22 Times Too Cute!

Via my mom:

RIP Barney...

Barney, First Dog during George W. Bush's two terms, passed away yesterday at the age of 12.  The Bushs released this statement:

Laura and I are sad to announce that our Scottish Terrier, Barney, has passed away. The little fellow had been suffering from lymphoma and after twelve and a half years of life, his body could not fight off the illness.

Barney and I enjoyed the outdoors. He loved to accompany me when I fished for bass at the ranch. He was a fierce armadillo hunter. At Camp David, his favorite activity was chasing golf balls on the chipping green.

Barney guarded the South Lawn entrance of the White House as if he were a Secret Service agent. He wandered the halls of the West Wing looking for treats from his many friends. He starred in Barney Cam and gave the American people Christmas tours of the White House. Barney greeted Queens, Heads of State, and Prime Ministers. He was always polite and never jumped in their laps.

Barney was by my side during our eight years in the White House. He never discussed politics and was always a faithful friend. Laura and I will miss our pal.

I really, really miss having a class act in the White House...

Update 2/3/2013: Did you know that G.W. has taken up oil painting?  The Bushes released this painting yesterday (check out the signature)...

Boomer...

Boomer is a six-month old border collie, with the same parents as Race. He's not ours; he belongs to an Australian couple who has left them here with us until February. The intent was to have Debbie do some foundation agility training, but that's not working out quite as expected. A few weeks before he came to our house, Boomer had a freakish accident while playing, and broke his right rear leg badly. When we first got him, he was just a few days past a surgery to repair his leg. Just a few days ago, he had a second surgery, and he's now back here with us, recovering once again (these photos were taken two days after the surgery). And the poor little fellow has yet another surgery to face, roughly a month away. Yikes! But despite it all, he's a typical joyous, bouncing puppy...

Tippy...

We don't know Tippy's exact age, as he was a rescue (from our old neighborhood in Chula Vista) – but we figure he's roughly 16 or 17 years old.  He's still going strong, though he doesn't move quite as fast, nor jump quite as high as he used to.  And he's gotten a little grumpy and intolerant in his dotage.  Like most old cats, he spends most of his day just sleeping, preferably in a puddle of sunlight somewhere.  Here you see him evincing his displeasure at my thrusting a camera into his face (these photos today were all taken with a very wide-angle lens at very close range)...

Race...

Say “Hello!” to Race, the bug-eyed border collie who runs like the wind...

How do you like that nose?  If you touch it, it's all wet and squishy – but don't let that fool you.  Race uses that nose like a battering ram, and he's quite capable of bruising you by ramming it into your arm or leg...

Maka Lea...

Little Maka Lea is probably our sweetest little kitty, despite (or maybe because of) his neurological damage. Just walking across the carpet poses big challenges for him; he's quite likely to fall over in the attempt. He doesn't have any of the balance that normal cats have, so jumping off of high places means he just rolls and flops uncontrollably in the air, then lands on whatever happened to be down at that moment (frequently that's his head!). Despite his rather profound handicap, he's a happy guy, always ready for some attention, always quick to come over and say “hi!” – and the only cat we have who is completely unafraid of strangers...

Jahar...

This is our little Savannah cat, only he's not so little any more.  At just over a year old, he's about the same size and weight as the larger of other cats.  He hasn't lost any of his behaviors; I play with him daily with a toy “bird” that he loves to chase, making spectacular leaps as high as four feet or so...

Our Best Friends...

Via my mom:

An old cowboy was riding his trusty horse followed by his faithful dog along an unfamiliar road.

The man was enjoying the new scenery, when he suddenly remembered dying, and realized that the dog beside him had been dead for years, as had his horse.

Confused, he wondered what was happening, and where the trail was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall that looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch topped by a golden letter "H" that glowed in the sunlight.

Standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like gold.

He rode toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side. Parched and tired out by his journey, he called out, 'Excuse me, where are we?'

'This is Heaven, sir,' the man answered.

'Wow! Would you happen to have some water?' the man asked.

'Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up.'

As the gate began to open, the cowboy asked, 'Can I bring my partners, too?'

'I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets.'

The cowboy thought for a moment, then turned back to the road and continued riding, his dog trotting by his side.

After another long ride, at the top of another hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a ranch gate that looked as if it had never been closed. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

'Excuse me,' he called to the man. 'Do you have any water?'

'Sure, there's a pump right over there. Help yourself.'

'How about my friends here?' the traveler gestured to the dog and his horse.

'Of course! They look thirsty, too,' said the man.

The trio went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with buckets beside it. The traveler filled a cup and the buckets with wonderfully cool water and took a long drink, as did his horse and dog.

When they were full, he walked back to the man who was still standing by the tree. 'What do you call this place?' the traveler asked.

'This is Heaven,' he answered.

'That's confusing,' the traveler said. 'The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.'

'Oh, you mean the place with the glitzy, gold street and fake pearly gates? That's hell.'

'Doesn't it, make you angry when they use your name, like that?'

'Not at all. Actually, we're happy they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind.'

OMG: Chinese Dogs...

I don't know what to say to this – the animals aren't actually being hurt, but still...this just seems wrong on some profound level.  Debbie likes to put funny hats and reindeer antlers, etc., on our dogs – funny-looking, to be sure, but I have the same basic reaction to both that and these Chinese dogs.  Via my mom, who for some reason thought I should see this.  Of course, now that I have...it can't be unseen...

Coffee! Now!

Via colleague Aleck L., a poster that instantly made me think of Debbie.  For some reason.

They Ate What?

Via reader Doug S., these stories of things that pets ate.  The grand prize winner's photo is at right: a dog taken to the vet for lameness in a hind leg, but X-rays showed nine handballs where they shouldn't oughtta be...

Cats and Dogs...

Via my mom:

Excerpt from a dog's diary...

8:00 am - Dog food! My favourite thing! 9:30 am - A car ride! My favourite thing! 9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favourite thing! 10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favourite thing! 12:00 pm - Lunch! My favourite thing! 1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favourite thing!  3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favourite thing!  5:00 pm - Milk Bones! My favourite thing!  7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favourite thing!   8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favourite thing!  11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favourite thing!

Excerpt from a cat's diary...

Day 983 of my captivity... My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets.  Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter' I am. Bastards. There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of 'allergies.' I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage. Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow – but at the top of the stairs. I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now.

If I Didn't Have Any Pets...

Via Debbie:

If I didn't have dogs and cats, I could walk around the yard barefoot in safety.

My house could be carpeted instead of tiled and laminated.

All flat surfaces, clothing, furniture, and cars would be free of hair.

When the doorbell rings, it wouldn't sound like a kennel.

When the doorbell rings, I could get to the door without wading through fuzzy bodies who beat me there.

I could sit on the couch and my bed the way I wanted, without taking into consideration how much space several fur bodies would need to get comfortable.

I would have money, and no guilt to go on a real vacation.

I would not be on a first-name basis with 6 veterinarians, as I put their yet unborn grandkids through college.

The most used words in my vocabulary would not be: out, sit, down, come, no, stay, and leave it ALONE.

My house would not be cordoned off into zones with baby gates or barriers.

I would not talk 'baby talk.' 'Eat your din din.' 'Yummy yummy for the tummy'...
My house would not look like a day care center, toys everywhere.

My pockets would not contain things like poop bags, treats and an extra leash.

I would no longer have to spell the words B-A-L-L, W-A-L-K, T-R-E-A-T, O-U-T, G-O, R-I-D-E, C-O-O-K-I-E.

I would not have as many leaves INSIDE my house as outside.

I would not look strangely at people who think having ONE dog/cat ties them down too much.

I'd look forward to Spring and the rainy season instead of dreading 'mud' season.

I would not have to answer the question, 'Why do you have so many animals?', from people who will never have the joy in their lives of knowing they are loved unconditionally by someone as close to an ANGEL as they will ever get.

How EMPTY my life would be!

Our Morning...

Our morning began a tad earlier than usual today, thanks to our menagerie.  Race (our border collie) was curled up tightly on our bed, between Debbie and I.  His nose was resting on my arm.  Maka Lea (our cutest little cat) was tucked up in a fold of the blanket behind the crook of Debbie's knee.  Mo'i (one of our field spaniels) was in his usual place, under the blankets down by Debbie's feet.  Miki (our youngest field spaniel) was lying on my feet.

This was the setup when the fun began.

It started with Miki at about 1 am, who decided to crawl up the length of my body, snuffling right into my face, his tail wagging like mad.  You could almost hear him saying “Get up! Get up! It's time to play!”  Then Race decided he was jealous of the attention Miki was getting, and he started nipping playfully at Miki, and generally getting rowdy.  This was more than Maka Lea could take, so he started acting all grumpy – whacking away at any passing limb.

Debbie and I gave up any hope of sleeping until some reasonable hour (like 3 am).  We turned on the light and saw Maka Lea blinking furiously, and still grumpy.  We hissed at Race, which always gets him frantically playful, trying to kiss our faces to make us stop hissing (we have no idea why he does this!).  Miki left in disgust, then came back because he was jealous of the attention being paid to Race.

Mo'i just slept through it all, even when Miki and Race stepped on him.  That's our Mo'i...

We got up.

Sigh...

Dog Found! Update: Owner Found, Too!

Update:

Pam wrote to tell me that she found the owners of this poor, lost fellow.  Hooray!

Original:

One of our neighbors in Lawson Valley reports that she's found a Great Pyrenees dog that's in desperate need of being reunited with its owners.  Contact her at 619/659-9335 (Pam) or contact Steele Canyon Veterinarian after today.

The photo at right is another Great Pyrenees, not the one Pam found...

To All Dogs and Cats...

Via reader Simi L., who gets an awful lot of good stuff:

To be posted VERY LOW on the refrigerator door - snout height:

Dear Dogs and Cats,

The dishes with the paw prints are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note, placing a paw print in the middle of my plate of food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food and dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.

The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack. Beating me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn't help because I fall faster than you can run.

I cannot buy anything bigger than a king sized bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort. Dogs and cats can actually curl up in a ball when they sleep. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space is nothing but sarcasm.

For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to bark, claw, whine, meow, try to turn the knob or get your paw under the edge and try to pull the door open. I must exit through the same door I entered. Also, I have been using the bathroom for years --canine or feline attendance is not mandatory.

The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dog or cat's butt. I cannot stress this enough!

To pacify you, my dear pets, I have posted the following message on our front door:

To All Non-Pet Owners Who Visit & Like to Complain About Our Pets

1. They live here. You don't.
2. If you don't want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture. (That's why they call it furniture.)
3. I like my pets a lot better than I like most people.
4. To you, it's an animal. To me, he/she is an adopted son/daughter who is short, hairy, walks on all fours and doesn't speak clearly.

Remember: Dogs and cats are better than kids because they:

1. Eat less
2. Don't ask for money all the time
3. Are easier to train
4. Usually come when called
5. Never drive your car
6. Don't hang out with drug-using friends
7. Don't smoke or drink
8. Don't worry about having to buy the latest fashions
9. Don't wear your clothes
10. Don't need a gazillion dollars for college, and
11. If they get pregnant, you can sell their children.

Heh!

Merry Christmas, everybody!
(from Jamul, California – expecting rain tonight and on Christmas)

Mo'i Update...

This morning as I opened the door to his crate, Mo'i practically smothered me with his patented “hugs” (which consist mainly of him pressing into you like a bulldozer) and ear nibbles. He was feeling very frisky, and seemed completely normal in his behavior – an observation that was only reinforced by his morning walk. His gait is normal, his energy level and “pull” is normal, the incision looks better every hour that goes by, and our biggest problem is keeping the big old lunk quiet and calm. And this is only on day 3 of a 14 day prescription for quiet!

It is so good to see Mo'i looking so well...

Mo'i Update...

Mo'i is doing great! I just got back from taking him for a short walk, and it was a joy to see him behaving completely normally. As usual, he investigated every gopher and ground squirrel hole (even the ones that haven't been used for years!). If you're Mo'i, it's important to smell them all carefully – you just never know when a critter might come by...

When we got back in the house, I took the opportunity to take a few photos. At right you see him looking almost normal. Only the shaved spot on his right front leg (where the catheter was) shows any evidence of his recent surgery. In the photos below, the surgery is a bit more evident.

The surgical wound is looking great. There is no evidence of infection, and only minor swelling. We're keeping an eye out for anything looking abnormal here, at the direction of the vet. Mo'i doesn't go back in for a checkup for two weeks.

As always, click on any of the photos to get a larger view...

Mo'i Is Home!

Yesterday Mo'i had surgery to repair a slipped disc. This morning, an astonished-sounding vet called Debbie and said (with many more words) that Mo'i was recovering so well and so fast that he thought we should take him home this evening.

So of course we did! Debbie and I drove down together, paid our bill (don't ask!), and waited for the technician to bring Mo'i down to us. He rounded the corner in the hallway well ahead of the technician, who was leaning backwards to counter-balance Mo'i's bulldozer-like pulling. That was one happy dog! Lots of happy grunting and whimpering, hugs, and a 200 mile-per-hour wagging tail. We lifted him carefully into the truck and took off for home.

And now Mo'i is resting very comfortably in his familiar crate. He is one very happy dog tonight. Adding to his pleasure is the fact that he has no dietary restrictions, so he's getting (and will be getting) a few more than the usual dog treats – and there's nothing that Mo'i likes more than dog treats!

He's got a rectangular shaved area on his back, with a roughly 8 inch long incision running right down his backbone. There are no sutures visible; the technician told us they were entirely under the skin. Mo'i acts almost completely normal, and his strength seems to be unreduced – certainly not what I was expecting after such a major surgery. Twice since we've had him home, he's yelped in pain; it seems to be associated with rotating motions on his back (as when he's shaking himself). Otherwise, we can't even sense any discomfort in him. We're going to keep him completely quiet for 2 weeks, and then after that we gradually ramp up the level of exercise. The vet tells us that he should back to normal in about 6 weeks.

Amazing!

Tomorrow I'll post some pictures of Mo'i. Tonight we're just happy to have our dog back, and healthy...

Mo'i Update...

We just heard from the vet that Mo'i is out of surgery and doing just fine. Whew!

Best of all: the surgery confirmed that the problem was exactly what the vet thought it was – fragments of disc that were pinching a nerve the runs to his right rear leg. That means it was not a tumor or any other life-threatening issue.

The vet thought she saw a single fragment on the MRI yesterday, but it turns out that the actual situation was a bit messier. If I am correctly understanding her description, it appears that for whatever reason, this particular disc in Mo'i's back calcified, hardened, and then broke apart into multiple pieces. One of those pieces was pinching that nerve.

During the surgery she cleaned out all the little fragments, then put Mo'i back together. His back is currently being iced to reduce swelling, and he's on good pain medication. They don't want us to visit tonight, because they want him quiet and still. Dang. We'd sure like to see him right about now...

But the important stuff is that he's ok, and we're done with this problem. Even better, the vet says there's no reason to believe that his agility work contributed to this injury in any way, and he's perfectly ok to go back into competition.

We can hardly wait for Saturday morning, when we get to bring him home. And tomorrow afternoon, when we can visit with him.

A big thanks to all of you who sent kind words and thoughts – 'tis much appreciated by these worried “dog parents.”