Most of the animals here on the Unfarm are fairly self sufficient when it comes to going to sleep. The chickens put themselves away in their coop each night - even Lucy, who has stopped going into the Little Coop at night as abruptly, and mysteriously, as she started it. The ducks start nodding off as almost as soon as they get inside for the night and the mice curl themselves away in their little castle to sleep the day away. The rabbits sleep quite lightly but they do doze several times throughout the day and night. Cats are notorious for being good sleepers and ours are no exception, napping most of the day so that Maximus can spend the whole night upstairs playing while the dogs are out of the way in the bedrooms. And speaking of dogs, Molly and Axel can go to sleep whenever they feel like it - mostly when I am gone from the house and there is nothing else to hold their attention. Scout is another story.
Scout is many things. He is high energy. He is fast. He is a ball thief at the dog park (because he is fast.) He is playful. And cute. And also really, really annoying when he is sleepy. Apparently he can't just go to sleep like everyone else. He must have someone there with him to cuddle up to. He is insistent. Very insistent. When he gets tired he finds someone and proceeds to make a pest of himself. If I am watching TV in the bunny room, Scout will try to crawl up onto the TV stand. Or my desk. Via my chair. If you are working at the dining room table he will try to crawl up onto the table, pushing your laptop out of the way until you give in and sit with him. On occasion, Scout has even tried to crawl onto me, putting his paws up on my shoulders and crawling into my lap.
There is little else you can do but go and sit with him. And sometimes that is not even enough. In his quest to get close to you he will often sit not just next to you but actually on you. I got a text message the other day that said "look at your dog." Going out into the living room I found my brother on the couch with a 50 pound Scout sitting on his chest. If you are lying down he will try to sit on your head.
This annoying behavior has been given the innocuous name of "cuddle time" and someone always draws the short straw and has to cuddle with Scout. If you choose not to you have to go into a room and close the door behind you, then listen to Scout as he scratches up the other side of the door trying to get in. Each scratch on the door is another one of your nerves being shredded until you just can't stand it anymore and you give in. Probably not the best way of dealing with him but the only way we have discovered so far. We keep wondering if perhaps he will outgrow this puppy-like behavior but at two and a half years old it isn't looking good as of yet.
Showing posts with label cats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cats. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 21, 2017
Tuesday, August 9, 2016
Nothing but the best
Whipped cream has become a staple in our house, because you never know when the mood might strike to bake a batch of brownies and nothing completes a brownie like a dollop of whipped cream, except for maybe a scoop of ice cream. But let's be honest, ice cream just doesn't last around here so whipped cream is a good back up plan. We usually buy our whipped cream in a three pack from Costco, which carries Land O'Lakes in their distinctive red and yellow spray cans.
They are so distinctive, in fact, that Maximus can recognize them when he sees them sitting on the shelf in the fridge and he demands his nightly squirt of whipped cream before we go to bed. He does this by waiting until the dogs are in bed (and thus not around to chase him back downstairs) and then coming upstairs and weaving in and out of my legs until I get fed up and give him a tiny squirt of whipped cream on the kitchen counter. And before you say it: yes, I know that cats are lactose intolerant and should not be eating dairy but Max is extremely demanding and it's easier to just give in than to risk breaking a leg tripping over him.
Last month we ran out of our Land O'Lakes whipped cream and had to get some generic brand from Winco in a pinch. It tasted the same to us but apparently was far inferior to the Land O'Lakes brand as Max refused to eat it. That is not to say that he stopped demanding whipped cream - he continued demanding it nightly but each morning we would find a small puddle of de-whipped cream on the counter where he left it the night before after turning up his nose at it.
And in case you might be thinking that perhaps Max had simply decided that he no longer liked whipped cream - cats are notorious for changing their minds, after all, liking something one day and hating it the next - we discovered that this was not the case as soon as we switched back to the Land O'Lakes whipped cream. He would dive into his little pile of cream with gusto and we no longer found puddles of cream on the counter in the morning. He simply has expensive taste in whipped cream. And treats. And toys, as well, come to think of it.
They are so distinctive, in fact, that Maximus can recognize them when he sees them sitting on the shelf in the fridge and he demands his nightly squirt of whipped cream before we go to bed. He does this by waiting until the dogs are in bed (and thus not around to chase him back downstairs) and then coming upstairs and weaving in and out of my legs until I get fed up and give him a tiny squirt of whipped cream on the kitchen counter. And before you say it: yes, I know that cats are lactose intolerant and should not be eating dairy but Max is extremely demanding and it's easier to just give in than to risk breaking a leg tripping over him.
Last month we ran out of our Land O'Lakes whipped cream and had to get some generic brand from Winco in a pinch. It tasted the same to us but apparently was far inferior to the Land O'Lakes brand as Max refused to eat it. That is not to say that he stopped demanding whipped cream - he continued demanding it nightly but each morning we would find a small puddle of de-whipped cream on the counter where he left it the night before after turning up his nose at it.
And in case you might be thinking that perhaps Max had simply decided that he no longer liked whipped cream - cats are notorious for changing their minds, after all, liking something one day and hating it the next - we discovered that this was not the case as soon as we switched back to the Land O'Lakes whipped cream. He would dive into his little pile of cream with gusto and we no longer found puddles of cream on the counter in the morning. He simply has expensive taste in whipped cream. And treats. And toys, as well, come to think of it.
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
Sand cookie caper
Dogs and cats, I have decided, have extremely opposite opinions when it comes the the issue of the litter box. Cats view this as a place for making deposits, while dogs view this as a place for making withdrawals. "Sand cookies," if I have not explained previously, are what we call the "treats" that the dogs dig out of the litter box to snack on. The dogs know that they are not supposed to be digging through the litter boxes so they tend to do it when we aren't looking, and then run off with their sand cookies to devour them in some corner somewhere where they are less likely to be caught. "Leave the scene of the crime as fast as possible," seems to be their thought process. On the occasions when we do catch the dogs leaving the litter box area looking rather more guilty than usual we can yell "drop it" and they will, if they feel like it, listen once in a while and drop the sand cookie wherever they are standing.
On one occasion I happened to catch Scout sneaking out of the laundry room with a suspicious lump in his mouth. "Drop it....," I warned, and for once Scout obliged, spitting out the sand cookie on the floor in the hallway. I went to the bathroom to grab toilet paper to pick it up and dispose of it and by the time I came back Max had come out of the bedroom and was wandering down the hall. Coming upon the sand cookie Max seemed rather surprised to find it where he did not recall leaving it. He sniffed at it, and then proceeded, as any self respecting feline would, to scratch at the floor around it, trying in vain to cover it up. He obviously did not recall making a deposit in the hallway but tried to be responsible about it nonetheless. I found the sight of Max trying to clean up after Scout rather amusing. Max seemed mainly concerned that he may have gone to the bathroom outside of the litter box without recalling doing so. And Scout, for his part, failed to see any humor in the situation and seemed to focus only on the loss of his snack.
On one occasion I happened to catch Scout sneaking out of the laundry room with a suspicious lump in his mouth. "Drop it....," I warned, and for once Scout obliged, spitting out the sand cookie on the floor in the hallway. I went to the bathroom to grab toilet paper to pick it up and dispose of it and by the time I came back Max had come out of the bedroom and was wandering down the hall. Coming upon the sand cookie Max seemed rather surprised to find it where he did not recall leaving it. He sniffed at it, and then proceeded, as any self respecting feline would, to scratch at the floor around it, trying in vain to cover it up. He obviously did not recall making a deposit in the hallway but tried to be responsible about it nonetheless. I found the sight of Max trying to clean up after Scout rather amusing. Max seemed mainly concerned that he may have gone to the bathroom outside of the litter box without recalling doing so. And Scout, for his part, failed to see any humor in the situation and seemed to focus only on the loss of his snack.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Upheaval on the Unfarm
Life on the Unfarm has been rather more chaotic than usual of late due to the fact that we had to refinish the wood floors last week. These would be the floors in the kitchen/dining room and on the landing, which also meant we would lose access to two of our three doors to the outside.
We were told that the crew would start sanding the floors on Tuesday so we spent Monday evening cramming all the dining room furniture into the living room. This annoyance for us proved to be a blast for Maximus: so many places to hide, so many new things to jump on. Tuesday we spent the day rearranging our schedules so that someone would always be at home when the crew arrived. They never did. Wednesday was more of the same: the crew said they would show up in the morning, then in the afternoon, and then in the evening. They didn't, they didn't, and they didn't. The less than reliable crew finally showed up on Thursday and then the real upheaval began.
The dogs and cats were moved downstairs where we had our only access in and out of the house, through the garage and out into the (unfenced) front yard. This meant that every time the dogs had to go out we had to round up the leashes and walk them out - which I realize is probably what people in apartments have to do every single day, but we are unaccustomed to this inconvenience and in addition we had to deal with Maximus who was determined to launch himself through the doorway the second it was opened. Our indoor only cat was then outdoors and we had to chase after him and fetch him back again from whatever bush or plant he had hidden himself under.
The other problem with the downstairs is that the whole thing is in laminate flooring which means that the trouble Maia already has with walking - or even remaining upright, at her advanced age of nearly 19 years - is made even more difficult by the slippery floors. In an effort to combat this problem we ended up laying out all of our rugs, blankets, yoga mats, and dog beds in a line from the main room, down the hallway, and up to the garage door.
Needless to say, everyone was more than happy when we were finally able to walk on the floors again: the dogs returned to the (largely carpeted) upstairs and greatly appreciate the freedom to come and go as they please (unless Una is on the deck, in which case the dogs have to wait until she finishes her meal.) The humans on the Unfarm are enjoying the ability to once again access the kitchen and the backyard. Una also appreciates our ability to access the kitchen as that is where we keep her sunflower seeds and almonds, and the window she looks in to let me know she is hungry. Mynx is relieved to have the downstairs returned to her so that she can enjoy the relative solitude again. The only one who seems unaffected either way is Max, who enjoyed both the play land that was temporarily set up for him in the living room, as well as access to the kitchen where he can sit on the counter to watch Rat TV. As for his excursions in the out of doors, his view on the floors finally being finished appears to be that he once again has three potential places from which to escape the boredom of the house so we have to step up our game again to block the black streak that is Maximus on his way out. I am embarrassed to admit that Max wins more times than I would like. We are at times little match to his speed and flexibility.
We were told that the crew would start sanding the floors on Tuesday so we spent Monday evening cramming all the dining room furniture into the living room. This annoyance for us proved to be a blast for Maximus: so many places to hide, so many new things to jump on. Tuesday we spent the day rearranging our schedules so that someone would always be at home when the crew arrived. They never did. Wednesday was more of the same: the crew said they would show up in the morning, then in the afternoon, and then in the evening. They didn't, they didn't, and they didn't. The less than reliable crew finally showed up on Thursday and then the real upheaval began.
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| It's blurry, and this is after half the furniture is back in the dining room, but this gives an idea of the mess that was the living room/Max's playground. |
The dogs and cats were moved downstairs where we had our only access in and out of the house, through the garage and out into the (unfenced) front yard. This meant that every time the dogs had to go out we had to round up the leashes and walk them out - which I realize is probably what people in apartments have to do every single day, but we are unaccustomed to this inconvenience and in addition we had to deal with Maximus who was determined to launch himself through the doorway the second it was opened. Our indoor only cat was then outdoors and we had to chase after him and fetch him back again from whatever bush or plant he had hidden himself under.
The other problem with the downstairs is that the whole thing is in laminate flooring which means that the trouble Maia already has with walking - or even remaining upright, at her advanced age of nearly 19 years - is made even more difficult by the slippery floors. In an effort to combat this problem we ended up laying out all of our rugs, blankets, yoga mats, and dog beds in a line from the main room, down the hallway, and up to the garage door.
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| The finished dining room floors. Hallelujah! Bring on the pets! (Literally - the pets can finally walk on it.) |
Sunday, May 4, 2014
These are a few of my favorite things
How does that song go again? Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens/ Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens/ Brown paper packages tied up with strings/ These are a few of my favorite things... I don't know about copper kettles or woolen mittens but I do love a good kitten. Or a mischievous kitten. Or any kitten, for that matter. And while we're on the topic, I don't mind ducks, bunnies, dogs, grown up cats, horses.... who am I fooling? I like pretty much any animal, baby or not. Especially badgers. And most things containing sugar - I have a huge sweet tooth. But what does the rest of the Unfarm enjoy? Do ducks even have a favorite thing? Stay tuned....
Cheetos: These cheesy, crunchy treats are a favorite of Mynx. I have no idea where she picked up the Cheetos habit but there is no denying that she loves them. I am the only one who eats these on occasion and whenever I do, Mynx can be found sitting in front of me, waiting for me to break off tiny pieces of Cheetos for her. Also high on her list of favorite things is sleeping on my stomach at night.
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| This picture pretty much explains itself |
Car rides: No one loves a ride in the car more than Axel. He especially loves to ride with his head sticking out the window and spends the trip whining in the backseat if he is not allowed to. I have tried to explain that I will not open the window if it is a) raining, b) cold, c) the car is traveling down the freeway at 65 miles per hour, or d) all of the above. He has informed me that he doesn't care: that is what fur coats are for and he will continue to complain, thank you very much.
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| Axel and his friend Stella hanging out in the car after a hike |
Blueberries: These are a favorite of both the ducks and the chickens, but they have different strategies when it comes to harvesting these treats. The ducks go for a quantity over quality approach: they grab whatever bunches are within their reach whether they are ripe or not. Usually not. The chickens take a more precision approach: they stand beneath the bushes, get a berry in their sights, and then jump straight up into the air and grab one berry at a time.
Grapes: Similar to the blueberries, the chickens and the ducks both go after my grapes. The chickens have a distinct advantage here, though, in that they can fly up into the grape arbor and eat at their leisure. We generally consider ourselves lucky if the humans on the Unfarm manage to get any fruit.
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| A young Belle sits in the grape arbor |
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| Daisy, Penny and Sakari raid the kitchen |
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| Sakari checks out Buddy's food bowl for leftovers |
Jumping: No surprise here - this is a favorite of the bunnies. Ginger and Clover are especially fond of jumping which means that they are not allowed out in the grape arbor run as they can clear the fence and escape into the yard. This is great fun for them but means that we then spend at least half an hour chasing them around the garden trying to catch them. This is not fun for us.
Making the bed: Or more accurately, unmaking the bed. Max is quite fond of hanging out on the bed when I am trying to make it. He is convinced that the true purpose of this activity is to entertain him by playing blanket monster. While I am trying to straighten the blankets, he is diving underneath them. Or jumping on top of them. Or hiding beneath one and attacking my hand whenever I move near enough.
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| Ginger prefers hanging out on TOP of her cage rather than inside it |
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| Max is an expert at making simple chores take twice as long as they should |
Getting treats: everyone on the Unfarm enjoys treats. You can't shell peas around the ducks without losing at least half of them to Maggie, who is tall enough to reach the bowl on your lap. The chickens come running whenever squirrel food is being doled out, or the compost bin from the kitchen is taken out, or the leftovers no one wants are brought out. (Spaghetti is considered "pasta worms" by the ladies.) The cats always enjoy a bit of tuna (or tuna sprinkled with Cheetos.) The dogs are fond of just about any treat we give them and especially enjoy it when I bake for them - carob brownies area favorite. And then there's the bunnies - despite the fact that rabbits are regularly depicted as having a serious carrot habit, they actually prefer dandelion leaves (organic, of course) or bananas. Speaking of treats...I think I hear a mini batch of chocolate chip cookies calling my name. If they are also calling your name, feel free to make a batch. The recipe is on this blog under the title "Chocolate chip cookies mini batch." Enjoy.
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Rat TV
Maximus has always been a fan of quality entertainment. He finds great joy in sitting down in front of the TV to watch whatever might be on. And I mean RIGHT in front of the TV - he sits two inches away and blocks half the screen. This situation is advantageous to him because it satisfies two cat loves at once: being entertained an making a nuisance of himself. Of late, however, he has found a new channel to capture his attention: Rat TV. Now before you go checking your cable listings, I regret to inform you that it's a local channel, only available here on the Unfarm.
It is a regrettable fact that if you have animals, especially chickens and ducks, who eat their food outdoors, or you regularly leave food out for birds and squirrels, you are at risk of attracting rats. The fact that we are near both a forest and a pasture, and that we have a shed the rats can hide under doesn't hurt either. So in the evenings, once the kitchen is quiet, our resident rat (I would not go so far as to name him an Unfarmian, though) can be found scurrying around on the back deck, fattening himself on what little bits of seeds or duck food has been knocked onto the ground. While the humans on the Unfarm look upon these nighttime forays with dismay, Maximus finds it quite entertaining. He will plant himself in front of the large sliding glass doors and watch his regularly scheduled programming of Rat TV. And thus far, his program has not been cancelled as this particular rat has been quite crafty at avoiding any traps we have put out. Either that or he just has no taste for peanut butter.
I should note that I do not approve of killing animals, but it is dangerous to have rats in such close proximity to us and our animals because of the diseases they may carry (and the chickens have absolutely no interest in taking on a rat for a roommate, as they are keen to do when the winter cold sets in.) So when we find it necessary to rid ourselves of rodent interlopers we use the snap traps because they kill quickly, as opposed to poison which is slow and painful. Plus, given our success rate (which is low), it would seem that the traps give the rats a sporting chance. More often than not, the rats get away with a free meal.
So until our rat gets sloppy, or develops a craving for peanut butter, Maximus will be spending his evenings watching his favorite show. After all, it's somewhat interactive and there are never any reruns. The only thing missing now is the popcorn.
It is a regrettable fact that if you have animals, especially chickens and ducks, who eat their food outdoors, or you regularly leave food out for birds and squirrels, you are at risk of attracting rats. The fact that we are near both a forest and a pasture, and that we have a shed the rats can hide under doesn't hurt either. So in the evenings, once the kitchen is quiet, our resident rat (I would not go so far as to name him an Unfarmian, though) can be found scurrying around on the back deck, fattening himself on what little bits of seeds or duck food has been knocked onto the ground. While the humans on the Unfarm look upon these nighttime forays with dismay, Maximus finds it quite entertaining. He will plant himself in front of the large sliding glass doors and watch his regularly scheduled programming of Rat TV. And thus far, his program has not been cancelled as this particular rat has been quite crafty at avoiding any traps we have put out. Either that or he just has no taste for peanut butter.
I should note that I do not approve of killing animals, but it is dangerous to have rats in such close proximity to us and our animals because of the diseases they may carry (and the chickens have absolutely no interest in taking on a rat for a roommate, as they are keen to do when the winter cold sets in.) So when we find it necessary to rid ourselves of rodent interlopers we use the snap traps because they kill quickly, as opposed to poison which is slow and painful. Plus, given our success rate (which is low), it would seem that the traps give the rats a sporting chance. More often than not, the rats get away with a free meal.
So until our rat gets sloppy, or develops a craving for peanut butter, Maximus will be spending his evenings watching his favorite show. After all, it's somewhat interactive and there are never any reruns. The only thing missing now is the popcorn.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Long overdue updates from the Unfarm
I made a resolution at the beginning of this year that I would make posts more often. And I know that most resolutions get thrown by the wayside by mid January, or early February if we are very good. But despite that history, I really did have every intention of keeping this resolution. Things got a little bumpy at the beginning of the year, as you may remember, when Maia had a health scare, but after recovering from her surgery she had more energy than she's had in a long time and it looked like it would be smooth sailing from there on out. And it was. For her.
But as I drove home from work on the evening of January 29th, I got a call from my parents that Kita was acting strangely. I rushed home long enough to call the emergency vet to give them a heads up and run out to the car with drooling, panting, unresponsive Kita. There was nothing the vet could do. He was ready to go (which was confirmed by our AMAZING animal communicator, Karen Anderson, who we LOVE) and we couldn't hold him here no matter how much I may have wanted to. The hardest part of living with animals is knowing that you will, in all likelihood, outlive them and you will have to watch them as they slip. I lay on the floor at the vet's office, with my nose resting against Kita's, trying to let him know I was there for him and would not leave his side. And then the vet gave him the injection, and he left. It was hard - incredibly hard - to lose this dog who had been part of our family for roughly 16 years. I kept expecting to see him come around the corner, or be sleeping on his dog bed on my bedroom floor, or pass his leash hanging on my wall.
But one of the advantages of having multiple pets, for me at least, is knowing that all the other animals still need me and I can forget my loss, to some degree, by taking care of the rest of the animals. And we weren't without dogs - Maia and Buddy were still with us, although Buddy seemed to feel Kita's absence and spent the time after the loss moping around the house and showing little interest in his regular activities. About a week after Kita died I decided that Buddy needed to get out of the house and go for a walk with me and Maia, even though he didn't show his usual exuberant whippet energy. We got part of the way down the street when he stopped walking. He simply refused to go any further, despite several attempts to get him to change his mind. I finally gave in and took him back home and he went right back to bed. At about 6:50 that evening Mom noticed that his gums were pale and suggested we call the vet. They told us to bring him in right then, even though they were closing in 10 minutes. At the vet it was discovered that his red blood cell count, which should have been in the 50-60 range was down to 8, a number the vet described as "barely compatible with life." From there I rushed him to the specialist vet 40 minutes away and he was submitted and getting a blood transfusion within the hour. We were told by Buddy's internist (yes, he had his own internal medicine specialist) within the next couple of days that Buddy had IMHA. Immune Mediated Hemolytic Anemia. Basically, his body was destroying his own red blood cells, for reasons unknown. And more good news: it was a non responsive type, which is harder to treat. But we went all out - transfusions, regular blood counts, multiple night stays in the vet ER, special diets, and enough medications that we had to create an elaborate chart to keep track of when he needed his 13+ medications each day. I even tried alternative treatments. He went to a holistic vet, he got acupuncture, and he received reiki and shamanic healing from an amazing friend of Karen's. We spent one month fighting for Buddy, and over $10,000 to give our six year old dog every shot possible. I wish I could say that it worked, that Buddy finally began to make a turn around, that he is sleeping on the floor behind me as I write this. But I can't. In the end, Buddy became unresponsive and began panting hard one night. I rushed him to the specialist with my brother where they said he may have thrown a clot and they might be able to get him through to the morning if they intubated him, sticking a breathing tube down his throat. I decided that we had to let him go. He had told Karen a couple of weeks earlier that he was tired and ready to go but we hadn't been ready to let him go yet, and he seemed to be showing some improvement. I couldn't stand the thought of him dying there, in the hospital, with tubes down his throat and all alone. So I kissed him and hugged him and stroked his face as they gave him the injection, and then he left. Just like Kita, and only two months and two days afterward. And five short days before his seventh birthday. Driving home at 3:30 in the morning, it struck me as appropriate in some way that I had been the one to bring him into our lives, with a car ride together after picking him up at four months old from the breeder's house several hours away in Kennewick, Washington, and I was with him on his last car ride, as he left our lives that night.
Kita we had expected. We didn't like it, but we saw it coming - he had lived a long, full life with us. But Buddy. Buddy was so young, and so full of life such a short time ago. And now the house felt like a canyon - like you could scream and you would hear an echo with the emptiness of this place.
Two days after Buddy died, I checked in with him and Kita, via Karen. They were both feeling great and Buddy was raring to come back soon. He said he felt like he hadn't gotten to finish his time with us. But in the meantime, he said, he had sent us a gift. A dog at the local shelter was meant for us. So I went that very evening to get Axel, our newest addition to the Unfarm. He is a large dog - about 95 pounds, and black with brown markings, a Husky-Shepherd mix (so like Kita it's almost uncanny!) and ten years old. He probably didn't have much chance of being adopted with that triple threat: big, black, and elderly. He had, in fact, already been adopted and returned to the shelter once before. As I was filling out the paperwork for adoption I was given the highly encouraging news that Axel also had separation anxiety and should he ever be left alone he would proceed to destroy the doors, windows, couches, gates and any crate we might put him in. This gave me a great deal of trepidation, but not nearly enough to doubt Buddy's wisdom.
We have had Axel for over a month now, and he has turned out to be THE perfect dog for us. He is gentle, calm, friendly, quiet, and he LOVES going on walks and for rides in the car. We have also discovered that he has little to no separation anxiety with us and my fears (and the ominous predictions of the adoption counselor) were largely unfounded. He certainly does not enjoy being left alone, but he tolerates it just fine. He also has loads of energy and doesn't show his age at all. And the cherry on top? He grew up around chickens and cows so he behaves perfectly around all of our various "snack sized" pets. We could not have created a better situation if we tried. Thanks, Buddy.
So the drama was over, and life on the Unfarm settled back into a comfortable, if slightly lonely, routine. Until exactly two weeks after Buddy died, when Aspen went to the vet to address his bladder leakage. I had to leave him there for the afternoon for x-rays but went back in the evening to pick him up and hear the damage (Aspen has had several bladder problems in the past and they tend to run at least $1000 each and involve at least one overnight stay at the emergency vet per occurrence.) When I got to the vet they told me to head back to the visitor's lounge. This was unusual - definitely more kidney stones. Sigh. It was not kidney stones. It was worse. He had a heart murmur. And was in kidney failure. And the cancer we suspected he had, had now spread and was filling his abdomen. He was uncomfortable and at 17 years old, even if we decided to be aggressive in our treatment, it would not buy him a lot of time. I held him, bundled up in a blanket, and kissed his little gray nose (enough times to annoy him, most likely) and whispered in his ear as the vet gave him the injection to send him sailing away from me.
Three losses of my little ones in as many months. Can you see now why I avoided this entry? I did not want to admit that we had lost so much, so many animals that spent their days and nights with us, who kept us company and made us laugh and comforted us when we needed it. So many days I won't get back and so many experiences that were yet to come. But here it is. Written down for everyone to see. And in reading this, I hope that they might live on again, even for a short while, in you.
But as I drove home from work on the evening of January 29th, I got a call from my parents that Kita was acting strangely. I rushed home long enough to call the emergency vet to give them a heads up and run out to the car with drooling, panting, unresponsive Kita. There was nothing the vet could do. He was ready to go (which was confirmed by our AMAZING animal communicator, Karen Anderson, who we LOVE) and we couldn't hold him here no matter how much I may have wanted to. The hardest part of living with animals is knowing that you will, in all likelihood, outlive them and you will have to watch them as they slip. I lay on the floor at the vet's office, with my nose resting against Kita's, trying to let him know I was there for him and would not leave his side. And then the vet gave him the injection, and he left. It was hard - incredibly hard - to lose this dog who had been part of our family for roughly 16 years. I kept expecting to see him come around the corner, or be sleeping on his dog bed on my bedroom floor, or pass his leash hanging on my wall.
But one of the advantages of having multiple pets, for me at least, is knowing that all the other animals still need me and I can forget my loss, to some degree, by taking care of the rest of the animals. And we weren't without dogs - Maia and Buddy were still with us, although Buddy seemed to feel Kita's absence and spent the time after the loss moping around the house and showing little interest in his regular activities. About a week after Kita died I decided that Buddy needed to get out of the house and go for a walk with me and Maia, even though he didn't show his usual exuberant whippet energy. We got part of the way down the street when he stopped walking. He simply refused to go any further, despite several attempts to get him to change his mind. I finally gave in and took him back home and he went right back to bed. At about 6:50 that evening Mom noticed that his gums were pale and suggested we call the vet. They told us to bring him in right then, even though they were closing in 10 minutes. At the vet it was discovered that his red blood cell count, which should have been in the 50-60 range was down to 8, a number the vet described as "barely compatible with life." From there I rushed him to the specialist vet 40 minutes away and he was submitted and getting a blood transfusion within the hour. We were told by Buddy's internist (yes, he had his own internal medicine specialist) within the next couple of days that Buddy had IMHA. Immune Mediated Hemolytic Anemia. Basically, his body was destroying his own red blood cells, for reasons unknown. And more good news: it was a non responsive type, which is harder to treat. But we went all out - transfusions, regular blood counts, multiple night stays in the vet ER, special diets, and enough medications that we had to create an elaborate chart to keep track of when he needed his 13+ medications each day. I even tried alternative treatments. He went to a holistic vet, he got acupuncture, and he received reiki and shamanic healing from an amazing friend of Karen's. We spent one month fighting for Buddy, and over $10,000 to give our six year old dog every shot possible. I wish I could say that it worked, that Buddy finally began to make a turn around, that he is sleeping on the floor behind me as I write this. But I can't. In the end, Buddy became unresponsive and began panting hard one night. I rushed him to the specialist with my brother where they said he may have thrown a clot and they might be able to get him through to the morning if they intubated him, sticking a breathing tube down his throat. I decided that we had to let him go. He had told Karen a couple of weeks earlier that he was tired and ready to go but we hadn't been ready to let him go yet, and he seemed to be showing some improvement. I couldn't stand the thought of him dying there, in the hospital, with tubes down his throat and all alone. So I kissed him and hugged him and stroked his face as they gave him the injection, and then he left. Just like Kita, and only two months and two days afterward. And five short days before his seventh birthday. Driving home at 3:30 in the morning, it struck me as appropriate in some way that I had been the one to bring him into our lives, with a car ride together after picking him up at four months old from the breeder's house several hours away in Kennewick, Washington, and I was with him on his last car ride, as he left our lives that night.
Kita we had expected. We didn't like it, but we saw it coming - he had lived a long, full life with us. But Buddy. Buddy was so young, and so full of life such a short time ago. And now the house felt like a canyon - like you could scream and you would hear an echo with the emptiness of this place.
Two days after Buddy died, I checked in with him and Kita, via Karen. They were both feeling great and Buddy was raring to come back soon. He said he felt like he hadn't gotten to finish his time with us. But in the meantime, he said, he had sent us a gift. A dog at the local shelter was meant for us. So I went that very evening to get Axel, our newest addition to the Unfarm. He is a large dog - about 95 pounds, and black with brown markings, a Husky-Shepherd mix (so like Kita it's almost uncanny!) and ten years old. He probably didn't have much chance of being adopted with that triple threat: big, black, and elderly. He had, in fact, already been adopted and returned to the shelter once before. As I was filling out the paperwork for adoption I was given the highly encouraging news that Axel also had separation anxiety and should he ever be left alone he would proceed to destroy the doors, windows, couches, gates and any crate we might put him in. This gave me a great deal of trepidation, but not nearly enough to doubt Buddy's wisdom.
We have had Axel for over a month now, and he has turned out to be THE perfect dog for us. He is gentle, calm, friendly, quiet, and he LOVES going on walks and for rides in the car. We have also discovered that he has little to no separation anxiety with us and my fears (and the ominous predictions of the adoption counselor) were largely unfounded. He certainly does not enjoy being left alone, but he tolerates it just fine. He also has loads of energy and doesn't show his age at all. And the cherry on top? He grew up around chickens and cows so he behaves perfectly around all of our various "snack sized" pets. We could not have created a better situation if we tried. Thanks, Buddy.
So the drama was over, and life on the Unfarm settled back into a comfortable, if slightly lonely, routine. Until exactly two weeks after Buddy died, when Aspen went to the vet to address his bladder leakage. I had to leave him there for the afternoon for x-rays but went back in the evening to pick him up and hear the damage (Aspen has had several bladder problems in the past and they tend to run at least $1000 each and involve at least one overnight stay at the emergency vet per occurrence.) When I got to the vet they told me to head back to the visitor's lounge. This was unusual - definitely more kidney stones. Sigh. It was not kidney stones. It was worse. He had a heart murmur. And was in kidney failure. And the cancer we suspected he had, had now spread and was filling his abdomen. He was uncomfortable and at 17 years old, even if we decided to be aggressive in our treatment, it would not buy him a lot of time. I held him, bundled up in a blanket, and kissed his little gray nose (enough times to annoy him, most likely) and whispered in his ear as the vet gave him the injection to send him sailing away from me.
Three losses of my little ones in as many months. Can you see now why I avoided this entry? I did not want to admit that we had lost so much, so many animals that spent their days and nights with us, who kept us company and made us laugh and comforted us when we needed it. So many days I won't get back and so many experiences that were yet to come. But here it is. Written down for everyone to see. And in reading this, I hope that they might live on again, even for a short while, in you.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
The grass is always greener...
It would seem that the old saying is true: the grass is always greener on the other side, or perhaps I should say, the food is always better in the other bowl. We seem to be forever playing musical food bowls here on the Unfarm.
The dogs, for instance, are constantly on alert for any opportunity to get into the cat food, or worse, the sand cookies (our term for what shows up in the litter box after the cats have digested their own food.) Minna has mastered the art of sneaking under the gate and waddling into the chicken run to eat any food the chickens have left behind. The rabbits appear to have no particular desire to eat anyone else's food, but Maia considers bunny berries (aka rabbit poop) a delicacy. (I don't see the appeal either, but there you have it.) The chickens are equal opportunity snackers, eating not only their own food but any scraps we toss their way (they are particularly fond of corn cobs and melon rinds) whatever crumbs they can glean from the kitchen floor and duck food.
Not only are the animals getting into forbidden fruits on their own, I think they may have enlisted help. I suspect that one or more of the animals may have formed an alliance with the squirrels. The chickens and ducks can often be found sitting under the squirrel feeder, catching bits of corn and seeds that the squirrels "accidentally" knock off the feeder while searching for the ultimate prize: peanuts. In addition, I am quite sure that the dogs and ducks have a longstanding agreement - the dogs are forever nosing open the bunny room door (where the ducks spend the night) thus allowing the ducks to waddle down the hallway and into the kitchen where they proceed to splash in the dog's water bowl, making a mess that I must then clean up. I can see what the ducks get out of the arrangement but I am still unsure as to what's in it for the dogs. Perhaps they simply think it's funny to watch me chasing ducks around the house.
Speaking of ducks, Maggie has recently discovered the dog's food bowl. She will often sneak a couple mouthfuls while I'm busy chasing after Minna, trying to wrangle her into her diaper. (If you have never seen ducks running, let me assure you that they are by no means slow animals - they can cover considerable distance in a hurry when they want to.) For the most part, the cats seem to leave the other animals food alone - I expect they consider it beneath them to stoop to eating dog food and the grain and hay the other animals eat holds no appeal for them. They do, however, flock to the kitchen whenever a can of tuna or salmon is being opened, and Aspen has insisted on milk at least once a day for the entire 16+ years we have lived with him. If you decide that you don't want to get him milk until you are done, say, eating breakfast, he will help himself: he jumps up onto the table and sticks his head in your bowl to drink your milk.
I would attempt to come up with a clever, witty ending to this post, but ironically, I can hear Maggie scarfing down Kita's dinner in the kitchen so I'm off to chase down two incorrigible ducks. Until next time.
The dogs, for instance, are constantly on alert for any opportunity to get into the cat food, or worse, the sand cookies (our term for what shows up in the litter box after the cats have digested their own food.) Minna has mastered the art of sneaking under the gate and waddling into the chicken run to eat any food the chickens have left behind. The rabbits appear to have no particular desire to eat anyone else's food, but Maia considers bunny berries (aka rabbit poop) a delicacy. (I don't see the appeal either, but there you have it.) The chickens are equal opportunity snackers, eating not only their own food but any scraps we toss their way (they are particularly fond of corn cobs and melon rinds) whatever crumbs they can glean from the kitchen floor and duck food.
Not only are the animals getting into forbidden fruits on their own, I think they may have enlisted help. I suspect that one or more of the animals may have formed an alliance with the squirrels. The chickens and ducks can often be found sitting under the squirrel feeder, catching bits of corn and seeds that the squirrels "accidentally" knock off the feeder while searching for the ultimate prize: peanuts. In addition, I am quite sure that the dogs and ducks have a longstanding agreement - the dogs are forever nosing open the bunny room door (where the ducks spend the night) thus allowing the ducks to waddle down the hallway and into the kitchen where they proceed to splash in the dog's water bowl, making a mess that I must then clean up. I can see what the ducks get out of the arrangement but I am still unsure as to what's in it for the dogs. Perhaps they simply think it's funny to watch me chasing ducks around the house.
Speaking of ducks, Maggie has recently discovered the dog's food bowl. She will often sneak a couple mouthfuls while I'm busy chasing after Minna, trying to wrangle her into her diaper. (If you have never seen ducks running, let me assure you that they are by no means slow animals - they can cover considerable distance in a hurry when they want to.) For the most part, the cats seem to leave the other animals food alone - I expect they consider it beneath them to stoop to eating dog food and the grain and hay the other animals eat holds no appeal for them. They do, however, flock to the kitchen whenever a can of tuna or salmon is being opened, and Aspen has insisted on milk at least once a day for the entire 16+ years we have lived with him. If you decide that you don't want to get him milk until you are done, say, eating breakfast, he will help himself: he jumps up onto the table and sticks his head in your bowl to drink your milk.
I would attempt to come up with a clever, witty ending to this post, but ironically, I can hear Maggie scarfing down Kita's dinner in the kitchen so I'm off to chase down two incorrigible ducks. Until next time.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Sigh
Note: Forgive the delay, I started this post before Christmas, but with all the last minute shopping and spending time with my family, I wasn't able to get it posted until now.
It is, unfortunately, almost Christmas. This is unfortunate for two reasons, first, the sooner Christmas comes, the sooner it goes and all that's left is dreary, gray, wet winter; and second, I am - once again - nowhere near being ready. Why does that sound so familiar? Perhaps because I went through the same thing last year. The difference is that this year I have very little help with all the baking. And I got a much later start than I would have liked, due to the fact that I was slogging my way through a depressingly thick microbiology textbook and trying to cram the common names, scientific names, and identifying features of a huge list of deciduous plants. All this studying left very little time for doing anything. I think the only people less excited about all my schoolwork were the animals. The dogs were lucky if I managed to walk them once a week, the bunnies rarely got their usual time out in the evenings, and the ducks... who am I kidding - the ducks are exceedingly adept at getting whatever they want so my studying didn't bother them a bit.
The other task that fell by the wayside was keeping up on this blog. So, since I know everyone has been clamoring for an update (all one or two people who read this blog), I will oblige. There is nothing new to report with Kita and Maia, which is usually a case of no news is good news at this point: it means that their arthritis isn't getting any worse and their health is holding fairly steady. Kita is, however, on more pain medication in addition to his Rimadyl which seems to have made him a bit more playful, but he's still dragging by the end of our walks. But, despite his convincing performance of utter exhaustion, I am still not entirely sure that he's telling the truth. He always seems to be able to get up the energy for a second wind whenever he finds himself out without a leash or able to find a hole in the fence. As for Buddy, he temporarily acquired the unflattering nickname of "conehead." This was due to the fact that he managed - somehow - to rip a quarter sized piece of skin off the front of his shoulder which required stitches to patch it up (resulting in yet another vet bill, but on the plus side, they are naming the new wing of their building after us). And to keep Buddy from picking at his stitches, he was required to wear one of those plastic e-collars, hence the conehead nickname. He bore it tolerably well, though and after two weeks he was able to shed both the collar and the nickname.
Aspen is overjoyed that my brother - who had left for a month to visit relatives in another state - is back at home as this means that he will once again be getting decent milk. I should mention that the milk I give Aspen is the exact same milk that my brother gives him, but Aspen is convinced that what I have poured him is sub-par milk. He will drink almost anything my brother pours him, but should I make the mistake of pouring him anything less than half-and-half he looks at me like I'm trying to feed him dog food or something equally absurd. He will, however, grudgingly accept whipped cream from a can, cream, and eggnog from me. Mynx is easier to please and is quite content as long as the cable box with her blanket on top stays warm.
The chickens are finally out of trouble. A couple weeks back they were regularly staying out at night instead of going into their coop. This then necessitates an in-the-slippery-mud-and-pitch-dark chase of the chickens around the yard - a chase that the chickens nearly always win, being much smaller than us and therefore able to dart under the deck and wiggle around bushes much faster than we can. After several nights of slogging around in the dark after the chickens I grounded them to their run for a few days and that seems to have cured them of their rebellious attitude: they are now going into the coop on their own once it begins to get dark.
Things continue much the same with the rabbits: Jojo hates TJ. TJ hates Jojo, but gets along with Suki. Suki loves Jojo, tolerates TJ, and hates Clover. Clover spends all his time out of the cage marking every spot that Jojo has marked but is otherwise prevented from having any contact with TJ, Suki and Jojo by an elaborate system of gates and blockades. All attempts at bonding the rabbits are temporarily on hold, but I am hoping to start up again soon as their hormone levels will be lower during the winter (or so I am told - we'll have to see if that really makes the bonding any more successful than it has been previously.)
As for the ducks, Minna is - once again - laying eggs. This means several things: one, that Minna is regularly leaving eggs in the bunny room every morning; two, that Minna has become very insistent - and very vocal - in demanding multiple trips to the dog's water bowl every night; and three, that Maggie's hormones are in overdrive and she (he) frequently attacks both Minna and myself in multiple attempts to mate every day. It is particularly dangerous to refill the dog water bowl in the evening as that seems to have a sort of aphrodisiac effect on Maggie. I'm not entirely sure why that is - but it is almost a guarantee that as soon as I start pouring the water Maggie will either hop on top of Minna or go after my ankles.
Ah, and there it is, right on cue. Minna is demanding her third, or maybe fourth, trip out to the water bowl which means my peace and quiet has come to an end. She is, as I said, very vocal.
It is, unfortunately, almost Christmas. This is unfortunate for two reasons, first, the sooner Christmas comes, the sooner it goes and all that's left is dreary, gray, wet winter; and second, I am - once again - nowhere near being ready. Why does that sound so familiar? Perhaps because I went through the same thing last year. The difference is that this year I have very little help with all the baking. And I got a much later start than I would have liked, due to the fact that I was slogging my way through a depressingly thick microbiology textbook and trying to cram the common names, scientific names, and identifying features of a huge list of deciduous plants. All this studying left very little time for doing anything. I think the only people less excited about all my schoolwork were the animals. The dogs were lucky if I managed to walk them once a week, the bunnies rarely got their usual time out in the evenings, and the ducks... who am I kidding - the ducks are exceedingly adept at getting whatever they want so my studying didn't bother them a bit.
The other task that fell by the wayside was keeping up on this blog. So, since I know everyone has been clamoring for an update (all one or two people who read this blog), I will oblige. There is nothing new to report with Kita and Maia, which is usually a case of no news is good news at this point: it means that their arthritis isn't getting any worse and their health is holding fairly steady. Kita is, however, on more pain medication in addition to his Rimadyl which seems to have made him a bit more playful, but he's still dragging by the end of our walks. But, despite his convincing performance of utter exhaustion, I am still not entirely sure that he's telling the truth. He always seems to be able to get up the energy for a second wind whenever he finds himself out without a leash or able to find a hole in the fence. As for Buddy, he temporarily acquired the unflattering nickname of "conehead." This was due to the fact that he managed - somehow - to rip a quarter sized piece of skin off the front of his shoulder which required stitches to patch it up (resulting in yet another vet bill, but on the plus side, they are naming the new wing of their building after us). And to keep Buddy from picking at his stitches, he was required to wear one of those plastic e-collars, hence the conehead nickname. He bore it tolerably well, though and after two weeks he was able to shed both the collar and the nickname.
Aspen is overjoyed that my brother - who had left for a month to visit relatives in another state - is back at home as this means that he will once again be getting decent milk. I should mention that the milk I give Aspen is the exact same milk that my brother gives him, but Aspen is convinced that what I have poured him is sub-par milk. He will drink almost anything my brother pours him, but should I make the mistake of pouring him anything less than half-and-half he looks at me like I'm trying to feed him dog food or something equally absurd. He will, however, grudgingly accept whipped cream from a can, cream, and eggnog from me. Mynx is easier to please and is quite content as long as the cable box with her blanket on top stays warm.
The chickens are finally out of trouble. A couple weeks back they were regularly staying out at night instead of going into their coop. This then necessitates an in-the-slippery-mud-and-pitch-dark chase of the chickens around the yard - a chase that the chickens nearly always win, being much smaller than us and therefore able to dart under the deck and wiggle around bushes much faster than we can. After several nights of slogging around in the dark after the chickens I grounded them to their run for a few days and that seems to have cured them of their rebellious attitude: they are now going into the coop on their own once it begins to get dark.
Things continue much the same with the rabbits: Jojo hates TJ. TJ hates Jojo, but gets along with Suki. Suki loves Jojo, tolerates TJ, and hates Clover. Clover spends all his time out of the cage marking every spot that Jojo has marked but is otherwise prevented from having any contact with TJ, Suki and Jojo by an elaborate system of gates and blockades. All attempts at bonding the rabbits are temporarily on hold, but I am hoping to start up again soon as their hormone levels will be lower during the winter (or so I am told - we'll have to see if that really makes the bonding any more successful than it has been previously.)
As for the ducks, Minna is - once again - laying eggs. This means several things: one, that Minna is regularly leaving eggs in the bunny room every morning; two, that Minna has become very insistent - and very vocal - in demanding multiple trips to the dog's water bowl every night; and three, that Maggie's hormones are in overdrive and she (he) frequently attacks both Minna and myself in multiple attempts to mate every day. It is particularly dangerous to refill the dog water bowl in the evening as that seems to have a sort of aphrodisiac effect on Maggie. I'm not entirely sure why that is - but it is almost a guarantee that as soon as I start pouring the water Maggie will either hop on top of Minna or go after my ankles.
Ah, and there it is, right on cue. Minna is demanding her third, or maybe fourth, trip out to the water bowl which means my peace and quiet has come to an end. She is, as I said, very vocal.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
On puzzles and cats... and rabbits, oh my!
I have been thinking lately about puzzles. Puzzles and puzzle competitions. I don't know if there is such a thing as jigsaw puzzle competitions, but if they do exist I imagine them to be somewhat like chess tournaments: a large room filled with groups of people (because puzzling is always more fun with a partner or two) all working on puzzles while sitting at their individual tables, with the goal of finishing the fastest. The winners from each round would then compete against each other, repeating the process until eventually one winning group is determined. Or something like that.
But how to make each successive round more difficult? Ahh, I have the perfect suggestion. After each round, more cats and rabbits are added to the room. Why cats and rabbits, you ask? This is because cats, as evidenced by the photos above, love to sit in or on puzzle boxes, covering as many pieces as possible, and knocking off pieces onto the floor as they settle themselves. (At least that's what my cats do.) And what about the rabbits? They'll do what rabbits do best: chew. And here you thought what rabbits do best is mating, but you're wrong: chewing on things, especially expensive things, is their most favorite hobby. Any puzzle pieces that happen to fall on the floor will be susceptible to predation by wandering rabbits. A chomp, a bite, and your puzzle piece is gone. (At least that's what my rabbits do.) Well, it sounds like a good idea to me, anyway.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
A thought or two on fire
I started a fire this evening - in the fireplace, of course. (I do not recommend starting fires anywhere else in your house. I imagine it is not conducive to keeping a roof over your head.) I was supposed to be reading the latest scintillating chapter in my Financial Accounting textbook but it was - as usual - more boring than watching paint dry. (On the plus side, I no longer have any trouble falling asleep at night - a page or two of accounting and I'm out like a light.) Sitting in front of the fireplace, not reading my accounting homework, I started to stare at the fire. And the more I watched it, the more I came to the conclusion that fire is like a house cat. Both are things you want to curl up near. Both are interesting to watch. Both are enjoyed best when they are somewhat tamed. And finally, house cats and fires are both safest when small. You wouldn't want a tiger roaming your kitchen any more than you want a raging fire burning through your bedroom.
With that said, I am off to work on my homework. I was finally able to finish my chapter of assigned accounting reading, and have moved on to the even more awful Introduction to the Practice of Sadistics. Or Statistics. Whatever. Same thing.
With that said, I am off to work on my homework. I was finally able to finish my chapter of assigned accounting reading, and have moved on to the even more awful Introduction to the Practice of Sadistics. Or Statistics. Whatever. Same thing.
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