Another Furball?

So here's the story. Larry and I arrive home from vacation, and Steph greets us with, "Have a good vacation? Want a kitten? She's really cute!" Apparently a stray cat had arrived at her friend's place, promptly had kittens, who were looking for a home. Going fast! The calico is already gone, but there is a REALLY cute one that needs a home.

What parent hasn't heard that one. But after all, Petey needs a playmate... doesn't he? We're sure he does. Well, that's the best we could do. It was a weak moment for sure. Call us crazy.

So now we've adopted Maximus a.k.a. Maxi a.k.a. Max. See the M marking on her forehead? She's all of almost 3 pounds of energy (especially playing with her new sproingy toy), and loves to cuddle and purr. She's big on purring. And she's our newest and smallest addition to our household full of furballs.

How has she been accepted into our family so far? Well, after some spitting and hissing from Max, Petey decided to watch her from a careful distance, from inside the open kennel, just to make sure there were no surprise attacks. Rocky walked right up to her boldly for the proper nose-to-nose greeting that he knows is the right way to greet any new being in the house. Maxi wasn't impressed, and startled by the boldness, proceeded to hiss, but very soon got over that.

As for the dogs, that will be a work in progress. We took Maxi out to just introduce the dogs from a bit of a distance. Penny wouldn't look at her - as if to say, "If I don't acknowledge that being's presence, it doesn't and will not exist". Keeta hid behind Larry, and stayed out of view. Well, at least there was no growling or lunging, so I suppose a success of sorts. She'll be living in Steph's bedroom for now - a kitten playground of fun and games.

Now we know certain people in our lives might call us crazy. We know it, and are we're okay with that. But she's really cute, after all.

Maxi with the Best Toy Ever!

Contributed by Jamie Naessens

Vacation Furballs

When August rolls around to the thirteenth of the month, it always crosses my mind that Fall is waiting to jump in and take over. I guess that rather automatic thought has rolled through my brain ever since I was a kid who didn't look forward to the beginning of school all that much. Well, the kid has been grown for quite some time now but certain concepts just don't change. So I think I'll distract my thoughts of appraching autumn chill with a look back at our vacation.

Last week, Jamie, the dogs and I spent a wonderful 7 days at a cottage on Eagle Lake, not far from North Bay. It was a bit chilly and a bit too rainy at times, but we still enjoyed ourselves. In fact, we enjoyed ourselves so much that we're thinking about making it a 2 week stay next summer. While there, we enjoyed meeting cottage owners Cathy, Morley and Caitlyn. And would it be a Naessens vacation if we didn't meet some new furballs along the way?

This year, the welcoming furballs were a pair of golden retrievers named Dexter and Riley. Dexter is 10, while Riley is a very active and interested 14 years old. Both met us at the car as soon as we arrived. Penny was a bit overwhelmed at first, launching an immediate search for a safe hiding place. But Keeta was ready with a play bow.

That first visit was Dexter's only stop, as his busy life just doesn't give him the time to socialize. But maybe Riley is retired, giving him time to drop by at least once a day. The funny thing is that he timed almost every visit for practically the very moment when we started getting dinner ready. It didn't matter that the dinner hour varied from evening to evening and Riley didn't seem to care whether we barbequed or cooked inside. There was Riley, standing at the screen door, wagging, and imploring for his share. After all, everybody who was anybody offered Riley a bite or two when he came around. They always had, hadn't they?

Well yes they had. In fact, we were the first cottage guests who were specifically asked not to feed Riley. Yes us, the furball pair who would gladly slip him a bite. But Riley's people determined that there would be no more.

Now then, before you judge these nice golden furball owners, let me tell you why they instituted this new anti-canine snacking law. You see, the week before our arrival, other folks stayed in the cottage that we called home during our vacation. Apparently Riley dropped by to visit them on a daily basis and they were happy to offer him a bit of a snack whenever he did. That worked out just fine until the day that Riley dropped by while his new human friends were enjoying some pepperettes.

If you're not familiar with these taste treats, let me tell you about them They're pepperoni sticks, spiced just right. Yes, they are definitely tasty people treats, and if Riley had the words he would tell you that they were a golden furball's favorites as well.

But when good old Riley ventured on home, there was suddenly a certain pungency to the air. As the evening droned on, the air thickened dramatically, making it harder for those around him to breathe with each of his blasts. To make matters worse, poor Riley was not feeling so well. In fact, for a while, his humans thought they were going to have to make a fast trip to the vet.

Eventually though, someone noticed the pepperoni on Riley's breth, and the folks who were his culinary benefactors supplied the details to explain poor Riley's mystery illness.

The good news is that Riley recovered fully and is now back to begging with all of his old enthusiasm intact. The bad news, where Riley is concerned, is that the buffet has now closed. No more begathons for Riley.

Contributed by Larry Naessens

Deconstructing Our Furball Personalities

I remember a comment that a friend of mine offered years and years ago, in fact so long ago that I remember the observation with greater clarity than I recall the friend. As the years fly by, it’s often like that with high school friends. Anyhow, she once observed, “Dogs are people too.”

A simple thought I guess, and at the time the kids we hung with had a good laugh at her expense. I neither laughed nor nominated the bit of philosophy as the insight of the year. I just filed it away as something worth keeping. OK, dogs aren’t really people in the strictest sense, but they mirror their owner’s personality with uncanny frequency. Haven’t you seen it yourself? Friendly person owns friendly dog. Snappy yappy person teaches their dog the same tricks by example.

There are exceptions, of course, and our current furballs are among them. In these days of pet rescue, we see many dogs who are at least in part a personality product of the abuse and neglect heaped upon them before they find their forever home. Both Penny and Keeta wear scars and I don’t mean physical ones. Still, as we work with them I see subtle signs that our girls do mold themselves to us, fitting us into their own daily rituals, anticipating our wishes as we work and play with them.

Of course I wouldn’t share my thoughts on that subject with Keeta. My border collie/lab guide dog believes herself to be her own invention. Further, she sees herself as the molder of her humans and she all but says, “Let me show you how it’s done.”

For instance, yesterday at the grocery store, a cart was in our way and Keeta slowed in her usual fashion, preparing to show me the cart. This is a part of the guiding process which must not be rushed. But in my effort to get around the other person without delaying them, I indicated to Keeta that I already understood the situation by commanding her to go around the cart before actually stopping to touch it.

“Wrong, wrong, wrong!” said guide dog Keeta. I could feel the rebuke in her stance.... in the way that her muscles tensed in disapproval. So, in that way, Keeta might be more intense than her handler. Still, she is very friendly and outgoing, just like me, if I might sound my own horn for just a second.

And Penny? Well since Jamie works away from home and my job keeps me tied to this computer for the most part, I’m also Penny’s handler during the day. Jamie has mentioned that our Penny came to us with a big distrust of people who she didn’t know. Her initial response has been to growl when she sees a stranger. That has held true whether said stranger happened to be spotted through the living room window or from the other side of the backyard fence.

In an effort to decrease the growlies, we’ve been calling her to us and making her sit, whenever we hear that audible sign of her fear. These days, she’s growling so much less that even the neighbours are noticing. And when she does let a rumble slip out, leading us to call her name, she now trots over and sits, even before being told. The best news of all is that Penny’s tail now wags much more than it used to wag. A sign that she is taking on more of her peoples’ demeanor.

Cats on the other hand are another story. When Rocky joined our family he was my first cat ever. I was determined that he would learn to behave according to my dictates. Yes indeed, he would come when called and learn to follow simple commands.

OK, though a really good idea, it didn’t quite work out that way. As Jamie has mentioned here, Rocky comes to me about half a dozen times a day, demanding that I follow him to his food bowl and “show” him that there is food in it. Do I tell him to go get his own food and quit bothering me? Yeah, I really ought to do that. Instead I have to pick him up and set him in front of the bowl. Well, maybe I don’t have to, but it’s really the only time he will let me touch him, so I play along.

Rocky is himself and my impression is that who he is has nothing to do with us. But, if he encounters someone who shows interest in striking up a conversation, Rocky is always willing to have a good cat to human talk. If we make a sound similar to any that he makes, he’ll usually answer. We don’t know what we’re saying and for all I know he could be suggesting that we go play in traffic, but he does converse.

And Petey? For the most part, he is the picture of innocence, the forever little boy. He can make a game out of just about anything and finds cardboard boxes to be sources of endless delight. He trusts most everyone once he gets to know them and would never turn down a good scritch. Both of our aquariums are like interactive TV to him, while Rocky just doesn’t get the fishy attraction. In the Rock’s world, fish are to eat, not to watch.

While we’re talking cats, Rocky would like to point out that Petey is no angel, as he does enjoy running up to the big cat, giving him a poke and then running away, inviting a game of chase. This, as Rocky defines it, is touching and is therefore forbidden. But Petey doesn’t really have a handle on the concept of something being forbidden. That’s OK though because Penny will happily deliver consequences when Petey positions himself on the wrong side of the law.

Dogs and cats... if dogs are people too, then it must also be said that cats are cats. Make no mistake about it. Aside from that, all I really know for sure is that my world is a far better place with dogs and cats in it.

Contributed by Larry Naessens

Here We Go Again

I know I've been letting my fans down - I have approximately 6 fans after all, and I virtually disappeared without a trace! I'm back now though, although maybe with not the same frequency until I can get life under control.

There's been a lot on the go here, and if you are one of those who look forward to my posts, please accept my apologies. And if you are seeing me here for the first time, I'm sure it isn't a problem at all.

At the moment, Penny is sick again, and it's probably the pancreatitis acting up again. Last week while walking, she deaked out to the side, and we heard the ominous 'crunch crunch'. Just a couple, and the first thing I did was reach down her throat to retrieve whatever crunched. To no avail.

So the waiting game began, and she did pretty good until yesterday, when we had to take her off all food - but she's drinking. But not doing well. She's still struggling through it so far, without needing to go to the Doggie ER, but she's a sad puppy and we're sad owners. And tomorrow we're off to our vet.

And it seems that no one around here can stay healthy either.

As you may know from some of my other posts, I have Type 1 diabetes, and now Larry has been struggling with his own recent diagnosis of Type 2. You know I thought I knew all I needed to know about this - after all I've been dealing the better part of 20 years. And now that I've recently started using an insulin pump, I've had greater control and flexibility.

But I've discovered that I don't know as much as I thought. Type 2 is similar, but it is indeed quite different in how it behaves, both in the body and in diet restrictions. Who knew!

There's an irony here... somewhere, and I think in more ways than one. But I'm not looking too hard. When I find it, I'll certainly share.

Contributed by Jamie Naessens

Round 1 Begins

Penny has issues. But have I told Penny about Lando? Maybe all about Congo? How about Jethro?

If any of these ex-guide dogs were here, they would tell Penny to shape up. Jamie wins. I fully expect that Penny will be shaping up. These otherwise talented guide dogs didn't make the grade. But first let's review the Guide Dog history in our family.

Jethro was a maniac. He was Larry's first guide dog from Canine Vision Canada. Jethro had Timbits on his mind. Jethro sulked when he was told he had to behave. He was a very bad car rider, and would lunge from one side of the car to the other, which from this driver's perspective, didn't make driving easy. Jethro stayed for a little while, and then was soon retired to a life of being a regular (albeit spoiled) dog.

Enter Lando. Guide Dog #2 from CVC. Lando was very big and very sad. Lando had issues, which amounted to my little carpet cleaner pooping out, if you get my drift. Lando would retire to his bed, and we'd find him a while later, well, let's just say he was aromatic. Enough said. Lando stayed for a few months, and then was soon retired to a life of being a regular dog, with his Puppy Parents. Lando really loved his Puppy Parents, and is a much happier dog for it.

Then there was Congo. Congo was a Chocolate Lab. Congo loved to play. That's all Congo wanted to do, was play. Keep Away was his most favourite game in the world... a great game to play with our Resident Blind Guy. His second favourite game was Chew The Remote Control into a Million Bits. That got expensive. After a re-training session or two, Congo was retired to a farm, where that's all he needed to do. Play. Life is good.

Now Penny... she's a handful. But she has some lessons to learn. She had better learn... or... well, okay, we love her to bits, but she's got some learnin' to do. Penny had a rough start in life, originally a shelter dog, and has always dealt with fear issues. However, poor Penny deals with these issues totally inappropriately. It's hard not to compare her to Keeta, the Wonder Guide Dog. But we reluctantly admit it, we've babied her some since she arrived. She flunked puppy school... twice. She's had a session with a dog whisperer. But we've let the lessons slide. This Winter didn't help at all. I haven't been getting out with her to reinforce proper doggie etiquette. She makes a lousy guide dog, especially with her fears, and she's too short anyway, so Larry can't take her out.

So now I'm armed with my equipment. I've got the remote control spray collar charged up and have just bought a special collar for walking. Some might say it's extreme, and that may be so. However, Penny's behaviour is extreme, so I respond in kind. We went walking last night, and after a couple of reminders, she pulled up her bootstraps. She was the perfect Doggie Walker. Just like she should be.

But let those other dogs be a warning... this may be only Round 1, but I do win.

Contributed by Jamie Naessens

Sure Signs Of Spring

As I was driving home through a snow squall this evening, it occurred to me that Spring must MUST be on the way. I'm sure of it, and there are signs. So I've just compiled my own list of the Sure Signs Of Spring.

Sign #1

Keeta has been playing Director General in the dog run. With Spring comes the Green Space Walkers and their Trusted Dogs who walk through the green space behind our house. Keeta demands that they pay her proper attention, and will stand her post, just waiting for them to come by so she can comment in her Big Dog Voice.

Sign #2

Penny has found her little patches of warm sunlight. In the long winter months, the sun has been so weak, that she would just curl up in her nest of blankets. But she's now stretching out in her favourite sunlight patches - one in the family room and one in the living room. She's also been staying out in the dog run longer than she used to. She doesn't have the great big undercoat that Keeta sports, and she hasn't been staying out for long this cold winter. Poor Keeta just doesn't understand why she can't be her Ensign to her own Director General. She doesn't understand that Penny's pink underbelly must just cringe in the snow.

Sign #3

Rocky is insisting he HAS to go out. He has been an indoor cat for the better part of 2 years now, but every Spring, he starts to plan his escape. Last weekend he managed to pop out twice. He stopped in his tracks once outside the first time, like he didn't know what to do with this newfound freedom, however, that made him really easy to catch. The second time, he paused and then started to run, but I scooped him before he could get far (good thing, because he's a fast one!)

Sign #4

Petey has always been an indoor cat, but even he is saying that he HAS to go out too. He begs, meowing in his most pitiful pleading voice, please PLEASE can he go out, as he stretches his long body trying to reach the door handle, as if to show me what he wants. If only he had an opposable thumb and some fingers. Last summer I used to take him out on leash at night. He's a most perfect leash walker, even better than the dogs. But whenever a car goes by, he becomes absolutely panicked and must get back as fast as his little paws can take him, with me running a distant second to him.

Conclusion

So Spring is definitely coming. Really.

Contributed by Jamie Naessens

Penny's Snit

I'm onto Penny. She had that wool pulled over my eyes... or more accurately that underwear pulled over my head (her personal fave), and every night she dutifully tells me she really REALLY has to go out to do her business. And lately it's been ramping up to 2 times a night. I'm not at my best at 3 in the morning, and obligingly let her out. She always did her business and came right back, so I think, she must have needed to go. I'm so gullible, and she was laughing under her little doggie breath.

On reflection, I realized that she really can make it through the night. After all, she's 2-1/2 years old. She gets let out one last time around midnight, and chances are she'd be good until 6, when we get up. That's what I figured out anyway.

So I've gathered my sleepy wits around me and just told her, "No! Get back to bed", in the best semi-intelligible mumble that I can muster. I've now managed this for a few nights, and she has grudgingly shot me a look over her shoulder that clearly said, "You don't really mean that", and head down, went back to bed.

To add to a sad doggie situation, this morning it was raining. Penny hates the rain. She has always hated the rain. And cold rain is the worst. When she was younger, her alternative "spot" has has always has been on a warm dry rug. What's the problem with that, I'm sure she wondered. That wasn't so fine when she was 6 months old, but understandable, and little puppy pees are pretty manageable. But they're definitely not so fine at her age. Luckily she gave that up at 2 years old, and hasn't resorted to that yet.

But it doesn't change how much she hates the rain. And it doesn't change the fact that I have stopped letting her out in the middle of the night. And she told me what she thought of this. When I told her it was time to go out, she responded with a little low grumble under her breath, directed at me. No tail wags, no happy good morning greeting. Nothing. Penny was definitely making a statement, and it wasn't pretty.

So it's official. Our Penny was in a snit.

Contributed by Jamie Naessens

It's March Madness Out There!

It's March, right? March 8th to be exact. Now for anyone who's counting, there's only 12 days of winter left.

The clocks get changed back to Daylight Savings Time tonight... that's the first sign of Spring, isn't it? I get to lose an hour's sleep, but it means Spring is here. Right?

Hell hath no fury like Winter 2007/08 in Ontario, which for those of you visiting my little blog in this little bit of Canada, it started officially with the first dump in mid-November. And it seems that it's been dumping on us ever since. A couple of reprieves, but those are quickly forgotten as we dig out from the latest dump.

Apparently Mother Nature's knickers are in a knot because she's got a good case of the frozen sniffles. Nothing like a good slap in the face by wind-whipped snow to remind us that March is the cruellest month.

Yes, I know what I wrote before. And I've been pretty good up until now. Canadians talk a lot about weather, because no matter where we come from, it's what we all have in common.

But now I'm officially whining.

Even Keeta didn't appreciate having to squeeze through the 8 inch opening in the sliding doors to get outside. I don't really know what her problem was - she hasn't had a problem squeezing through a 3 inch opening in a gate to get a dead squirrel last summer... ahh, I remember summer.

Penny wasn't too impressed with having snow up past her hips to do her business, and who could blame her. Without an undercoat like Keeta's, there's not much to protect her pink underbits. I can see some trouble brewing later - I think it might take more than a little encouragement to get her to do her business later.

Rocky and Petey just looked at the snow piled up with some vague kitty interest, no attempt to leave though, as the snowflakes wafted in with the wind, tickling their little twitchy noses. Nope. No kitty outdoor excursions lobbied for today.

And so, tomorrow I get to shovel. I wonder where my Snow Angel is hiding? Probably hiding under a blanket of snow, waiting for the first sign of Spring.

Contributed by Jamie Naessens

Canine Crimes

For those of you who are on the sensitive side, this may not be for you. But it has a happy ending, so if you are squeamish, skip right through to the end of this. So here goes...

Dogs are occasionally prone to intestinal distress, sometimes for reasons unknown. And that's okay, usually a little fasting required, and they're good to go.

But with all the dog sickness in our house the last little while, I'm a little sensitive to this, and when I came home today, I found a small "gift" in the living room. Thanks... but who's gift is it? Is it from Penny, the little one, notorious for racking up rather substantial vet bills, as recently as last week? Or perhaps from Keeta... who on occasion, just has... issues.

This is when I break out my CSI kit, put on my Sherlock Holmes hat and get right into household puppy forensics.

So who's the culprit? Nobody's talking.

So now I have to escort each one out to see who it is with the issue. It would really be a drag to treat the wrong dog... if we think it's Penny, such issues could lead to the decision for further blood tests based on her recent illness (and tests for her condition aren't cheap). But then if it turns out to be Keeta, we'd feel mighty foolish. A little fasting and Keeta would be all fixed up. And that wouldn't cost us a cent.

So now, instead of letting them out to do their business, I take them out to supervise any impending issues. If any. It could be just a case of the Creeping Crud. Hopefully that's all it is.

Did I mention I love dogs? Really, I do...

Late one night, a burglar broke into a house he thought was empty. He tiptoed through the living room but suddenly he froze in his tracks when he heard a loud voice say, "Jesus is watching you!"

Silence returned to the house, so the burglar crept forward again.

"Jesus is watching you," the voice boomed again. The burglar stopped dead again. He was frightened. Frantically, he looked all around. In a dark corner, he spotted a bird cage and in the cage was a parrot.

He asked the parrot, "Was that you who said Jesus is watching me?"

"Yes", said the parrot.

The burglar breathed a sigh of relief, and asked the parrot, "What's your name?"

"Clarence," said the bird.

"That's a dumb name for a parrot," sneered the burglar. "What idiot named you Clarence?"

The parrot replied, "The same idiot who named the Rottweiller Jesus."

Contributed by Jamie Naessens

Back to Normal

I've been redeemed. In the eyes of Keeta. I brought the puppy home - stupid human that I am. Apparently I forgot to bring her home yesterday. But I did bring her home today, so Keeta is talking to me again. And Penny is doing great. Things are back to normal. And I'm thankful for that.

Contributed by Jamie Naessens

In the Doghouse

Keeta isn't talking to me anymore. I'm in the bad doggie books. I'm a bad dog person. A horrible dog owner. I've created the cardinal sin of taking away her puppy and "forgetting" to bring her back.

It's official now. Penny has been hospitalized with pancreatitis. I felt so bad when I dropped her off at the vet this morning. You just can't look back. Derek, our wonderful vet, was encouraging her to come with him... I could see him just before I drove away. Penny was digging in all four of her heels, as if to say, "I'm not supposed to go with you... I need to go with her". But I was already gone, so with a little encouragement, she trotted on through the doors into the back with Derek. He's so good with her.

So today she was on IV fluids, and an IV antacid, off all food and water for a couple of days. Kristin, Derek's assistant, said she was doing really well, and even a little too energetic when she took her out to do her business (which apparently she opted out of doing any business, but she did take the opportunity to have some fun).

In so many ways Penny surprises me. She is so afraid of so much. But she takes this in stride.

The last time Penny had pancreatitis, she was quite seriously ill... but got through it. And since then, has been on a special diet, even limiting her toys - we are ever careful about her condition flaring up. Her only "treats" are her regular kibble that I play the game, "Rain of Cookies" - throwing it up into the air for her to catch and eat up as quickly as possible, whenever we leave the house without her. She's none the wiser and is okay with that. A little extra attention goes a long way.

Because of Penny's special rules, Keeta doesn't get any special things either. She does not miss the toys - she never really got the toy concept except to tease Penny with them - but she doesn't get special cookies, except when she gets to go to Petsmart with us. Such is the way life is around here.

This morning, Keeta knew something was different. Normally when I take Penny out front, Keeta whines and cries because she doesn't get to go first. But she saw me load our Pen into the car, and take her away. So naturally, when I came home, she fully expected me to bring Penny in with me. And I didn't. So she checked the front door... the front window... back to the front door. Obviously I had forgotten something... someone... perhaps I might consider going back out to get that something I forgot?!!

As I said, as it stands now, she's not talking to me. Yes, she accepted a scritch around the ears, a cookie, which around here is a major treat, and something that only happens when Penny isn't around to witness it.

I can't wait for our Penny to come home, and for life to return to normal.

Contributed by Jamie Naessens

Penny At-A-Glance

This morning started off kind of rough. Penny, our youngest dog, now 2-1/2, has issues - many of them - and after a restless night, throwing up, now she' has some symptoms of her pancreatitis flaring up. Hopefully nothing more than a bit of doggie flu (I'm hopeful!) In a few minutes, we'll be on her way to the vet. She has a rather long story, and I'll go into more when I have more time, in an up-and-coming post.

A little about yesterday first, to let you see a little bit into Penny's life.

Yesterday morning there was a breach of doggie etiquette. Keeta, our Guide Dog, Herder of All, Protector, Penny's Adopted Mommy Dog had to protect us from Intruder Dog.

Intruder Dog decided to visit at the fence between the houses, and was told in no uncertain terms, "GET AWAY FROM MY FENCE" with lots of Big Noise and Bravado. But in addition to all her jobs, one should not underestimate her Enforcer role. And apparently this dog breached Keeta's rules about visiting Keeta's fence.

And right behind her was Penny - Keeta's "baby" and protege. Right after the Intruder Dog was collected by his owner, there was Penny, taking "control" of the situation, "Bark bark bark" (a WOOF would be too big a sound to describe Penny). And there she was, front and centre, dog and owner long gone... bark bark bark. Also, in her enthusiasm, she'll even reach the point of squeaking out her barks, almost losing her voice - which sounds kinda funny coming from a 30 pound dog!

More on Penny in a coming installment of Furballs in My Life. She's had a rough start in life, but she's sweet, and she's ours.

Contributed by Jamie Naessens