Willow Oak

[Willow Oak]

I have a journal on my personal website, and I write to it three or four times a week. I realize that seemingly everyone these days has a blog, but if you will indulge me I should like to share with you some of the daily experiences and activities of my home place, Willow Oak.

I shall begin with a view of my front yard. There are the two large willow oak trees after which I have named my place. Dogs visible in the yard are (l to r) Cathy, Scamp, Oscar, Fred, and Sam. If you can see him, Thumper the cat is lying down on one of the concrete benches of the concrete settee. Living with me and sharing my home at present are 9 dogs and 12 cats (I think). Over time I should like to share with you how we all came to be together, and to share with you some of the stories involved in the day-to-day life of those who share Willow Oak.

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/WideFrontYard.jpg

I live on 16 acres in a very rural part of Mississippi. The front yard is, as you can see, completely fenced in. Even in the country accidents can happen, and I want the animals to be safe.

I have enjoyed reading the stories and viewing the pictures at Pet Talk. I hope you enjoy reading and seeing mine. I shall post to this thread several times a week.

[Cataholic]

Very nice set up there, Willow Oak! Welcome and looking forward to more posts.

[Willow Oak]

Here is a picture I posted elsewhere on this forum of my most recent waistrel, Taz:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/TazWag.jpg

He arrived on this past Sunday.

When I left for work on Monday I left Taz at home behind one of those child gates that I placed in the back hallway. I figured that even if he got out of that he would only have to contend with Bonnie and Clyde who are "teeth-challenged," and Lu Lu. Well, it did happen that he got out. When I arrived home I found him behind a chair in the living room. I could tell there had been some activity, but he came crawling out and appeared to be none the worse for his experience. I couldn't tell what all had taken place, but there is no doubt that if the larger dogs had been in the room, Taz would be no more. I did find what appeared to be a bite mark on his hind leg, and he definitely had suffered some sort of psychological Trauma. He was all over wet, evidently from the other dogs saliva, and he cried for a long time even after I arrived home. Even then he cried and whimpered in my arms for the longest time.

Tuesday I left him locked in the bathroom. I worried all day that he would get out of that, but when I arrived home he was still locked up. Nonetheless, he still cried and whimpered for a long time after I arrived home. So maybe separation anxiety had contributed to his trauma of the day before. I bought another dog crate yesterday on my way home from work and locked him in that when I left this morning. My mind is much more at ease now, although he did not like being locked up that way. At least I know he will be well and whole when I arrive home.

I still grieve much when I think of Yella Fella and Goldie and how I failed to protect them. Those bad memories are flooding back to me now that Taz has arrived. Poor Yella Fella. Poor Goldie.

What a mess I had to clean up when I arrived home from work yesterday! And then I had to endure about 20 minutes of nonstop whining and crying and yelling from little Taz. He followed me all around, trying to crawl up my pants leg. I had to sit down and hold him for a few minutes with him still whining and crying and yelling all the time. He did eventually settle down, but I do not know what kind of trauma the poor guy is enduring while I am away. He was safely locked away in his cage when I arrived home. His problem must be some extreme form of separation anxiety.

All the other animals appear to be doing fine. Cathy still doesn't like being shut away in her cage, but I still dare not leave her loose. The dogs do go nuts when I arrive home. I let them out of their kennels and into the big fenced-in front yard where they can run and jump and play. The cats are all fine. It is good to see Cougar doing so well after having all of this teeth extracted.

[I shall fill in the gaps regarding Yella Fella, Goldie, and Cougar, and all the others as time goes on.]

[Willow Oak]

When I arrive home from work today he will run around and cry and whimper and yell and scream until I pick him up and hold him for 10 minutes or so. Only then will he calm down and realize that everything is okay.

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/TazAw.jpg http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/TazBars.jpg

[Willow Oak]

Taz' behavior when I arrived home yesterday wasn't as bad as it was the day before. He did cut up for a few minutes, but he calmed down much more quickly yesterday that he had the day before.

Today I shall continue the story of how I came to have all of these animals by introducing you to Oscar. Below is a birds-eye view of my property taken from Yahoo Maps:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/MineEYE.jpg

I've made a rough outline of my place in black, and as you can see I am in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods. You can see the two willow oak trees in the yard in front of my house.

Over the past few years I have found several litters of puppies in the woods, and how they got there who can tell? One of those puppies I found by himself, and he is the only one of those that I have found who is still with me. The rest I delivered safely to our local shelter.

I knew from the beginning that Oscar would not be a good candidate for adoption at the local shelter: he is a large breed dog and he is black. For some reason, that kind of dog doesn't get adopted as readily. Oscar had another problem: he was all over eaten up with mange. I treat dogs for mange by giving them about a half cc of Ivomec (Ivermectin) each day for up to two weeks. That will do it (ivermectin is toxic to a collie).

In the beginning, Oscar was in a bad way, and I actually contracted the mange from him. He and I both were in quarantine for several days while we recovered. I can testify personally to the extreme discomfort of having mange. I would bathe Oscar in the kitchen sink, dry him off, and sprinkle him with Gold Bond powder to lessen the itch (I did the same for myself). He did suffer so those first few days!

Eventually, Oscar recovered from his bout of the mange (as did I, thankfully), and today Oscar is a big, healthy, vibrant, and happy boy. See for yourself:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Oscar.jpg

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/OscarTree.jpg

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/OscarGrass.jpg

This is one of my favorite pictures of Oscar, running with his pals, Fred and Sam. I love to see that smile on his face:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/OscarAndFred.jpg

Oscar is a gentle soul, as you can see from this picture of him with Thumper the cat:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/OscarOverThumper.jpg

Before I erected the fence in the front yard I let the dogs run free. After all, I live in the country. Even so, I still would have a dog come up missing now and then, and there is a road in front of my house. Then one day I stepped out my front door to find Oscar lying at the door all covered in blood. He had been shot with a shot gun. He survived that one okay, but I knew then that even in the country it is not a good idea to let your dogs run loose. So up the fence went, and now running around outside is safe for all of my animals.

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/DogJaunt.jpg

[Willow Oak]

"Mister! Mister! Help me, mister! I am all alone in this world, and I don't have nobody to help me, mister, and I'm afraid, mister! Please help me, mister!"

I had stopped at a convenience store in the country to get directions, and here he was, begging me to help him. Inside the store I inquired about the kitty. No, he didn't belong to any of them, and no they didn't know from whence he came; but the owner of the store hd gone home to retrieve his gun, because the kitty was bothering the patrons and scratching their cars, etc., etc.

So, on my way back to my vehicle I scooped him up. My intention was to deliver him to the shelter. I have a policy of delivering all animals I find away from home that I deem adoptable to the shelter. This one would be no different. Except that it would be a few days before I would be able to get over that way. In the meantime he would have to reside at my house.

That is almost always a mistake, because most of the time the critter ends up staying permanently. So this is how Cougar came to live with me. A sweeter, kindler, gentler kitty has not existed. If any have ever shown their appreciation for being rescued Cougar certainly has. In time he would be found to have a gum disease and have all his teeth extracted. But it would take me a time to realize his pain.

Cougar is a laid-back kitty:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Cougar/CougarTable.jpg http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Cougar/CougarChair.jpg
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Cougar/CougarSink.jpg http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Cougar/CougarLookAway.jpg

Cougar began to show signs of bad teeth, but it took me a time to realize it:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Cougar/CougarBadTeeth.jpg

This picture is one of those that really opened my eyes to the problem of Cougar's teeth:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Cougar/CougarDrool.jpg

I spent a lot of money on Cougar, but it was worth every penny. Here he is after one of his three visits to have his teeth extracted. As you can see, he is much more perky:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Cougar/CougarFaceClose.jpg

Cougar is one of 12 (or so) cats who have taken up residence at Willow Oak. I'm so glad he did.

[Edwina's Secretary]

I am enjoying your writing. I hope you will keep going!

[Karen]

Awww! Not many would have gone to the expense of all that fencing, but I am glad you did, I am sure you sleep more soundly at night now!

[jennielynn1970]

I'm really enjoying your writing and your pictures. Can't wait to read more!

Big hugs to all your guys!

[Willow Oak]

Thanks for the complementary responses.

Before I moved to where I am living now, about seven years ago, I never cared about or cared for an animal. Yes, I had the occasional pet when I was a child. Our family had our share of dogs and cats, but after I grew up I never got involved with animals.

Things for me got started when I observed a neighbor-relative of mine not doing a proper job of caring for her animals. She is what is referred to as a "horder." She has probably had as many as a hundred dogs and cats at one time. For years I observed from a distance, all the time thinking what a wonderful thing she was doing. It is only now, after I have had a few years experience that I realize how what she was doing, though done with good intentions, was really not a good thing at all. Most of those animals would have been better off left alone. Even if they had died in the wilderness, they would have died with more dignity than they eventually did. She kept them alive with food and water, but many of them suffered horrible diseases, and would have died and been put out of their misery much sooner, had they just been left alone.

She would not take them to the animals shelter, because she felt that they would have been euthanized, and to her that would be a bad thing. Of course, I do not like the idea of euthanization, but in the face of long-term suffering, being put to sleep is not such a bad thing.

In the end, I managed to rescue nearly all of the animals from her. Most of them are in heaven now, but I still have a few with me. I took Bonnie from her about seven years ago. Bonnie was the first dog I took. She was all matted and had a bloody ear. About three years ago she began to develop a mild seizure. Today Bonnie takes phenobarbital twice a day. Bonnie is a very happy and well-adjusted puppy. What do you think?

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Bonnie.jpg

A few years after Bonnie came to live with me, her brother, Clyde, came on board. Clyde is afraid of "funders":

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Clyde1.jpg

Although he isn't the alpha male on the premises, Clyde thinks he is. Here he is growling at Fred, who is a chow mix. As you can see, Fred is a bit intimidated:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/FredAndclyde-1.jpg

[Willow Oak]

Taking a break from talking about the animals I have now, take a look at the following couple:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/MiniJack.jpg

They aren't mine. They live down the road from me, and their owenrs don't keep a good job of keeping them up. :rolleyes: Here they are after I gathered them in from wandering around on the road where I live. One of these days I am going to find one or both of them run over. Occasionally, I have to chase them down and confine them until I can get in touch with their owners and get them delivered home. One of these days I may decide not to return them.

Anyways, the minipin is very sweet and affectionate. The Jack Russell follows the other one around wherever he goes, and they are inseparable. It's a site to see, but as I've said, their owners can't seem to keep them confined to the place where they live. We do live on a busy country road, with lots of "racers." :eek:

Anybody here want a minipin/Jack Russell pair?

[Willow Oak]

It all began with Sheba. I did not have an animal, and I did not want one, but there was one hanging around. I lived with my mother at the time, and my sister who lived next door had a couple dozen cats and a couple dozen dogs, and I presumed this cat was hers. After a few days of this cat bothering me and begging from me I inquired of my sister and she said that no, she did not know the cat and it was not one of hers.

As fate would have it, I put some food down for the cat one morning as I was leaving for work, and the rest is history. Within a day or two another cat was waiting for a handout as I left for work, but this was a much bigger cat and an uglier cat I had not ever seen before.

The first cat was sleek and beautiful and jet black. The second cat was fat and ugly and dirty and smelled bad and was gray. In time both cats would grab hold of my heart in a way that my poor old heart had never been grabbed before.

Sheba, the black female, would go on to produce a litter of four males, fathered by "Old Man," the fat, old, gray cat. At the time I did not claim ownership of the cats since they were on my mother's property, but in the end I would acquire ownership since no one else wanted the responsibility. I would have all cats neutered and/or spayed. This was my first crew: Old Man, Sheba, Curiosity, Smokey, Shadow, and Socks. Of this group only Smokey is still with me. It is to my great sorrow that since this was my first experience with animals I did not do a good job of taking care of them. I learned the hard way, and the animals I have now benefit from my hard-learned lessons.

It is difficult for me to talk about them, but these are my first love. I think about all of them from time to time. Each one had his own personality, and with each one in turn I had a special relationship.

Sheba:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ShebaCrew/ShebaDirtyChin.jpg http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ShebaCrew/Sheba.jpg

Sheba just recently passed away. She was a good kitty with a very pleasant disposition. It grieved me forever to think that for those first few days I ignored her when she begged me for food. For the past 6 or 7 years, however, I saw to it that she never had to beg for anything.

Old Man:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ShebaCrew/OldMan.jpg

It took a while, but Old Man and I became very close buddies. Never a more easy-going cat has there been. Old Man would wait patiently to be let into the yard and then wait patiently to be let back in again. I spent a lot of money on this cat. He had been a bruiser in his day and had plenty of scars to prove it. In his final days I saw to it that he never had to go scrounging for anything he needed.

Smokey:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ShebaCrew/SmokeyFeeder.jpg http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ShebaCrew/SmokyBetter.jpg

Smokey is the only one still with me. He is a very sweet and loving cat, and he loves to snuggle. He has long, gorgeous, shiny silver hair.

Shadow:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ShebaCrew/Shadow-760x575-390x289.jpg

Shadow was a very sweet and loving kitty. He would sit in my lap and massage my chest. I shall miss him.

Socks:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ShebaCrew/Socks.jpg

Socks was the most laid-back of everyone here. Nearly from birth he would crawl into my lap and stay there for as long as I would allow. He was a "lounger" -- never getting into trouble. I think about him often.

Curiosity:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ShebaCrew/Curiosity_Silly.jpg

Curiosity was the runt of the litter, but he was the most vivacious. He was the first one to wander away from the nest, and until the day he passed away he was a "wanderer." He was very independent, but he was also a very affectionate kitty. He shall be missed.

[chocolatepuppy]

Just want you to know Willow Oak, I am enjoying all of these 'tails' about your furkids, past and present. Will be watching for your next post.:)

[Willow Oak]

Thanks for the feedback. That's a nice-looking group of hound dogs you have there, chocolatepuppy.

In the begninning I only had cats. I had always considered myself a "dog" person, but to my surprise I became very attached to the cats I started collecting. Old Man, the fat, gray, ugly "Tom" broke my heart. How I did love that guy!

In the mean time, Bonnie came to live with me. She is a diminutive cavalier spaniel, and is a well-behaved pup. After a while I noticed another dog hanging about (this was about four or five years ago), a very pretty and furry, red-colored dog, which I found out later to be of the chow variety. This dog would greet us at the door of our house as we came and went. In time we would leave him some food -- what else could we do?

This new one arrived during winter, and it was very cold outside. I figured with all that fur, this guy surely wasn't going to get cold. Nonetheless, I awoke one morning to find the guy in the living room as I exited my bedroom. Mother said she felt sorry for him being outside in the cold like that. Anyways, he was anxious to go outside, so I opened the door and out he ran. Such a vivacious guy! Bouncing around and chasing birds and the cats that were outside. But if he ever caught anything he wouldn't hurt it -- he'd let it escape, then settle down to sniff the air and feel proud of his "accomplishment."

One evening, as we were preparing for bed I asked my mom if she were going to let her "friend" in the house. She did, and it looked like he was going to be boarding with us for a while. A few days later, mother asked me if I had seen "Fred."

"Fred?" I asked.

"Yes. Fred. That's what you called him."

"No," I said, "I called him your 'friend.'"

"Oh," she said. "I thought you said, 'Fred.'"

And that's how Fred got his name.

So Fred has lived with me now for these four or five years. He's the overseer, the alpha male, the ruler of the crew. Fred sees to it that nothing comes to harm while I am away. Fred is my true friend.

Fred sniffs the air for any sign of trouble:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Fred/FredSmelling.jpg

Fred nonchalantly lounges in "his" chair:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Fred/FredWingChair.jpg

Clyde forgets who he is and tries to intimidate Fred. Fred plays along:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Fred/FredAndclyde.jpg

This is my favorite picture of Oscar (I've shown this one before). I love to see that smile on his face. But I love to see Fred enjoying himself this way, too. He gives Oscar and Sam and the other dogs a good chase for their money:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Fred/OscarAndFred.jpg

Fred loves to be bowled over. Even though he is on his back, he is in complete control of this situation:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Fred/DogsPlaying2.jpg

Fred. A true friend:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Fred/FredChair.jpg

[pitc9]

I'm enjoying all of your posts!!

Please keep them coming!

[Emeraldgreen]

Neat thread! What a beautiful property you have and your animals are so blessed to be able to call it home.
I've really enjoyed reading your posts and learning about your pets (past and present). I'm particularily fond of Fred! :) And the 'Old Man' also really got my attention!
Look forward to more stories about the Willow Oak family.

[Willow Oak]

I met Lu Lu one day when I heard her and her brother barking. I was on the back side of my mother's property (she lives on 5 acres next to me), and two of the dogs over there were making a big fuss at my being in their vicinity. Such barking I hadn't heard, so I walked over to take a look. In a pen behind my sister's house were a couple of dogs: one was about twice the size of the other. Big ears and lots of barking: that was their hallmark. However, as soon as I approached the fence and bent over to give a pat it was all over. I had to cross over the fence and go inside, but when I did Lu Lu and her brother Skip were all over me. Such loving and sweet dogs have hardly every existed. But otherwise they could make a racket: barking and barking all the time. Bark, bark, bark!!!

Everyday I would go over and give them some attention and a pat on the head. At this time I had also begun to help my sister with her animals, buying food and checking on water. I would go in the pen and Skip would go straight for the food, but Lu lu was more interesting in getting into my lap as I sat on the back porch. Lu Lu would stick her nose inside my shirt or inside my shirt pocket as if she were looking for a place to hide. In time I would come to realize that at her size she was very vulnerable to her much larger sibling. Skip, for some reason, had to be separated from any other dogs. I don't know what it was, but if Skip was allowed to be with any dogs of his size or larger he would do anything he could to kill that dog. We had to learn this almost the hard way -- he attacked other dogs and drew a lot of blood, but fortunately no permanent damage. He would not attack smaller dogs. And he and Lu Lu kept up their barking seemingly night and day: bark, bark, bark!!!

Eventually, I moved Skip and Lu Lu to my place where I could keep a closer eye on them. One day I went to feed them; Lu Lu came running and jumped into my lap, ignoring the food as long as I was there, but Skip, instead of going for his food, just lay around and had a lethargic look on this face. This was one of those times where I had to learn a lesson the hard way. No one had ever told me, and I had no way of knowing otherwise. Skip would be dead within 24 hours from Parvo. During the next several days I would keep a close eye on Lu Lu, picking her up and holding her close, whispering in her ear: "Don't you go and get sick on me now."

I had taken the dogs to the vet that day. Parvo was diagnosed in Skip, and Lu Lu had received a shot. Now Skip was dead, and I was holding Lu Lu and whispering in her ear each day and constantly imploring, "Don't you get sick on me now."

Lu Lu did not get sick. Oh no, she did not get sick. And she still barks and barks and barks. Just like always:

Bark, bark, bark!!!
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Lu%20Lu/LuLuBarking.jpg

[Willow Oak]

I have delivered way more animals to our local animal shelter than I have kept. The ones that usually end up staying with me are those that I deem to be not as "adoptable" as those that do end up at the shelter. Of course, you can't save them all. I have delivered animals to the shelter with the full knowledge that they would be euthanized.

I hate euthanization, but I don't believe it is a bad thing. One must do what is best for the animal, and with limited space and resources euthanasia is sometimes what is best for a particular animal.

I was quite sure that's where Sam was headed the first time I saw him, only I wasn't going to let the shelter do the deed. I was determined to do it myself. He had shown up at my place from out of the blue. He appeared menacing. He looked like a pit bull, and what's more, he had long saliva hanging from his jaws. He looked sick, and I said to myself, "I've got a mad dog on my hands."

I scurried about, gathering up my own animals and pulled them into the house with me, and went and got my gun. In the mean time this mad dog had moved around to the back of my house. I was scared and confused. I did not want to kill the dog right away so I called the shelter. No, they wouldn't be able to come out right away, so I called the Sheriff's department. No, that's not our job, they said. Well, great! What to do now? So I positioned myself behind an open window, took aim, let off the safety, and placed the beed squarely between his eyes. Then he lifted his head and looked at me. All I had to do was pull the trigger, and everything would be A-okay. Except that I couldn't do it. I just could not pull that trigger.

So, I went outside and placed some food on the ground. I would have to think this through.

Since then I have learned that any new acquiree should be quarantined and looked at by the vet before it gets introduced to the rest of my animals. But I didn't know better back then. I decided to take a chance and assume that the dog was not "mad." He was sick though. But some good grub and a chance to have someone look after him, plus a couple of visits to the vet, some antibiotics and some vitamins, and within a couple of weeks he was looking much better. I did not pull the trigger, and man am I glad. Sam has turned out to be the gentlest, most easy-going dog I've ever had. He is full of energy and loves to play. He is one of the prime reasons I put up the fence. He loves to chase cars and if he can get in front of them he will. I know. He got run over by a very large SUV. Lucky for Sam, the truck merely "straddled" him or he would be dead.

Sam parks himself on the concrete settee:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Sam/SamOnConcreteSetee1.jpg

I know it's not a "nice" picture, but this is typically the way Sam sleeps:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Sam/LazySam.jpg

Sometimes Sam just stands and looks off in the distance:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Sam/DSC00654.jpg

Sam is very gentle with the other animals -- even the cats:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Sam/SamThumper.jpg

Sam, a man's best friend:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Sam/SamChair.jpg

[Willow Oak]

I guess now would be as good a time as any to relate the following. On June 23, 2008, just five weeks ago today (I think), I suffered a near-fatal heart attack. I know, I know. From looking at my photos I look like I'm in my 20's or 30's at most, but believe it or not (and I know it's hard to believe), I am at the time of this writing 54 years of age!

Anyways, my boss had talked me into doing all of the post-50th birthday checkups, so I've been going to the doctor, getting poked and prodded and having needles stuck in me and X-rays and all those nice things. A few weeks ago my back began to bother me a little bit. I complained to the doctor and he agreed with me that it was probably just muscle spasms, but let's use this as an excuse to get a Thallium heart stress test. The insurance company might not pay for it (it's expensive), without some indication of heart problems.

I scheduled the test for June 23. I was required to fast for 24 hours prior to the surgery and arrive at the hospital no later than 8:00 am. Well, the day arrived, I bemoaned the fact that I couldn't have my usual morning cup of coffee, and I drove myself to the hospital. Now listen to this: I was in the cardiac center of th hospital, hooked up to a bank of heart monitors, wires out the wazoo, surrounded by a bevy of heart specialists when BANG! They grabbed me and threw me on a gurney and had me in surgery within minutes. Turns out they only had to insert a stent, but I was discovered to have 99% blockage of the LAD, an artery in the heart that has the nickname of "the widow maker."

Doctors said that I was within mere minutes of being dead. Had I not been where I was when I was it is most unlikely that I would have survived. I had the same kind of heart attack that killed Tim Russert. I was already at the hospital, and he wasn't. I am alive and he is dead.

Well, after it was all over, I went back to visit the cardiac center personnel. They were all excited to see me. They appreciate it when one of their patients returns for a visit -- especially after scaring them the way I did. Needless to say they saved my life. But here is the interesting part: Every person there, including doctors and nurses said that while they were prepping me and asking me questions the only thing I could talk about was my animals. They said that I insisted that they call a friend of mine and make arrangements and inform me that my animals were okay. Bonnie would need to be boarded at the vet since she takes phenobarbital twice a day. The other animals would have to be checked on, and above all, if I did not make it, I needed to know that someone would look after them.

The people in the hospital told me that I would not let them operate or do anything until my orders were carried out.

Hey, I got through the surgery okay. Subsequent tests indicated that there was no serious, discernable damage to my heart. Good thing. When I arrived home and saw all my babies, were they happy to see me! And was I happy to see them! My heart was okay then.

[shais_mom]

wow!
I read this completely thru first to last post but first let me say - THANK GOD YOU WERE WHERE YOU WERE!!! holy crap! I hope you are feeling better now.
I have enjoyed your 'tails' of your furkids. :)
It seems to me that you have had some hard lessons and a lot of heartache, over the years with learning the importance vet care, for that I'm sorry you had to learn those lessons. But in the same respect you had a pretty scary lesson with your own health recently as well! Please take care and keep the stories coming! :D

[Willow Oak]

Thanks for that last response. For the life of me I do not feel that I had a heart attack. Since there was no heart damage, and since I was practically already prepped and ready when the thing came down, I guess you could say that the heart attack didn't actually occur. The paperwork used the term "MI." I asked what that meant, and the response was "myocardial infarction." That would be a heart attack. Anyways, I truly feel fortunate to have survived that ordeal and to have survived in such a complete and whole way.

Now, back to my story. I have a neighbor relative, of whom I have spoken previously and about whom I would prefer not to say too much. I'm sure that she has meant well, but if you had witnessed what I have witnessed in regards to her animals you might not agree with me.

Lola Belle was a dog who lived with her for several years. Lola Belle was truly a very ugly mutt. The entire time I knew her, while she lived over there, she was always dirty and matted. She never appeared to display any personality or humour. She didn't have a lot of fur. Most of the time I saw her she was curled up on the front porch, looking forlone and forgotten. She had wisps of fur, not much hair really, and upon enquiry I would always be told, "Well, she has some sort of skin condition."

As is the practice with my neighbor relative, she would keep an animal until it died of whatever, and when it would get old and unable to control itself, she would put it out behind her house in a pen, and there it would live out its days until it expired. She pretty much did this with all of her animals. Some pitiful stories I could tell you.

So it was with Lola Belle. Lola Belle was I believe something like a Peek-a-Poo, all white (what fur she had); she was blind in one eye, and the other eyeball was missing. She appeared to be buck-tooth. She was ugly. I never observed her playing or even moving about much for that matter. I could never recall hearing her bark. It was a sad situation.

One day I visited; the temperature was in the 30's; Lola Belle was curled up on the front porch, and as I entered I mentioned that the dog was freezing, and shouldn't she be brough inside? The response was negative, and not wanting to be too intrusive I left it at that.

Time went on. I lived nearby, and was enjoying an early morning cup of coffee on my own back porch when I heard the most awful noise. Somewhere in the distance I could hear the anguished wailing of an animal in distress. I had to listen carefully to determine the direction from whence the noise came, and it appeared to be emanating from my neighbor relative's place of residence. I hurried over to see if one of her dogs was in some sort of trouble. I heard the intermittent wailing and looked about to see. The noise was coming from behind her house, so I went back there. She was home but evidently could not hear or was ignoring the noise. I looked in the pen where I thought Lola Belle should be, but all I saw there was an old towel or rug that had been tossed on the ground.

Then I heard the noise again. Such an awful wailing of anguish -- enough to make the skin crawl. I looked and listen. It was coming from ..., it was coming from that old rug that lay in the backyard. I looked very closely, this is strange, I said to myself. The old rug seemed to move, and I crossed into the pen to have a closer look. That was no rug! It was Lola Belle! Poor, awful, neglected, sick Lola Belle. Gosh, my heart stopped beating. And without missing a beat I scooped the creature up and headed back to my house.

When I arrived back at my place I found a large box and placed her in it. Then I drove to the veterinarian I regularly use. I asked that they come to my car to see, and when the vet arrived he asked, "What you got there? Looks like a possum."

"Take a closer look," I said.

Well, we took Lola Belle inside where we cold have a better look. Lola Belle was all over covered with black, moldey sores. Some were oozing fluid. She was crawling with fleas and ticks, and the bones stood out clearly through her skin. There was very little fur, and she had srapes and scratches all over her body. She was covered with mange.

"Put her out of her misery now, please." I figured it was time for Lola Belle to be relieved of the torture she had endured for so long. I asked them to euthanize her, and they agreed that it was the proper and the only thing to do. I paid the bill at the front desk and hurried out of that place. Would I ever get that image out of my mind?

In the parking lot, I paused as I reached for the door of my car. It is a hard thing to take the life of any living creature. My neighbor relative was totally unaware of what I had done -- of what I was doing. I decided to go back in. I decided that the least I could do was afford Lola Belle the dignity of having some human being other than a veterinarian present as she passed on. When I returned to the examination room, the vet and his assistant were examing the dog. The assistant was holding the syringe, and the vet told me that he was just about to do the deed.

"Wait," I said. I inquired as to the actual condition of the dog. Surely if ever there were a candidate for euthanasia, here was one, but let's give it some thought.

Well, to shorten what has already become a long story, I decided to not put Lola Belle down. Instead, I had them clean her up and giver her whatever shots and/or antibiotics she needed. She would return to the vet numerous times over the next few months, receiving shots and pills and baths. She would have surgery. She would have skin removed where it had died and turned gangrenous. She would recieve treatment for mange and ticks and fleas. At my place she would recieve food -- lots of it. for the next year I would get up in the middle of the night and carry her outside to use the bathroom. I would put Gold Bond powder on her to relieve her itching. I would watch her and care for her and bather her and comb her hair.

Lola Belle. Lola Belle. I would fall in love with her. I would fall very hard in love with her. I watched as the miraculous happened. That little fluff of hair that she had blossomed into a full and luxuriant coat of thick, golden blond furry, hairy ..., long and full and soft would her hair become. Fat and healthy would her body become. And eventually she would began to bark. Bark and bark she would, oh yes! Barking and eating and sleeping and using the bathroom.

Eventually I would have to make the dreaded decision, but when that time came she would go in high fashion. Instead of the scrawny, sickly, neglected waif she had been back then, she would part this earth a healthy, happy, beautiful golden girl.

Lola Belle. Lola Belle was truly the most gorgeous dog I have ever known!

Lola Belle. I love you. I miss you. I shall see you again some day.

[gini]

What an outstanding new Pet Talk member you are! I too, have read your posts from beginning to end and I can hardly wait for the next "chapter".

I think God put you in the place you were when you had your heart attack, so that you would be saved to care for your beloved animals.

I think all of us need to think about who would care for our animals in case something happened to us - myself included!!

Uh, also, you need to know that I am having a slight love affair....well, it might not be slight - but head over heels................

WITH SAM!!:love::love:

[Willow Oak]

What an outstanding new Pet Talk member you are! I too, have read your posts from beginning to end and I can hardly wait for the next "chapter".

I think God put you in the place you were when you had your heart attack, so that you would be saved to care for your beloved animals.

I think all of us need to think about who would care for our animals in case something happened to us - myself included!!

Uh, also, you need to know that I am having a slight love affair....well, it might not be slight - but head over heels................

WITH SAM!!:love::love:

You want him?

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Sam/Sam.jpg

[slick]

WO:
I used to have a lot more time on PT but at work now I share an office with 2 others. It's only after they go home that I sneak a peak some days....well more than a peak.:rolleyes:

For the past couple of days I have been mesmerized by your stories and your caring and loving heart. The one that ripped me apart the most is Lola Belle. I mistakenly read that one this morning before getting ready for work and I cried in the shower and cried all the way to work. I know there was a happy outcome but to think of that poor girl all rolled up in the back.....oh dear, here comes the LES again :( :( (good thing I'm alone now...)

It truly amazes me how animals can go through so much abuse then turn around and love someone so unconditionally the next day. Bless you for taking in these foresaken and lost souls......yes, I believe that pets have souls but that's for a Dog House discussion which I won't get into.

I'm in love with every one of your furbabies, here and at the RB!!! If only they knew how many of us around the world are sharing your stories and our emotions.

Finally, I'm convinced that things happen for a reason and you were meant to be in that hospital at that time. I'm so happy that you are with us today. Going through something like that makes you "think" and sometimes it changes your outlook on life and your priorities. I know......I have lung cancer but I'm doing good after my surgery.

Thank you so much sharing your world with us. Like the others, I await the next chapter.:)

[jennielynn1970]

I am loving this thread, and also crying my eyes out with the stories. I think it is wonderful that you are giving these poor souls a chance at love and life. There is definitely a special place in heaven for people like you.

Please give all your pets some hugs and kisses for me. I'd love to be able to meet them and do it myself, lol, but having you do it will have to suffice. It just feels like from your stories that we're getting to know them all so personally. It's really wonderful.

Keep the stories coming, please!

[chocolatepuppy]

I think God put you in the place you were when you had your heart attack, so that you would be saved to care for your beloved animals.

I agree.;) How sad about Lola Belle. What 'human' could leave an animal like that?:( What a lucky day for her when you saved her.:)

[krazyaboutkatz]

I just read through this entire thread and I'm enjoying your stories very much.:) I'm so glad that you're still with us. God knew that you were still very much needed here.:) You should really consider writing a book about all of your rescues. I know that I'd buy a copy of it.;)

[Willow Oak]

There is definitely a special place in heaven for people like you.

I do appreciate all of the feedback, but I guess it's time for some honest talk. Yes, I have in recent times found myself sacrificing time, money, and energy to save the lives and dignity of some of God's defenseless creatures. But it wasn't always that way. Although I never went out of my way to be cruel to an animal there was a time when I wasn't nearly so considerate. Truth is, I do have some black spots on my record.

Fortunately, only a few black spots. I saw an ad in the paper for free puppies. I picked one up and delivered it to a relative as a gift, but she didn't want it. I was in my early 20's, and what did I know? So I found a friend who would take the puppy off my hands. In time he and his family found that they couldn't care for it either, so it ended up back with me. She was a precious little thing. My friend and his family had named her "Precious." That has been years ago, and I can barely recall much about the situation, but eventually she got very sick. I recall a neighbor sending one of her children to my house to tell me about the "sick" puppy hanging out in her yard. I went to retrieve it, and as I lifted little Princess into my arms she licked me. She was so sick she couldn't walk and could barely lift her head. All I did was place her in the garage with a bowl of water, then ..., I left her there. She was dead by the next morning.

Even though it has been around 30 years since that incident, I still can not get the image out of my mind. My Pet Talk friends, I am a sorry, no-good animal neglecter. No matter how many animals I rescue and care for now I shall never make up for that one incident of cruelty and neglect.

The only other such incident that I can recall came around the same time. A co-worker asked me if I would take a puppy off his hands. I did. I do not recall the puppy's name, but he was a gorgeous little German Shephard mix. In time I found that he was too much for me, so I drove around until I found a pack of dogs roaming the neighborhood. Then I did the unthinkable: I let the pup out the car and drove off. I have no idea what became of him.

These images haunt me. These thoughts of mine, that I should be so cruel and neglectful grieve me constantly. No matter how much money I spend on vet bills; no matter how much money I spend on dog food and cat food; no matter what I do I can never make up for these past indiscretions.

I am a regular guy. I like to curse, smoke cigars, eat steak, watch football, chase women, show off. Of course, at my age and in my health I no longer smoke cigars or eat steaks or chase women (it wouldn't do me any good anyway), but I am a regular, normal man. In other words, I don't think about much, except myself. I recall back when I was less considerate of others. I was a bully among my peers. I think of a young man to whom I was inconsiderate -- no I was a downright bully. I did, however, have an opportunity to see him a few years later, and when I did I apologized for my previous disposition toward him. "Gee, I don't remember," came his reply. He either genuinely did not recall, or he was being far more considerate to me than I had been to him. Either way, among God's creatures he proved himself to be much better and much bigger than I.

I hope that someday I do stand before God. And above all else I want God to give me exactly what's coming to me. I don't want mercy. I want to pay for my crimes. I hope God does not consign me to burn for eternity, but I do want to do some sort of penance. I want something else. I want an opportunity to see and apologize to Princess and the other puppy. I want to tell them that I am sorry for what I did. I imagine in my mind that if that opportunity presents itself that I shall hear something like, "Gee, I don't remember." And if and when I do, then among God's creatures, those two precious ones will have proved themselves to be bigger and better than I.

[slick]

Let's see now how does that saying go?

Let he without sin.......

Stop being so hard on yourself. I believe that you could line all of us up and none of us would be able to cast the first stone. We all do things in our youth that we are not proud of. We both grew up in the same era and back then animal activists weren't all over the media the way they are today. You could always tell "women of wealth" because they wore fur coats.

With maturity comes wisdom and now you have the wisdom to know and make a difference. What matters is now and how you treat your fellow humans (trying to be politically correct here :D) and animals and from what I read in this thread, you have a heart filled with passion and compassion.

I am a regular guy. I like to curse, smoke cigars, eat steak, watch football, chase women, show off. Of course, at my age and in my health I no longer smoke cigars or eat steaks or chase women (it wouldn't do me any good anyway), but I am a regular, normal man. Forgive me, I had to giggle at this comment for in my time I've known more than my fair share of men like this.:D

[Cincy'sMom]

What a great thread. You writing is excellent and the stories amazing. I had not been able to read through the thread previously, as our computer at home is down, and I am uncomfortable being logged in here too long at work, but once I started, I had to read the whole thing! You really should considering writing a book...or several! I'm sure there is much detail that could be added to all these stories!


I like to curse, smoke cigars, eat steak, watch football, chase women, show off.

And who doesn't? Okay..so I'm not a guy and don't cahse women, but I think the rest applies!!!

[slick]

Looking forward to hearing about Yella Fella and Goldie.

[Willow Oak]

Looking forward to hearing about Yella Fella and Goldie.

First you must know about Scamp.

Scamp represents one of those times in your life for which you can be thankful that you were the one. I am thankful that I am the one who found Scamp that day.

I was driving down one of those lonely country roads that we have here in North Mississippi, when in the distance I could see something in the road. As I approached, it appeared to be a dog -- a puppy, but I couldn't really tell. As I got closer I could see that whatever it was, it was trotting down the road in my direction. Eventually I came adjacent to it, then passed it, and as I did so I slowed way down and peered out my window at it as I drove by. What is it? What kind of animal is that? Is that a ..., could that be a ..., a dog?

I stopped my truck in the middle of the road, got out, and began to follow it. When I did that that it took off. I followed the little creature, which was no larger than a number 6 shoe size, as it crossed the ditch and into the field on the other side. Soon I was top of it, but as I reached out to grab it, it turned and growled and snapped it jaws. It was a dog! Maybe. Could it be a puppy? Puppies are usually cute and cuddly, and they wag their tails and run to jump into your arms, but this guy -- this guy was snarling and snapping and letting me know with all his soul that he was not interested in wagging his tail or jumping into my arms.

Fortunately I carry dog-catching equipment in my truck, among which is a blanket. I retrieved the blanket and chased back after the dog. Eventually I caught up with it and threw the blanket over it and caught it. It fought and snarled and growled all the way back to the truck. I threw it into the cab of my truck and drove off. I arrived at the vet that very day.

Once again I heard the question: "Whatcha got there, Dan?"

"You tell me!"

"Uh, looks like a rat or a possum or a ..., don't tell me that's a puppy!"

Well, it was a puppy. Although he didn't exactly look canine. He had not one strand of hair, and the skin was sloughing off on nearly every inch of his body. He had what appeared to be warts covering nearly every square inch and his ears where full of crevices. He had open sores and bones showing and ..., well, he was a mess.

The resident technician tried to give him a bath, but he was adamant. He was having none of that. So he was sedated, and he got his bath anyway, and he got some shots and just a good general going over. It was a puppy that had somehow survived on its own out in the middle of absolutely no where. Surely this one was born in the wild, since he seemed to have no appreciation of humans. Maybe I was the first human being he had ever seen.

I knew immediately that I had myself another creature that was going to recquire time and energy and patience -- lots of patience. I took him home with me and put him in one of my bathrooms. The floors in my house are ceramic throughout (good thing!). Every day I put the puppy in the bathtub while I mopped his floor with hot bleach water and changed his bedding. He got fresh bedding every day. He had been de-wormed, but I still gave him half a CC of Ivomec each day along with some good grub. Within a day or two he had calmed down enough to stop growling every time I went into the bathroom.

As each day went by I would observe the pup as I went in to feed him and check on him. For one thing he was so distended with worms that he could not lay on his belly. He always lay on his back. Each day I would bathe him in warm, soapy water with a little bleach. The skin would slough off in waves. The best way I can describe him is "Yoda." Yoda without any hair at all. He was some ugly little creature.

For two weeks he lay in the bathroom, slowly gaining confidence in his surroundings and me. One day I decided to take him out and hold him a while. I took off my shirt and wrapped him in a towel next to my bare chest. His little body was hot. But he no did not growl or snarl. He had stopped trying to bite me. His face began to take on the look of a smile.

Within time I introduced him to the rest of the clan. It took a while, but slowly he began to gain some hair. He would grow, and the hair would appear. And things would disappear. First my house shoes disappeared. Then anything on the floor that wasn't nailed down would disappear. This is where he earned his name: "Scamp." What a scamp he was. Always stealing things.

Scamp would eventually grow up as all pups do. He got over his fear of me, but to this day he runs and hides when a stranger comes for a visit. But at night just before we go to bed, Scamp will waddle up to me, backside swinging back and forth, and he will want to kiss and hug for a few minutes. Then he will go off and find a comfortable place on the floor. In the morning he has to have his sugar before he runs off to play. He and Oscar and Sam and Fred are all great friends. They run and play and fight and fuss. And Scamp? He is and always will be a thief.

Now where are my shoes? It's time to get ready for work.

You can see here where the mange ate away part of Scamp's ear:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Scamp/ScampEar.jpg

Scamp turned into quite a good-looking boy:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Scamp/ScampGround.jpg

[jennielynn1970]

Let's see now how does that saying go?

Let he without sin.......

Stop being so hard on yourself. I believe that you could line all of us up and none of us would be able to cast the first stone. We all do things in our youth that we are not proud of.

With maturity comes wisdom and now you have the wisdom to know and make a difference. What matters is now and how you treat your fellow humans (trying to be politically correct here :D) and animals and from what I read in this thread, you have a heart filled with passion and compassion.


So well put. I hope you take this to heart, Willow Oak. :)

[kimlovescats]

I had visited your website today before ever seeing this thread! I enjoyed it very much and had planned to return!:)

[Miss Z]

Willow Oak, as I was away when you started this thread, I must welcome you to PT, and say that it's great to read about your many animals that live at your amazing home!

[Willow Oak]

Life with Buddy began about six years ago with a white speck in the distance, away off in the woods. I could tell it was a cat, since hardly any other creature is so snow white in appearance. In the beginning he wouldn't let me get within 100 yards. Months passed, and the only appearance of this cat would be distant, and if I approached, he would run off.

In the meantime I had other animals to feed, and of the many cats I cared for several of them were of the strictly outside variety, so I had food available for them out under a lean-to, which was attached to one of the outbuildings. A year or more went by, during which time I would notice the white cat, mostly out away from the house in the woods, but occasionally I would see him near where the other cats would feed. Many months and weeks would pass before I would finally get to see that he was eating from the food that I had left for the other cats.

"Buddy," I would eventually call him, because I could only think to call him that when I would speak to him. I would see him eating with the other cats. Fortunately he did appear to get along with the other cats. In time I would attempt to approach him while he was feeding, but he would always run off. He would eventually allow me to approach without running off, but he would only allow me to stand near, probably no closer than 10 feet. From there he would eat and observe me obliquely with a wary eye. This standoff continued for another several weeks and months. Closer I would inch until Buddy would allow me to stand within even just a few feet as he would eat. From this position I would have to be satisfied to be in Buddy's presence while he ate for at least another year before he would allow me to approach even within an arm's length.

Eventually I knew I would make an attempt to touch him. At least three years had passed since I first saw Buddy, and it had taken me all of that time with much patience and perseverance to find myself with my hand outstretched to the cat that had come to consume so much of my thoughts and energy. In a flash he let me know his opinion of my disposition. My arm looked like someone had taken a box cutter and hit me with it three or four times. A pretty site it was not, and it felt not much different. This would be my experience with Buddy for another several weeks and months. Buddy was a "bruiser" and well endowed when it came to claws and teeth, and he was quick, as well as bold and brave. He no longer ran from me or avoided me, but he wouldn't let me touch him. I paid the price for every attempt. I knew, however, that if I were to ever help him out I had to catch him somehow.
I did not have a small animal trap, but I did devise one out of an old hamster cage. I set the cage out and put food in it. Eventually I did find him alone in the cage eating, and sprung the trap. Buddy made one brave attempt after another to tear his way through the cage, and I had to use a garden tool to pick the cage up. I was able to successfully deliver Buddy to the Vet where he was properly neutered and even received some teeth work. He had his ears cleaned out, received the shots he needed, and just received a good going over.

I returned home with him and locked him into one of my bedrooms. I observed him for a day or two, by easing myself into the room. He was not eating nor was he using his litter box. He was recovering from his visit to the Vet, and he was also recovering his mean disposition. He was not in a good mood. I do not have central heat and air so during the summer I leave the windows up with screens in place. After a few days in the room, buddy found a way out. I went in one day and could not find him anywhere. However I did find a large hole in the screen of one of the windows. Buddy had torn through the screen and escaped to the outside.

It would be weeks before I saw Buddy again. He would eventually find his way back to my sister's house where I had first seen him. I live next door and would go down to my sister's house to feed the cats that were there. I had my own set of cats but always took the initiative to see to it that all of the animals at both properties were fed and cared for. Buddy was back eating with the outdoor cats there. So I had to start over, and it took several weeks before Buddy would allow me back into his presence. However, even though he was still pretty rough, he would not spit and scowl as much as he had before when I approached. Oh, I received another slash or two from those lethal claws, but I never gave up. I continued to reach forth my hand, and Buddy continued to rebuff my advances with a well-timed slash of the paw. Then one day, with hand outstretched I very quickly touched his back then yanked back my hand. At the same instance buddy turned and scowled and raised his paw, but he did not strike. He bared his teeth to me and stared with a sour warning of beware.

Time went on this way, and I would snatch little touches of Buddy with him scowling and hissing menacingly, each time raising his paw in a striking position, but never quite launching out at me. And then one day I reached out quickly and put my hand ever so lightly on his back, but instead of retreating it quickly to avoid his retaliation I left it there. I braced for what I knew was coming. Quickly Buddy turned around and ducked his head, hissing his disapproval. But instead of lashing out with his paw as I was expecting he just moved away. And he only moved a couple of inches, but at least my hand was still intact.

This situation continued for another week or two, but eventually I found myself stroking Buddy's back and fur, without fear of retaliation from this ball of white fur, which for so long had been a bundle of nerves and energy. Over time Buddy began to mellow. And it did not take much longer. Eventually I placed both of my hands on Buddy's sides and with much fear and trepidation on my part, Buddy let me pick him up. I would do this again and again, holding him for longer periods of time each time.

Once again I delivered Buddy to my house. The relationship between Buddy and me improved through the weeks and months, even to the point to where Buddy would rub faces with me as I held him.

Nowadays, Buddy talks to me when I approach him. He'll even run up to me and wait to be picked up. Face rubs are his favorite thing to do now, and if he ever throws out a paw it is to pull me back to him when I let him go. Always are his claws sheathed when he hits me with his paw.

Buddy, I love you so!

I snapped this picture months ago. It was a cold morning, and the camera kept fogging up, and Buddy wouldn't be still:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Buddy/BuddyFace.jpg

At one point I had to reach out and hold him steady. There was a day when that hand would have been dead meat:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Buddy/BuddyHand.jpg

I took the following picture after I brought him to my house to live. In his day, Buddy was a bruiser, as you can tell:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Buddy/BuddyFaceClose.jpg

I took the following picture just a few days after I had my heart attack. It's great to still be here to get a hug from my favorite "Buddy:"

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Buddy/BuddyHug.jpg

[Scooter's Mom]

You're a very good story-teller. Please keep writing.
I don't have much time to read much for pleasure these days, but just read this whole thread. I love that you're helping these animals... and they are helping you too.

Welcome to Pet Talk!

[Catty1]

WO - please read Five People You Meet In Heaven by Mitch Albom

And Please See "Pay It Forward" :):love:

[Willow Oak]

WO - please read Five People You Meet In Heaven by Mitch Albom

And Please See "Pay It Forward" :):love:

I have read a synopsis of the book. You are thinking about the episode I related regarding Princess and the other dog I turned loose. You are telling me that perhaps if I did not have those haunting memories I might not be driven to save animals the way I do today. Did I get the message you were sending?

Thanks.

[Willow Oak]

The weather [I mean climate] in North Mississippi is pretty temperate, but early springtime can be quite cool, and it was on one of these days that I decided to take a drive in the countryside. I had already begun to collect cats, and by this time Bonnie had come to live with me. Even today in Mississippi we have those old, rickety wooden bridges that cross lonely creeks with names like Tallahatchie and Tuscumbia. On my drive I came upon a small but steep creek and slowed as I crossed the bridge. With my window down I drank in the fresh air and listened to the chatter of birds among the trees. This is the time of year when birds are hatching in their hundreds and whole trees come alive with their noise. Sometimes the chirp of a bird can sound like the yelp of a puppy, don't you think? And for some reason I found myself thinking this as I heard the sharp chirping of a bird coming from a direction that would place the bird under the bridge, not up in the trees.

It was without reluctance that I stopped on the bridge and exited the car. I went to the side of the bridge, which had no railing, and peered the 20 feet or so to the rushing water of the creek below. To my surprise I was looking directly at a fully grown dog lying on a ledge about halfway down. That wasn't the puppy I thought I heard, so where did the crying come from? Of course, I was curious about the dog, but what to do? I am just out for a relaxing drive, I am not exactly jumping for joy at having to deal with this. But, what could I do? The climb down was steep, almost vertical, but there were many crags and crevices to aid in footing, so down I went.

When rescuing a stray animal you always have to take into consideration the health of the animal involved. We still have rabies in this country, and dogs are especially vulnerable. This dog was very lethargic and not at all moving, so what was I going to do here? I got down to near where the dog was and stopped and looked about. I didn't see any other animals. The dog observed me but showed no anxiety as I approached. After several minutes of wondering what to do I made my decision. I knelt beside the dog and placed my hands on the ground immediately adjacent. She didn't move. Then I just went for it. I shoved my arms underneath the dog and lifted her out. It took a while, and the journey out of the ditch was precarious, but eventually I delivered her to the back seat of my car.

After that I returned to the side of the bridge for one last look. It was then that I heard the noise again. Surely there is a puppy down there somehwere, I said to myself. Boy I did not want to have to descend to the bottom of this ditch, but there is no mistaking that sound. So, reluctantly I began my descent. I went all the way to the bottom. On my way down I said to myself that I reminded myself of Steve Irwin. Anyways, on the bottom down near the water I could not hear the noise I had heard earlier. There was trash down there. Someone had thrown away some plywood and other such building materials. I kicked at a piece of plywood, and immediately a yelping started up. There was a puppy, no older than four or five weeks, maybe barely weaned, wedged underneath. I was able to scoop him up, and made the ascent out of the ditch. Another long climb, and I delivered the pup to what I presumed was its mother.

Of course, the expedient thing to do at that time would be jump in my car and head home. Even though it was early spring it was still cold outside, and I was starting to feel it. But, I had to take one more look. Yes, I could still hear a puppy somewhere, so down I went. I found another puppy after walking a ways down the creek. This one was on the other side of the creek -- joy, joy. So I jumped the six to eight feet to the other side, then back up the steep incline and to my car.

In all I would descend to the bottom of the creek six times. Five puppies I would retrieve, and in the end I would find another adult female, which turned out to be the mother. The first dog evidently was familiar with the family, but she was not the mother. The whole crew would be delivered to the local animal shelter.

I had an opportunity to revisit the shelter a few weeks later. While I was there the manager of the shelter related to me that all of the puppies had survived and had been adopted. That was certainly gratifying news. The puppies' mother had also been adopted, also good news.

And what of the first dog that I had rescued? Although she didn't look like much on that day when I carried her in my arms up the steep incline of that ditch, she transformed herself into a bubbly, bouncing, barking, and gorgeous long-haired laborador retriever, and she too had been adopted. She was adopted by a Search and Rescue team from an adjacent state.

Now she is out rescuing humans.

[K9karen]

You single?? :p:o

[jennielynn1970]

You single?? :p:o

Hey, hey, hey... you have a man!

[ChrisH]

Wonderful, sometimes heart rending, but mostly heart warming reading, Willow Oak. Bless you for what you have done and still do for all those animals.http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v11/CwmmawrJet/Smiles/kiss.gif

[Willow Oak]

You single?? :p:o

Uh, do you know any female that wouldn't mind sleeping with 10 dogs (9 + me)? :D

[chocolatepuppy]

I have a friend in PA who is single and would love sleeping with a hundred dogs! I'm gonna tell her about you.;) She has two dogs, two cats and a horse.:D
you'd have to ask her whether she'd sleep with you.:p

[Randi]

I meant to reply before, but then something came up, and when I returned to this thread, there was another exiting tale to read. :)

Wow, what amazing stories! You have saved a lot of lives, and you have every reason to be proud of yourself! You know the meaning of "patience" - that is of course what's needed to rescue animals. ;)

Your story about Buddy reminded me very much of how Fister came to live with us (John and I). It had to be on Fister's conditions, or not at all! I still have Fister, who is now 12 years old, but unfortunately not John. :(

I'm so glad you were in the hospital at the right time and all is well now :) - it really would have been unfair to all your furbabies, had you departed, and of course, you're not nearly old enough for that!

As others have mentioned, you should get a book published about your rescue work - you really write well!

I wish you all the best of luck and hope you'll keep the good work up! Give all your furbabies some scritches from me - Fister sends headbumpies.

[jazzcat]

I just now found this thread. What amazing stories you have and you tell them so well.

You have such a kind heart, I'm glad you got it fixed. :)

[Emeraldgreen]

I hadn't read any more of your posts after #14 until today and now I'm all caught up! Quite literally. ;)

Your comment below really got me thinking.


I hope that someday I do stand before God. And above all else I want God to give me exactly what's coming to me. I don't want mercy. I want to pay for my crimes. I hope God does not consign me to burn for eternity, but I do want to do some sort of penance. I want something else. I want an opportunity to see and apologize to Princess and the other puppy. I want to tell them that I am sorry for what I did. I imagine in my mind that if that opportunity presents itself that I shall hear something like, "Gee, I don't remember." And if and when I do, then among God's creatures, those two precious ones will have proved themselves to be bigger and better than I.


I don't think a fiery eternity is in anywhere in your future. It seems to me that God began to offer you the chance to do penance right here on earth with every creature that appeared to you 'in the middle of nowhere'. The image of snow white Buddy in the forest is nothing short of magical. And as I read your stories I began to think of each animal that crossed your path as an angel sent to you in a broken state but in the end, they were the ones that would heal you. I don't believe in coincidence and I think each and every animal that you reached out to was a gift from God and perhaps from Princess and the puppy.

You didn't have to choose this path of caring or to open your heart up to these animals but you did and it seems like your reward is great with all of the unconditional love you receive from these wonderful beings.
Of course, they too are on the receiving end at a second chance at life and companionship and love. They are lovely stories of reciprocal healing.

I was particularily struck by the story of your heart condition and the manner in which you were saved. The mere moments that were a deciding factor in your living or dying immediately made me think of big, beautiful Sam. He too only had a few seconds that would decide if he would go on to live or not but you followed your heart and you guys are together and well. I think God returned the favour back on June 23rd.

Sharing your stories benefits us all because there is much to be learned through your trials. From them, I remember that I should trust my instincts, follow my heart and love with abandon. Thank you. :)

[Willow Oak]

I have a friend in PA who is single and would love sleeping with a hundred dogs! I'm gonna tell her about you.;) She has two dogs, two cats and a horse.:D
you'd have to ask her whether she'd sleep with you.:p

Tell her I'm neutered! :D

[Willow Oak]

Very nice set up there, Willow Oak! Welcome and looking forward to more posts.

Once a Cataholic, always a Cataholic! :D

[Willow Oak]

Sharing your stories benefits us all because there is much to be learned through your trials. From them, I remember that I should trust my instincts, follow my heart and love with abandon. Thank you. :)

Thanks for all of the responses. I had never thought of any of my experiences as "trials." I know you didn't intend that in a negative way, but having read so many posts on this forum I have come to realize how truly devoted so many people are to their animal friends. I'm quite sure that there are many similar stories to tell among the Pet Talker faithful.

This particular post touched me in a different way however. I had no idea that anything I would write would have such an effect on someone. For me it has been purely a therapeutic excercise. I have read many more posts than I have written, and I have cried many times while reading some of them. I especially like to read those eulogies written by someone who has recently lost a dear friend. Those posts do help to assuage my own grief so.

As far as a book, wouldn't it be nice if someone with real writing skills would compile the best stories from Pet Talker into some sort of anthology? Just a thought.

As for me I am still trying to work up the courage to write about Yella Fella and Goldie, and their mother and her friend. :(

[Catty1]

As for me I am still trying to work up the courage to write about Yella Fella and Goldie, and their mother and her friend.

You know us on PT a bit by now...you know it is safe to share that story.

No, sharing it sadly won't change the outcome - but will free you.

{{{hugs}}}

[mruffruff]

Nothing wrong with YOUR writing skills. A book of your tales would be wonderful. I get LES every time I read one.

There are many great stories here at Pet Talk. Some of them are written better than others, but they are all good reading. Should someone compile them, we would have a book of short stories all ready to publish!

If you keep them coming, we'll keep reading. They are stories of compassion and love.

[slick]

Uh, do you know any female that wouldn't mind sleeping with 10 dogs (9 + me)? :D **raises hand*** Oh, pick me, pick me! I hate my job and am willing to relocate......;):D
I'm way behind on reading your stories. Will catch up when I get home from work. I have plenty of tissues beside my computer....

[Willow Oak]

Nothing wrong with YOUR writing skills. A book of your tales would be wonderful. I get LES every time I read one.

There are many great stories here at Pet Talk. Some of them are written better than others, but they are all good reading. Should someone compile them, we would have a book of short stories all ready to publish!

If you keep them coming, we'll keep reading. They are stories of compassion and love.

I just read your profifle. "Two mixed-breed mutts." Is there any better kind? Aren't we all?

[Willow Oak]

**raises hand*** Oh, pick me, pick me! I hate my job and am willing to relocate......;):D
I'm way behind on reading your stories. Will catch up when I get home from work. I have plenty of tissues beside my computer....

Uh, I have nothing against anyone else who would, but I don't sleep with anyone named "Larry." Be that as it may, save me some tissue. I've read a tear-jerker or two today from another thread.

[gini]

Uh, I have nothing against anyone else who would, but I don't sleep with anyone named "Larry."

Sorry to barge in here - but "Larry" was found for me - so no worries on this count!:D:p

Also, couldn't we call this Pet Talk book - THE BOOK OF TAILS?

[Catty1]

Well, it would be worth sleeping with 9 dogs as long as I was closest to the pack leader! ;)

Slick and I are from a rather chilly country, can you tell? :D

But my pillow-buddy-heart-cat Oscar....what to do, what to do????

[Willow Oak]

I recently discovered a treasure trove of wonderful "tails" that need to be retold. John is no longer with us, but his wife Randi was kind enough to point me the way to a few of his posts.

http://petoftheday.com/talk/showthread.php?t=29901

http://petoftheday.com/talk/showthread.php?t=29962

http://petoftheday.com/talk/showthread.php?t=29333

For those of you who have already read them, they are certainly worth re-reading. I'm still laughing at one of the "tails" I read in that second post. Here is an excerpt:

"Poor old Batman was often getting into scrapes, always through absolutely no fault of his own. We still occasionally had problems with one of the wild cats in the beginning, he would wait until Batman wasn’t around, hop up into our window and mark out his territory This REALLY annoyed me. So one day I decided to teach the intruder a proper lesson. I thought that I had seen him out in the yard (he was also big and black), and when I saw a black shape hopping into our window, he got a whole bucketful of water right in the face. Unfortunately I wasn’t aware that Batman was out too, so it was he who received my little present. Poor fellow, he just COULDN’T understand what had happened and wandered around for a quite while in a daze. On another occasion we had a visit by a girl with a little baby. He was lying on the bed getting his nappy changed when Batman decided to check him out. At that very moment the baby let out a huge stream of diarrhoea which hit Batman right on the head. He stayed well away from babies from then on!

Another time I was woken early in the morning by one of our neighbors. “Your cat's out here on the stairs” she says. “Thank you very much” I say, and sleepily let the big black cat in. He wanders straight into the kitchen and begins to eat. I return to the bedroom, and who wanders out but Batman! I luckily managed to get the intruder out before Batman saw him, otherwise I’m sure the fur would have been flying! Some cats do have a lot of nerve."

[gini]

Oh Willow Oak, I am so happy that Randi has directed you to some of John's threads.

Pet Talk is such a very special place - and the boards have been graced by some of the funniest, kindest, and most intelligent people. John was right up there at the TOP!!

All of us loved him and we still grieve his loss along with Randi.

Perhaps she will direct you to his grave - as it is a magical place, tended lovingly by Randi - if you see it, you will understand.

[Willow Oak]

Our family always had a pet around, dog or cat, since before I was born. Personally I didn't possess a pet between the time I graduated from high school and just a few years ago, when I began collecting this motley crew that now lives with me. And what of me? I was the third of three children. My older siblings were sisters. Susie was the middle child, and Susie was stricken with Down's Syndrome. Even for that, Susie lived until the very healthy age of 54. For all the dire prognostications by doctors when Susie was born in 1951, it was pneumonia that got her in the end on July 2, 2006.

For a mentally handicapped individual Susie was blessed with at least one very unique gift. Even though she was not easily understood when she spoke, a person had no difficulty understanding her when she sang. Susie could flat sing. Our father was a minister, and we grew up in church, listening to and singing all the old-time gospel hymns. You grow up like that and you learn to recite all these songs by heart. Susie was no exception to that, but she managed to take it beyond.

Susie's "discovery" came in the summer of 1971 at a summer camp. She was "allowed" to enter the talent contest. Susie simply blew away the field. From then on until she got too old to perform Susie was a celebrity. I saw Susie sing in front of thousands. Susie has sung in front of crowds as large as 8,000 or more. Susie's heyday would not last for very long. During the final 15 years or so of her life Susie's health prohibited her from performing or even attend church much, for that matter.

All of her life Susie lived with our mother, and they always had pets. Susie had her own special pet, a black cocker spaniel she named Marwen. For most of her adult life Susie's two closest friends were named Marlene and Wendell, so it was only natural that she name her dog after them. Marwen hung around for about 20 years or so. Actually, Marwen was three dogs. When Marwen, the first, passed, Susie got another black cocker and named him Marwen. The last of this line was, naturally, Marwen III. Susie loved her Marwens -- all three of them, and they loved her. About three years ago, Marwen III passed on, and I buried him in Mother's front yard in front of Susie's bedroom window. Two years ago Susie finally passed away after a short illness. There will be no Marwen IV.

This past weekend after running a few errands in town I drove over to the cemetary and visited with Susie at her grave. Before I left I knelt beside her tombstone and whispered, "See you in heaven." Mother's place is near mine, and on my way home I stopped. I walked out to where I had buried Marwen, her burial spot still easy to find because of the large rocks I placed there. Before I left I knelt down beside Marwen's tomb stones and whispered, "See you in heaven."

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/SusieHeadstone.jpg

[chocolatepuppy]

I'll bet your sister Susan was a wonderful person. I'm sure she is missed. That's funny how she kept naming her dogs the same name, Marwen. :)

[Randi]

It sounds as if your sister had a great life, in spite of living with Down's syndrome, and her three Marwen's must have wonderful for her to have. Her grave looks beautiful and I see there's a nice wooden bench where you can sit and "chat" with her. :) Her gravestone is pretty much the same shape I chose for John.

Thank you for sharing.

I'm glad you enjoyed about Batman, I met him only a year before he was put to sleep - 11 years old.

How is the little newcomer, Taz, getting on? He's SO cute!

[Willow Oak]

I am not dumb. After all I am a college graduate. Of course, I didn't actually graduate until I was 35, apporximately 14 years after I originally enrolled ..., so maybe I ain't so smart after all. But I have learned a lot, and a lot of the lessons I have had to learn the hard way.

I saw the cats beginning to multiply. They weren't mine. They were someone else's. I lived with my mother, and my sister lived on the same property, and it was they who had been collecting these dogs and cats all these years, so let them deal with it. But they weren't dealing with it, and that's why there were so many dogs and cats. Sheba had recently borne her litter of four males, and there were a few more cats that had showed up since, among which were Charcoal, Boots, BKI and BKII (Black Kat I and Black Kat II), and others, and I had assumed the role of caretaker.

So I set about looking for a vet who would help me out and not require that I turn over my checking account number. I did eventually find someone who would do the lot for $200, so I loaded up the cats -- nine in all and headed for the vet.

I know that you sitting there with all of your years of experience, saying to yourself that you do not carry one cat, let alone nine, loose in your car, but hey, I was a newbie. I didn't know.

As long as I did not pull the car over and open the door I was okay, but when I finally arrived at the vet's office I knew that my car would never smell the same again. On the ride over most of the cats had pretty muchy freaked out -- almost all of them except for Socks. From birth Socks had been the calmest, coolest, most laid-back cat of all. Early on in life he had crawled into my lap and lay there. Everyday my lap was his destination, and if he was not in my lap he was in the chair next to mine. Without a doubt, Socks was my favorite. And on the ride to the vet Socks was the only calm one of the bunch.

As a matter of fact, Socks lay in my lap during the trip to the vet, and naturally he would be the first that I would carry inside. So I gathered Socks up first, opened the door very carefully so that no one else would escape, and headed for the door. I was carrying Socks in my arms when the door opened, and when it did Socks bolted. Off he ran into the woods adjacent to the building. That was seven or so years ago. I looked for that guy for days, and for weeks I returned and went all throughout the woods looking for Socks, calling out to him, but I never found him nor did I ever see him again. My heart was thoroughy crushed over that incident.

I managed to successfully deliver the other kitties to be neutered and spayed, but I really learned my lesson that day.

Lesson #1: When transporting your pet ALWAYS CONFINE YOUR PET TO A PET CARRIER OR LEASH until safely delivered inside.

This next lesson required required several incidents in order to be driven into my thick skull. Occasionally we would find the body one of our cats off in a field or some such place, seemingly in one piece but mussed up nonetheless. I was always puzzled as to the nature of the death, but eventually I did figure it out. Evidently sometimes a cat will get itself into a scrape with a pack of dogs, and this has happened several times. To be truthful, this is what happened to Shadow, Curiosity, and Sheba, as well as at least three other cats of which I am aware.

I made a decision long ago that I would not confine the cats to an outdoor pen. This has mostly worked, but there have been failures. Most of my cats understand how to navigate among the dogs, but even among my own dogs, who are mostly very friendly to the cats and each other, "accidents" can happen. So whenever I leave the house now I confine the dogs to minimize the incidents of "accidents."

Lesson #2: CONFINE YOUR ANIMALS WHEN AWAY FROM THE HOUSE..

However, I had to endure the demise of poor Yella Fella and poor Goldie and almost the demise of Cathy before I learned that even among friends, accidents do occur. I acquired first Yella Fella from the neighbors. He was in bad shape -- full of ticks and fleas and mange. I bathed him and administered Ivomec as I have done so often before, and within a couple of weeks he was well on the way to recovery.

I always quarantine a new animal for at least two weeks, and such was the case with Yella Fella. Within the allotted time Yella Fella had recovered well enough to introduce to the general population, and after the initial sniffing and snarling, the other dogs settled back into their normal routines. When I would go to work I continued to confine Yella Fella behind a child gate, but one day when I arrived home I found Yella Fella running loose but in one piece. I decided to leave him out. This worked for about a week, and then one day I arrived home to find his lifeless body in the back yard. Evidently, the other dogs had not quite accepted Yella Fella fully, but I was not aware of this. Poor Yella Fella. I truly did not know any better. Even so, I feel that your untimely demise was my fault.

Shortly after losing Yella Fella I acquired his sister. This time I would make sure not to make the same mistake again. "Goldie" was in much worse shape than her brother had been. She was all over sores and welts and fleas and ticks, but as with her brother I was quickly able to set her on a right course. In her case I decided to extend the quarantine period and observe the other dogs' behavior before I trusted them to be all together while I was away. Over the extended period Goldie grew and I observed on my days off and my time at home that the other dogs genuinely seemed to accept the newcomer. So the time came that I felt like it would be safe to leave her out with the other dogs when I left for work.

The day came to leave Goldie loose, and all day at work I worried. That was the longest day of my life -- all day I worried and sweated and wondered: had I done the right thing? After all, wasn't I risking Goldie's life by taking this chance?

When I arrived home all was very quiet. Eerily quiet. Too quite. Slowly and nervously I exited my vehicle. The dogs were all in a very abject mood as I entered the house. Ordinarily I would have expected Goldie to be bouncing around outside, as with all of the animals, but there was no Goldie. I knew before I even got out of the car. I knew before I even entered the house. I knew. I found Goldie's lifeless body under my desk. I cannot describe the rest of the scene. I cannot think about that now.

Lesson #2: NO MATTER THE DISPOSITION OF YOUR PETS(S), EXPECT ACCIDENTS TO HAPPEN..

I do often think that I have done a good job of rescuing a few animals and helping those in need to receive help. I do have a few success stories. But I have a few failures also. Sometimes failure is the only way to learn. Even so, learning can be so painful. I cannot blame myself for Yella Fella's demise, but I knew I was taking a chance with Goldie. With Yella Fella I sincerely thought all was okay, but with Goldie I knew there was the possibility of a bad outcome, yet I took the chance anyway.

There is a footnote to this story. Yella Fella and Goldie were litter mates. Their mother belonged to neighbors. She and I never met until one morning about 5:00 am. As I was pulling out of my driveway to go to work, Yella Fella and Goldie's mommy decided to chase my truck. Another vehicle was approaching from the opposite direction and hit her. I pulled up and exited my truck. She was in very bad shape. Here it was, 5:00 am, and here was this dog lying in the road, all beat up. What could I possibly do to help her? Well, I had to go to work; It was too early to find a vet open; her owner's were not awake yet; she was in very bad shape -- she couldn't possible survive.

As I was kneeling next to the mother of Yella Fella and Goldie I recalled an incident that had happened a few weeks before. Another dog, owned by the same neighbor, had been hit in approximately the same spot in the road. I had arrived shortly after it happened, and the owner had arrived also. The dog was in very bad shape and could not survive, but it was alive. After some consideration I retrieved my .22 rifle, and she called another neighbor to come and do the deed. I recall asking the guy if he would please put several bullets into her head, but macho as he was he assured me that one shot between the eyes would do the trick. I didn't argue, but against my better judgment I decided to stay and observe. He shot the dog once in the head. What happened after that I wish I could forget. The dog required several minutes to expire, but it was a long struggle. Oh, it was probably unconscious during the whole time, but I decided right then that the next time this situation presented itself I would do the deed myself.

Now here was the next time. I retrieved the rifle from my house and returned to the dog who lay beside the road. She was alive and conscious, but it was ovious that she would not survive. Never in my life had I done what I was about to do. It was very early in the morning and still very dark. The air was cool and crisp, and I love dogs -- all dogs. Yet I was staring down the muzzle of a loaded gun with the bead set squarely between the eyes of one of God's precious creatures, and I was about to take from it the greatest gift on earth. I had been in the same position a few years earlier when Sam first showed up at my place, and in his case I couldn't pull the trigger. But now -- there simply was no other choice. This time there was no long struggle. It was over in seconds. I pray God forgive me for doing what I felt like I had to do.

Yella Fella:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/yellow/YellowFella.jpg

Goldie on the day I brought her home:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/yellow/YellowGirlBadShape.jpg

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/yellow/GoldieBack.jpg

I give Goldie a bath in my kitchen sink:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/YellowGirlBath2.jpg

Goldie, a few weeks later:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/yellow/GoldieRebar.jpg

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/yellow/GoldieSittingClose.jpg

[Willow Oak]

How is the little newcomer, Taz, getting on? He's SO cute!

I don't know if you are aware, but I made a few posts regarding him in the dog rescue forum:

http://petoftheday.com/talk/showpost.php?p=2045779&postcount=14

http://petoftheday.com/talk/showpost.php?p=2046781&postcount=15

Basically, Taz is beginning to show his personality. Although he does play a lot with the other dogs (or attempts to) he does not mind being alone. I'll find him alone outside under a tree chewing on a stick when all of the other dogs are inside enjoying the air conditioning. He has himself a habit of crawling under the couch when he is inside, but he is getting too big for that. One day either he won't make it in or he won't make it out.

Every morning as I leave for work I tell the dogs to go to their rooms. I'll say, "Go to your room." At that each dog goes to his respective kennel or cage. I've learned to confine the dogs when I leave. Taz has his own kennel and he dutifully goes to it his just like the others go to theirs.

[Willow Oak]

No? Well, I just survived a heart attack, so I am allowed. As I may have mentioned in another post I grew up in the home of a strict, Victorian era Baptist preacher. My dad had two loves in his life: his books, of which he must have had around 30,000 volumes and his memories of WWII. Dad was a tail gunner on B29's during the war, and he talked about his experiences constantly.

I am presuming most of us cannot relate to the experiences of those who placed their lives on the line in times of war. Dad was in the Pacific theater, and I've heard him talk about having to shoot at and being shot at Japanese fighter planes while on a bombing run or whatever. Actually, Dad was in a reconnaissance group, and he brought back tons of photographs -- photographs of unimaginable devastation.

May I be afforded an aside here? Had the United States not entered the war the world may still be fighting the evil Nazi regime. Had the British not decided to take a stand the world would without a doubt be marching to the beat of a Nazi jackboot. All of the various allies played their part, including the brave French underground. The Canadians, the New Zelanders, the Indians, etc., etc. ..., Where would we be without that brave, selfless, and valiant generation?

Back to my story. My dad was Victorian-era. No vices had he. I have no images of my father sitting or lying down. Dad was always busy at work. One thing my dad strictly forbad was the consumption of any kind of alcoholic beverage. To this day, and I am 54 years of age, I have never tasted beer.

I have, on the other hand, tasted other kinds of alcohol. Back in the day I was a salesman, selling security systems, fire alarms, and burglar alarms. I had a call to make on a local tavern, but I was in the throws of a serious head cold, teetering on the brink of the flu. I made my call, apologized for my condition, upon which the tavern owner said, "I have something that will take care of that for you."

"I'm sure you do," I said. He excused himself and returned with a shot glass full to the brim with a pretty purple-colored liquid and said, "Drink this." Now I had never had alcohol in my system before, but at that particular moment I was weak and vulnerable and quite willing to try anything that might relieve my miserable condition, so I relented. It was delicious! I sipped excitedly as I presented my wares. He had given me the most delicious blackberry brandy, and was it ever so delectable! I fairly floated through my presentation, and by the time I had finished I felt like I had genuinely left the nasty head cold behind. Blackberry brandy is indeed the nectar of the gods.

I have kept a bottle of blackberry brandy in my pantry ever since. Mind you now, I have never been drunk. I do not now nor I have ever drunk alcohol for purely social reasons. I partake for medicinal purposes only.

However, one Christmas not long ago I was watching around me and noticed that everywhere people were embibing and enjoying the intoxicating pleasures of various potions with intriguing names like sherry and port and vodka and scotch. "What's all the fuss?" I wondered to myself. I had never drunk any of those -- nothing more than the blackberry [what turned out to be flavored] brandy that I kept in my kitchen cabinet, and that only to sip when I was not feeling well. So, I decided to check things out. I decided that I would settle the issue for myself once and for all. I would discover for myself what all the fuss was about. So I went to a local liquor store and asked for advice. I was given several small bottles of various renditions of hooch, paid the bill, and returned to my house.

At home on Christmas Eve I decided to give them all a taste. I opened each bottle in turn, but in each case I could not discern anything special. So I went through each bottle again, swigging and tasting then swallowing. "So what's the big deal?" I asked myself. I couldn't see it. What exactly is it that all these people see in these things? Nonetheless, I continued to sample these bottles of different colored liquid. Eventually I grew tired and went to sleep.

The next day was Christmas, and that morning I awoke with quite the headache. I went outside to drink in the early morning sunshine, and as I stepped out I noticed how warm it was. The sun was already high in the sky. I saw my neighbor from across the street (This was years before I bought Willow Oak, and I was living in a trailer park at the time), and exclaimed as to how gorgeous a day it was, being Christmas and all.

"Yes, Christmas day was a beautiful day at that."

"Was?" I asked.

"Yes." Then he looked at me and laughed. "Boy you had quite the party going on over there at your place."

"What day is it?" I asked.

"You don't know? Christmas was two days ago."

Like I said, I have never been drunk ..., that I am aware of.

[Willow Oak]

"Mister! Mister! Do you need a cat, Mister? I'm all alone in this world, and I don't have nobody to take care of me, Mister. Do you need a kitty, Mister? Mister, if you will take me home with you I promise I'll be a good kitty. Mister, I don't have nobody, and I'm all alone in this world, and I don't know what I'm gonna do. Mister, do you need a kitty? I sure hope so, Mister, because I don't have nobody, Mister!"

I'd heard these words before. Cougar had grabbed me that way a couple of years earlier. That one had worked out okay, but this one ..., looks more like trouble to me. But what else was I to do?

Words cannot tell the story of Thumper. Only pictures can do justice here.

Thumper was just a kitten when I snapped this shot. As you can see, from early on he was a genuine cut-up:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ThumperPete/BumperUnderChair.jpg

Thumper is ever on the move:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ThumperPete/ThumperStalking.jpg

Thumper is so independent. Dogs? What dogs? Who cares? What's all the fuss? Lemme see if I can find me a place to relax over there:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ThumperPete/BoldPete.jpg

Thumper and Oscar:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ThumperPete/OscarOverThumper.jpg

Thumper "kicks" it with Pookie:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ThumperPete/PookieThumper.jpg

Thumper thinks that Sam is just a big bore {{sleepy}}:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ThumperPete/SamThumper.jpg

Silly goose:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ThumperPete/ThumperOnBack.jpg

{{{Yawn!!!}}}:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ThumperPete/ThumperYawn.jpg

And, oh yea. Did I mention that Thumper ain't afraid of nobody? Come on, big guy. Show me what you got!

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ThumperPete/ThumperAndOscar.jpg

[gini]

I will take Thumper along with Sam! I love a jelly belly!!:Dhttp://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ThumperPete/ThumperOnBack.jpg

[Randi]

I just couldn't bear the story of Yellow Fellow and Goldie - so very sad! :( :(

Thumper seems to get along great with Oscar - in fact with all the dogs. :D He looks so sweet in the first picture, and so goofy in seventh. :) What a gorgeous kitty. No wonder you couldn't resist him!

[Willow Oak]

In case you didn't know, and even though you could probably care less, I post to another site from time to time. It is of a different genre from Pet Talkers, but the people are the same.

I read in one post where someone had lost a beloved pet and was requesting prayer for the family. What is this? Is this the point in civilized society to which we have ascended that when a household pet passes over to the other side we are so grief stricken that we request others to go to their knees and request of the Almighty God that he bestow some manner of comfort on our souls?

I do it every day. So what? Anyways, I shared with that individual a link to the Willow Oak thread on this site, which thread we are in right now. Others on that site read the post and followed the link to here, and recently I received an email from one of those readers who shared with me the most wonderful story. With her permission I share that story with you:



You can find a bit more about some of our rescued (and other animal stories) at Momma Dawg's Multiply (http://mommadawg.multiply.com/) site. Auntie Mame's story goes something like this: My Second Daughter taught gymnastics in a small town about fifteen miles from here and her drive home is along unmarked county roads. While she’s used to seeing deer jump out, a possum or skunk along the edge of the road, she just couldn’t place what she saw in any of her known categories. So, at eleven at night, she’s stopped along the side of the road walking back to see what “didn’t belong there.”

Holding her own in front of this approaching human was a small kitten, mewling loudly. According to Second Daughter, who speaks Cat fluently, she was saying, “I’m trying to get to your mother’s house. I’ve heard that she takes care of kittens, and I need lots of help.”

The next morning when SD brought this buddle of skin stretched thinly over tiny bones, it was evident that she needed a lot of help! No cat food in the house, of course, and we knew that milk would only create diarrhea, so we mooshed up some dog food and the kitten devoured it. Yep, desperate – she’d never look at dog food now. She’s too good for that.

Her eyes were still blue, and she fit in the palm of our hand. She wanted to lick any skin that came close to her. Instead of being covered in soft fur, there were single strands standing alone. All of her strength had gone into surviving, not covering her body. You couldn’t tell what color her fur would be, though her skin was spotted grey and white.

We took her to the vet and this “free” cat came home worth $135, got her shots along with medicine to remove worms, mites and ringworm. Quite successfully I might add.

It took a while before we could figure out her name. We tried calling her by different names, but we got them all wrong. As her fur grew in and we understood that she was a gray tabby, we even tried Smokie, but she never responded. Princess, Ghost, Shadow – none of those caught her attention. We were sitting in the den about a month later, my husband and I, and I told him that maybe she didn’t have a name.

When I said “name”, she turned quickly and looked at me. I looked right back and said “Is your name Mame?” She came to me and jumped in my lap. I said, “Is your name Auntie Mame?” thinking of Rosalind Russell’s portrayal of that colorful character. She leaned over and licked me on my check, and she’s been Auntie Mame since then.

Her eyes eventually turned green, and being thin is no longer her problem. She became even more valuable with another trip to the vet to be certain she leaves no kittens to be found on the side of the road. Unlike Second Daughter, most people don’t speak Cat. During her recuperation, Beloved Husband (despiser of feline creatures) held her on his chest and the bond has only strengthened since then. I may be the one to feed her and clean out her bathroom (yes, she has one of her own -- it just worked out that way, it was not built for her!) but he's the one she goes to, settles in his lap, throws her head back so she can stare into his face then reaches out a paw to touch his chin and settle on his chest.

Ah! Contentment!

PS -- She remains fearful of cows!!

Auntie Mame:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Auntie-Mame1.jpg

[chocolatepuppy]

What a sad story of Yellow Fellow and Goldie.:(

But now -- there simply was no other choice.
I pray that I never have to make such a choice.:(

[Willow Oak]

Before I bought Willow Oak I lived with my mother. It was there that I began to accumulate these beasts that now occupy so much of me. In the beginning it was all cats, then came Bonnie, then Lola Belle, then Lu Lu, then Fred. At that time I worked from home, so I was irritated that day when the dogs started making such a ruckus. I stepped out onto the back porch and could see that they were barking at something just across the fence behind my mother's house. I walked back to the fence where the dogs were, and woah! A litter of puppies, perhaps no more than five weeks old were crowded into a ball just outside the fence!

How did these little guys get here? I wondered. Could someone possibly have dumped them here, knowing that we keep a lot of animals, presuming that we would take them in? I couldn't see how that could be, seeing that a person would have to go through so much trouble to tote the pups all the way to this spot, which was so far from the road. How could a person expect to do that undetected? I was puzzled.

Anyways, I was able to deliver the pups, five in all, to the local animal shelter where all were eventually adopted out. This was a strange case, but it would not be the last. One year later, in approximately the same spot another litter of pups appeared. Now this really was puzzling! Was someone deliberately dumping puppies at our back door? Why would they do that? Why not dump them at the front door? I could not see how or why anyone would go to all the trouble of traversing the yard and several yards of woods to place the pups in a spot way in the back like that, but there could be no mistaking the fact that someone or some thing was doing so. All of the pups were simply too small to have wandered there on their own. Maybe one pup might, but a whole litter? And if they wandered there by themselves, why would they then be all balled up like a litter of pups or kittens are wont to do when their mother leaves them?

In all, while I lived at my mother's house I discovered three litters of puppies this way. All pups were delivered to the shelter, and to my recollection all were subsequently adopted.

In the meantime I bought Willow Oak and moved my crew there. Shortly after moving to Willow Oak I found Oscar wandering around and crying off in the woods, and from whence he came I could not tell, but he was by himself. I've already told Oscar's story, but there is a bit more to it. For one, whereas the other puppies I had found were in fairly decent shape, Oscar had a pretty bad case of mange and had open sores. He was very tiny, and I bathed him and nurtured him back to health. In the mean time I had, myself, developed an itch.

On a visit to the Vet's office, I related to one of the vets about my itch, whereupon being asked, I showed the offending rash. I was told that I had mange. Joy, Joy. So the vet wrote me a prescription for some ointment, and thus began a regimine of self-treatment for mange. I also placed my own self in quarantine.

One of the requirements of this ointment is that you strip completely naked and rub the stuff all over your body -- every square inch. Then you must remain unclothed for a period of time to let the ointment work. Lucky for me I live alone and in the country. I got the bright idea that a little sun would facilitate the treatment so for several days I wandered Willow Oak in the nude. What a site I must have been: a white man covered in a chalky-white merengue, walking about the premises totally and completely naked. I can only imagine what my crew was thinking. For me I didn't like it. I can see where if a person were accustomed to doing so, walking about in the buff might make one feel "refreshed," but for me being naked only made me feel ..., well, ..., naked!

Anyways, I cured my own mange problem, and Oscar's mange cleared up nicely, and, well, I've already told his story. But the story about finding puppies in the woods wasn't over. I continued to find puppies behind my mother's house as well as in and around the woods that surround Willow Oak.

Willow Oak had once been surrounded by a very dense forest of old pine trees, which had been harvested just prior to my acquisition. Hence there are huge piles of trees that have been pushed together to form little mounds here and there. It was deep within one of these mounds that I found a litter of puppies. Such clean puppies they were, too -- no discernable fleas or ticks or mange, and they were adopted out quickly by the animal shelter. In that case, however, I did not come out so clean. I had to crawl down into that old pile of trees, which were covered with years of dirt and humus, hacking my way through until I reached the pups. Part of the way down into the pile I had had to retrieve my chain saw to cut through some large tree trunks that were still relatively intact.

Anyways, I continue to find puppies in those woods and on my property. Where do they come from, and how do they end up in little piles just behind the fence of my mother's property? Well, I've thought a lot about it, and I can come to only one conclusion. Somehow, someway the mother (or mothers) of these pups know(s) that there are humans nearby that will take care of their pups. So, these mothers deliver their pups, once weaned, to a spot adjacent to and easily accessible by their human neighbors.

I simply cannot come up with a better explanation

[Willow Oak]

Larry is a good guy. Really he is. Larry is the guy who sharpens the chain on my chainsaw; the guy who changes the oil on my lawnmower, and oh yeah, the guy who built the fence in my front yard. I couldn't stomach the expense of hiring a professional so Larry volunteered to help me out at the discounted cost of $1 per foot (plus materials, of course). And a great job Larry did. Larry, I owe you one, buddy!

A few weeks back I had been at Larry's shop waiting for my chain saw and just generally "killing time," as we Southerners are known to do. There is always a group of loafers that hang around in overhauls, spitting tobacco, cursing the government, and complaining about their wives. I hang out there myself sometimes, but only because I need my lawnmower oil changed or the bearings greased on my chain saw.

"Too much drama for me," Larry had said when I explained to him how I had all these animals, and I really needed a fence to help contain the dogs. “I know I couldn’t put it with it. I don’t know how you do.”

A week or two later Larry came to my house, and together we mapped out where the fence would go. "How you put up with all them animals, is what I don’t understand." Larry said. "I'm just glad it ain't me."

Well, I really didn't expect Larry to understand, but I attempted to explain anyway. "Why don't you just take all them animals down to the shelter. They'll take 'em off your hands for you." I tried to explain that might have been a good idea in the beginning, but now that the animals had been with me for so long I just couldn't do that. Larry just shook his head and said, "Too much drama for me. I don’t know how you do it"

Larry and I agreed on a price, the day came to begin construction, and promptly at the appointed time Larry showed up with his materials. On cue, the dogs cut loose, yelping and hooing and generally trying their very best to let Larry know that he was in their territory, and they were in charge.

Work began in earnest. Larry is very respected in his chosen field, and other people even hire Larry to do odd jobs. If Larry says he can do the job he can be trusted to do a fairly good job, and he won't drag his feet about it. Each day that Larry arrived, the dogs would cut loose with a howling and a wailing, but as each day passed the racket would be less and less. Eventually the dogs would get accustomed to seeing Larry, and his arrival would only induce a small amount of noise. Still, Larry could be counted on to say, "Way too much drama for me. I don't see how you can stand them dogs!"

Due to weather and the fact that Larry had to work after hours during the week because of his regular job, the fence took about two weeks to complete. Each day as Larry would show up to work the dogs would start their racket; and as always, after Larry had been on premises for a little while the dogs would get quiet. But he would always manage to remind me each time he came out that the situation in which I found myself was just "too much drama" for him. Larry could be annoying in this way, but I bit my tongue. I needed that fence.

By necessity Larry would be forced to be around the dogs. He would see them running and playing and barking. One day his wife came to bring him some lunch. She brought Larry's two little children with her. The kids ran around and played with the dogs. Fred and Sam are especially gentle with little ones, and who could resist the touching site of the little two-year-old boy, no bigger than a "corn nubbin'" pulling on Sam's tail and Sam turning and barking playfully with a big grin on his face? And there was Fred getting jealous and chasing Sam away so he could monopolize the children’s affections. “Look at that!” Larry said. “They jealous of one another. Ha!”

During this and subsequent visits from his wife and children I would watch Larry as he watched his kids. I would catch him laughing and smiling. Oh, yes. He couldn't hide it from me. He couldn’t help laughing and smiling, watching the kids run around chasing and being chased by these big dogs that easily dwarfed the children in size.

One day Larry had to miss because of business out of town, but when he returned he had a present for the dogs. He had bought some dog-chews and other toys for the dogs at a farm auction. "They was auctioning them things off, and I thought you might want ‘em for your dogs.”

Every evening after work Larry worked at constructing the fence, and within the estimated two-week time frame Larry had the fence completed, and to this day it has been about the best investment I ever made for them, er … my animals. It keeps them safe and sound and allows for plenty of room for running and playing. Larry did a good job, even though he thoroughly got under my skin while doing it.

A few weeks went by and I visited Larry's shop to have my chainsaw sharpened. While there Larry mentioned to me that his wife had been reading my blog. ”My wife reads yore blog ever’ day. She’s gotta know how them dogs are gettin’ along." He told me that he had found a stray dog and had decided to keep it and wanted advice on shots and such.

I continued to visit Larry's shop, especially since we had had so much rain. Since I mostly heat my house with my fireplace and have to cut wood often, my chainsaw needs constant sharpening. On another visit Larry offered that he had acquired another dog, “and somebody gave my wife a couple kittens she had found.”

Recently I saw Larry working on a lawnmower motor. "How are the animals doing?" I asked. "Well, my father-in law gave me a beagle he done found, and my wife's done got herself another cat.”

"Well, how many does that make now?" I asked.

"Oh, we got us, lessee ..., we got us three dogs and five cats."

At that, I leaned back in the barstool on which I had been resting myself, and in my most matter-of-fact way slapped my knee and exclaimed, "Too much drama for me! I don’t know how you do it! I shore am glad it ain’t me!"

Larry:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Larry1.jpg

[Willow Oak]

I continue to have a negative influence on others. One of my coworkers became jealous of my hogging all the glory, so he went and acquired himself a new pup. He "claims" it was a gift for his wife, but I know better.

He is 10 pounds and only six weeks old. He is part boxer and part St. Bernard.

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/BernardBoxer.jpg

[Catty1]

Gosh, I hope your "negative influence" becomes a world-wide epidemic! :D

That puppy is just TOO cute! :love::)

[Randi]

Although I have to admit, I couldn't live with that many animals, I think it's great that you care, and have such a wonderful property for them all. :)

Larry did a real good job with the fence, and it's great to hear that he and his children were smitten enough to get some of their own. :D Often people don't understand what it's like to have animals, until they've been close to them - in this case, it only took a few weeks. Now, do what you can to educate him on how to handle them!

[shais_mom]

I LOVE the Larry story!!!
good for them! :D
that puppy is adorable!!!

[slick]

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/BernardBoxer.jpg

Aside from Wednesday, I've had a really bad work week WO, but I just have to say that this picture and that Larry story has made it all better again. Oh and I really had to laugh at your "negative influence" comment. :D

This is one of those threads where you have to grab yourself a cup of coffee or some other beverage and sit down and just read and absorb and perhaps read again. When I get home from work I plan to do just that.

Are you sure you couldn't use a "Krazy Kanuck" to help out????? ;):D:cool:

[lovespeaks]

true love speaks well. clearly.

we have had quite several "larry" situations here for having a little ark altogether here. love that; happy endings. especially on those rats and snakes. like us, humans, we are not always vemonous.

in despite of fay the hurricane, looking forward to more novels of your divine tails. :)

[krazyaboutkatz]

I also loved your "Larry" story and that puppy is too darn cute.:)

[Willow Oak]

Taz is picking up some bad habits from the other dogs -- lying down when he eats and barking at the table:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Taz/DSC01074.jpg

[Willow Oak]

Aside from Wednesday, I've had a really bad work week WO, but I just have to say that this picture and that Larry story has made it all better again. Oh and I really had to laugh at your "negative influence" comment. :D

This is one of those threads where you have to grab yourself a cup of coffee or some other beverage and sit down and just read and absorb and perhaps read again. When I get home from work I plan to do just that.

Are you sure you couldn't use a "Krazy Kanuck" to help out????? ;):D:cool:

I saw Larry today when I went to town. He has already got himself another dog -- a Lab. According to him he has had to teach the dog to leave his chickens alone. The dog was killing his chickens, but after a few lessons from Larry the dogs seems to leave the chickens alone when they are in the immediate vicinity of the chicken house. However, if they wander too far astray from there all bets are off. I won't say what method he uses to teach his dogs, but evidently he has made some progress, at least.

[Willow Oak]

My visit to the local farmer's market yesterday put me in mind of an experience I had not long ago.

Summertime is the ideal time to live in Alcorn County, Mississippi. The good country folks around here love their gardens, and the old timers can be seen early mornings tending their gardens with their 'maters and 'taters and okry and squash. There would be peas and corn, radishes and lettuce, and everybody has a "par" tree in the yard, and apple trees and fig trees. Poke salad grows wild, and every body has chickens and there are goats and cows and pigs. There is a good reason that Mississippi leads the nation's obesity rate.

I have tried my hand a time or two at gardening. I’m not bad, but proper vegetable gardening requires time, and time is something I do not have a lot of. So, I usually buy my stuff at the local farmer’s market where one can find all manner of local fruits and vegetables, or I may resort to my favorite method: stop and chat with some of the local farmers and hope that they offer me some of their harvest for free. I have learned one thing, and that is that country folk are proud of their garden vegetables and fruit trees and are only too willing to share. So, I take advantage. Lots of folks around here are very willing to give of their harvest, and it is considered rude not to accept.

With my schedule I can only go to town once or twice a month to run errands. There are several routes to town, and each time I go I try to take a different way. It was on one of these errand runs that I first saw the white dog. She was about the size of a large Labrador retriever, but she was not a retriever. I don't know what she was, but I saw her walking along a country road, head hanging low, looking lost and forlorn. Of course, I had to stop. She came to me warily but with tail wagging. She had a collar but no tag. I knew I couldn't leave her so I prepared to load her in my car.

"That's my grandson's dog!" I looked around and there in an adjacent yard was an elderly lady gathering in her garden. I walked over and after a short conversation assured myself that she knew the dog. I wasn't going to leave the poor thing abandoned, but if she belonged to someone nearby then I guess she would be okay. "Yea, that's my grandson's dog. He lives just up the road a piece."

"Nice garden you have. Do you work it by yourself?" I asked. Yes, she responded, then she asked if I'd like to take home some 'maters or okry. "Well, I don't know, I'm sure you could use all you have there."

Oh, shoot," she said. "I got more'n I could ever eat. We give it all away, or it will all spoil. Go ahead and take what you want."

"Well, I guess I'll take a couple tomatoes." She helped me load up a plastic shopping bag of ‘maters and okry, and I was on my way.

A couple weeks later I went to town a different route. Along the road I noticed a dog, and, what's this? The same dog? I was on a different road, and pulled beside the dog to have a look. It was the same dog, all right. I got out of my car and checked out the collar. Same dog for sure. Then I looked around. There was a farmer and his wife working their garden nearby and I yelled out to them, "Do ya'll know this dog?"

"Eh? What's that? Oh, yea. That's our niece's dog." I walked over to where they were. We talked for a while, and they assured me that the dog belonged to their niece who lived just down the road. Funny, I thought. That's the same dog, but their story is different from the old lady's. Before I left I had some nice squash and some good ears of corn.

A month later I was down another road when I saw the same dog! It is hard to believe, but I was seeing the same dog as the two times before. Of course, none of the locations were more than a couple miles from each other, but they were all either on different roads or different sections of the same road. The story was similar in this case, only the dog belonged to someone's sister who lived farther down the original road than the spot where the first old lady had said her grandson lived. Satisfied that the dog did actually belong to someone, I left the dog alone. This time I left with some pears and some peaches.

At least one more time I saw the white dog, and I've never seen her since. I was traveling down the same road as the first time when I saw the white dog at the opposite end of where I had first seen her. A little girl was playing in the front yard of a house nearby, and I stopped and asked if she knew the dog. She said she did and that the dog belonged to her neighbor. The little girl's mother exited the house and I asked again about the dog. "Belongs to the man next door, but we feed her sometimes, so I guess she sorta belongs to both of us." I noticed that they had a nice garden. I told her I was just concerned about the dog, and oh by the way, that's a nice garden you have there. "Would you like some peas? I got some nice corn and tomatoes, too." I was glad to receive the fruit and vegetables.

As I left the lady and her little girl I wondered to myself about the white dog. What a scalawag that dog is! I said to myself. She's a regular vagabond! I shook my head, amazed that a dog had figured out if she wandered up and down the old country roads she could always rely on finding a free meal here and there. Then as I was driving along with my bounty, the thought occurred to me that the old cur just might be thinking the same thing about me.

They grow 'em small down on the farm in North "Missippi." And yes, that is I, haggling with the farmer (well, his grandson) over the price of some "okry."
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/FarmerMarket.jpg

[shais_mom]

sounds like that dog shows up whenever you "need" some produce!
hope she DOES have a good home. :)

**hugs**

[Willow Oak]

Each morning just before leaving for work I tell all the dogs to "Go to your room!" At that command Cathy goes to her kennel; Sam, Oscar, and Scamp go to their kennel; Fred goes to his kennel; Bonnie, Clyde, and Lu Lu go to their kennel; and little Taz has already learned what that means: he runs to his little kennel. In the case of Taz, he has really grown over the past couple of weeks or so, and he has quite outgrown his kennel, so I have fixed him up a much larger place. He hasn't quite become accustomed to his new place yet, so this morning when I gave the command little Taz went straight for his old kennel. I saw this and stood by, yelling at Taz that he had gone to the wrong place, and imploring him to "Come here!" It eventually occurred to me to retrieve my camera, and I did just in time to snap this shot as Taz was turning to exit his former "room:"

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Taz/TazCrate.jpg

[If you look closely, you can see that the gate is open. Taz had entered the kennel and was sitting there waiting for me to close the gate.]

[Willow Oak]

I was born in the mid 50's, and like so many Southerners of my generation grew up during the Jim Crow era, and like so many of my generation, was taught and grew up with the impression that the Negro race was inferior to the Caucasian. Surely prejudice resides in the heart of everyone to one degree or another, and thankfully, eventually I would come to the point in my life where I would realize that the philosophy with which I grew up is all wrong. But it would take a non-human creature to help me reach that point.

At 32 years of age I had reached the lofty position of pizza delivery person. Even though I had graduated from high school third out of a class of 143 and had been offered scholarships, I had decided to take a different path. But that is a different story. During the spring of 1986 I made a decision that changed my life forever. I decided that I could do better than pizza delivery, so at the age of 32 I enrolled as a freshman at Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge. Back in the day, I told my fair share and enjoyed my fair share of "N" jokes. It was all in good fun. Whereas I had been raised to believe a certain way, my parents did insist that I show respect to all people regardless of race or color. The brand of prejudice with which I grew up did not include lynchings, but it did include jokes like: "I don't have anything against blacks. I think everybody oughta own one!" Believe it or not, there are still people who tell jokes like that. Thankfully I finally got over it, and although it wasn't necessarily my fault that I grew up that way, I am very grateful that I was able to finally realize the wrongness of the way I was.

In Baton Rouge I found a very nice second floor apartment situated immediately adjacent to the LSU campus. The kitchen and one of the bedroom windows looked out onto the horse and cow pasture of the LSU veterinary college. Beyond that was the levee that held back the Mississippi river. If you've never been to that part of the United States you might not realize that the levee system of the Mississippi River has quite become Pandora's Box. Samuel Clemons wrote about this in his wonderful book, "Life on the Mississippi." Through the years, despite the efforts of engineers dredging the bottom to remove massive amounts of sediment that settle from all that is carried from upstream, the bottom of the river has steadily risen so that today the bottom of the river is where the top used to be. I saw this for myself the first time I happened to look out of my kitchen window in time to see one of those large oil tankers floating by ... above the level of my second floor window!

Anyways, I used to love to look out and see the levee, and the pasture, a gorgeous green was dotted here and there with horses or cows. I was in college now and was happy for the decision I had made. Now I could get down to doing something serious with my life. I was enjoyed college life! For me it was not all about parties, oh no. I loved studying and doing homework. I still do. Today I am a software engineer, and I spend my days reading through and writing hundreds of lines of code, developing highly complex applications or their algorithms.

It took a while to get here though. First I must pay the price of going to class, doing homework, and taking exams. But truth be told I loved all of that. During most of my college career I tried to avoid social entanglements such as close friends, especially girlfriends. I did not need nor did I want the distractions. But I did acquire one minor distraction, and that was in the form of a beautiful, golden cocker spaniel.

Shortly after moving to my new apartment two new tenants arrived. They were two of the most beautiful, tall, sleek, gorgeous beauties I had ever seen, and their beauty was breath-taking. I had never been that stunned by the good looks of a black female. As it turned out both girls were members of the LSU women's track team. I met them in the summer of 1987, and as it turned out the LSU girls track team won the NCAA outdoor track and field championships that year. Eventually, the LSU women’s track team would win 11 or 12 consecutive national titles beginning with that first one. These two girls were pioneers in that effort. One of them, and I hope I can get away with using her real name here, was Esther Jones. Esther was on one of the women's relay teams that one a gold medal in the 1988 Summer Olympics in Seoul, South Korea. I didn't get to know Esther all that well -- she was world class and was always on the road. The other girl, equally athletic, was a high jumper. She was the first to show me just how misinformed I had been regarding my prejudice against blacks -- she and her dog.

At the time I met Esther and Leslie I still felt toward blacks the way I had always felt: "show respect, but remember that they are not a good as you." Esther and Leslie moved in, and college life went on. Going to college was the best thing I ever did. At 32 I had a healthy respect for going to class and doing homework. I determined that I would make the best grades I could, and I was into my third semester before I made my first "B." Until then I had made all "A's" taking courses like microbiology, calculus, and organic chemistry. I had grown up in the South, so I had been around blacks my whole life -- but not to socialize with them. I experienced the desegregation period during the 60's and 70’s. The first blacks with which I went to school were three students that integrated my school in the eight grade. I had made friends with them, but the prejudice with which I had been raised stayed with me. Now I was sitting in class at LSU next to young people of all manner of background, color, and ethnicity. I learned early on that Orientals are extremely intelligent, as are Indians, and surprise, surprise: blacks! I still have the computer printouts from tests results. My name was most always placed at or near the top, but more often than not there would always be one or two students that consistently outscored me. I made it a point to seek these students out, and when I did would find that they usually were not Caucasian. As often or not some of these students who would outscore me on a chemistry test would be black.

I had always been taught that blacks are superior athletes to whites because they had been bred to work in the fields. I had also been taught that blacks had thicker skulls and smaller brains, with the result that whites are superior intellectually. Of course, I believed what I had been taught, so how was it that these black students were outscoring me on college-level exams? It didn't fit in with what I had been taught.

Things were great back at my apartment. They got better. One day there was a knock on my door. Leslie was there holding her dog, Abigail. She was going out of town, and would I mind watching Abigail for a few days? I knew Abigail. I had seen the little dog hanging around Leslie’s apartment and had come to pet her and hold her as did everyone in the complex. Abigail had been a gift from Leslie's boyfriend. I observed that Leslie took very good care of Abigail, and I would always say hi to the pup whenever I saw her and Leslie out and about or by the apartment pool. I had gotten to know Abigail and Leslie, and Leslie decided that she could trust me to look after her pup while she was gone.

So Abigail came to stay with me for a few days. In the beginning I was not enamored with the idea of taking on the responsibility, but Abigail quickly wormed herself into my heart. Within a few days, Leslie returned from her trip, and Abigail went home. In the mean time I had begun the practice of leaving my front door open when I was home. My air conditioner did not work very well, and it does get hot in South Louisiana. Leslie’s routine came to be that she would open her door and let Abigail out, and Abigail would run to my apartment and fly through the open doorway, scurrying about the apartment until she found me. She developed the habit of throwing herself into my lap and showing me her belly. I had earlier made the mistake of scratching her belly one day, and it was all over with after that.

Everyday after those few days I had watched over Abigail, she would come down to my apartment for a visit. In the early mornings, Leslie would open her door and Abigail would run out of her apartment, down the walkway, turn the corner and glide straight into my apartment. It became a daily routine. I am a very early riser. I would be up and at my desk studying each morning by 4:00 am, and usually sometime between then and time to go to my first class at 7:30, Abigail would come flying in, waddling and shaking and beaming all over. One morning I had stepped out early and had closed my door behind me. I happened to see Leslie open her door and saw Abigail fly through her door and down the walkway, headed for my apartment. I heard a heavy thud and heard a sharp yelp. I rushed over to see what happened. There was Abigail lying on her side just outside my closed door, her tongue hanging out as she panted. Her eyes looked at mine and for a few seconds they failed to recognize me. The look on her face said, “What happened?” When Abigail finally recognized who I was she broke into that winning smile of hers, raised herself off, and stood by patiently until I opened the door. Cautiously she proceeded to go inside.

"I gotta go to class now, Abigail. You come back and see me when I get back."

Leslie was a gorgeous girl -- tall and lean with a big smile and very pleasant personality. In the beginning she would apologize for Abigail's intrusion, but eventually she would come to accept Abigail's forays are just part of the way things are. Abigail became as much my dog as she was Leslie's. Over the course of the year or two that Leslie, Esther, and some of the other LSU track girls' lived at the complex I became friends with most of them. Quite often before a big meet, all of the girls would gather at the complex and go to a movie. They never failed to ask me to tag along. As a group we saw such movies as "Field of Dreams," and "Rain Man." These girls, world-class athletes, All-Americans, and NCAA national champions would exit the theater in tears, wiping their faces, and I, being the macho man that I was, would be doing the same.

Time moves on, and in college one semester moves into another, then another, and so on. Each morning before I would go to class Abigail would show up in my bedroom or kitchen, wagging her tail, smiling that big smile of hers, looking for her belly rub. Her “mommy” and I had become very good friends, and it was inevitable that the day came that Leslie would announce that she had become engaged to be married. Within a few weeks she was married and moved out of the apartment. Abigail went with her, of course.

College moved on and the great day of graduation arrived. I was thoroughly exhausted and ready to move on to bigger and greater things. President Ronald Reagan spoke at my commencement. On the return walk to my apartment I happened upon a couple walking through one of the several Live Oak groves around the beautiful campus. The couple had their dog with them, and as I crossed their path I realized it was Leslie and her husband. Abigail was with her, and the three of us enjoyed a brief reunion. I held Abigail for a few minutes, and she wagged her tail and licked my face, and the two of us enjoyed a few minutes embrace. I gave Leslie a hug, shook her husband’s hand, we parted and have never seen each other since.

I turned back, though, and watched as Leslie and her husband and Abigail continued on their way. Abigail would look around, but Leslie had to hold tightly to her to keep her from jumping and running back to me. But as they disappeared from view, I thought back on that day that Leslie had knocked on my door and asked if I would babysit her dog. I recalled that on that day I still held to that prejudice with which I had grown up, but that over the past three of four years of knowing Leslie and her dog, of attending classes and coming in second to students who were supposed to be “inferior,” I had definitely come to realize that those philosophies with which I had grown up were all bogus. I had learned from my time with Leslie and with her dog Abigail that among God’s creatures, “red and yellow, black and white, all are precious in his sight.”

[Randi]

Aww Taz, how could you know that your dad had rigged up a bigger cage for you? But I'm glad he did, because I'm sure you are growing fast. Nice he was quick enough to get a picture, too! :cool:


Willow Oak, I enjoyed your story about getting things straight on ethnicity, I can imagine (from films I've seen) how life must have been - probably still is, growing up in the South. :eek: Worlds apart from what I know.

Good for you that you got a good education and got to know Abigail. I'm sure that has had a huge influence on your later life, and the reason you're such an animal lover now. :)

[Willow Oak]

Cleo came to live with mother and me in a very pregnant state. A friend of my sister had asked that she take Cleopatra off her hands, then mother asked if she could take Cleo, then after the kittens were born and had grown up she felt that she could no longer properly care for them, so they became my responsibility. When I bought Willow Oak Cleo and her crew came to live with me. Of her progeny, one sadly did not survive kittenhood, but the others include one male, Darkly, and the other two are Pinky and Lightly. Darkly and Lightly were given names by my mother. The only way she could tell the two apart when they were wee kittens was that one was darker than the other.

Cleo likes hanging out in the kitchen window right above the sink:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Cleo/CleoWindow.jpg

Cleo requires a lot of attention. Her hair gets very tangled. She is a very affectionate kitty despite the fact that she was passed around so. Please tell me why anyone would pass her on to someone else. I don't get it.

I took this shot early one morning just as the sun was rising:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Cleo/CleoEarly.jpg

Cleo also like to hang out in the towel closet:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Cleo/CleoInCloset.jpg

Pinky likes the towel closet also:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Cleo/Pinky_I.jpg

Pinky is what one might call a "bee-atch." She does not like the dogs and she does not like other cats. She would rather yell and scream at them, and chase them from her presence. If she had her way she would be the only kitty on the premises. She would also be happy if the dogs all left. She is, however, very attached to her mommy, and she definitely loves her "daddy."

Pinky really is a sweetheart:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Cleo/PinkyNeck.jpg

Everyday after I arrive home Lightly is among the first to demand my attention. For several years now she anticipates my bedtime and as I am preparing for bed I can hear her on the bed calling out to me, "Come on, daddy! Hurry up, daddy! Come to bed, daddy!" Lightly developed a nasty infection in her tail, which then had to be lopped off:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Cleo/Lightly.jpg

Darkly is very low-maintenace. He and "Buddy" have become friends. Then again, Darkly gets along well with everybody. Darkly is suave and debonair:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Cleo/Darkly.jpg

Cleo survived a run-in with the dogs, requiring several days to regain her confidence and composure. I took this shot right after her ordeal:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/CleoAfterAttack.jpg

[chocolatepuppy]

Good heavens, look at the hair on Cleo!!! Have I mentioned Taz is adorable?:D

[Willow Oak]

Good heavens, look at the hair on Cleo!!! Have I mentioned Taz is adorable?:D

Err ..., that would be "fur," as in "that's a flea-bitten pack of hounds you have there!"

:D

[gini]

Ha! With all of the kitties you have - I would imagine the correct comment would be.....

LOOK AT THE HAIR ON YOU!!:D

No home should be without it!!

[Willow Oak]

Ha! With all of the kitties you have - I would imagine the correct comment would be.....

LOOK AT THE HAIR ON YOU!!:D

No home should be without it!!

I am not -- repeat: not a member of the Men's Hair Club.

[Willow Oak]

Sometimes I can't help myself. Sometimes it is inevitable that I cheat. Long before I had my recent heart attack I had made the decision to improve my eating habits. Several years ago I noticed how tightly my clothes were beginning to fit, so I made the decision to change my eating habits. For me, changing my eating habits simply meant eating smaller portions and drinking water instead of sodas. So I have long since returned to my normal, svelte self. But once in a while I feel the need to cheat.

So it was on a recent trip to town a few years ago. I have always loved Wendy's hamburgers, and on this particular trip to town I just had to have one. I ordered the single combo with cheese, dressed, with bacon. I also love their chili seasoning, so I always order it and pour it over the inside of the burger. I sat in the dining room and enjoyed the delicious spicy flavor of the chili seasoning, which mingled with the salty combination of the bacon and the mayonaise and ketchup and mustard with which I also like to baptize my burgers. I had their fries, also baptized in ketchup and mustard and chili seasoning. I was a good boy in one respect -- I drank water.

I returned to my truck to continue my errands, and as I passed through the doorway of the truck to be seated I heard a faint squeak. Weird sound it was, so I stepped out and quickly back in, and I heard it again. It was a very faint and faraway squeak. It sounded like a kitten, but I couldn't be sure. Anyway, you know I was going to check it out, so I stepped back outside the truck, walked around the parking lot, looked under the truck, looked in the truck -- everywhere, but I simply did not see a kitten anywhere. So I re-seated myself in my truck and drove off.

Groceries were next on the agenda, so I drove to Roger's Supermarket. I did my shopping and returned to my truck to load the groceries. If I am in my truck I always load the groceries into the passenger seat, so after having opened the passenger-side door I proceeded to grab a bag and place it onto the seat. And each time I passed the door opening I heard that squeak. Puzzling it was! I continued to load the groceries, and I continued to hear the squeak! Once again I studied the parking lot, looked underneath the truck, checked inside and outside the truck -- everywhere, yet I could see no kitten! This was a puzzle!

Anyways, it was time to get home so I seated myself and drove toward home. Before going home, though, I saw that I needed gas so I pulled into a station to fill up. I exited the truck, swiped my card, and begin to pump. I a by nature a very lazy person, so instead of standing there and holding the pump I wedged the gas cap into place and let go of the pump and walk around a bit. It then occurred to me to check the oil, so I popped the hood to have a look. I found the dipstick, pulled it out and immediately heard the squeak. I remained very still for a few seconds and listened. No sound, but the moment I moved I heard the squeak again! There was no mistaking it this time. The sound most definitely belonged to a kitten, but where? So I slid the dipstick back into place and began another investigation. I checked the parking lot; I crawled beneath the truck, I looked under the seats, I looked everywhere. No kitten!

I was very frustrated, but what could I do? Maybe I was hearing things. How could there be a kitten? I had just driven all over town and had heard the squeak everywhere I stopped. I had done a very thorough and exhaustive search of the premises and the truck, yet had not turned up a thing -- I must be hearing things. I quickly finished gassing up, hopped in the truck, and drove home.

At home I unloaded the groceries then deposited myself in my favorite chair in front of the television. Within a few minutes the dogs started up. They were really making a racket! So I went outside to see what was the fuss. They were all congregated at the fence barking in the general direction of my truck. I went to where they were, "What are you guys making such a fuss about? " When I said that they really cut loose then. "Hesh up now! Stop all that racket! Who you guys think you are! Stop that! " They dutifully obeyed -- all except for Lu Lu, who continually keeps up a racket all the time anyway. I took a look in the direction of the truck, and..., I could her something. Something very faint. I exited the fence and walked over, and ..., yes, I could definitely hear it now! Somewhere within the confines of that truck was a kitten ..., somewhere, but where?

So I retrieved my flashlight, and began the search again. Once again I checked beneath the truck, crawling around on my back in the gravel of my driveway. I looked behind and under the seat, and under the dashboard. I looked under the hood. I crawled up into the engine well for a closer inspection. I looked everywhere, and all that time I continued to hear a very faint and very distant sound, the very distinct mewing of a kitten. But for all the energy I expended in my search I simply could not locate the little creature. I was at my wits end. So I decided to shut the hood, but before I did I moved to the side to remove some debris that had gathered underneath one of the springs, and as I did that I caught a glimpse into the wheel well on the passenger side. And there in the wheel well, just out of the reach of the massive tire on that side of the truck, crouched ever so precipitously on the edge of the well I saw it. A very tiny, very scared, very frail, puffy, squeaky ball of fur.

The footnote to this story is that I delivered this little guy to the shelter. I simply had too many cats and I could not continue to collect. It was a most difficult decision, a decision that I have questioned many times. It breaks my heart to this day to recall the look on that little guy's face -- that frail, scared, little face.

But you simply cannot keep them all.

[Willow Oak]

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Taz/TazAndThumper.jpg

Taz and Thumper under the Willow Oak.

[Randi]

Gosh, that free ride kitty was very lucky to survive! :eek: I hope the shelter people found the little guy a loving home!

Now, I know that Taz is only a pup, but growing fast it seems. Thumper looks almost as big!! Nice to see they get along so well. :)

[Willow Oak]

You all know Emeraldgreen (a.k.a. Lara). She has sent me the most wonderful story, which I would like to share with you. I include it here just the way she sent it to me. Warning: Have your tissue handy!



One morning, just as the sun was coming up I spotted two rollie pollie puppies bounding towards me. They were racing across a street that was normally busy as a highway and was even called Speedway but at this hour there wasn’t a car around. I knelt down to receive them as if they were fuzzy footballs that someone had thrown at me. They landed on me with a thud. They were tan and black with dark ridges down their backs and couldn’t have been more than 7 or 8 weeks old. They were cute as buttons and I couldn’t understand why they were all alone but that mystery cleared up quite quickly as I spotted their mother come up over the crest of the hill. She was a Coyote and she had 4 more pups just like mine trailing right behind her. It was not uncommon for Coyotes to mate with stray dogs in Arizona where I lived and these puppies were a result of one such union. I wasn’t sure what to do so I called out to the Coyote just hoping she’d stop but she just kept going. I tried to get the puppies to go to her but they were focused on me. So, I picked them up and took them home.

I couldn’t keep them both and arranged for someone I knew to take one of them. I thought he would provide a good home but as it turned out, he failed her miserably as did I. He named her Oshea and a few weeks later I heard from someone that he was mistreating her. I tried to get her back but was told by his room-mate, a vet tech that she had been given to someone with a farm through the clinic he worked at. I never believed that story but I couldn’t prove otherwise. I think of it often and it is one of my biggest regrets that I didn’t take greater care in finding an excellent home for her.
I kept the other puppy but soon realized I couldn’t offer her enough time with work and school. I asked my mom if she would be able to give the puppy a home which she was more than happy to do. My mom is in fact the one who gave her the name Smokey, after her childhood dog that she grew up with in New York.

Smokey proved to be a real handful for her and we were never sure if it was the Coyote side or the Rhodesian Ridgeback side or the wonderful combination of the two. This young dog shredded just about everything that wasn’t nailed down in my mom’s house but her kind and gentle nature made up for all the chaos.
Smokey had a fondness for watching the world go by outside the window, especially when it involved other animals. On one occasion, two large St. Bernards were walking by the house with their owner and it proved to be too stimulating for Smokey.
She jumped clear through the closed glass window just to be with those dogs. When she reached them, she did the normal doggy thing and wagged her tail, barked a lot and greeted them with lots of sniffing. She somehow managed to avoid getting a single scratch from that ordeal. The window had to be replaced but this time it wouldn’t be single paned!

One day my mom let Smokey outside into the yard to do her nightly ‘business’. Shortly afterward, she heard a wild commotion coming from next door. She looked outside and realized that Smokey was now over at the neighbours and the husband was on top of his car stomping around, yelling to his wife to go get his gun! Smokey was running around the car in circles barking. My mother later found out that earlier in the day a storm had knocked down part of the fence that normally keeps Smokey in and this is how she made her escape. My mom raced out and tried to calm the man down telling him that Smokey didn’t mean any harm and that if he would just stop yelling, she could collect Smokey and get her back into the house. He was very drunk as was often the case and equally angry. The wife came out saying she couldn’t find the gun and Smokey ran over to her. Smokey was certainly obnoxious but she was always gentle. Her only intentions were to sniff this woman and maybe bark a few times. But without a second’s thought she started kicking Smokey over and over and somehow in this scuffle Smokey either scratched her or her mouth grazed the woman’s leg when she kicked Smokey in the mouth. My mom, a very compassionate and honest woman said that the wound seemed to be very superficial but the neighbours raced to the hospital and said they were going to sue!
The next day Animal Control left a note on my mother’s door saying that there would be a court hearing to determine if Smokey was a dangerous dog. We were devastated. When my mother arrived at the courthouse she had Smokey with her. She wanted to show the judge how gentle Smokey was but they said it wouldn’t be necessary and that they had enough evidence already. They declared her a dangerous dog on the spot and gave my mother two choices.
Either put the dog down or build a six foot fence around her entire yard with a 6 inch incline at the top and a foot of cement below the ground. If a fence could not be built, she would have to be confined to a dog run that was closed in at the top, padlocked and posted with bright yellow ‘dangerous dog’ signs on all sides. She would have to be tattooed with a dangerous dog code on her inner thigh that could be recognized by Animal Control Officers should she ever escape and she had to be muzzled whenever outside, including when walking from the house to a dog run. If she were to escape, my mother was told that she could face 30 days in jail in addition to a steep fine.
My mom called me later that day in tears and told me that she just couldn’t manage the situation and felt that Smokey would have to be put to sleep. I was beside myself because I was the one that found these two puppies and if I had only left well enough alone, this would not be happening. She probably would have been part of a wild coyote/dog pack out in the desert but at least she wouldn’t be facing this.

I called my mother back and told her that I would take Smokey and follow through with all of the conditions. Within a week, I had her tattooed, bought a 9’ x 9’ dog run, had the signs posted, bought a muzzle and a padlock for the run. I wanted to build a fence and planned to in the future but I just didn’t have the money at the time and had to settle for the run. At least she was still with us.

On my way to work one day I put her in her run as I usually did and locked the padlock, or at least I thought I had. As it turned out, I hadn’t squeezed the lock hard enough for it to click and lock completely. When I got home, I noticed immediately that Smokey was not in her run. I panicked and raced around my yard calling for her and ran right into the Animal Control officer. He had her in the back of his truck. He told me that he was taking her to the pound and that I would be going to jail and would have to pay a large fine. He said that it was in my best interest to put her down and I could have sworn he was enjoying every minute of it. I couldn’t believe it. Animal Control had come to my house on a surprise inspection visit and took her out of the run she was in and now wanted me to put her to sleep. I have never begged so much in my life and after about half an hour, he released her to me with a 500.00 ticket.

I lived in a university neighbourhood and football was huge there. I had left Smokey in the care of my then live in boyfriend. He called me at work one evening and said that she had gotten out. It was a friend of ours that didn’t realize that Smokey needed to be either in the run or in the house and opened the door to the yard and she was gone.
I looked at my watch and realized that the game was going to let out in about 2 minutes and then my street and all the streets within a 5 block radius would be filled to the brim with students, yelling, drinking and having a good time. I didn’t even tell my boss I was leaving and raced to my car and drove like a crazy person to get home. It was dark and pedestrians were everywhere. I parked my car and just started calling her name, looking for her up one street and down the other. After about half an hour, I was feeling so defeated. I prayed that she would somehow come to me which I thought was an awfully tall order since she never came when I called. Just at that moment I heard the familiar jingling of her collar and I looked up to see Smokey coming right towards me from the alley I was standing in. She waltzed up as if to say “hi mom, what are you doing here?!?” She was just over a year at that time and was the size of a German Shepherd but I wasn’t taking any chances. I picked her up and carried her like a baby for 2 blocks until we were home.

Animal Control had informed me that this sentence that Smokey was living out would last the length of her life unless I moved outside of the city limits. I thought about this often and when I had the opportunity to move back to Canada, I took it and took her with me. No more muzzles, dog runs or padlocks. The only evidence of that horrible year and a half was the tattoo she would sport forever.

Smokey and I had a great life together and she remained gentle as always the entire time. She was loyal and loving and shared these qualities with my other animals as well. She was particularly fond of the three ferrets I had and focused most of her attention on my three legged ferret named Cassidy. I could often find them snuggled up together having a nap.
She was also famous for her policing duties among the cats. She adored them and whenever a scrap broke out, she was on the scene to break it up. She would literally guide one cat to one corner using her nose to push the cat along and then do the same with the other cat. Then she’d park herself between them until things settled down and everyone was getting along again. It was amazing. She was amazing.

When she was 14 her back legs started to give her trouble and she was getting quite stiff and struggling with the stairs. The vet gave us Metacam to relieve the inflammation and dull the pain. This worked quite well for two years and she still was able to play with our other dog Muddy. On occasion she would sit down but could not get back up. I’d pull up her rear so she was standing again and off she’d go. This went on for awhile until one day we were outside and she was sitting and trying to get up. I helped her in the usual way but each time she sat right back down. My heart sank. I picked her up just like I had 15 years earlier and carried her into the house with tears streaming down my face. I knew we had come to the end of the road.
I called the vet and arranged for him to come out to our house. I saw him drive up the driveway and my stomach was filled with uneasy butterflies. I felt sick. We allowed Muddy to say goodbye and brought him over to Smokey. He refused to look at her. Muddy did the very same thing with our cat Tiger before I took him into the vet to be put to sleep. We had the dogs in the back of the truck and as I was taking Tiger into the vet clinic I brought Tiger to them so they could say their goodbyes. Finnigan was his usual excited self and slobbered all over Tiger but Muddy, who usually would do the same, kept looking away and would not acknowledge Tiger. Muddy and Tiger were very close so I guess Muddy sensed what was happening, just as he seemed to with Smokey.

My husband walked Muddy down the path away from the house and away from what was about to happen. They approached the van and just as the vet stepped out, Muddy put his ears back and began to growl. In the few years that he had been with us up until then, he had never growled at anyone.

Bu poor old Smoke was more than happy to see the vet and though she couldn’t get up to properly greet him, she wagged her tail to let him know that he was welcome. Gentle to the end. Rest in peace sweet Smokey. I hope you and your sister are together again.



[I shall include this story in my website collection (http://www.danieltaylor.us/WillowOak.html). I love stories such as this one. If you have such a story to tell I would really, really love to read it. Would you share it with me? If you would please PM me or email me at [email protected]]

[Willow Oak]

I received the following contribution from a friend of mine on another forum [WARNING: Tissue Alert!]:


(well, that's the way we spelled it) who was a gift to my Sister. Piewacket joined us at Christmas. She was about eight weeks old and a gorgeous mostly white calico. Sister's Sunday School teacher gave her this little bundle of fur, but Sister had just started college that fall and Mom and Dad promised to keep her until Sister graduated. I don't think anyone thought of how it would be for the next four years. Especially since Mom hated/despised/distrusted felines just a tad more than she did dogs. Piewacket was the second attempt at pets in our home. Who knew how successful it would be with Sister visiting only during the summer months. That same first Christmas, my son received a Hot Wheels track. Do you know how much fun a kitten can have with Hot Wheels that run in circles. Double that and you'll come close to the circus atmosphere. My Dad fell in love with this purrfect pet. Four years later, graduation. Time for Piewacket to move in with Sister, except -- of her new apartment roommates, one hated cats and the other was allergic, so Piewacket received a reprieve and stayed with Dad (and Mom.) Another three years pass and Sister marries -- a man who could not stand cats, so Piewacket remained with Dad (and Mom.) But the marriage didn't last. Piewacket was ten when they divorced and Sister would be living alone, needing cat companionship. For the one time in his life, Dad looked Sister in the eye and said "No." Piewacket was too old to move into an apartment and give up her back yard. Sister, thinking that ten was pretty old for a cat, settled for a new kitten of her own. Piewacket lived to be twenty-two years. Daddy saw to her care, just as he cared for Mom when she was diagnosed with ALS. That disease confined them a great deal to their home. Eventually, it was if to acknowledge Piewacket's age and disabilities might require that "special" vet visit would also mean facing Mom's disintegration. Sister and I were there during one of Mom's hospitalizations. Piewacket still came for her petting, but there was no playing, no energy, no brightness in her eyes, except when Dad came to her. We both told him that when he was ready, we would accompany them. But he declined. It wasn't time yet. She still ate, though she didn't play. No, it wasn't time yet. The next month he called to tell us that Piewacket had died in her sleep. It was, he said, as though when we gave up on her, she gave up, too. But in my mind, I still see that full Hot Wheels layout, in a figure eight, and small streak of calico-spotted whiite chasing cars, forever.

[Willow Oak]

You gotta check this out. It is a video clip (http://s225.photobucket.com/albums/dd102/emeraldcreek/?action=view&current=4c5935f6.pbr) of Smokey I received from Emeraldgreen.

[Willow Oak]

The fence that encloses my front yard is definitely the best investment I have made so far for my animals. For sure, I have a very beautiful 16 acres, plenty of room for the dogs to run and play, but I have had to learn the hard way that even in as rural an area as I live, it is not wise to let one’s dogs run loose. Accidents can and do happen, and I as I have said I’ve had to learn this lesson the hard way. Now with the fence I get to enjoy the pleasure of watching my dogs run and play and chase each other, without the worry of their getting lost or getting in the road. I love to watch Oscar run and run, with his tongue lolling about and that big grin on his face, and to watch Fred chasing Sam, then Sam chasing Fred The smaller dogs run and play and chase each other. Cathy runs after the bigger dogs, and they tolerate her. Taz barks at outsiders right along side the bigger dogs. Thumper is always out there with the dogs, as is Tiger and Pete. There is no greater pleasure for me or thrill for them.

For an animal lover there is no greater agony than to look outside, expecting a beloved pet to be near, only to discover it missing. The agony of not knowing, of worrying and aching over the loss of a beloved pet – dare I try to empathize with a parent who has lost his child under nefarious circumstance? The agony is not lessened when a pet is not necessarily missing – just not in the immediate line of site. This was my daily experience with Sam and Oscar before I built the fence. I had already confined the dogs to the back yard, which has been fenced in since I bought Willow Oak. The area immediately behind my house is fenced in, but not nearly as spacious as the front yard, and after a while a dog simply must stretch his legs. The other dogs were confined by the four-feet high chain link fence, but to Sam and Oscar it was just an adventure in fun, because they soon discovered that four feet to them was like one-foot to you and me – they simply jumped the fence!

No matter what adjustments I made to the fence, Sam and Oscar would simply find a week spot and jump over. So for all the time that Sam and Oscar (since he has grown up) have been with me, the fence in the back yard has been no obstacle for them. And every time they traversed the fence I had that agonizing wait until they returned to the gate to be let back in.

I made the decision to fence in the front yard, because I wanted the dogs to have more room to run and play. And, the cats needed an area away from the dogs. In the back yard the dogs and cats could mingle, and the dogs might not have had a problem with that arrangement, some of the cats prefer to not have the dogs around. With the fence, the dogs would be in the front, and the cats that didn’t like the dogs would have their own area to mingle among themselves.

So I hired Larry and built the fence in the front yard. Building the fence would solve one problem – lack of space – but I knew that I would in all likelihood still have to deal with the issue of Sam and Oscar jumping the fence. The fence in the front yard was to be the same height as that in the back: four feet. So the fence was built, and the first time the dogs were turned loose, only a few hours were required before Sam and Oscar decided to give the fence a try, and sure enough – over they went. Gone! I knew it would happen, and now after all that expense I once again had that agonizing wait until my dogs returned.

But, I had studied the matter and had anticipated the possibility of Sam and Oscar going over the top, so I invested an additional sum of money and bought the materials I needed to electrify the fence. I bought a solar-powered unit, and strung a strand of 17-gauge wire about four inches above the top of the fence – all the way around. A few days were required to complete the job, and only when it was finished would I be able test it on the dogs. To be sure I had already tested the thing on myself. Once or twice I had accidently touched the wire while touching the fence, and trust me on this one – it isn’t pleasant.

So, I finished stringing the electric wire, and waited. I wouldn’t have to wait long. Shortly thereafter, I was inside when I heard a very loud yelp followed closely behind by another very loud yelp. I went outside to see what had happened. I looked all over the yard, and sure enough Sam and Oscar were gone! Now for the agonizing wait, and if they returned safely this time, hopefully Sam and Oscar would have learned their lesson, and that would be the last time they would jump the fence.

I wouldn’t have long to wait. Within moments after hearing the two yelps my other dogs were at to the gate where Sam and Oscar would have to reenter, and they were making a loud racket. I went over to where they were, and could see that Sam and Oscar had already returned. They were there, but there was something different about them. Each dog was hanging his head in the most abject manner, and when I opened the gate each dog very slowly and carefully made his way into the yard, tail tucked between legs. Each dog crept into the house to find a quiet place of solitude in which to hide and recuperate.

Believe me, it was a day or two before either dog would venture outside again. At first only Oscar would look out, and at that all he could manage was to stare in the direction of the fence then quickly duck back in and crawl back to his place of hiding. This went on for a few days, but eventually each dog would circumspectly return to the yard, but only to sniff the grass and check out the scenery. Time would pass, and both Sam and Oscar would return to their running and chasing and playing about. Everything for those two would return to normal: chasing Fred and being chased by Fred. Every day I would let them out with the others and Oscar would run about, tongue lolling – a big grin on his face. Everything would again be all right with the world, and everything would return to normal for the dogs. Everything, that is, except that since the day I heard the two yelps, neither Sam nor Oscar has gone near the fence.

[Willow Oak]

I have only had Taz for about a month, and he is still such a baby. I took this video (http://s264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Dog%20Movies/?action=view&current=TazUnderCouch.flv) of him, which I thought you might enjoy.

[Randi]

Taz, you naughty boy! What was that you got hold of to tear apart? I suggest your dad give you a treat - then I bet you'll come out and show your pretty face! :)

Dan, you sound just like a guy I know from Indiana - forgive me if that's bad! LOL!

[slick]

Oh my gosh.....what a brilliant accent you have WO!!!! To me it screams out "Southern States". I love listening to other people's accents.:)...and don't let anyone ever tell you that I have a Canuck accent. ;)

I have decided that I simply cannot and will not open your thread on weekday mornings. I get all wrapped up in the content and find myself reading stories over again and getting that Leaky Eye Syndrome once more. In addition it really does make me late for work. Because your thread is like a magnet...drawing me closer and closer, I just don't even bother turning on my PC in the morning or if I do, I will not open Pet Talk....and that, Dear Dan, is a compliment.

Now Taz, get out from under the couch and take it like a man....the treats that is! :p Thanks for sharing that video and the other stories. My kleenex is always handy.

Slick :love:

[Willow Oak]

Oh my gosh.....what a brilliant accent you have WO!!!! To me it screams out "Southern States". I love listening to other people's accents.:)...and don't let anyone ever tell you that I have a Canuck accent. ;)

I have decided that I simply cannot and will not open your thread on weekday mornings. I get all wrapped up in the content and find myself reading stories over again and getting that Leaky Eye Syndrome once more. In addition it really does make me late for work. Because your thread is like a magnet...drawing me closer and closer, I just don't even bother turning on my PC in the morning or if I do, I will not open Pet Talk....and that, Dear Dan, is a compliment.

Now Taz, get out from under the couch and take it like a man....the treats that is! :p Thanks for sharing that video and the other stories. My kleenex is always handy.

Slick :love:

I think I am out of stories. I believe I have posted all of the interesting ones anyway. I could make some up, but that would by unethical. I could write fiction, I guess, but this thread is reserved for non-fiction only.

I have a Sony digital camera, and I've known all along that I have a movie feature -- I only just thought about shooting some video. That story and video about Smokey the Coyote, lent to me by Emeraldgreen, gave me the idea about shooting some video of my own animals. So I may make a few short clips and post them here.

As for a Canadian accent, I doubt if Icould understand what you (slick) are saying anyway. :D

[Willow Oak]

Taz, you naughty boy! What was that you got hold of to tear apart? I suggest your dad give you a treat - then I bet you'll come out and show your pretty face! :)

Dan, you sound just like a guy I know from Indiana - forgive me if that's bad! LOL!

That guy from Indiana that I remind you of might be me. I lived in Indiana for eight years! :D

[Willow Oak]

Randi has been working up a new siggy for me, starting with the kitties. She sent me the one currently showing. I do believe I count 14 kitties! But I thought I only had 13! Oh! I see Tumper is in there twice. Well, he deserves top billing!

I am currently listening to Candace Carnie's Madd River CD. Very soothing, very pleasant it is.

[gini]

Out of stories? I think not! You could write about the weather in your part of the world and I think all of us would agree that it was the most interesting weather report we had ever had the good opportunity and fortune to read:D:D

[Willow Oak]

Out of stories? I think not! You could write about the weather in your part of the world and I think all of us would agree that it was the most interesting weather report we had ever had the good opportunity and fortune to read:D:D

Growing up in Baton Rouge, I did survive hurricanes Hilda (1964) and Betsy (1965). The eye of hurricane Hilda passed through Baton Rouge. It was a category 4 hurricane when it made landfall. Betsy, also a category 4 hurricane, passed through Baton Rouge.

Ironically, there were back-to-back Hilda and Betsy hurricanes in the mid 50's. Hilda, in 1955, crossed the Yucatan peninsula, making landfall in Central Mexico. Hurricane Betsy of 1956 did not make landfall in North America.

In addition to the two I've mentioned I was In Baton Rouge when Andrew made landfall in 1992. I spent more than a week completely alone in my neighborhood. For more than a week I had no electricity, no running water, no human contact, and no garbage can (it was blown away in the wind).

[Willow Oak]

Beginning more than a year ago I undertook the gargantuan task of commuting one and a half hours each way to and from work. When I lived in Chicago that was no big deal, but here in rural Northeast Mississippi, that would be considered excessive. Nonetheless, one must do what one must to earn a living.

One of the liabilities of such a drive is that I must witness many wandering animals along the route. I see a lot of deer and possums and armadillos and coyotes and, of course, dogs and cats. I found Roy (missing) and Cathy driving either to or from work. I have captured other animals, which I subsequently delivered to our local humane shelter.

One such waif I acquired, however, at the very place where I work. I work in an 8-story building on the edge of Memphis and Germantown, Tennessee. As I was entering the building one morning I saw a lady with a crowd surrounding her. I could tell something was up, so out of curiosity I decided to check out the situation. She was holding a kitten. The little tyke had simply wandered up to her as she was entering the building, and did anyone know to whom the kitty belonged?

Of course, everyone was sympathetic, but all had to get to their respective offices to begin work. The lady was visibly exasperated, her eyes begging for someone to relieve her of her burden. So here I was again. I knew what was going to happen, but I was not excessibely thrilled. I volunteered to help out, and took the poor waif into my hands. He was a cute thing, very tiny, lost or abandoned, but he was definitely alone in this world.

Delaying my own ascent to my office, which is on the fifth floor, I asked to borrow the phone at the front desk. I called local shelters, animal control, and even a local vet or two. Nope. No one was in a position to help in any way, so I asked for and received a box from building security and secured the kitty. The local maintenance man allowed me to store my prisoner in a sealed room, and off I went to work.

This is how I came into possession of Pete ..., or should I say that this is how Pete came into possession of me. I had not intended to keep him -- I had too many kitties anyway -- but as I should have learned by then, my intentions to deliver don't always work out. So after Pete had come to stay with me for a few days, his stay became a permanent situation. No problem. He is a very low maintenance kitty.

Pete not long after coming to live with me:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ThumperPete/Pete.jpg

Pete hit it off with Thumper:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ThumperPete/BumpAndPete.jpg

Pete is such a showoff:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ThumperPete/PeteFenceTop.jpg

Pete and Thumper share a secret:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ThumperPete/CatsWhisper.jpg

Ah ..., Pete:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ThumperPete/BirdFeederLazyPete.jpg

This is Pete:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/ThumperPete/PeteUnderDoor1.jpg

[chocolatepuppy]

That picture of Pete in the feeder is adorable! I knew you hadn't ran out of stories.;)

[Willow Oak]

That picture of Pete in the feeder is adorable! I knew you hadn't ran out of stories.;)

I can't figure out why no birds ever come to the bird feeder ...:confused:

I posted this video (http://s264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Dog%20Movies/?action=view&current=MisbehavingTaz.flv) in another thread, but if you need another bag of fleas, I've got one for you.

[jennielynn1970]

LOL! I don't think Taz takes you seriously. :p

I was just remembering that I once drove from Pennsylvania to Mississippi. It had to be about 12 years ago. I met a guy who was visiting a friend of mine up here, and he was getting out of the Navy and moving back home. Home being Jackson, Mississippi. I decided to take a long weekend and drive there. That was fun, lol. 19hrs straight I drove! I stopped a few times to get something to eat/snack on, but that was it.

I don't remember too much about the visit. I was so exhausted! I left PA on a Friday at noon time, and got back home on a Sunday night/Monday morning.

I do remember being welcomed by his family, and the brother saying "Welcome to God's country, honey!" Jackson seemed to be so expansive, and just broad and flat. That's what I remember most, lol. I was used to Pennsylvania with all the mountains and valleys and things like that. I never pictured Mississippi being broad and even.

[Willow Oak]

LOL! I don't think Taz takes you seriously. :p

I was just remembering that I once drove from Pennsylvania to Mississippi. It had to be about 12 years ago. I met a guy who was visiting a friend of mine up here, and he was getting out of the Navy and moving back home. Home being Jackson, Mississippi. I decided to take a long weekend and drive there. That was fun, lol. 19hrs straight I drove! I stopped a few times to get something to eat/snack on, but that was it.

I don't remember too much about the visit. I was so exhausted! I left PA on a Friday at noon time, and got back home on a Sunday night/Monday morning.

I do remember being welcomed by his family, and the brother saying "Welcome to God's country, honey!" Jackson seemed to be so expansive, and just broad and flat. That's what I remember most, lol. I was used to Pennsylvania with all the mountains and valleys and things like that. I never pictured Mississippi being broad and even.

Take a drive up (or down) HWY 61 after dark. Long and lonely. "The Land of the Delta Blues." I live in the northern part of the state, nearer the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains.

[Randi]

Pete has such a sweet face, and yes, he certainly hit it off with Thumber. :D

Love the picture of him in the bird feeder, and the one where he and Thumper are sharing secrets. LOL! Thumber looks like he's in heaven, there on the blanket. It's great they get along so well! :)

[Willow Oak]

So far among the cats you've met are Cougar, who had all his teeth extracted; Pete, who I found at work; Buddy, the "wild" cat that took me four years to catch and tame; Cleopatra, the beautiful Himalayan who no one seemed to want; her babies: Pinky, Lightly, and Darkly; Thumper, the "Killer Kat;" And Smokey, the lone survivor of Sheba's babies.

There are others. First there is Boots. Boots came to me from somewere. He wasn't there, then suddenly there he was. Boots has been with me for about seven years. Boots is a Tuxedo, and he is a very smart and loving kitty. Boots is a "wanderer." But he almost always shows up at bedtime. And he talks a lot. I can go outside and call "Boots!" And if he is nearby he will answer and come running. What a smart kitty Boots is!

Boots:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Cats/Boots.jpg

Tiger's story is a sad one. He was found alive from among a litter of kittens that had been dumped on one of our country roads. All had lost their little lives except for Tiger. Tiger is the quietest animal on the premises. I never hear a peep out of him. He is sweet and calm, and he loves to snuggle with the dogs. He sleeps in my bed -- especially if Oscar is there. He loves to sleep with Oscar.

Tiger:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Cats/DSC00015.jpg

BKI and BKII (Black Kat I and Black Kat II) were born to a stray that lived with my neighbor relative. They were born there and lived there for the first few months of their lives. One day I was outside with the other kitties and suddenly BKI and BKII were there where I was. And they have been with me since. Somehow they figured that life with me would be better than life with my neighbor relative. They are both so much alike that I cannot tell them apart. Both love to talk and both are very affectionate. They are sweet and very untroublesome.

BKI or BKII?
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Cats/BKII.jpg

BKI or BKII?
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Cats/BKI.jpg

(Actually both pictures above could be the same cat!)

I have so many cats, that I can positively say that I have a lot of cats! Please tell me: what is there in this world that beats having a whole bunch of cats? And the best part is, I can pick any one up and love on it and it will purr and love me back.

Eat your heart out! :D

[gini]

My very first pet was a dog. Oh, how I loved that dog and she loved me.
Tragically she was taken from me at far too young an age - one year.
I grieved for her for a long time.

My second pet was a cat - Sugar - the love of my life - he left me for the Rainbow Bridge at the age of 18.

I have had two kitties since Sugar and lost them both to serious illnesses which made me search for Pet Talk and answers.

Now I have three - and today a dear friend lost her kitty. It made me come home after helping her and bury my face into my love, Rascal, and tell him that I love him, and he will always have the best care I can afford to provide for him.

Through all of life's joys and tribulations I am grateful that I have always had a kitty on hand to share my life and allow me to shower them with love and care. There just isn't anything like a kitty, even one who likes to chew on my hair and scalp at 4 am!!!:D

His sisters Annie and Emma round out my tribe and make life wonderful and happy! God knew what He was doing when he created cats.

[Willow Oak]

I have lost a few friends through the years. The grief is always with me. When I contemplate the pain that accompanies the unexplained disappearance of a furry friend I turn my thoughts to those parents who have lost a child through some nefarious means. I cannot begin to imagine what it must be like for them.

Pookie was found wandering the roads by a neighbor when she was a pup. I was asked to look after her, and she remained with me until just before I had the fence constructed, then she suddenly vanished. She escaped the back yard fence and I've not seen her since. I have grieved for her lately especially. She was the smartest of all my dogs.

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Pookie.jpg

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Pookie1.jpg

There have been others. There was Roy. Row, a beagle, looked very much like Cathy. He is another one that I rescued, and when he arrived he was skin and bones and all-over mange. As beagles do, however, he dug his way out of the backyard fence, and I've not seen him since.

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/RoyDoor.jpg

I miss Charcoal, a beautiful Persian kitty -- black with a silver mane. He came to me from "out of the woods." He too, was very smart and affectionate. He has been missing for a couple of years.

Biscuit came up missing shortly after I bought Willow Oak. She was a long haired, brindle-colored pup, very smart, and very affectionate.

Socks, I have already talked about. I lost him through sheer stupidity.

I had to learn the hard way with beagles. When I rescued Sally she was nothing but skin and bones. She has been missing for a couple of years. With beagles you must keep them on a leash or in a kennel.

I miss them. They are gone. It hurts.

[sasvermont]

It must be a continual heart break for you, to invest so much time and love in a dog or cat and then have it up and leave you. I think some pets just have that "wandering gene" and cannot stay in any one place for a long time period. I know some breeds are known for "moving on" or "wandering" much more often than others.

I suppose you could consider them boarders rather than residents? It would be nice if they could leave a note or something. If they could leave notes, I bet the notes would give you some comfort. ...... Dear Dad, thanks so much for the grub and warm beds and of course, for all the love and attention. I must continue on my journey even though I know what a cushy life I would have if I decided to stay here. Wish me luck.........

I don't know how you do it. You are an animal's best friend, for sure.

[Willow Oak]

It must be a continual heart break for you ...

And it continues ..., well not the heartbreak. Not just yet.

I could call the local animal shelter and offer them $1000. They would gladly stop, drop, and roll. They would come to my house, load up all my animals, clean up the mess they leave behind, mow my grass, wash my dishes, and fill up the tank in my car, and I would be done with the whole mess. Then maybe I could go out and buy a steak; chase women; buy a boat; drive fast in a sports car; maybe even run for vice-president! ;) [Sorry! I couldn't resist!]

I could do that except for the fact that I can't do that.

So it is, and so it was that evening as I neared my house. I have a three hour round-trip to and from work each day, and was within three minutes of arriving home from work. All would be well. Feed and water the dogs and cats that I already have; give Bonnie her evening medicine; take my evening medicine; fix my dinner; sit down to watch TV or play on the computer -- just relax.

The last little community through which I pass on my way home is the obsolete town of Winnesoga. Winnesoga is within a couple of miles of my house. Basically, all that remains is a railroad crossing and a couple of weed-infested, overgrown and crumbled foundations of what had once been a country store and a post office. There are also a handful of mostly dilapidated old dwellings. People actually live in those structures. As I pass through the area I occasionally see small children playing in one of the yards; a cat or two cleaning itself on the front porch of one of the houses; or a dog or two milling about the wooded area.

On this particular day I saw something more than that. Just as I drew up to the railroad crossing I slowed down, as I a wont to do, and right in the middle of the road was a very tiny, almost too small to see bundle of chocolate brown fur. I immediately recognized it as a pup -- probably way too young to even be weaned. I stopped my car and got out. The little tyke ran to the side of the road and underneath some trash that was piled on the road's shoulder. Looking about I could see no one, but I did see the pup's mother, a black and tan, standing near one of the buildings and looking not very concerned.

I walked over to investigate the pup, and upon lifting a piece of plywood found two more pups. Well, I already knew within my soul what was coming. I pulled my car into the house nearest to where I had stopped and honked my horn. I inquired of the gentleman about the dog and the pups, and he assured me that the dog wasn't his. The dog was a stray and had been in the area for a few weeks. I should check with the lady next door.

When I honked my horn at the house next door, a lady and her two little girls exited. Yes, she had been throwing table scraps to the dog, yes it was a stray, and, oh by the way, there were three more pups under the house. The little girls retrieved the other pups. “Does anyone have a box I could borrow?”

With the help of the little girls and their mother and the gentleman next door, I managed to corral the puppies into a cardboard box, and ensconce the momma dog into my car, and then it was off to my house. The much anticipated evening of relaxation was not to be.

Four males and two females. Two black and tans; four solid blacks; one chocolate brown. And a momma dog. Plus the nine I already had ..., the next week was to be one of mostly sleep-deprivation, cleaning ..., well, you know what I was cleaning; mopping floors; extra mouths to feed; waking up through the night to sounds of crying and barking. In the meantime I called the animal shelter and they agreed to take the pups ..., would I keep them until they were weaned? I agreed, so another couple of weeks of sleep deprivation to look toward.

There is one thing though. Grace has been a real help so far. You can imagine that cleaning up after six pooping puppies is quite a chore. They tend to get in the way, so when it comes time to clean up I call Grace: “Here, Gracie! I need your help.” She already knows her name, so she comes running. She will lead the pups into another room and keep them occupied while I clean up the room they've messed up. When I am finished, she will then usher them back into the room I just cleaned. She really is a good helper!

To be continued ...

[Willow Oak]

In case you were interested ...

You've all seen the movie "Walking Tall," about sheriff Buford Pusser. Well, the story takes place in Selmer, Tennessee. The row of cat houses that Sheriff Pusser busted was located on the Tennessee-Mississippi state line, which is about a quarter of a mile from Willow Oak. The area of the cat houses is within three miles of where I live.

Mary Winkler lived (and murdered) her husband in Selmer, Tennessee, which is 12 miles distance form here.

[Willow Oak]

I received the following story from a friend. You'll need to have your Kleenex handy.



My parents’ attitude towards animals was that its usefulness was only fulfilled if it provided sustenance for the body or labor for the farm. Both of my parents grew up during the Great Depression, during which time neither of them had much in the way of pets. Poor farm folk simply could not afford idle mouths to feed, so there would be no such silliness in their household. My mother’s father was a very strict, ultra-religious man who countenanced no frills. She would inherit his traits. My Father had much the same upbringing and offered Mother no argument when it came to household pets: they would simply not be allowed in their house.

I am older than my sister by a few years, and she and I grew up in a home mostly devoid of household pets. So it remained until just after my sister’s high school graduation when my sister received a kitten for Christmas, courtesy of a friend. My sister was at the time a freshman in college, living in a dormitory, so returning to college with the kitty was out of the question. I was already married with children, and had my own set of responsibilities, so I could not take on the added burden of caring for an animal, so would Mom and Dad be willing to let the kitten live with them while sister went back to college?

Mom let her objections be known, and Dad agreed with Mom, of course. In the meantime, we had our Christmas that year, and most of our family was there, all enjoying each other’s presence and the many presents! Among the presents the kids received was a race-car set my husband and I gave our son. He and my husband set it up, and we adults all sat around and watched him race his cars about the track. And so did the kitty. She was such a gorgeous little kitty – a beautiful calico with large areas of white. It was funny to watch that energetic little bundle of fur bouncing around the track after the little car. I don’t know about my sister, but as I watched the little kitty running around, chasing the car I thought about what it might have been like for us if we had been allowed to have pets while we were growing up.

Nowadays I have cats. As a matter of fact, cat reclamation is sort of a hobby of mine. Unlike the experience I had growing up I saw to it that my children had pets. Today I have a daughter who “claims” she speaks “kitten,” and …, well, that story is separate and will stand on its own. But looking back on that Christmas morning more than 40 years ago, I can still see that little ball of white calico racing around the track, chasing the little cars, wondering what was to become of her.

It turns out that I wasn’t the only one amused by the antics of the little kitty. Evidently my dad had been observing and was much amused. My dad sat there giggling like a school child as the kitty ran and jumped and entertained us all. “I don’t see what harm it would do,” he said blithely. So too, it turned out, had my mother been observing the kitty, and it came as a great relief to my sister and big surprise to me when Mom spoke up and said that the kitty could stay while my sister was away in college, but …, the kitten had to go as soon as my sister graduated. “In the meantime,” said my mother who turned and looked sternly at my father: “She’s your responsibility until then.”

And so began the saga of Piewacket and her time with the family. Sis would go off to college, and my parents would become parents all over again – albeit foster parents. I didn’t know for sure, but I figured that neither of my parents had ever owned a pet, or if they had their experience was limited, so it would be a curious thing to see how this experiment would develop. As it turned out, it went pretty well. My sister did her stint in college, and my parents fulfilled their responsibility of “foster” parenting while she was away. Of course, sister would return home from time to time during that four year period, and she and Piewacket would make their visits together. Sis would always return to college, and Mom and Dad would continue to look after the kitty, feeding her and changing her litter box.

As in this world time moves and on, and so it did for Mom and Dad. Mom was diagnosed with ALS at a relatively young age. As the years passed the disease progressed, and Mom came to be confined to her home. In the meantime Sis had graduated from college, and per the agreement she had with my parents, promptly showed up at home to get the cat and move her into my her new apartment. There was a glitch in that arrangement, however, when Sis discovered that one of her roommates was allergic to cats. Her plans were to live there temporarily and move on so she could reclaim her kitty, so my parents agreed that the cat could stay on with them a while longer. Dad had assumed the domestic duties of the household, among which included the personal care of my mother, who had gradually lost her ability to care for herself, and most of the care for Piewacket. Another few years passed, and sister made an attempt to retrieve the kitty only to find another glitch: she had gotten married, but she had forgotten to ask if he liked cats. He was adamantly opposed to having one in the house, so Piewacket continued to stay on with Mom and Dad.

Time went on, and Sis decided that the marriage wasn’t working, so she separated from her husband and got her an apartment by herself, whereupon she presented herself at my parents’ house to retrieve Piewacket, who by then was past 10 years of age, having lived her whole life at my parents’ home.

“Perhaps you ought to leave her here,” said my dad. Sis had Piewacket in her arms and was exiting my parents’ house when my dad confronted her at the door. “Reaching out and taking Piewacket from my sister, he continued, “She’s been here for these years …, she’s too old and accustomed to this place …, why not get yourself another kitten …? You would like that.”

“Well, I promised I would come back and get her …”

“No. I think she should stay. Your mother and I have decided. You’re starting over – why not just get another kitty and start over with that one?” In the end my dad insisted that Piewacket stay with him and Mom, and that was the end of that. Piewacket, would not be leaving the only home she had ever known.

As I sit here I am reminded of those days of not so long ago. Mom had begun a regular routine of hospital visits for testing. Dad would go and stay there with her, and much to our relief and parents’, Piewacket was allowed to go too. I can recall going to the hospital to see Mom. Dad would be there, sitting beside her bed, holding her hand, and in his lap there would be Piewacket. With one hand Dad would be holding onto Mother, and with the other he would be stroking Piewacket. Mother would have a need, and Dad would slowly rise from his chair and gently place Piewacket on the seat. Dad would get Mother a glass of water or see to some other personal need. Then he would return to the chair, and once again gently pick up Piewacket and sit down. Then he would reach over and place his hand on mother, while resuming his other attentions to Piewacket.

At that time, Piewacket was up in years, and she had her own personal needs that needed tending. Once during one of my visits I observed as Dad carried Piewacket into the bathroom where he had placed her litter box, so that she could tend to her “business.” On another visit I saw my dad rise up and lean over so he could hear something mother was saying to him. He then held Piewacket close to Mom where she could see and assure herself that the cat was okay. Mother reached a feeble hand to touch Piewacket’s fur, and from where I stood in the room I observed the relief that crossed my mother’s face. Dad, too, held Piewacket close as he tenderly stroked the beautiful calico fur.

Yes, I recall those days. My parents are gone now, my mother having preceeded my dad in death by five years. Piewacket died several years before my mother. My parents never had another animal in the house after Piewacket. As I said before, my parents’ attitude towards animals was that its usefulness was only fulfilled if it provided sustenance for the body or labor for the farm. That described my parents’ attitude toward pets for the most part, and for the most part they never had a pet, and they would never have one. There simply was no room in their lives for such frivolity.

That is except for those few years when Piewacket came to live in their home. A period of time that was to last for 22 years!

[Emeraldgreen]

What a great story about Piewacket! A true example of how an animal can change a person's heart. I loved it. :)

[Willow Oak]

What a great story about Piewacket! A true example of how an animal can change a person's heart. I loved it. :)

Yes it is. Every once in a while, though, I have to re-read Smokey, the Wiley Coyote (http://www.danieltaylor.us/WO_EmeraldGreenSmokey.html) story, then follow that up by looking at the video clip (http://s225.photobucket.com/albums/dd102/emeraldcreek/?action=view&current=4c5935f6.pbr). What a beautiful puppy she was! If a person ever needs a pick-me-up, that one will do it.

[Emeraldgreen]

Yes it is. Every once in a while, though, I have to re-read Smokey, the Wiley Coyote (http://www.danieltaylor.us/WO_EmeraldGreenSmokey.html) story, then follow that up by looking at the video clip (http://s225.photobucket.com/albums/dd102/emeraldcreek/?action=view&current=4c5935f6.pbr). What a beautiful puppy she was! If a person ever needs a pick-me-up, that one will do it.

Thanks Dan :)

[Willow Oak]

I had not mentioned it in this thread (I think) yet, but there have been two new additions to Willow Oak within the past two weeks.

I found Grace and her pups in the middle of the road a couple of weeks ago. I kept the pups for a couple of weeks to make sure they were properly weaned, and just delivered them to the humane shelter on this Saturday past. I made the decision to allow Grace to stay at Willow Oak. Her being a large breed, black (and tan), she would be on the "unlikely to be adopted" list. Grace has become a wonderful addition. She is a beautiful pup, and the other members have accepted her as one of the family.

Mom with her pups:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/MomAndPups/MomAndPups4.jpg

Taz and Grace running the fence:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/MomAndPups/GraceAndTaz.jpg

I hated to have to deliver the pups to the shelter. But what else could I do?
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/MomAndPups/PupsEating.jpg

Here is a video of the pups running around (http://s264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/MomAndPups/?action=view&current=PupsFollowMom.flv) with Mom.

And a video of Grace's first introduction to the rest of the family (http://s264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/MomAndPups/?action=view&current=ThereSheIs.flv):

On this past Thursday I happened upon Willie, a black miniature daschund, who was "all alone in the wilderness," as it were. Each morning as I drive to work, I pass through the Tuscumbia Wildlife Refuge, which is about seven miles from Willow Oak, and there was Willie, 5:00 am, right in the middle of the road, waiting for me to come along.

Normally, Willie would have made it to the shelter by now. He would be scarfed up the same day he arrived to the shelter, but Willie had other plans. He liked it so much at Willow Oak, and the other residents enjoyed his company so much that all decided that he should stay. So what else could I do?

Willie poses for his first picture at Willow Oak:
http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/willie/WillieWideEyes.jpg

[Ginger's Mom]

Willie is adorable. I cannot believe he wasn't micro-chipped, and that no one responded to any of the flyers or inquiries that you made in attempting to find his home. That is so sad. How old is he?

[gini]

I am surprised too about Willie. He looks as though he is in good shape, so someone was taking care of him. Such a sweet face.

[Pam]

I have just started following some of your threads and have to say that I am hooked. :) I loved these videos and was smiling big at the one with the puppies. Poor Grace - no rest for the weary. :) Her little ones sure do love her. :) I am guessing that they are at the shelter now and hope that they don't have to wait too long for loving humans to come along and fill the void in their little lives since they had to leave their mommy. I am laughing at "what have you done?" LOL! Haven't we all "been there, done that!" :D

[Willow Oak]

Willie is adorable. I cannot believe he wasn't micro-chipped, and that no one responded to any of the flyers or inquiries that you made in attempting to find his home. That is so sad. How old is he?

And I hope I don't find them. If I do they won't get him back without a fight. People who are so irresponsible as to allow their pet to wander around a swamp, more than a mile from the nearest house at 5:00 am, do not deserve to have pets.

[Ginger's Mom]

Not sure how you are aware that it was owner neglect that caused him to get out. There are so many different things that could have happened. How old did your vet say they think he is?

[Willow Oak]

Willie is adorable. I cannot believe he wasn't micro-chipped, and that no one responded to any of the flyers or inquiries that you made in attempting to find his home. That is so sad. How old is he?

Not sure how you know that he wasn't microchipped. Not sure how you know that I passed out all those flyers and made all those inquiries into making an attempt to find his home. Not sure how you found out about the trip to see my vet. How do you do it? How do you manage to know all those things?


Not sure how you are aware that it was owner neglect that caused him to get out. There are so many different things that could have happened. How old did your vet say they think he is?

If whoever his owners are had lost a [human] child the way Willie became lost (however that was) would have a difficult time explaining themselves.

I do not know if you are well-intentioned or just a busy body. If you are well-intentioned then I shall tell you about the efforts I have made in finding his owners.

[Ginger's Mom]

Not sure how you know that he wasn't microchipped. Not sure how you know that I passed out all those flyers and made all those inquiries into making an attempt to find his home. Not sure how you found out about the trip to see my vet. How do you do it? How do you manage to know all those things?.

:confused: You are right I assumed you did them. I assume any responsible pet owner would try to reunite a well cared for dog (as Willie appears to be) with his owner. I also assume any responsible pet owner would take any new pet to the vet to make sure there are no physical needs that need to be cared for that aren't easily identifiable. I am sorry if I offended you by making those assumptions. You on the other hand were just plain rude with your busy-body/buzz off comments.
I am surprised that you haven't already shared your efforts with us already. Do not feel the need to do so on my account.

If whoever his owners are had lost a [human] child the way Willie became lost (however that was) would have a difficult time explaining themselves.
You seem to indicate you do not know he was lost. How do you know they need to explain themselves? Someone else may have been caring for their dog while they are away perhaps.

[Catty1]

Well, Dan, at least you are doing your name calling publicy and not via PMs.

Most folks here do post what they are doing to find owners, as a happy reunion is a good story.

People move to another town - dog runs away - they go nuts trying to find him...many reasons why Willie could have shown up in the middle of nowhere. There are many stories sprinkled through the media about missing animals who turned up in the most unusual of ways.

[Willow Oak]

Well, Dan, at least you are doing your name calling publicy and not via PMs.

Most folks here do post what they are doing to find owners, as a happy reunion is a good story.

People move to another town - dog runs away - they go nuts trying to find him...many reasons why Willie could have shown up in the middle of nowhere. There are many stories sprinkled through the media about missing animals who turned up in the most unusual of ways.

And you are doing what you do so well -- picking a fight in public.

Why all the fuss over Willie and not Grace? You find the time to reprimand me for my comments to another, but you cannot find time to praise me for rescuing Grace and her six puppies.

[sasvermont]

Hey Dan, Willie does not look like a thrown away pup to me. I was sorting hoping someone would have contacted you by now, saying that they had their dog run away...blah, blah......

I re-read the thread and didn't see any reason for the busy-body comment. Geezzze. Lighten up down there!

We all love our pets here...and love other's pet as well....and we worry aloud about other's pets....and I suspect that is all the folks here are doing.

We all have gotten to know you here, and hopefully, no one is trying to make you feeling uncomfortable. We do ask questions from time to time.

Send that Willie this way, I'll take 'em! Send his long johns as well, since the temperatures here in Vermont are dropping soon!

[Karen]

Yes, no name-calling on Pet Talk. We all want what is best for the animals concerned.

[caseysmom]

We had a pettalk member lose a pup and she is the most responsible dog owner I know, stuff happens. It tore her heart out of her while her pup was gone, hopefully willie doesn't have a suffering owner but I am sure glad you are helping him out in the interim.

[Karen]

Dan let me know in a PM that he has made some inquiries and calls, and so far no one has heard of anyone missing a pup.

It is sad, but especially being found where he was, Willie may have been dumped. Dachshunds are a lot of dog in a small body, and some people get them not knowing that. Why don't people do their research? I know, good people, Pet Talkers, do.

[Randi]

The picture of Grace and her pups is SO cute. Poor girl, if she had to give birth to them out in the open. What luck that you came by! She really seems to enjoy running around with the others. :) Let's hope that the pups in the shelter find loving homes.

As for Willie, he is simply adorable! :p I believe you have done the right thing, a pup out in nowhere at 5 in the morning - what else could you do, but take him home! It may be that someone has lost him, but you would expect them to have contacted a shelter by now - and I know you have asked around.

I doubt many would have stopped, or even noticed the pup on their way to work at 5 in the morning, and driven 10 miles back to put him in safety. So well done, Dan! :)

[Bengalz]

The picture of Grace and her pups is SO cute. Poor girl, if she had to give birth to them out in the open. What luck that you came by! She really seems to enjoy running around with the others. :) Let's hope that the pups in the shelter find loving homes.

As for Willie, he is simply adorable! :p I believe you have done the right thing, a pup out in nowhere at 5 in the morning - what else could you do, but take him home! It may be that someone has lost him, but you would expect them to have contacted a shelter by now - and I know you have asked around.

I doubt many would have stopped, or even noticed the pup on their way to work at 5 in the morning, and driven 10 miles back to put him in safety. So well done, Dan! :)

Dan, whether Willie was lost or strayed by choice:confused:, thank you for doing the right thing by him. He is a beautiful little guy and deserves a good home:)

I love the photo of Grace and Taz running along together and suspect she will see to it that he grows up to be a fine young man:D

[Willow Oak]

One kind Pet Talker member recently accused me of giving animal rights people a bad name. Well, it looks like I've continued my very bad ways. I am constantly preaching the virtues of animal adoption to people I meet and with whom I work. "Adopt from the shelter," I say. "Phooey on designer dogs and cats!"

On yesterday, one of the developers with whom I work informed me that he and his wife decided to follow my advice and adopt an animal from the Memphis animal shelter. They got a cat. It just so happens that while they were filling out the papers, the shelter manager found out that the cat had been scheduled for euthanization several weeks ago. The paperwork had evidently been misplaced and was only found when my coworker and his wife went to collect the cat.

Hm...

They named her Zanne:

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Zanne/zanne_1.jpg

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Zanne/zanne_2.jpg

http://i264.photobucket.com/albums/ii182/eulersequation/Zanne/zanne_4.jpg

[shais_mom]

congrats to your co-worker! :D
she's a beauty!
She should have been named LUCKY! :p

[gini]

What a beautiful young lady. She doesn't look too sure of herself yet in the pictures. It is almost like she is saying "is this a joke? or are they really going to give me a home?"

I hope she gets the loving she deserves. Good on them for adopting from a shelter and just in time!!