A friend of mine once said she didn't think I had a limit on the number of dogs I would have at one time. After dog-sitting her two dogs and my parents dog, having eight in the house at once, I explained to her that I indeed had a limit. My limit is six. Six may seem like a big number still, but that is the number I have had at one time in which I still felt they all got enough care and individual attention to thrive.
Last year, my dad's secretary died suddenly, leaving behind eight cats with no homes. I worked hard to find a place for these kitties I had never met before and learned something very important: Have a plan for your animals in case something unexpected happens to you. I do. Plus, I have decreased my number to five.
So, I just got done having eight dogs in the house again (dog-sitting three). This reaffirms my limit, even though I love them all.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Friday, November 25, 2011
Sheba & Blacky/Smokey
Memories of my first two dogs, dream-like and waiting for me to confirm they existed. Obviously, my really young memories are cloudy. For me to consider these two my first dogs, I just have to believe they were.
I have just a few memories of Sheba. We got her from a farm. She was a dark brown, fluffy dog. She was critically injured when my brother rocked in the recliner and didn't know she was under the chair. I remember blood in the back of the Pinto on the way to (I assume) the vet. She was gone.
Not sure of his name, but he was either Blacky or Smokey, a black Lab from the same farm. My only memory of him was before we moved back to Dayton. He must've gotten loose and lost. However, I seem to remember playing outside near some wooded area and seeing him. He seemed laid-back, rooting through whatever it was in those trees.
I don't remember us searching for him. I would think that we would be upset that our dog was lost. Were my parents so non-chalant about dog ownership back then? This is why I wonder if this truly is a memory. Then again, they allowed Coco to come and go.
Why I haven't just asked the question is beyond me. "Hey, did we have two dogs when I was little named Sheba & Blacky or Smokey?" Something holds me back from asking, though. Weird.
I have just a few memories of Sheba. We got her from a farm. She was a dark brown, fluffy dog. She was critically injured when my brother rocked in the recliner and didn't know she was under the chair. I remember blood in the back of the Pinto on the way to (I assume) the vet. She was gone.
Not sure of his name, but he was either Blacky or Smokey, a black Lab from the same farm. My only memory of him was before we moved back to Dayton. He must've gotten loose and lost. However, I seem to remember playing outside near some wooded area and seeing him. He seemed laid-back, rooting through whatever it was in those trees.
I don't remember us searching for him. I would think that we would be upset that our dog was lost. Were my parents so non-chalant about dog ownership back then? This is why I wonder if this truly is a memory. Then again, they allowed Coco to come and go.
Why I haven't just asked the question is beyond me. "Hey, did we have two dogs when I was little named Sheba & Blacky or Smokey?" Something holds me back from asking, though. Weird.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
More about my last post
One of the things that prompted me to post the last time was a story I heard on the local news about a "Pit Bull" having bit a child in the face, then being shot after it "charged" police.
I'm bummed everytime I hear one of these stories. It is horrific that a child is bit; that being said, the story did state the child reached for candy in front of the dog. That is not an excuse for the dog biting the child, but it IS a reason why you have to supervise children and dogs of ANY breed.
I was curious as to all of the details and found the following article on the local newspaper online:
http://nl.newsbank.com/nl-search/we/Archives?p_action=doc&p_docid=13AF26760B0E6DD8&p_docnum=1
All in all, mistakes were made, a child was injured, a dog is dead, and everybody thinks it's another example of the Pit Bull breed. Just remember the headline from this article if nothing else: "Owner said dog wasn't Pit Bull."
I'm bummed everytime I hear one of these stories. It is horrific that a child is bit; that being said, the story did state the child reached for candy in front of the dog. That is not an excuse for the dog biting the child, but it IS a reason why you have to supervise children and dogs of ANY breed.
I was curious as to all of the details and found the following article on the local newspaper online:
http://nl.newsbank.com/nl-search/we/Archives?p_action=doc&p_docid=13AF26760B0E6DD8&p_docnum=1
All in all, mistakes were made, a child was injured, a dog is dead, and everybody thinks it's another example of the Pit Bull breed. Just remember the headline from this article if nothing else: "Owner said dog wasn't Pit Bull."
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
About my blog profile pic
I have never owned a Pit Bull. However, it is not because I wouldn't. If the right one crossed my path and needed me, I'd be there for it. But, the reason I have the pic (photo credit unknown) I do is because breed specific legislation drives me crazy. Is bad breeding and other horrific events happening with the Pit Bull breed? Certainly. But, it happens in almost every breed. My educated opinion is that the main problem with Pit Bulls is the problem with any other breed: Ignorant owners who don't do the neccesary training and socialization a dog needs. In addition to this, no dog should ever be left unsupervised with a baby or small child. A crying child can sound like injured prey to a dog that has a strong prey-drive.
Any deaths or injuries caused by a dog attack are tragic. Usually, there are warning signs that a bite or attack is about to occur. But, you have to pay attention to the dog's body language and signals and RESPECT the warning it is giving you.
For more information, read the following:
http://www.americanhumane.org/animals/stop-animal-abuse/fact-sheets/dog-bites.html
http://www.andreaarden.com/dog-behavior-problems/stereotypes-and-generalizations-of-the-pit-bull/
http://positively.com/2011/04/06/why-bsl-doesnt-work/
Any deaths or injuries caused by a dog attack are tragic. Usually, there are warning signs that a bite or attack is about to occur. But, you have to pay attention to the dog's body language and signals and RESPECT the warning it is giving you.
For more information, read the following:
http://www.americanhumane.org/animals/stop-animal-abuse/fact-sheets/dog-bites.html
http://www.andreaarden.com/dog-behavior-problems/stereotypes-and-generalizations-of-the-pit-bull/
http://positively.com/2011/04/06/why-bsl-doesnt-work/
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Coco
Coco was my first real cat. From my memory, which again seems dream-like, she was a stray that walked into our trailer park home and I convinced my parents to let stay. She had kittens. I remember telling friends that Coco had 15 kittens in three litters. I thought that was unique. Now I know what it really meant was she got pregnant three times because she had been allowed to go in and out without being spayed. (Sacrilige is what I know that to be now!)
I remember us standing at the grocery store entrance/exit with her kittens to give them away. Man, did I detest when I saw that as a young adult! But, my only exemption is that I was six or seven years of age and didn't know better AND had no control of anything at that time.
Coco moved with us to the apartment, then again when we moved back to Dayton. We were going to bring one of her kittens with us to Dayton (Patches, a sand-colored kitty), but I believe he got hit by a car and killed before our move. Another example of why cats should not be allowed to run loose. When we got to our house in Dayton, Coco never was allowed to run loose again.
We did finally get Coco spayed. I seem to remember her having a bandage on her belly. When removing it, I remember being shocked (literally, with a spark). In my child's mind, I thought something like electrodes were put in her that made her spayed.
I called Coco a Calico cat. What I found out years later was that she was actually a Tortie.
I remember her being mild-mannered. Never remember her getting too upset or excited about anything. Like with most pets of little kids, my mom took care of all of her basic needs. I don't remember feeding her or cleaning her litter box. I don't remember her being bothered when we got our dog. In my mind, she was pretty laid back about everything.
We went on vacation for a week one year to Indian Lake. Our neighbors were going to check on her and we had boarded our dog. It was the week that Prince Charles married Lady Diana.
When we got home, I found out that Coco had died...under my bed. The explanation I remember was that her lungs were filled with pus. (I assume now that her vaccination status was erratic at best.) My neighbors had taken care of her "burial", which had been a country burial. Now what I understand that to be was that she was buried in a mass grave with other pets. That fact bothers me to this day, as does the fact that she had died under my bed, probably wondering where I was.
Coco was a great cat that had the typical mistakes done at that time (unspayed, allowed to get pregnant three times, poor vaccinations, etc.), but I loved her and remember her fondly. Thanks for giving me my love of cats, Coco!
I remember us standing at the grocery store entrance/exit with her kittens to give them away. Man, did I detest when I saw that as a young adult! But, my only exemption is that I was six or seven years of age and didn't know better AND had no control of anything at that time.
Coco moved with us to the apartment, then again when we moved back to Dayton. We were going to bring one of her kittens with us to Dayton (Patches, a sand-colored kitty), but I believe he got hit by a car and killed before our move. Another example of why cats should not be allowed to run loose. When we got to our house in Dayton, Coco never was allowed to run loose again.
We did finally get Coco spayed. I seem to remember her having a bandage on her belly. When removing it, I remember being shocked (literally, with a spark). In my child's mind, I thought something like electrodes were put in her that made her spayed.
I called Coco a Calico cat. What I found out years later was that she was actually a Tortie.
I remember her being mild-mannered. Never remember her getting too upset or excited about anything. Like with most pets of little kids, my mom took care of all of her basic needs. I don't remember feeding her or cleaning her litter box. I don't remember her being bothered when we got our dog. In my mind, she was pretty laid back about everything.
We went on vacation for a week one year to Indian Lake. Our neighbors were going to check on her and we had boarded our dog. It was the week that Prince Charles married Lady Diana.
When we got home, I found out that Coco had died...under my bed. The explanation I remember was that her lungs were filled with pus. (I assume now that her vaccination status was erratic at best.) My neighbors had taken care of her "burial", which had been a country burial. Now what I understand that to be was that she was buried in a mass grave with other pets. That fact bothers me to this day, as does the fact that she had died under my bed, probably wondering where I was.
Coco was a great cat that had the typical mistakes done at that time (unspayed, allowed to get pregnant three times, poor vaccinations, etc.), but I loved her and remember her fondly. Thanks for giving me my love of cats, Coco!
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| (Personal photo.) |
Coco & me
Saturday, October 22, 2011
First Memory
The cat was not mine, but he/she is the first animal I remember. Memories can be strange; sometimes they feel like dreams. This is what this cat seems to me. Orange and laying outside on the sidewalk of an apartment complex or perhaps motel. I can see the picture well, but why it has stuck with me, I'll never know for sure. This is whom I consider my first animal. I think of he/she as being Garfield.
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| (Photo credit unknown.) |
The Name
Why did I choose this particular name for my blog? Obviously it's a take on the Willie Nelson song. Funny, I know, since I can't stand country music; but it just popped into my head. And, if you change the lyrics up a bit, it fits.
~To all the pets I've loved before
Who travelled in and out my door
I'm glad they came along
I dedicate this song
To all the pets I've loved before
To all the pets I once caressed
And may I say I've held the best
For helping me to grow
I owe a lot I know
To all the pets I've loved before
The winds of change are always blowing
And every time they try to stay
The winds of change continue blowing
And they just carry them away
To all the pets who shared my life
Who now are in someone else's lives
I'm glad they came along
I dedicate this song
To all the pets I've loved before
To all the pets who cared for me
Who filled my nights with ecstasy
They live within my heart
I'll always be a part
Of all the pets I've loved before
The Beginning
Just because I like to write and I love animals, I decided to start my own blog capturing the story of my furry family, both past & present, and the role animals have had/do have in my life. They bring so much to my life that I can even go so far as to say they are my purpose in life. Think that statement is a bit over the top? Could be, but it's as close to the truth as possible.
My heart aches for any animal, particularly dogs & cats, that suffer from abuse or neglect. This blog is in some way for them. If emanating thoughts of love & comfort could help, they have that from me.
My heart aches for any animal, particularly dogs & cats, that suffer from abuse or neglect. This blog is in some way for them. If emanating thoughts of love & comfort could help, they have that from me.
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