Willow Oak

[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?



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



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:

[Willow Oak]

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



They aren't mine. They live down the road from me, and their owenrs don't keep a good job of keeping them up. 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."

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:


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:


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:


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:


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

Socks:


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:


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:


Fred nonchalantly lounges in "his" chair:


Clyde forgets who he is and tries to intimidate Fred. Fred plays along:


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:


Fred loves to be bowled over. Even though he is on his back, he is in complete control of this situation:


Fred. A true friend:

[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]

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:"



[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.]