When the unthinkable happens!   We love our pets and they are very much part of our every day life.   Truth be told, I spend more time with my cat and dog, then I do with any of the significant humans in my life.   For our fur babies, we are their world.  We bring them into our homes, we feed them,  take them for regular vet checks and go about the day to day business of caring for them, at some point they get old or their health declines and  they pass on.  That is usually the natural order of things.   People don’t like to think about their mortality, but most of us adults have wills about who gets Aunt Ida’s Waterford Crystal and the engagement ring that Grandma left to us, and who has Power of Attorney if we have a medical crisis.   We put plans in place to help our loved ones deal with our passing.   I think one thing we don’t always plan for though is where would our four legged friends go if something were to happen to us?  I have had two wills done in my life time, and both mention the family pets that were in our lives at that time and made provisos for their care and instructions on whom they were to go to.   I realized after a point that the pets have come and gone and the current ones I have are not mentioned in the will I have, that being said, I have thought about both my boys and I have made it quite clear to my children whom I would like to see them live out their days with.  It’s a big responsibility  to bestow on another person, but something we might over look in our pets care is making a plan if the unexpected were to happen.  I take care of people’s pets while they go on vacations, and I have to admit I have never really had the discussion with any of them, what would happen to “Fluffy” if a tragedy were to occur.  Planes do fall out of the sky, hurricanes take out resorts, and sometimes we go to sleep and never wake up, that’s life.  But what about that lovable creature who is part of your family, what happens to them?  It would devastate me to think that my dog or cat ended up in a shelter if I passed on, I realize I am gone…I realize that asking someone to assume the responsibility of their care is a big ask, but if we have children we put a plan in place for them, why is it any different for our pets?   All I ask is that you think about it, maybe have a discussion with someone you trust, even if it is just for that person to find a new suitable living arrangement for your furry friend.   No one wants to think about such morbid thoughts, but we should!  Take some time and maybe put a note with your will or a note in your sock drawer, something somewhere, that states who you would like to take care of your best friend if you are no longer able to do so.

It’s National Dog Day!

National Dog Day celebrates all breeds, pure and mixed and serves to help galvanize the public to recognize the number of dogs that need to be rescued each year, either from public shelters, rescues and pure breed rescues. National Dog Day honors family dogs and dogs that work selflessly to save lives, keep us safe and bring comfort. Dogs put their lives on the line every day – for their law enforcement partner, for their blind companion, for the disabled, for our freedom and safety by detecting bombs and drugs and pulling victims of tragedy from wreckage.

In honour of today I thought I would pay homage to my canine family!

Sargent, my first dog until I was five, a lovely mixed breed that used to let me dress him up in baby clothes and push him around in a stroller.  You taught me that we need to advocate for our animals, lest they pay a price for a little boys mistakes.

Noel, she was a Beagle, Dalmatian and Samoyed mix,  who was the first dog I remember having to say good bye to!   She introduced me to the awful C word, she was ravaged by Cancer and we had to let go of her when I was about 16.

Amber, a big boned, pure bred Sheltie she was the first dog I was responsible for taking care of and looking after her needs.  She followed me from my family home across Canada and was the first dog my children ever learned to love.  She too had  Cancer and we had to let go over her when I was in my thirties.

Maggie, a Pit bull , Husky mix that was with us for too short of a time.  We said good bye to her at 7 months.  She taught me not to be impulsive, to know better and do better!

Piper, a small boned Sheltie, who was very sweet and my shadow!   She was a fragile little thing.  She battled with Cushing’s  disease and died eights years after we brought her home and took a piece of us with her when she left.  She taught me to listen to my gut and that a veterinary degree doesn’t make a person infallible.

Nishka, a pure bred Siberian Husky who came to us at ten years of age, she taught us about moxie and tenacity and gave us six wonderful years getting to know her!  With her I learned that love doesn’t always look the same, but it is still love!

Lucas, a Shepherd Mix, a senior citizen with one blue and one brown eye.  He’s a gentle giant and the current Lord of the Manor.  He is still teaching me a great deal and I enjoy learning from him!

And last but not least, Rupert, my pure bred Sheltie Grand Puppy, who livens up all our lives and reminds us what it is like to be youthful and full of enthusiasm!

My canine friends have given me solace, companionship, unconditional love  and so much joy!   To all the dogs I have had the pleasure of knowing, who’ve traveled many miles with me and left paw prints on my heart, I am so grateful for the love you gave me and the memories we have shared !

 

 

 

 

I have to remind myself, “I am no Dr. Dolittle!”   I love fur babies, and when I meet an animal I try to connect with them.   I say hello to the rabbits and squirrels that I see while I am out walking, I talk to people’s dogs and cats…it is who I am.  There is this absolutely gorgeous Bernese Mountain dog named Cato that lives on our street, he is very well behaved and just a handsome love.  Every time I see this dignified and statuesque boy I want to pet him, he is super friendly and is that dog in the neighbourhood that wags his tail and greets everyone…but not me.  He sees me and he quietly slips past.  I am not sure if my wanting him to come say “Hi” to me is why he is rather indifferent or maybe he thinks I have enough canine compatriots and he doesn’t want to join my pack.  Whatever his reasoning, I have to check my ego at the door and remind myself when I encounter him out on a walk,  that although I feel very comfortable with  animals and I want to be everyone’s friend, I am not the Dog Whisperer.  Don’t get me wrong, if I had a magical super power it would be to communicate with animals, but even if I had it, that doesn’t mean Cato would want to be my bud!   I have to learn to accept that he has his reasons for not nuzzling into me like most of the dogs and cats I meet up with.  I will respect that he doesn’t desire me to be part of his pack.  This doesn’t mean that I won’t remain positive and hopeful that one day he and I will be fast friends and I that he will welcome me to join his inner circle. Perhaps I will start carrying around chunks of hot dogs in my pocket and dose my self in ode de Boeuf to expedite the process, that’s not passive aggressive is it?

“Love is a four legged word.”   Saw this quote on a sign outside of a vet’s office yesterday and thought it was just the most wonderful sentiment!   I have a neighbour whose son got a dog when he was living with his parents.  Might I say, the parents were not ‘dog’ people, they often would feed the neighbourhood cat who is a bit of a gigolo and spends a few weeks here and there, that was the kind of pet that was appealing to them.  When the dog first moved in it was a puppy, which I think compounded on their reticence to warm up to this cute furry little creature that peed on the carpets and chewed the baseboards.   When their son moved out there was a period where he was having a hard time finding a place that he could move into with his dog, so his parents inherited the Grandpuppy for about a year.  The son would come in the evening and on weekends and take his dog for bike rides and hikes, but during the week you would see his parents out walking the dog, or maybe I should more aptly say, the dog was dragging them around the neighbourhood.   For the longest time I think that dog drove them around the bend and back and they were eager to see him go.   Finally, the day came where the son found a place suitable for him and his pooch.  It has been interesting, the “pain in the backside” seems to be coming back for visits here and there to see the Grandparents! t They may be hard pressed to admit it, but they miss that hyper, yappy, shedding mutt that got them out and about and kept them company when they sat on the porch.   Today as I passed Grandpa on the street, he out-stretched his arms to indicate he was all alone.  I asked him where his little friend was, his face fell, he’s with my son now.  That oddly made me smile, the guy that used to curse and lament over the canine he shared his house with, was now lonely for his  walking companion!   I have to admit I didn’t really think it was possible, but he grew to love that zany pooch!  Love really is a four legged word if you are willing to come over to the bark side.

These posts have gone to the dogs!  I realize that as of late, I have been putting the spotlight on my canine friends and neglecting my feline ones!  As much as I love my pooches, I have many kindred spirits that meow and purr and tickle my chin with their whiskers!!  My furry Maine Coon friend is such a love and he trusts me implicitly.  He allows me to clip his nails, bathe him when he is having some issues in the back end with his anal glands and cut out his fur balls!  My spouse is always giving me a hard time  he asks me repetitively if I am brushing Mr. Fluffy!?   Yes, I do brush him, but no matter what I do, he gets these annoying mats in his fur.  I have tried many things to eradicate these pesky blobs that appear behind his ears or under his armpits, but I am never very successful.  The other evening I got out this scissors, which is often what I resort to when I am having no luck at breaking them down with a comb, Romeo laid patiently on the bed an allowed me to remove a few pesky knots.  He didn’t fuss, he didn’t protest, he just laid there and purred.  Much to my horror, the next night, whilst rubbing his tummy I realized he had a wound in his groin area, close to where I removed one of his fur babies.  I have been reeling and mortified ever since that I most likely cut him with the scissors and he is so loving and patient, he coped like a champ!   I am currently tending to the area and giving him many kisses and cuddles.  I can’t even begin to convey what a screw up I feel like.  Without a doubt,  my kitty amazes me on a daily basis and I love him to the moon and back, but it would bn!!!

Any one remember this little Canadian screen gem?  Good lord, I cried every time I watched that dang show.  It perplexed me that “Hobo” wouldn’t stay put and find a forever family.  The other day I was musing how some people’s pets when they come to stay with us are truly remarkable in that they just “Move On In!”  Their person leaves, and they go park themselves on the couch, like they have no worries in the world.  I am not sure if it is that they are secure in the notion that you will return one day or that they just don’t give a damn.  For some of our furry companions as long as someone is making sure the food and water dishes are full, that they are getting some stimulation and the occasional acknowledgement of their existence, they are happy.   I think in some respects it is a breed thing, in other’s I think it might be a case of nurture verses nature.  How an animal copes when their human leaves them with me is always interesting.  There are the dogs that come in and run around and seem  thrilled to be experiencing someplace new, and then three days in to their stay it hits them “Wait….where’s Bob? Is Bob coming back?  I liked Bob…he eats real burgers, not like this lady who eats those blasted veggie concoctions!”  There are those that lay by the door for the first day or two, they may pick at their food and sigh a lot, and then they realize just how enchanting I am and become my best friend.  Suffice to say, our pets are always happy to see their family when they return, but if they run into me the majority of them will nuzzle up to me and let me know that I am a good surrogate Mom.   “The Littlest Hobo” was billed as a German Shepherd , but I always thought the dog was a husky mix, whatever the case the dog was very noble and had a sense of wanderlust.   We were the third family for our girl Nishka, we would hear stories from the other people how she would disappear for a week or two and then one day magically reappear.  Personally, that would make me mental and I am glad that she never took off on us like that for an extended period.  As I pottered around the house today I was humming  “Maybe tomorrow, I’ll want to settle down, but until tomorrow, I’ll just keep moving on…”  I wonder if they will ever bring a show like that back to television…  Lassie, the Littlest Hobo…they will fur ever have a place in my heart.

(I have pasted the lyrics below…for those of you who start singing it and get stuck on a line…)

“There’s a voice that keeps on calling me
Down the road, that’s where I’ll always be.
Every stop I make, I make a new friend,
Can’t stay for long, just turn around and I’m gone again

Maybe tomorrow, I’ll want to settle down,
Until tomorrow, I’ll just keep moving on.

Down this road that never seems to end,
Where new adventure lies just around the bend.
So if you want to join me for a while,
Just grab your hat, we’ll travel light, that’s hobo style.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll want to settle down,
Until tomorrow, the whole world is my home.

So if you want to join me for a while,
Just grab your hat, we’ll travel light, that’s hobo style

Maybe tomorrow, I’ll want to settle down,
Until tomorrow, the whole world is my home.

There’s a world that’s waiting to unfold,
A brand new tale no-one has ever told.
We’ve journeyed far but you know it wont be long;
We’re almost there, we’ve paid our fare with a hobo song.

Maybe tomorrow, I’ll find what I call home,
Until tomorrow, you know I’m free to roam.

So if you want to join me for a while,
Just grab your hat, we’ll travel light, that’s hobo style.

Maybe tomorrow, I’ll want to settle down,
Until tomorrow, I’ll just keep moving on.

Until tomorrow, the whole world is my home.”

“Same S**t, different day!”  Or is it?  I sometimes wonder if my clients get annoyed by my text messages that frequently feature content about their furry friends movement of their bowels!  No, I don’t have a poop fetish…no I am not lacking for conversation and your dogs business is all I can come up with and no I don’t not have the intelligence of a five year old and think it’s funny to talk about crap!  Your dogs ‘do do” tells us alot about their overall health!  If my four legged companions are straining, making cow patties or scooting, those are things I should be sharing! As caregivers we need to aware of what is going on with that unpleasant stuff that sometimes gets mushed into the bottom of our shoe.  If I am commenting on the volume, the colour, the frequency or the smell, there is good reason, it means something is out of the ordinary with what I see on a day to day basis.  And let me tell you, I see a lot of crud.  I can tell if your dog is absorbing the nutrients of its food or if what they are eating is just passing right on through.  I know if your dog isn’t drinking enough water.   If they aren’t feeling 100% the signs are all their in their bowel movement.  Sometimes I feel like I need to apologize that  most of my messages to my clients are along the lines of “Mitsy pooped three times on our walk”  “JoJo didn’t go number two today?”  “Fifi left a few logs on the upstairs carpet.”   If I am sharing frequency, it might mean that it is  more or less than what is usual for your friend.  If I am saying your dog had an accident, then maybe I am suggesting I  need to change up the timing when I visit or I know it is really unusual for that to happen so something isn’t copacetic in their world.  Sounds crazy, but as much as we don’t like to talk about feces, it’s a really important nugget of information about your pet and their well being!  So please forgive me if I keep talking “Shit” to you.

There was a book I used to read the girls when they were little called “the Perfect Day.”  Today started off wonderfully!  The sun was already out in full force, but there was a wee bit of a breeze, which was such a welcome feeling after all the humidity we’ve been experiencing in Southern Ontario.  I somehow managed to get up, feed all my furry friends, have a shower, make my bed, put in a load of laundry, eat my cereal and get out the door by 7:45!  Friday is garbage day, so it was magnificent that I didn’t have to tote around bags of poop, I could drop them at my leisure in people’s bins as we did our usual route.  Lucas and Newton were walking rather functionally, no crazy criss-crossing.  Awesome, the streets were quiet, “it was a Perfect Day!”   This is the part where I wish I could add sound affects into my writing….imagine the sound of a record being scratched or perhaps a visual would be more apt of a mushroom cloud after an explosion.

What started out as “Perfect Day” was dashed by a little gurgle in my intestines.  That unexpected moment when you think, “Oh Dear Me!”  I did an abrupt about face, and turned tail to go home, both dogs were both quite confused and unimpressed by my sudden deviation.  What followed next was a literal shit show, pardon, the pun.  I was trying to find the fastest route home, the dogs kept thinking that perhaps I had forgotten we were heading to the park and kept cutting me off.  Dashing and darting in front of me, while I tried to hold my sphincter muscles.   All I could think of was, please just let me make it, I just needed to get to my place of residence!  Of course as I was nearing the home stretch, I run into a client whom I am normally quite chatty with.  White knuckled and wide eyed I whisked past waving, “Hello, I forgot I left something on at the house!”   (Code for, if I stop to talk , you and I are about to share a rather unpleasant and life altering moment that will mortify us both).  By the time I reached the front door of my domicle I felt a wave of relief wash over me,  I managed to get the door unlocked, the leashes off, leap over the cat who was lazing on the top stair, another test to see just how good my resolve really is!   If he only knew how close he came to being the target of a naplam attack he would have surely ran for cover.  Success, I made it to the loo with two dogs and the cat in tow, all standing at the entry way staring at me wondering what my deal was.  In retrospect, I guess it was a perfect day,  I made it !  I will say though, on one of my busiest days I have had, I am feeling a great deal of trepidation every time I am out walking today and  wondering if one of those ‘poop bags’ tied around the leashes might be my saving grace.

My hubby has always told me one of my best features is my legs.   As a dog walker, I will say that I do get a lot of exercise with all the walking, for example, today was a 22,009 step day!  I was thinking about my gams this morning as I put on a pair of shorts , my calves are pretty nicely sculpted for my age.   But with closer inspection I noticed with all those dogs jumping up on me and walking into my shins, I am one big bruise! No one is going to be calling me any time soon to do a “Leggs” commercial.  I decided to count them and was in awe, 35 from ankle to hip!  Now I can’t say for sure who is responsible for each one, but I will hazard to say that only a handful are because I am a clutz and the rest are from leash burns and the rather hard skulls of my canine friends or their paws.  I can say that my occupation keeps me in shape, but I won’t be asked to strut on any runway, lest it is a walking path.   Unless maybe someone needed a hand model for poop bags…but I digress.

It’s a dingle berry kind of day!  This may be a little out there, one of those times where I share too much, but when you are friends with four legged creatures, there comes the occasion where you need to deal with delicate situations.  I remember walking with my boy one warm summer evening in a lovely wooded area a few minutes drive from my home.  Lucas has a wee bit if a bad habit of eating the long grasses from my back garden, but what goes in, must come out!  He was having a particularly rough time going number two, he basically had a ‘situation’ going on in his nether region .  I grabbed a poop bag, covered my hand and pulled the offending blades from his backside, right as this woman happened to be rounding the corner, the gasp that came from her was one of pure shock and horror.  She was very disturbed, and my comment was rather simple, “What one does in the name of love.”   Today was an exemplary day for showing my admiration for my little friends!  As the old adage goes, things happen in threes!   First Newton was struggling, of course I wasn’t going to leave her hanging… or it.  Then it was Diesel, he had eaten one too many twigs and was uncomfortable, the rain was pouring down, I was trying to hold an umbrella which just wasn’t working so I had to lay it down and extract the offending object, getting completely soaked !  Then while out walking Sunny, who is rather shy on a good day,  she seemed to be having a little crisis and she didn’t know what to do to fix her problem , I can’t blame her for feeling rather unnerved by my bagged hand coming at her back end.  Mischief was managed and we were able to resume our stroll!    It was official, it was a Dingle Berry kind of day!