How To Say Goodbye - With Cats

My best friend is dying. We met in 1989, and became daily companions. But after 8 years I had moved away, and we had seen each other sporadically thereafter.  Now that the cancer is taking its toll, of course, I wish I had put more energy into calling her.  Whenever I did call, she would fire questions at me.  How did my gallery show go?  What is happening with the baby horse?  How is the writing coming? 

 

I am learning the sad fact that the current trend is to resent this type of inquisition.  It's been labeled, "Interviewing." This stems from the habit of questioning for information to use as an arsenal.

 

But we were never like that.  The quick exchange of information is a treasured thing.  My friend Rita is an excellent listener, with a razor-sharp mind and ravenous curiosity.  She is a great lover of animals, especially cats.  She had established a cat rescue in Ann Arbor, called Mosaic Feline Refuge, which she kept open for 22 years.  They finally closed this spring.  They couldn't keep up the time, energy, and the vast expense of caring for and surgically altering and then homing hoards of roaming house cats and kittens.  "I just felt like I never did enough," she told me.

 

"That's because you see the bigger picture," I said.  "But what are the numbers?  I mean, how many cats did you save?"

 

"I don't know.  I'm sure they're logged somewhere."  She sighed, a futile huff acknowledging the vastness of an unending problem.  I thought the numbers might make her feel better.  After all, one saved cat can prevent literally thousands of unwanted kittens.  And Rita had saved, certainly, thousands of cats.

 

I had called her a week before Christmas, because I needed a name for my own rescued kitty.  Rita was the first one that came to mind.  She is endlessly creative and names all her cats and dogs after food.  Over the years she's had some real classics -- Toast and Trifle, Lamb Chop and Wafer.  But her husband returned the call and told my voicemail that she was in hospice and hopefully coming home in a few days.  He didn't know if she would want company.

 

I called back, thinking I would be able to maintain composure, and then left a sobbing mess of a message on his answering machine.  I didn't know what to say.  I stammered that I wanted a name for my kitty.  "He likes his belly rubbed!"  I wailed.

 

I was able to finally talk to Rita yesterday.  She was home.  "Chuckles," she said immediately.  "You know, those candies that come in all the colors?  They stick -- and your guy has stuck."

 

The moment she said it, I knew, of course, that this was indeed his name.  I had found this silly ornament on Christmas Eve, a tiny handmade kitty that looked like my kitty, but it was wearing a clown hat.  I brought it home and put it on the window sill next to the wooden chicken.  Rita, with her uncanny insight, had called out the name "Chuckles", and that ornament says it.  Chuckles.  Chuckie.  Chuck Chuck.  A final gift from someone who has already given so much.

 

 

When she answered the phone, she sounded down, but the more we talked, the more she seemed like her old self.  We laughed and talked about cats and dogs, and Clifford and Trudy, and their new little brother.  She asked if I was riding him yet.  "No!" I said.  "I don't bounce like I used to!"

 

"I understand that," she said.

 

She asked about my new book, THE NORTH SIDE OF DOWN.  "Any way you can send it to me?"

 

She is a voracious reader.  She has devoured everything I've ever written.  She said, "Everyone's been sending me books!  You wouldn't believe the stacks of them around here.  I've been telling people it's the only thing I can still do."

 

I was so anxious for her to read this, because she knows Amanda, and she has her own history with family dysfunction.  Her opinion is so important.  I'm working on getting a copy to her ASAP.  I know at this time in life, every day is precious.  While we talked, I kept wondering if this would be our last conversation.

 

I wish she wasn't going.  But at least, this time, I had a chance to tell her she was dear to me; she was like a sister.  No, better than a sister.  She just laughed and said, "Yeah, you're family."

 

Through the whole conversation I worried that she might be getting tired.  But she rattled on and on, laughing and chatting.  I was driving to a friend's house and when I finally reached my destination and regrettably had to hang up, we both said, "Bye!" quickly, just like always.

 

There comes a point when there is nothing more to say, and yet so many things to say.  If I could have a friend like this for the rest of my life, we would never run out of things to talk about, or run out of questions.  I hope I can help her though whatever remains of her lifetime.  But the irony is, in reality, she is helping me.

 

 

 

 



Perry the Parvo Pup

Today I got to visit Perry, my former "parvo puppy". He is a rescue, a Lab/Australian shepherd mix, a Parvo survivor, who I raised for a year and then found a home for. Perry wanted to go to a home with kids, and he now lives with Jake and Jackie, thirteen year old twins, and Buster, his Boston Bull buddy. Perry goes on daily runs with his mom. He actually grew to be a much bigger dog than I'd anticipated.



Perry's system was pretty ravaged by the virus for awhile. I couldn't get him to make a solid stool until I put him on Life's Abundance, a holistic food that is delivered fresh right to the door.



Now he is the picture of health, and his coat is wonderful! It just glows. Perry has one eye with some blue in it. He "woo-woo's" when he sees me, the same as Rip does! It was pretty funny. It's nice to know he remembers his foster mom.

Stewie Update

Housebreaking was getting nowhere. I was getting worried the constant peeing, peeing in the crate etc. might be due to Stewie's congenital problem. I met Lori and we took him to her vet. He has a BAD bladder infection. Both Lori and the vet COULD NOT BELIEVE the difference in him after three weeks. He was doing sits, downs and his little dance twirl for treats. He was happy and attentive. Lori said it was amazing. He has gained ¾ of a lb (now up to about 5 ½ lbs), and is a little thin but I imagine it is because he’s burning it all off right now. Lori couldn’t get over how much his coordination/movement has improved. That’s all muscle tone. She also kept commenting on how quiet and happy he was in the crate.

I was relieved to know that he is indeed growing. It’s hard for me to tell. I did know his muscle tone was better but couldn’t tell about size. Also vastly relieved about the infection. He's on Clavamox and we'll see how he does with the crate-peeing when his health improves!

We came home and Rip wore him out with some playtime.

Totally Terrier

Here is a pic of Stewie with the longsuffering Rip. She really is great with him, although I don't leave her trapped with him for long periods and she's never alone with him. The little guy is getting stronger all the time and developing a neat personality. Today he ran into his crate to ask for breakfast. He still bites but is showing a little more inhibition now with the amount that he chomps down. I'm working on gentling him in increments.

Housebreaking has been a different matter. I let him off the hook since even though he's three and a half months old now, he has the size and bladder of an eight week old pup. However, his random peeing and pooping all over the house is getting old. Plus, since he had never been outside, he prefers to pee on a flat surface and that has included the inside of his crate. I'd had this happen before with a toy poodle and I never was able to break him of this nasty habit. I decided this time will be different. I have assigned Stewie a smaller crate -- one he barely fits in. He spent the night in it last night, and got through it just fine. So far so good.

Wholly Terrier

Now Stewie, given a breakfast of kibble in a bowl, thinks he would rather earn chicken or baby food. So he forsakes it to come and hang around my feet, sitting and waiting.

This is the calmest he has ever been, and it's early in the day! This is what I was hoping to see -- the cerebral cortex kicking in.

God Loves a Terrier

Stewie's been with me about ten days now, and I've been just letting him be a dog. He runs a lot and is calming down a little bit. He shows no separation anxiety indoors, but fortunately for me he is really making an effort to seek and stay close to me (or Rippy) outside.

He had his first clicker session today. He gets absolutely wild when he smells food, so I decided to do it with baby food. He is so small that he can't chew anything quickly, and he can't see things well enough to find them if they hit the floor. (I've decided that he's nearly blind.) Besides that, he still bites so hard I thought eating from a metal spoon might deter that a bit.

I cracked open the baby food, and he was running around like mad, searching for the source of the smell. He was literally spinning, trying to find it. I clicked and stuck the end of the spoon right in his face. He went nuts! He clamped down on the spoon, hard. I just let him do it. He had baby food smeared all over his face and whiskers. I decided a smaller spoonful would be better. When I took the spoon away, he ran and dashed around trying to find it again. He paused for just a second to sniff the floor, and I clicked and immediately delivered the spoon again.

After a few repetitions of this, he had a, "Wah-wah" moment! He became very excited upon hearing the click, and I knew he understood. I started waiting for longer periods of quiet. First they started with just sniffing. Then, I began clicking only when his head was up. Finally, he settled down enough to pay attention, although he really couldn't watch. He would stand and turn his head, searching for any shadows. He used his ears, though, tipping this way and that, listening for a sign of movement.

Within twelve minutes of the start of the session, he had learned to "sit" on cue. He began doing it by voice command. Sometimes he would sit with his back to me, still listening -- he was that disoriented. I waited for longer periods of quiet from him, letting him think and making him really pay attention. With his handicap, he is going to have to learn to really listen.

I will do more attention work with him next time, but I was glad to see he was able to focus on this simple task.

Thinking is hard work, and tonight he is a much more mellow pup! I was able to get this picture of him when he stretched out for a few contemplative moments.

Holy Terrier - Day 5

The pup is slowly getting more tolerant of handling. He still is not crazy about being restrained. I took him to the grooming shop today in hopes of dropping him off for awhile, but they had only one groomer working and one dog coming in. Another day. He is certainly a valient little soul and doesn't mind trying new things. Housebreaking is still a disaster. Having never experienced the outdoors before last week, he has it all backwards. He thinks the bathroom is INSIDE. And with these temperatures, who can blame him?



Since we had a beautiful sunny day here in SE Michigan, he got to spend a little time outside playing with Ms. Rip. She's still not thrilled, but she puts up with him.



Being on the farm is hard work!

Holy Terrier - Day 3

As the puppy gets more comfortable, he gets more fiesty. He hates to be restrained! I realized today that he's going to need work. He resents having his moutn opened and teeth handled, and screams when I touch his nails. He would be one of those dogs that is hellish to groom or take to the vet. So, we will be starting a new routine. I hold him on his back on my lap, and force him to just put up with all kinds of stuff.

His vision, I am learning, is a challenge. He will wander off toward a tree, thinking it's me. His ears perk up when I call him, and he tries to find me. He is cheery about the whole business. Today he started wandering away in the fresh snow, and I sent Rip after him. She bounded around him in a circle and came back. He tried to follow, but when she moved out of his field of view, he began to wander again. I noticed today he was beginning to use his nose, sniffing the air in an attempt to track us. I like this and will continue to encourage this seek and find behavior. I want him to stay close.

All the activity tired him out and this evening he snuggled up to Rip. To my surprise, she endured it... For a while!

Holy Terrier -- Day 2

I decide that the puppy needs muscle tone and should learn to navigate stairs. I put him a couple of steps down from the top and stand below him. Rippy waits at the top, to tempt him to climb. He promptly does a nose dive and tries to roll down the steps. I catch him and put him back. He sits there. He is stumped. Finally he turns around and tries to climb, but his hindquarters do not have the strength to boost him up even one step. I carry him up to the top, so he can climb up one step, and then I hold one of his back feet up a little bit. He pushes off and manages to scramble up, but it takes all his strength to do so.

Holy Cairn

Normally aloof and bossy with puppies, Rip borders on openly contemptuous. He is just way too active and ill-mannered for her taste. Rippy reminds me a lot of my old German shepherd Reva in some ways -- gentle, ladylike and innately maternal.

Puppy has a strange sort of head tic when I pick him up and hold him facing me. His head bobs, flipping down toward his shoulder, first in one direction, then the other. His eyes are black and they stare blankly without expression. When I talk to him, his ears perk up, but his eyes register nothing. His nose will twitch and he will sniff in my direction as his head wavers unsteadily, but it is almost as if he can't really focus on me, or doesn't get it. I decide to do this exercise with him often, just hold him up and talk to him, seeing if anyone is in there.

It might sound kind of funny, but this brings back memories of my little sis Amanda when she was a baby. Amanda has Down's syndrome, and when she was really small she couldn't hold her head up. Her neck muscles were so weak that her head would kind of flop and roll after just a few moments' effort. My dad took her every day, and stood her on his lap, holding her hands, and would rock her in the rocking chair and sing to her. This forced her neck to work and before too much time, she could hold her head up.

Holy Terrier

"Do you want a puppy?" My friend Lori grinned at me wickedly. I was at the Morgan Horse gala last weekend and Lori, who breeds Cairn terriers, was there. She explained that one pup from her last litter was born with a hole in the top of his head. He was deaf and blind for several weeks.

"I think he may be A.D.D. or retarded or something," she added. "I need him to go to just the right place. When I saw you, I knew there was a reason I came tonight!"

I needed to deliver some art work to Lori's house, so I got to see the pup yesterday. At twelve weeks old, he is just under five lbs – the size of a Chihuahua. His littermates are a hefty eight lbs.



When Lori first took him out of his pen to show me, she turned him loose in the living room and he went zipping around crashing into walls, acting like he’d been wound too tight. I thought he had a neurological disorder or perhaps trouble seeing. But I could tell right away he wasn’t deaf. Lori stood in the living room talking to me while the puppy zoomed in circles around her feet at top speed. Unlike his brothers, his haircoat was short and coarse, more like an adult dog that had been shaved.

When I put my hand out, he chomped down on my finger, hard. I screeched and he let go immediately. That was the correct response, and I started thinking maybe he wasn’t so abnormal, after all. But he was WAY hyper; wouldn’t make eye contact, and wriggled frantically when he was picked up and held.

Of course, I was pretty intrigued and wanted to figure out this mystery. How much of his problem was behavioral, and how much was brain damage?

Lori's dogs are well cared for. She's an ethical breeder and she could have given this pup away several times over, but she wanted to be satisfied that he would get the attention he needed.

For me, it wasn't much of a hard sell. When I put him in the crate, he started circling again, bumping into the walls. He finally settled down and actually traveled quietly all the way to the vet for his second shot.

The vet Dr. Robinson asked Lori, "Are you sure he's not mixed with a rat terrier or something?"

We can see why she asked. Next to his littermates, he didn't even look like the same breed. I told her that I thought maybe his vision was messed up, as it seemed he could track, but not focus. She said the only way to tell would be to take him to a canine opthamologist and have his cornea checked.

Anyway, he came home with me. I am not sure yet if he is borrowed, or what. On the way, we stopped at my friend Claire's and then went to the grooming shop so everyone could make a fuss over him. He walked down to the barn with me when we got home. It's a long walk down the sloping back yard and he kept losing his way and trotting off aimlessly. I would walk back and get to within what I thought was his field of view, and he'd follow again. His attention span seemed really short and I had to circle back five or six times. When we got into the barn, he rejoiced. The aisle was apparently right up his alley. He flattened out and ran -- first one direction, then the other.

I have been calling him Stewie, for Stewart Little. Not too original, I know.

He slept soundlessly in the crate all night. Today he rode in the car, on the seat next to me. I could see that this time, he was beginning to watch me and listen to my voice. Then this afternoon, he went out to help me feed the horses again. He was starting to bond to me a little now, and he has suddenly figured out that his job is to follow me.



When this happens with a puppy, it's a beautiful thing. Most young puppies have a strong following instinct and it's a great time to take advantage of that. It can be instilled so easily this way. I walk a normal pace, which requires this guy to run as fast as he can. He still lists a little, first one direction, then the other. I am thinking there is probably nothing better for his balance and muscle tone, than to run a straight line over a long distance. So that's what he does. I don't call him, or talk to him much at all, but I do keep moving and he begins to learn what a task it is keeping up with me. He follows as I walk back and forth mucking stalls, feeding hay and filling water buckets.

The horses, of course, are off limits as he is just too tiny, but I do hold him up so the perpetually curious Clifford can check him out. Clifford gives him a good once-over, snuffling and snorting into his fur. The pup squirms and licks.

I find out later that this puppy has never been outside before. So the smells, the grass, the snow and ice are all new to him.

Regardless of the distractions, he is doing a great job keeping up with me and seems more focused than yesterday. So we go up to the porch and then I do something of which Lori would not approve. I put him on the cement step, and let him find his way around. He promptly runs to the edge, and, plunk! Falls off. It is not far enough to hurt him, but it is a hard enough fall to smart. He grunts on impact, gets up and starts to run off. I grab him and put him back on the porch. He runs to the edge -- and stops! He leans over the edge, looking down.

This tells me two things:

1) He has depth perception, and

2) He is capable of learning something the first time around.

Back in the car again, trundling off on another trip, he sits and stares at me through the door of his crate. He's not making eye contact just yet, but he is watching.

Grendel Update

I just got this pic of Grendel, now Achilles, from his new mom, Robin. He has been keeping her on her toes. He's still a major brat, but she has worked hard to get a handle on him. He's taking classes now and as you can see, living like a king! She said he is up to 72 lbs now. He and his new brother, Bogey, just play and play. Achilles wears Bogey out, but Bogey has a new lease on life now.

More German Shepherd Rescues... Or Not...

The rescue effort to save brother and sister German shepherds, Ace and Lucy, reached its height today. They were scheduled to be euthanized tomorrow. In my snooping around, I discovered that there was a home waiting in Northern Ohio, with a six year old boy and a Labrador Retriever.

Ace and Lucy had lived outdoors their entire lives. They needed training but were listed as nice dogs. The owner surrendering them listed their age as two, but the shelter decided they were more like six year old dogs. Since they were being held at Livingston County Animal Control, only 20 minutes from my house, I volunteered to go over and evaluate them.

The dogs were beautiful. Lucy came out sniffing, very doggy, very stressed out. She barely took time to say hello to me; she was too busy with her investigations. Shelter worker Darma told me that she had been in heat when she came in. Lucy and Ace were littermates, out of a brother/sister breeding, and they had created numerous litters themselves during their lives.

I asked to see Ace, whose picture reminded me so much of my Cajun. Darma said that she would "try" to bring him out.

Ace wouldn't walk on a leash and had become hysterical when she tried to walk him. She showed me the scratches on her arms that he had given her. I had immediate flashbacks to Grendel (now Achilles) and how impossible he was when I first tried to walk him.

Darma disappeared through the back door with Lucy, but then later came out and beckoned to me. She couldn't get Ace to walk out with her. I followed her back into the shelter area, and I saw why.

An imposing, gorgeous, 100 lb black and red male stood looking at me. He was big, he was strong, and all GSD. His presence was so very much like Cajun's that I was taken aback for a moment.

She opened the door and I went into the pen with him and stood petting him. He smiled up on me, his head broader than my hand between the ears. He was panting hard, stressed, and I got the sense that he hated the shrill barking all around him.

He was a big, lovely boy. The longer I stood there next to him, the sadder I became. It would take a lot of work, and a very knowledgable person, to fix a dog like this. Neither one of them were altered. The former owner had to wrestle them to get them into his car.

I came out and called the potential new owner, and told her what I had found. I thought the two should be separated. Lucy needed to bond with a person and not another dog. I felt that each would need a lot of time, energy and work. And how in the heck I was going to manage transporting Ace anywhere, I had no idea.

Sadly, at times euthanasia is the best option. There were no homes and no real resources for the dogs at this time. I personally could not afford to take them, time- or money-wise.

After I hung up, I went to thank Darma and I started asking questions about the history of these dogs. "Why were they turned in?"

She said the owner had lied to them repeatedly. She couldn't be sure of the real story, as he'd told her he was moving away and couldn't keep them. But, his address was recognized because he had had a number of complaints on these dogs.

That, to me, spelled out the rest of the story. These German shepherds, so sadly neglected and in the hands of ignorance, had a history of something not right.

And so I thought of the doomed dog Ace, so much like my Cajun, and I burst into tears, right in front of the sympathetic shelter worker. "I understand," she said.

Euthanasia is not always the worst option for dogs like this. They could have ended up in the wrong hands, so easily. This is how I console myself tonight.

Thank you to everyone who tried to help these dogs.

Grendel One-Ups Me

See that knowing look? (Is he WINKING?!) It's because Grendel is full well aware that he has finally REALLY impressed me.

When I pulled up the hill today, I was surprised to see a coyote duck into my garage as the door opened. Of course, it was no coyote. It was a German shepherd dog who had gotten loose. I was really surprised that Grendel was still in the yard. He hadn't gone to harass Ken's chickens or run back to Eddie's (as far as I know). He had stuck around. In fact, he let me pull right up to him without attacking the car. I rolled the window down and spoke to him, and he got very excited and dashed back and forth alongside as I pulled in, but he DID NOT TRY TO BITE THE TIRES. (I am thinking this might be due to some of my desensitizing work with the wheelbarrow?) He jumped up on the car door to see me through the window.

I opened the door and immediately gave him huge praise for leaving the car alone. He seemed very happy and very proud of himself. Rip was in the back seat and when she hopped out, he greeted her enthusiastically. (She remains unimpressed.) He was clearly relieved to see both of us.

He came inside and immediately stretched out on his side after eating a big meal.

I am astonished by this pup's rapid recovery. In about eight weeks' time, he has flourished with just a little TLC.

Surprisingly to me, but probably not to anyone else, now I'm starting to think up reasons to keep him. I have a very nice lady who is anxious to meet him and wants to take him on a trial basis. I really hate the thought of bouncing him around again. But at the same time, I can barely afford the house and I'm really living on the edge right now -- and probably will be for the next two years. I can't deprive him of a wonderful home when I don't have time or money.

I live by a strict code, and that is, if I can bear the thought of letting them go, I do it. It's the only reason I haven't been overrun by animals.

Boy, rescue can be a really bittersweet thing. I quit doing it some time ago because my heart couldn't take it anymore -- much less my pocketbook. I didn't want Grendel... He was sort of thrust upon me.

But I guess one never really does stop doing rescue, does one?!

A Milestone for Grendel

Tonight Grendel was romping around in the house with a rubber jingle ball. He let me reach into his mouth and take it away from him. He made no protest and showed no resentment at all, and I didn't even have anything to trade.

Here is a picture taken just before our walk this evening. He is roaming free around the yard with no longe line.

The heat and humidity has been my ally, I think, but he has calmed down immeasurably since his arrival here.

Grendel Progress

Here is a pic of him playing today.

I make sure to always walk away from him, fast, and we moved over a big area all around the place. I even hid on him a couple of times and he always came directly to find me. Once I went out the back door of the garage and left him inside. Instead of taking off or going out the big front garage door, he went to the door to get into the house and was waiting there when I came in.

It is pretty hot out today and he wears out easily. He is still dragging the longe line but I think he is learning that I am someone to keep up with, instead of the other way around.

When we came inside, he did come trotting up to me when I said his new name. He knows it now. He is definitely more into play and pets than food.

We were just heading out on our leash walk (after the ball game and a short rest in the house) when we met neighbor Ken up by the mailbox. Ken was in his van. He shouted "Rocky!" I let Gren go up to him, and he put his hand out but pulled back saying, "I'm afraid he'll bite me." (He was always afraid of Cajun too.)

"He won't bite you," I said. "But he might jump up on your car."

We talked about him a little bit and Ken said Eddie was really happy that I have him. I said he just needed someone to play with him. Then he said, "Look at how he is just standing there! He would never do that before!"

He pointed and sure enough, Grendel was just standing quietly next to me waiting to continue the walk. I remembered how he used to go bananas on the leash with Eddie every time a vehicle came by.

As Ken started backing out, though, Grendel started a little bit of the lunging and squealing. "Here's the old stuff," I said to Ken. But I just turned and walked away from it and he came along.

When we got back from the walk, we got to the base of my hill and I took him off the leash. He ran free all the way back to the house.

New Puppy!

Thanks everyone for the good wishes. And the name suggestions! "It's a dog eat dog world, Sammy, and I'm wearing Milk Bone underwear!"

Today I walked him about four miles. It was a workout. He has a long stride and I can't walk fast enough to make him trot. (This is gonna be so good for me!)

Eddie (former owner) kept telling me the dog settles down once he gets moving. Of course, that's not good enough for me. I had a heckuvva time just getting the leash on him. He was jumping, thrashing around, biting me. I was going to do the dolphin trainer's trick of "taking my bucket of fish and going home" because he was behaving so badly, but I didn't have the heart to do it to him. He needed to get out. I wanted him to sit, but he hasn't learned yet to focus and he doesn't care what I think. I ended up pushing him into a sit.

Then it was more rodeo on the leash. But after a few about-turns he settled down. The trainer told Eddie to keep him on a tight leash. Whee, good advice. NOT. I continued random about turns throughout the walk. He finally swung along next to me nicely on a loose leash. He appreciated praise and petting, but doesn't really make eye contact yet, isn't into me.

Also... Eddie warned me... He wants to chase cars. He is fascinated by the wheels. We had a few encounters which I put to good use. As the car whizzed past, I'd do a fast about turn and the dog would hit the end of the leash -- SPRONG -- Huh? Where'd she go?! After the third car he quit trying. Still kind of dodges and ducks when they go by though. I gave him lots of praise for not attempting to chase. He was way too jazzed up at this point to take food rewards.

We got home and he did some sits and downs for treats. He either learned it from the trainer (doubtful) or remembered it from that session with me back when he was four months old. His attention span was short, so when he jumped up and started sniffing around I left.

He has some issues but he has potential.

Later I went out and did some clicking with him. (Incidentally, this made Clifford very jealous! He stood hollering down by the gate! HA HA!) The pup caught on right away. He did sits and enthusiastic downs, and was catching bits of kibble in mid-air. His attention span is very short for his age, but I know this is because he has never been asked to concentrate on anything. He really liked the clicker game.

I got down with him and rubbed his belly and he bit me in play. I screeched and he licked me -- a doggy apology, but then he got so excited that he jumped to his feet and started leaping all over me. I got up and left. If he's not going to play nice, we don't play at all.

I can only imagine how good and exciting it must feel, to him, to have someone finally "hearing" him and "talking" to him.

He will be penned up for a few days until he learns to make eye contact and bonds with me a little more. Because he pulls so hard, I'm not about to tie a leash around my waist like I would a littler pup.

I am so happy I got him at this phase in his life -- it would have been so easy for him to go down the road of no return. I think he will come around before long.

And yes, he is a pain in the neck! But as much as he needs me, I need him too. I never said how I was languishing here. I had the urge, always, to go back to bed and hide my head. I pulled some weeds about a week ago, got poison ivy on my arms and it has spread to the most horrendous, angry red rash all over my body. I know this is stress! I was just miserable without my German shepherd. Now this guy has given me a reason to get up, get out of the house... Having someone need you this much, well it just makes a huge difference.

Here Rip says hello (a sort of snippy hello!) through the fence.

Aggressive Dog Rant -- and a New GSD

I know it's been awhile since I've posted. I've been in a slump since Caje died. I underestimated how much having a big, active dog around had kept me motivated.

I was at a barbecue yesterday and went inside the house to use the bathroom. The family's eight year old Rottweiler allowed me to pass by on my way in. I spoke to him pleasantly. When I came out of the bathroom, he decided to corner me in the hallway.

I was alone in the house with this eighty lb dog that was barking and growling in my face. I just stood there not moving, and talked to him, but he continued to advance and bark.

I have lived with and worked with big dogs all my life. I am not generally timid with dogs and it takes a lot to shake me up. I know when a dog is bluffing, and this one wasn't. I stood perfectly still and just basically waited to be rescued, hoping in the meantime Max the Rottie wouldn't decide to have me for lunch.

Finally the owners came in from outside and grabbed him by the collar.

"I don't get it," I said. "He let me come in with no problem."

"Yeah, it's when people try to leave that's the issue," the owner said. He chuckled fondly. "He has bitten a couple of times. But usually he's just kidding around."

There was no apology, no explanation and no chastising of Max. Apparently this is just a risk that house guests are forced to take. Needless to say, that's the last they will see of me.

Last year, here in Michigan, two people were killed by a pack of roaming American Bulldogs. It happened not far from where I live.

And then there's Cujo, the neighbor's German shepherd still on a rampage. I went horseback riding down the road the other day with Becky, my neighbor, and Cujo came bouncing out at us like usual. This time, there was no Cajun to warn him off with a perfunctory glare. So Cujo came all the way out into the road while his owners called in vain from the front porch.

Becky told me a horror story of how she was jogging one day and Cujo ran out after her. He grabbed her foot, pulled her down and mauled through her tennis shoe.

Ironically, it was Gracie, Becky's own American Bulldog who came to her rescue that day. It took Cujo's two owners to pull her off him. As Becky stood there with her torn up shoe and bleeding foot, she was chastised for running with a vicious bulldog!

I've filed one complaint about Cujo already to animal control and yet he continues to harrass passersby.

The owners of dogs like this never fail to boggle my mind. There is a machismo about this that is so sad and misguided. It is a huge disservice to what could have been a wonderful pet. I could see by Max's expression that he is an intelligent dog. And I know that Cujo is. Through no fault of their own, they have ended up in the hands of idiots. I wonder how far this behavior has to go before the dogs end up impounded or euthanized. And then, people like this just go out and acquire another dog to raise in the same dysfunctional way.

Breeding bans won't help -- the forbidden becomes only more attractive to people with this mentality.

So, in the interest of preventing another one of THESE, I adopted a German shepherd pup today. Actually he's a little over a year old, but still a pup in his mind. Unlike all my other GSDs, this one is a sable. He belonged to my 90 year old neighbor who couldn't handle him. The dog has never been properly leash trained, and pulled the owner's arm out of its socket. My neighbor, Eddie, can no longer raise his arm above shoulder level.

I don't have a name for him, yet. Still thinking.... Any ideas? He had his first lesson in leash walking today though. He's a smart guy and I know he's going to come around really fast. He likes to play and has a good nature about him.

So, here's to one German Shepherd who won't be terrorizing any neighbors.

Today's Project - Greyhound

Actually this was done a couple of weeks ago. My friend Ellen took it to a GEM event for rescue greyhounds. This is pastel and conte on black charcoal paper, about 9 x 12".

A New Season

My book, "Return to Manitou" tells the story of how my best friend of 23 years, Kimmy, was given six months to live. She survived only a few weeks past this prognosis in 2003.

During those precious last weeks, she and I discussed what should be done with her pit bull, Pooh Bear. Pooh was living with her in California at the time, and I was willing to take her although the adjustment would have been difficult. Pooh had been a couch potato during all ten years of her life, and though she had met me a few times, wouldn't have known me from Adam. She wasn't well socialized. Her world consisted of Kim, her couch, and daytime T.V.

When Kimmy died in April, her mother flew to the West Coast and immediately made the decision to adopt Pooh. She brought her back to Northern Michigan. Janice was living alone with no other pets. The adjustment was still tough on Pooh, as she had to contend with a plane trip and leaving the only home she had ever known -- plus the stress of losing Kimmy had taken its toll.

She bounced back remarkably well, and lived out the next four years with few problems. Janice really came to love her, and she and the dog bonded strongly.

Time as always took its toll last year, and Pooh was laid to rest. Her passing was terribly hard on both of us, as this was, we felt, one of our last connections to Kim. I went up to see Janice after Pooh died. We talked about another dog, but Janice was firm -- there would never be another dog, as there could never be another Pooh. End of story.

Then today, I received a letter, with news that I have a new doggy "niece"! She's a mixed breed, part Boxer, from the shelter. She's six months old. Janice says she has learned a couple of tricks already, is well house trained and loves to jump and play in the snow. She enclosed this picture.

The new pup is "Winnie".

I just look at the picture and I can see how Janice couldn't say no to that face! I am sure she will be a great comfort to Janice, as she already is to me.

Janice, a woman in her seventies, is a great inspiration to me. She embraces life as it marches on.