Life for those with four legs in our house is pretty dang good!  Last night it was just me and the boys, hanging out on the couch watching “the Blacklist”.  It is really wonderful to have their company when everyone else in the household is out and about.   The boys really enjoy it too when it is just the three of us, they sprawl out beside me while I try and find a little patch of space for myself.  Last night as I tried to hone in on the hushed conversation between Raymond Reddington and Elizabeth Keen (two of the characters on the show), my boys reveled in their comfort, so much so, that Lucas and Romeo seemed to be having a competition to see who could more aptly convey their comfort.  Lucas snored so loud an airplane engine would be drowned out and Romeo’s purring hummed like a locomotive.  I had the volume up at 30, and I will admit I am a wee bit iPod deaf, but try as I may, I could not hear the dialogue.   After a half hour I had a brain wave, Closed Captioning…it was either that or kick the boys off the couch and if you know me, that wasn’t happening!  Every animal lover can probably relate, “heaven forbid you inconvenience your four legged friend, that just would not do!”  If it was my spouse  sitting beside me  making that much noise, I’d be nudging him in the ribs saying “You’re snoring!”  But the dog and the cat, there comfort is tantamount…I will sit for ages with pins and needles making my foot ache, all in an effort not to disturb the cat from his perch on my lap.  Yup, it’s good to be dog or cat at my house!

“The sky is falling, the sky is falling!”  Do you have a pet that lives with anxiety?   Lucas, my lovely old fellow, is not a lover of the elements.  This morning I woke up to a quaking dog, I didn’t even have to check the weather network or look out the window, I knew it was most likely raining.   Sure enough, as I opened the blinds I was faced with little tiny ice pellets collecting on the screen, not a day that my dog is going to embrace with gusto.  He has a Thunder Shirt, but alas, it was too late to put it on him once a weather system like this is well underway.  The ironic thing is, even though he is terrified about the  sky falling, he insists he needs to go for his walks, he stands by the door shaking like a leaf as I put on my boots.  I assure him it is okay if he wants to stay home, I can walk Diesel without him, but no, he stands in front of the door blocking me from leaving without him.  As we made our way through the park, the ice pellets gaining size and speed, his tail between his legs, the tip practically reaching his chin and his ears pinned to the side of his head,  he plodded onward.  Rather stoic I would say, he has a route and that is his mission.  He is kind of like the postal worker of yester year, “neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night, nor the winds of change…will stay us from the swift completion of our appointed rounds.”  I wonder how much my anxious boy is enjoying his morning constitutional, but I will give him props for not whimping out and crawling up on the couch and avoiding the day by staying warm and cozy.  Lucas taught me a lesson in fortitude today…there are times that it is really hard to get on with the regular business of the day,  to face the world when you are feeling overwhelmed and scared.   Perhaps it helps that he knows he has me there at the other end of the leash, whatever his reasoning is, when it comes to fight or flight, he fights! (you may think it is flight, but it isn’t, flight would be taking refuge in the tub, like he does when he is woken by the sound of rain in the middle of the night).  Fight is taking those steps out the door even when it seems overwhelming daunting to do so!

Cats are both nocturnal and diurnal?  What am I talking about, in the wild, relatives to our domesticated pets, are nocturnal, meaning they are awake and active  during the night. Domesticity has transformed our four legged friends  to coincide their sleeping patterns with their human housemates, developing a diurnal pattern of being more active during the daylight hours.  The average cat sleeps 16 to 20 hours a day, yup, that sounds about right for my guy.  He curled up on the dog’s bed yesterday and didn’t move for 7 hours, basking in the sunlight coming in the front window.  He was so cute and I kept remarking to him what a handsome creature he was sprawled out there, tummy exposed for the tickling.  At three a.m. I didn’t find him quite as endearing as he stood beside my face purring, and if you have ever met Romeo you know his purr is like a V12 engine, it’s loud.  To make a long story short, due to his health issues, my guy has to eat every couple of hours to combat his acidic stomach and vomiting issues.  I have learned to cope with this, before bed every night I get his dry and wet food ready, I have a neat little system I have devised and I set it up on the night stand so I just have to reach over and cater to his needs.  It works for us, but some nights he decides he needs more than just a late night snack, he needs to love me for my attentive care.  I appreciate being loved, really I do, I just wish the loving would allow me to continue to get some REM sleep.  And the difficult part of his late night cuddle sessions, once I am awake I start thinking of the to do list, he’s purring and I lay there listening to him.  Eventually he either feels he has bestowed enough TLC to me and wanders off down the hall to do whatever it is he does or he makes his way to the foot of the bed and falls asleep. And there I lay, wide awake, wondering who is the nocturnal creature now and who has adapted to whose behaviours.

Nose prints on the window.  When I am walking past the living room, I often notice Lucas’ slobber and nose prints on the glass and think “gotta get out the Windex”.  Once a week, I give them a good scrub so when I look out nothing obscures my view and so that people passing by won’t think I am a poor house keeper.  Today I was out walking with Diesel and I happened past one of my clients homes and noticed Cooper’s nose prints on the living room glass and I smiled from ear to ear.  Instead of seeing smudges or dirty glass, like I do at home, I saw Cooper kisses.  I spent the remainder of the walk thinking about perspective, I have been doing a lot of that lately.  I thought of a world without Lucas, I’d have clean glass, but I would much rather have smudges…lot’s and lot’s of smudges.  I am not saying I won’t clean the glass anymore…I will still clean them off once a week so that he can make new imprints,.  What I won’t do, is look at those nose prints as if they are something to feel embarrassed by.  Those nose prints let the world know that I am a pet person.  Those nose prints are special and will be sorely missed one day.

Who knew…  My cat had these bumps under his chin, I thought he had gotten into a scrape with a doggie visitor, they  looked a little angry so I had them checked out by our Vet.  On the upside, Romeo’s bumps weren’t from teeth, much to my surprise, my little boy has Feline Acne.  This gave me cause to ponder, why, was it his food?  After looking up some of the causes for feline acne I figured out the culprit, stress.  My little guy likes to give the guise that he is the most chill cat on the planet…he purrs twenty-four seven.  Frankly, he is the happiest cat I know, but I sometimes give his devil may care attitude too much credence.  He too, gets worried and stressed.  To which one might be scratching their head, “what goes on in a cat’s life that can cause stress?”   We humans don’t have the corner on anxiety and stress.  A change in diet, moving furniture, a new person visiting, the list goes on and on, with cats the slightest change in their home life can create havoc in their otherwise couch prone existence.  I had to take stock of what had been going on in our lives in the past month.  I believe I have figured out what the ‘cat’alyst was and I am hoping that with the use of some Clearasil wipes under his chin and focusing on getting my little man feeling like the world is his oyster, his pimples will be a thing of the past.

What a week, the furnace decided that after 29 years it was ready to call it quits, two days later I got rear ended on the way to an appointment, whiplash isn’t fun.  I was out walking with the dogs and thinking about whether I had made the right choice on what furnace to install and my head was pounding from the headache I haven’t been able to shake and suddenly I realized what a beautiful day it was!  My mind was cluttered with all kinds of worries and woes and there was Mattie, super excited to be out for her walk and sniffing every tree and pulling forward eager to explore.   Our furry friends have the right mentality, they live in the moment, enjoy the now and focus on enjoying their surroundings.  I took a nice deep breath, stopped to appreciate the sun light and thanked the good lord for all the blessings in my life.  I spent the rest of my walk, watching Mattie and the angst I had just drifted away!

What’s in a name?  I was walking with my daughter today and she was talking about a neighbour’s dog from Thunder Bay, he was a Sheltie and they called him Maverick.  The definition of the word Maverick is an unorthodox person or independent minded person.  She pondered whether they had the name for the dog before they met him or whether his personality dictated such a name.  I have been guilty of having a name in mind, before I have gone looking for a new family member.  One Christmas I had been talking about surprising my girls with a kitten.  Our Vet had a litter of kittens from the Humane Society that were staying at the practice  in hopes to adopt them out to families.  I had decided in my mind that I wanted a girl, and I would name her Holly or Ivy, to fit the season.  I walked over to the Vet’s practice to have a look at the new kittens, only to find out that all the females were adopted and the boys had interested families.  The girl at the front asked me if I would be willing to consider their Mom, she was about a year old, had just been spayed and she said she was a total sweetheart.  I was tossing the idea around in my head, I thought the children would have been more enthused to receive a tiny little kitten, but I decided how could it hurt to take a look.  As the  receptionist was about to leave she said, “We have named her, but you are welcome to change it if you like.”  I asked, “What did you call her?”  As the young woman walked back into the room, with the most gorgeous black and white Manx, she said “We called her Holly.”  I just about jumped up and down I was so excited, as far as I was concerned, this was a sign that she was meant to be our cat!  She put Holly into my arms and I said “Hello Momma, you are coming home with me!”

Some of my best friends have four legs.  I was thinking this morning about the animals I have known in my life and the impact that they have made on my heart.  It may sound crazy but some of the strongest childhood memories I have are related to the animals I befriended.  When I was about ten I was walking along our street when I encountered a big Basset Hound.  It was just wandering along, about to cross the street, no human in sight.  I was afraid she was going to get hit by a car as we lived near a busy hospital.  I sat down and began patting her, we became fast friends and the next thing I knew we were walking home together.  I am a consummate animal lover, a bleeding heart really, my Mother, not so much, she will say she likes animals, but she is a very practical woman.  We had a dog at the time and my Mother was not enthused that I came wandering through the door with a droopy eyed dog that drooled.  I knew in my heart of hearts that this gentle, loving dog was not going to become the newest member of our family, but when my Mother said to take her back to the place where I found her and let her go I got rather adamant that this was not something I was willing to adhere to.  I put a leash around her neck and we began walking the neighbourhoods, I walked block after block, hoping someone would recognize her, I knocked on doors, but had no success. When I returned home, my Mother told me to call the Humane Society, as the dog wasn’t staying at our house.  Sadly I picked up the phone and made the call and much to my delight, someone just reported they were missing their Basset hound.  Shortly after I got their contact information I gave them a call and they whisked over to get their beloved pet, her name was Juno and they were so happy that I had found her.  Juno had wandered about six blocks from home, not really that far, but a good enough distance that she was getting further from her house as she wandered.  Over the years I have found many dogs and cats and pride myself on reuniting them with their families. It is funny though, after all these years, how I think of Juno and how she helped me realize how much I loved helping animals.

Why is the vacuum an evil usurper sent to do Satan’s bidding?   This is what I ask myself every time I try and vacuum when Rupert comes to visit?   I have two different vacuum’s, a canister style that I use on the hardwood and a Dyson for my area carpets, doesn’t matter which one I go to use, the barking starts!  Rupert, is a Sheltie, the third one to be part of our family.  I will admit that none of the former Sheltie’s in our life were huge fans of the vacuum, I will also admit from time to time they would lunge at it or bark a bit.  Rupert has taken his dislike of the vacuum to a whole new level, he starts the minute the vacuum comes out of the closet, when I turn on the power he becomes a nut-bar and as soon as I start moving it he begins attacking the power head/brush and the barking gets more shrill the longer it is on.  I have far too many pets in my house to decide that when he is visiting I am going to let the floors slide, as it is, my socks resemble some kind of bizarre creature at the end of day.  So this evening, when I decided to clean up a mess from one of the toys that Rupert had shredded, he started his tirade.  Well, I have had enough of his herding and to be honest, so has Lucas, my old guy, who felt that somehow the vacuum he had pretty much avoided for the past four years was now some subversive monster that was endangering my life because Rupert was acting crazy.  Having my dog become a nightmare with the vacuum isn’t something I want to deal with on a continuous basis.  I decided to take a stand, every time Rupert would lunge, I would tell him to “Stop”, this went on and on for a good fifteen minutes, but by the end, Rupert calmed down and my ears got a much deserved rest. I am sure when I plug in the vacuum the next time he will sound the alarm all over again, but I figure with patience, he is going to get that the vacuum isn’t so scary after all.

You may think I am covered in fur, but I see it as being coated in love.  I have to be honest, I am not a fashion maven! I don’t do make-up and realistically my ‘getting ready to start the day look’, takes 30 minutes, and that’s  including my shower time, which becomes 20 in the summer, as I don’t blow dry my hair!  I am always apologizing to those I meet, as I am coated in fur, doesn’t matter if what I am wearing was just laundered, the minute I put on a clean clothes for the day I look like I rolled on the dog bed.  Basically, I am coated in fur, my house is coated in fur and think I am fairly conscientious as I vacuum the house 3-4 times a week.  I was thinking today, why do I make apologies for being coated in fur, as really I am just rocking the ode to my pets look.  If my sweater has fur poking out of it and my black pants have white hair stuck to them all that says about me is “I have a four legged friend who loves me” and that’s something to be proud of!