides on my big pinto horse, Dancer, I noticed several uncut fields of rich grass belonging to our neighbors. When I got home, I phoned them and asked if they were planning to cut and bale hay. Most didn’t have animals and weren’t planning to do anything but continue to let the fields go fallow but if I wanted the hay, I could have it. I then called a friend who had a hay mower and baler and made this arrangement. The owner of the pasture would get one third of the hay to sell, the owner of the mower and baler would get one third and I would get one third just for making a few phone calls. Before long, our hay shed was full with excellent grass hay.
Our goats were so productive I was able to exchange their surplus milk for vegetables we weren’t able grow and even for the services of a massage therapist when my back got sore from lifting all those heavy bales of hay.
I milked our neighbor’s cows for a few summers so that they could take an occasional vacation. With our goat’s milk and the milk from their cows there was plenty to go around. My husband made wonderful cheeses and the heavy Jersey cream from the cow’s milk was a luxury few could afford. I was reminded of that fact when I was in the market and saw strawberries on sale. We had so many strawberries in our garden that they were part of our daily meal to the point of monotony. “Good grief, I’m getting sick of strawberry shortcake,” I said and was met with a scowl from a nearby shopper.
The work was hard and the days were long but we were rewarded for our efforts with the abundance that graced our table and filled the barn with sweet smelling hay… a gift from Mother Earth made possible with a bit of creative problem solving.
Obviously not everyone lives on a farm so these specific solutions wont work for everyone, but the basics are the same. If money is in short supply, accept the challenge and tap into your creative self. Money doesn’t have to be the only medium of exchange. Everyone has something to offer. Child minding, house keeping, tutoring a student, shopping for a ‘shut-in,’ tending someone’s garden for a share, just to name a few.
At Christmas I traded some of my small oil paintings for beautiful artful things friends were making thus providing a variety of gifts we were able to give and some of my artwork was even traded for expensive gourmet coffees and other tasty holiday treats.
The biggest surprise came when we were having particularly tough time. I had all our bills collected in a basket on the kitchen table. While enjoying the excellent gourmet coffee with a friend, she pulled our electric bill from the basket and said, “I’ll pay this, just do a small horse painting for my Mom. It’s her birthday and she loves your work.”
You just never know where the solutions are likely to come from, but I have faith that as long as we remain open to the abundance the universe provides, all our needs and those of our fur kids will be met.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
A Wolf at Our Door
The phone rang as it did every afternoon, “Jamie called from work. He rescued an abandoned dog on his way to the mill this morning. Poor thing was so cold and starving, just wandering the highway near Lost Ledge,” my daughter informed me. “He’s dropped the dog off at Pat’s.”
Dr. Pat is our local rural vet and his kennels stand ready to take in abandoned or lost pets, usually brought in by the village dogcatcher. Winter is the worst season for the pets that find themselves homeless and many don’t survive the bitter mountain cold.
Jamie returned home that evening after a grueling day at the lumber mill. Despite his exhaustion from work that day, he couldn’t stop thinking about that dirty starving dog he fed his sandwich to that morning. “I’m gonna call Pat and see if anyone has called about that dog. I hate to think of him there and this close to Christmas.”
Five minutes later Jamie hung up the phone, “Pat says he’s just a pup and if no one claims him by Christmas, he’s gonna have to put him down as he doesn’t have the room for him… says he’s gonna be a small dog. What ya’ think?”
Christmas Day was upon us and no one claimed the pup, Minka asked me to go along with them to look at the little guy as Jamie really wanted a dog and maybe, just maybe, this would be the one, and besides… How could we stand by and let him be ‘put down?’
We loaded ourselves into Jamie’s truck and headed over the icy road to Pat’s to take a look, even though it was pretty much decided that we would be bringing the ‘little’ dog home.
Pat led us into the back where there was a single row of kennels filled mostly with hospital patients. “I think he may have a bit of coyote in him, but just take a look and let me know what you want to do.”
There he stood. Cleaned up and white, skinny, long legs and the biggest feet you can imagine. “Goodness, this is not going to be a small dog. I don’t see how Pat can say that. When he grows into those feet, he’s going to be a pretty big fella.” I told my young couple. “When I was a vet tech, I saw lots of pups, and this one’s got a heck of a lot of growing to do.”
Jamie picked him up the next day on his way home from work. As we were petting him we discovered a series of thirteen stitches closing a long gash on the underside of his neck. Apparently he had been in some kind of mishap, most likely attacked by a larger dog. Jamie phoned Pat who didn’t seem to know about the stitches and certainly he hadn’t put them in… and “No, no one has come forward for him.” It was just another mystery surrounding this pup. We speculated that he had fallen from the back of a truck and the owners were miles away by the time they had discovered he was gone, but why then weren’t they looking for him?
Two days later I answered the phone, thinking a bit too early for my daughter, “Mom… I don’t know what we’re going to do. We left him in the bathroom as you suggested and he’s torn the bathroom apart! He’s torn up the floor and eaten the walls. I don’t think we should try to keep him in there anymore.” I had recommended keeping him in the bathroom at night as part of his house training. The space was small and seemingly there was little damage he could do. In such a small space, we thought he would be okay and would go out dutifully in the morning. After all, he hadn’t gone potty and was holding… holding pieces of the linoleum in his mouth that is.
The next day started with another tearful and panicked call, “Oh my God! Mom, he’s eaten the kitchen wall and torn up the floor. The living room is a disaster. He’s ripped back the carpet and there isn’t a piece of underlay left larger than one inch in diameter. I don’t think we can keep him. What am I to do?” Unfortunately my usual recommendation of having him sleep near you with a light line tied between you and him wouldn’t work as they slept in a loft only accessible by a steep ladder.
“Bear with him honey and I guess you should start looking for home where they can handle him.” The thought of accepting defeat and giving him up left us both with a lump in our throats.
They called Pat and described the situation they found themselves in. “Oh, he’s chewing a lot is he? Well, that’s to be expected of pups, especially pups that might be a little bit coyote.”
“Hmm,” I thought when I heard Pat’s response. “I think he knows more than he’s telling us.” I remembered friends who had tried to raise an orphaned coyote pup… unsuccessfully. The pup had created a den inside the sofa and would not come out except at night to wreck havoc. He had done a considerable amount of damage while they attempted to integrate him into domesticity. He escaped one night through a window that had been left open and was never seen again.
Things were not looking great for Kaspar, who was beginning to look more ‘wolf like’ with each passing day. “ Oh Mom… He’s ripped out the sofa cushions and shredded them. There’s just no stopping him. He’s ruining everything. We wont have anything left.”
Finding a new home for him was not going well, in fact, not going at all. There was no interest in taking on a probable part coyote pup with chewing problems.
“Now he’s done it,” Minka said. “He’s chewed up the television remote. Jamie tried to tape it back together but after he chewed it up a second time… Oh well.”
Things weren’t any better outside the house where he dug a great den under the porch stairs. And, he had developed a ‘wander-lust.’ The fences grew higher but unable to contain him. He could slip a chain and as we are all opposed to chaining a dog, it wasn’t an option anyway.
All this time, he was growing into a magnificent animal. He was something to see and still is with the backdrop of our mountains he looks very much the wolf. He moved with such fluid grace along the lakeshore, totally in his element.
From time to time, my daughter, Minka, and I have seen a number of dogs like him. One day when we were collecting our mail from our post office, we ran into a woman who had an almost identical dog she was loading into her truck. We asked her where her dog came from and as it turned out, she got hers from a breeder who raises wolf hybrids. She told us that all the dogs that came from this breeder were at a minimum, 25% wolf. Well, that explained a lot of the behavior and some we are still dealing with.
Obviously Kaspar never found a new home. Eventually he stopped eating the house and endeared himself to his Minka and Jamie. Of course, he developed other doggie proclivities that both entertain and annoy us. He’s sneaky. He can disappear right before your eyes and especially so in winter. Being white, he slinks down in the snow and just evaporates and only returns when he’s good and ready. The dogcatcher made it her personal mandate to catch the scoundrel but he outwitted her for years and she’s never got him. He loved to ride in the back of Jamie’s pickup truck and was known around town as the ‘Drive by Barker,’ infuriating every neighborhood canine into a frenzy.
Kaspar is a senior now. Quiet and willing to sleep most his days, except for his usual morning and evening submission to the wanderlust in his blood. The local wildlife is quite safe since his old joints no longer allow him to run and nothing pleases him more than to find a nice clean patch of snow to curl up on for a nap.
The poor economic times have been hard on our family as it has been on many, but being close, our daughter has come home to live for a time, along with her fur family, Kaspar the most senior of them.
I step outside with the three dogs for their early morning and evening constitutionals, and as usual, Kaspar vanishes and I worry. I look for him in all directions. He is a dog that has never really accepted the leash and I worry for him. I know that in his present condition he is unable to harass wildlife, but I don’t know that anyone else wouldn’t see him as a threat. I worry that he might get hit crossing the nearby highway so I don’t call his name for fear that he would be distracted and my fear born out. Worried, I look out the upstairs windows to see if I can catch a glimpse of him returning. Finally after twenty minutes or so, I peek out the porch windows and see him curled up by the back door… a wolf at our door.
Dr. Pat is our local rural vet and his kennels stand ready to take in abandoned or lost pets, usually brought in by the village dogcatcher. Winter is the worst season for the pets that find themselves homeless and many don’t survive the bitter mountain cold.
Jamie returned home that evening after a grueling day at the lumber mill. Despite his exhaustion from work that day, he couldn’t stop thinking about that dirty starving dog he fed his sandwich to that morning. “I’m gonna call Pat and see if anyone has called about that dog. I hate to think of him there and this close to Christmas.”
Five minutes later Jamie hung up the phone, “Pat says he’s just a pup and if no one claims him by Christmas, he’s gonna have to put him down as he doesn’t have the room for him… says he’s gonna be a small dog. What ya’ think?”
Christmas Day was upon us and no one claimed the pup, Minka asked me to go along with them to look at the little guy as Jamie really wanted a dog and maybe, just maybe, this would be the one, and besides… How could we stand by and let him be ‘put down?’
We loaded ourselves into Jamie’s truck and headed over the icy road to Pat’s to take a look, even though it was pretty much decided that we would be bringing the ‘little’ dog home.
Pat led us into the back where there was a single row of kennels filled mostly with hospital patients. “I think he may have a bit of coyote in him, but just take a look and let me know what you want to do.”
There he stood. Cleaned up and white, skinny, long legs and the biggest feet you can imagine. “Goodness, this is not going to be a small dog. I don’t see how Pat can say that. When he grows into those feet, he’s going to be a pretty big fella.” I told my young couple. “When I was a vet tech, I saw lots of pups, and this one’s got a heck of a lot of growing to do.”
Jamie picked him up the next day on his way home from work. As we were petting him we discovered a series of thirteen stitches closing a long gash on the underside of his neck. Apparently he had been in some kind of mishap, most likely attacked by a larger dog. Jamie phoned Pat who didn’t seem to know about the stitches and certainly he hadn’t put them in… and “No, no one has come forward for him.” It was just another mystery surrounding this pup. We speculated that he had fallen from the back of a truck and the owners were miles away by the time they had discovered he was gone, but why then weren’t they looking for him?
Two days later I answered the phone, thinking a bit too early for my daughter, “Mom… I don’t know what we’re going to do. We left him in the bathroom as you suggested and he’s torn the bathroom apart! He’s torn up the floor and eaten the walls. I don’t think we should try to keep him in there anymore.” I had recommended keeping him in the bathroom at night as part of his house training. The space was small and seemingly there was little damage he could do. In such a small space, we thought he would be okay and would go out dutifully in the morning. After all, he hadn’t gone potty and was holding… holding pieces of the linoleum in his mouth that is.
The next day started with another tearful and panicked call, “Oh my God! Mom, he’s eaten the kitchen wall and torn up the floor. The living room is a disaster. He’s ripped back the carpet and there isn’t a piece of underlay left larger than one inch in diameter. I don’t think we can keep him. What am I to do?” Unfortunately my usual recommendation of having him sleep near you with a light line tied between you and him wouldn’t work as they slept in a loft only accessible by a steep ladder.
“Bear with him honey and I guess you should start looking for home where they can handle him.” The thought of accepting defeat and giving him up left us both with a lump in our throats.
They called Pat and described the situation they found themselves in. “Oh, he’s chewing a lot is he? Well, that’s to be expected of pups, especially pups that might be a little bit coyote.”
“Hmm,” I thought when I heard Pat’s response. “I think he knows more than he’s telling us.” I remembered friends who had tried to raise an orphaned coyote pup… unsuccessfully. The pup had created a den inside the sofa and would not come out except at night to wreck havoc. He had done a considerable amount of damage while they attempted to integrate him into domesticity. He escaped one night through a window that had been left open and was never seen again.
Things were not looking great for Kaspar, who was beginning to look more ‘wolf like’ with each passing day. “ Oh Mom… He’s ripped out the sofa cushions and shredded them. There’s just no stopping him. He’s ruining everything. We wont have anything left.”
Finding a new home for him was not going well, in fact, not going at all. There was no interest in taking on a probable part coyote pup with chewing problems.
“Now he’s done it,” Minka said. “He’s chewed up the television remote. Jamie tried to tape it back together but after he chewed it up a second time… Oh well.”
Things weren’t any better outside the house where he dug a great den under the porch stairs. And, he had developed a ‘wander-lust.’ The fences grew higher but unable to contain him. He could slip a chain and as we are all opposed to chaining a dog, it wasn’t an option anyway.
All this time, he was growing into a magnificent animal. He was something to see and still is with the backdrop of our mountains he looks very much the wolf. He moved with such fluid grace along the lakeshore, totally in his element.
From time to time, my daughter, Minka, and I have seen a number of dogs like him. One day when we were collecting our mail from our post office, we ran into a woman who had an almost identical dog she was loading into her truck. We asked her where her dog came from and as it turned out, she got hers from a breeder who raises wolf hybrids. She told us that all the dogs that came from this breeder were at a minimum, 25% wolf. Well, that explained a lot of the behavior and some we are still dealing with.
Obviously Kaspar never found a new home. Eventually he stopped eating the house and endeared himself to his Minka and Jamie. Of course, he developed other doggie proclivities that both entertain and annoy us. He’s sneaky. He can disappear right before your eyes and especially so in winter. Being white, he slinks down in the snow and just evaporates and only returns when he’s good and ready. The dogcatcher made it her personal mandate to catch the scoundrel but he outwitted her for years and she’s never got him. He loved to ride in the back of Jamie’s pickup truck and was known around town as the ‘Drive by Barker,’ infuriating every neighborhood canine into a frenzy.
Kaspar is a senior now. Quiet and willing to sleep most his days, except for his usual morning and evening submission to the wanderlust in his blood. The local wildlife is quite safe since his old joints no longer allow him to run and nothing pleases him more than to find a nice clean patch of snow to curl up on for a nap.
The poor economic times have been hard on our family as it has been on many, but being close, our daughter has come home to live for a time, along with her fur family, Kaspar the most senior of them.
I step outside with the three dogs for their early morning and evening constitutionals, and as usual, Kaspar vanishes and I worry. I look for him in all directions. He is a dog that has never really accepted the leash and I worry for him. I know that in his present condition he is unable to harass wildlife, but I don’t know that anyone else wouldn’t see him as a threat. I worry that he might get hit crossing the nearby highway so I don’t call his name for fear that he would be distracted and my fear born out. Worried, I look out the upstairs windows to see if I can catch a glimpse of him returning. Finally after twenty minutes or so, I peek out the porch windows and see him curled up by the back door… a wolf at our door.
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