A Beautiful Thing

     A friend of my daughter's moved in with her, her husband, and child.  Also making the move were more pets and her own child.  It is a beautiful thing when one helps out another in need.  All are animal lovers.  And what better way to show it than to display over the mantel place stockings.  These stockings do not include children's names or even theirs.  But it is their pet's names written on the stockings. 
     Across the fireplace mantel hangs stockings with these names:  Shadow (cat), Midnight (cat), Xena (cat), Snyder (dog), Bella (dog), Killer (turtle), and one for all the pet fish that simply says The Fish. 
     Christmas time is a time to show love not only to human kind, but to our pets.  I may not be one who hangs the stockings, but extra treats will be given to all my inside and outside cats. 

     I wish a Merry Christmas to all (human and pets alike).

Christmas

     Thanksgiving comes before Christmas.  But to retailers it seems to be passed by quickly.  They jump right into Christmas.  Even this year, Halloween seemed to be put on the back burner.  But then again, I started early Christmas shopping.  Waiting to the last minute puts a real financial burden on me.  Whether one shops early or shops late, depends on the individual.  Who cares when retailers start their ads and such?  For me, it is better to start early.  Where am I going with this?
     Christmas is truly a wonderful time of the year.  As we buy for family, friends, etc., let us not forget our four-legged member of the family.  Our dog has demonstrated all year long his/her loyalty and love for us.  At this time of year give a doggie bone.  Or better yet, hang a stocking filled with all kinds of dog toys.  After all, dogs sometimes act like people, too.
 

MERRY CHRISTMAS to dogs and dog lovers!

Papa and Fido

     Ever since I was a little girl all I could remember about my Grandfather(Papa) was his sitting beside the fireplace in his rocking chair.  And there on the floor beside him was his old dog Fido.  Both he and the dog were always there.  In the time I was visiting, I never saw either move.  My mother always said her father and Fido worked                                    "My father was a hard worker," Mother always said.  "And Fido worked just as hard.  He was always by his side.  The dog did no actual work, but he kept my father company as he himself worked his 100 and some odd acres of land."
     Piece by piece Papa began selling off his land.  He eventually lived off any saved money and social security.  He and Fido, as well as Grandmother (Mama), seemed to survive well enough in their senior years.  Although they had gone through a depression and such, they did seem to survive better than people today.  Things just didn't cost as much.  When people refer to the good old days, I think they really were the good old days.
     Fido was very loyal to his master.  He deserved the nice cozy spot also by the fireplace.  He had in the previous years proven himself as man's best friend.  Up at the break of day, off Papa and he prepared to go to the fields after both ate an early breakfast.  The breakfast Mama had prepared as her day began early also.  Even Fido had his table scraps.  I don't much think dog food was ever on his menu.  Fido was, after all, a member of the family.  Out the door now to the fields Papa went with Fido tagging behind.
     Farming back in earlier days may have seemed like a hard life.  But living in the city now, I would love to go back to the farm life.  It was a freedom to wander through the fields.  I would not mind having my loyal old dog Fido by my side.  You hope for a better life when growing up.  I couldn't wait to get off the farm.  Now, I realize that life wasn't so bad after all.  It would be nice to yell my own words, "Here Fido! Come here Fido!"

Abby's Boyfriend

     Our Abby is a full blooded Yellow Labrador retriever and we have the papers to prove it.  My husband had great plans to breed her when she matured.  I didn't agree.  I could only imagine that we would have more puppies than we could handle and it might be difficult to sell them.  I had three small children.  I didn't want any more workload on my shoulders.  He wouldn't back down and before we knew it, she went into heat for the first time.  

     Having had no experience with a female dog before Abby, I was unprepared.  We have a fenced in yard so Abby was safe under my supervision.  I guess when a female dog goes into heat; the male dogs from miles around can smell her.  So for the duration of her heat, we met about 10-15 new dogs we had never seen before!  We would come outside and there would be a black lab lurking along the fence line.  Another time, there would be a brown and white mutt out there or a tan cocker spaniel.  There would be several all around the fence at once!  And that is when we met Smokey for the first time.  Smokey is one of the mutts. He is short, brown, black, white, and very funny looking.  He “smiles” at you when he sees you….a weird, teeth chattering affair.  I can’t explain it, but it is funny.

     Smokey belongs to some neighbors up the road, who we have become friends with over the years because we have children close in age.  The attention from all those male dogs (who surely did not have papers to prove their worth) put fear in both my husband and me.  Neither one of us wanted mutt puppies that REALLY would be impossible to find homes for.  So we made an appointment and had Abby spayed that very week.  The male dogs stopped coming around.  Smokey still came.  We joked that Smokey was her boyfriend.  He was just too stupid to realize she had been fixed.  We found out much later that Ol’ Smokey was actually neutered.  I guess he saw all the other dogs coming and wanted to see what the hype was.

     When Abby got a little older, she developed a bad habit.  She began climbing over the fence and running away.  She would always come back home when she got tired of running, but it was worrisome.  We lived on a busy road and some people get angry if a dog runs onto their property. Too often, we saw her up the road or on the nearby golf course running with Smokey. She came home once after an adventure needing five stitches in the bottom of her paw. Allowing her to run simply was not safe.  Then we began to notice a pattern.  She would only run away when Smokey came to visit.  We bought her an invisible fence with a shock collar so she wouldn't run away any more.  Smokey still came to visit.  He would come strolling down the road and then grin at her and do a little dance.  It was as if he were trying to get her pumped up to run along with him.  She couldn't go.  She would get real excited to see him, they would sniff each other.  He would do his little dance again, but she would not go with him.  He would eventually run along without her.  Still, though, on some occasions, the battery in her collar would be dead, or she wouldn't have it on.  She always seemed to know when that was the case and off she would go for several hours.  Always, she would come home “dog tired.”  

     Sometimes Smokey would come into the fence and the children would close the gate and make him visit for awhile. One time, he came into the house because the back door was propped open.  He went under our bed and wouldn't come out for hours!  His owners weren't concerned.  Smokey often wanders.  His home life is a little different from Abby’s.  He lives in a dog house and comes and goes as he pleases, whereas Abby is spoiled and sleeps in the house spending a great deal of time in the air conditioning. Smokey actually got hit by a car once; he limped home and his owners never took him to the vet.  He limped for a while, but there were not any superficial wounds.  After all these years, history, and their different backgrounds, one thing has become apparent. Abby and Smokey are truly friends. The running joke is that they are boyfriend and girlfriend.

     They are both around ten years old now. They both have quite a bit of white on their faces. Abby doesn't act like she wants to run much anymore.  Smokey seems to hang more closely to his own home, too. We do still see him wander, but not nearly as often.  Recently I drove our truck up to the neighbor’s yard to drop something off.  Abby rode in the front seat with me.  Smokey was home that day, though.  He was happy to see his girl. He stood up and grinned.  She wagged her tail and barked a hello.  I didn't dare let her out.  They would have run away together for sure.  

These are our most recent photographs of Abby.  We don't have any of Smokey.  It would be risky to get those two together for a photo....surely they would run off!

BAD BAD DOG (update)

     This is an update from the July 31, 2014 story.  With school having now started this month (August), the dog chasing begins again.  Can nothing be done about the dog?  Children walking home from school are once again confronted with the problem of the dog chasing them.
     A crowd gathers in the street composed of neighbors.  My son is included in this group as they watch the "I'm not the owner" guy try to catch the dog to chain him in his front yard.  Duh!  He's not the owner?  Then why is he chasing him in his yard to chain him up in his yard?
     A next door neighbor to the house where the dog lives comes outside and yells to the man.  "Is the dog chasing kids again?"
     My son speaks up, "I've already reported the dog myself,"  He says.  "Has not anyone else?"  No response by others as they continue to laugh at the man trying to catch the dog.  Once the dog is chained, the man walks up the street to the gathered crowd and says," He is NOT my dog."
     It is several days later now.  The dog remains at the "I'm not the owner's" house.  

Further updates may come later as it is a developing story with nothing being done...

BAD BAD DOG

     Not every dog can be described as man's best friend.  Or, at least, it is according to my thinking.  Much like every animal on the planet, there's good and there's bad.  Even with us humans, we have good and bad. But I'll not go anywhere with this topic, except with a certain dog.  I love dogs.  But I have to admit there are some that apparently don't want love from anyone.  And such is the case with a dog that lives down the street.  I know nothing about this dog except he's black and a nuisance.  I'm not even sure he has a name. The apparent owner never revealed this.  He simply keeps saying, "The dog isn't mine."  Before I get a head of the story, I begin from what I know as the beginning.
     The area school lets out.  The children begin their walk home.  Up the street stand three children who are afraid to go any further.  "The dog will attack us!" they say.  And sure enough, he will.  A grown up will help the children to get past the dog.  I've even helped them.  And so has my son and other neighbors.  No one seems to stop the situation.
     One day, two girls came running and jumped into my son's truck bed to avoid the chasing dog.
     "I'm sorry," they apologized.
     "That's fine,"I said, "do you need any help?"  This dog seemed to leave adults alone.
     Something needed to be done.  Everyone including myself was letting it ride.  I figured sooner or later a parent would step in.  But it was not so, until it was this one day.  And it was my son who isn't a parent who did the stepping in.
     It was a small child walking home from school alone.  He must have been in the first grade or so.  I was in the front yard and so was my son.  I asked the boy in passing, "Do you need help getting past the dog?"
     He shook his head no.  And then afterwards, we heard barking.  The dog was chasing the boy.  Since the boy knew we were outside, he ran right to us.  He was crying and so scared.  My son calmed him down and then walked beside him past the still barking dog.
     "I've seen enough," said my son.  Immediately he got on the telephone and called the dog pound.
     "Are you willing to go to court about the dog?" He was asked over the phone.
     "Yes," he replied.
     We watched and they never came that day.  We were gone the following day.  But upon returning home, that neighbor came to talk to my son.
     "Somebody turned me in for the dog," he said.
     "I did!" replied my son.
     "It's not my dog," the man said. He must have known that my son had reported him. Or else, why did he come to my son?  The neighbor said, "He isn't my dog.  But I sometimes let him into my house to feed him." He paused and continued.  "I told them I would find out whose dog it is."  The dog still remains there at the same house.
     I told my son that if it was indeed not his dog then he had a duty to report it when he saw it chasing children.  Even he would frequently call the dog inside when it chased them.
     With school to start again in August, the chasing will surely begin again.  But this time, the dog has been reported at least once that we know of.  If something unthinkable should happen, let's hope someone is held accountable.
   

Coming up in July....

   

I have been absent from this blog for awhile, but please check back in during the month of July.  I will be posting a dog story soon.

Buster

     The old farmer sat under a shade tree.  His days of working in the fields had since passed.  His corn and tobacco crops were shared with neighbor farmers.  They would come taking care of the crops on his farm and giving him half.  I guess you could say the old farmer had retired.  Taking it easy under his shade tree was all he ever seemed to do.  The farmer's wife had already passed away.  His children moved away to the city.  One would think he was alone.  But no, he was not alone.  There under the shade tree lay his trusty old red bloodhound.  The dog was not seeing a lick of work either.  When the old man retired, the dog had apparently done so too.  But then again, as a child growing up in the country and occasionally visiting the old man, I never saw either the old man or dog ever do much.  And now not doing much had gotten to be less. 
     Being young as I was, retirement was far from my mind.  Yet, I wondered if getting old was like this for everyone.  I should live as long to find out.  The old man's stories to a young child were entertaining.  He had seen so much in his lifetime.  He told stories, but then always came back to talking about his dog. 
     "Do you see Buster there lying on the ground?"
     "Yes!" I'd reply. 
     "If he could talk, he'd sure have some stories to tell."
     The old dog he called Buster never made a move.  He was asleep or possibly dead.  It was hard to tell. 
     "Don't let his sleeping fool you," said the old man.  "He's off chasing a rabbit."  He paused and continued.  "Did I ever tell you about the time Buster chased a bear?"
     "No, sir, you never told me."  In all the times I had walked home alone and through the fields, I never once saw a bear.  Our area of the state was not known for bears.  But I listened as the old man told of his being chased by a bear and it turned and ran away when Buster chased after it. 
     "Buster saved my life," said the old man. 
     He told so many stories of his dog Buster and the courageous acts he did.  The stories were hard to believe, especially when looking down each time at a motionless dog.  I continued to listen, though.  I think it gave the old man a reason to live telling such wild stories.  He would be lost if something should ever happen to Buster. 
     In time, the old man passed away.  The children came back to settle the old man's estate.  Under the shade tree they found Buster who had passed away shortly after the old man had.  In heaven, I could almost imagine Buster chasing a rabbit as the old man watched from his chair under a shade tree.  Or better yet, he was watching as Buster chased off another bear. 

Hachi: A Dog's Tale

     I never thought I would be touched by a story about a dog as much as I was the movie, Old Yeller.  But it happened!  The story I am writing about was a movie made in 2010.  I never knew when the movie hit theaters.  I don't go to the theater enough to keep up with releases.  I wait until a movie comes on T.V.  One night I saw this movie to be shown on regular T.V.  I sat down to watch it. 
     The movie did not appeal to me at first.  It was moving too slow.  But some of the names of the cast, Richard Gere and Joan Allen, had me sitting, watching, and hoping it would get better.  I am glad I did.  The end brought tears to my eyes. 
     The movie is an incredible story about friendship and love.  I don't plan to give away any of the plot.  If you are in the mood for a feel-good movie, take some time and see this movie.  It's definitely not a movie that you will make the statement afterwards, "That's two hours I will never get back."  In fact, it proves to be a memorable film.  It's two hours you'll keep.  It's a true story of faith, devotion, and undying love.  It's time and time again in your mind that you'll replay the scenes over. 
     Hachi:  A Dog's Tale is a great movie.  I think I'm back in high school writing a book report.  It's at the bottom of that book report that I comment to whether I recommend if someone read the book or not.  I write:  Yes, I recommend reading.  But in this case, I recommend seeing Hachi:  A dog's Tale.

Old Yeller

     In December of 1957, A Disney movie, Old Yeller, hit theatres.  I was in the fifth grade at the time.  My  teacher was paying for all of her students to go see the movie.  Things were a little different back then.  The class sizes were so small that the fifth grade and sixth grade were in the same room with one teacher, so both grade levels were going. Going to the movie was an easy sell to my parents as they weren't expected to pay for anything. All they had to do was sign a permission slip. On the appointed day, we all loaded onto a school bus and off to the theatre we went. 
     I assume this movie was to be some kind of teaching lesson.  It was treated as a field trip.  And after all these years, I believe it really was a teaching lesson.  I remember so well watching the movie and crying in the closing scenes when Old Yeller died.  Perhaps it helped develop in me my love for dogs that I have today.  We can get so attached to our pets.  I have that movie in my own DVD collection today.  I even loaned it out to my daughter for her children to watch it.  I have been known to watch it several more times myself.  I cry every time I see them put Old Yeller down.  I wonder how many of my old classmates remember the afternoon we went to see that movie.  After all, who could forget it? The lyrics to the song in the movie are so catchy.  I am hardly a film critic, but I highly recommend seeing it if you haven't.   I consider it one of the best movies I have ever seen. 
     With access to the computer, I went online and listened to the song once again.  The song says, "Old Yeller, come back Yeller.  The best dog gone dog in the west." I really didn't need to listen to the lyrics.  They are embedded in my memory from those days gone by, "Old Yeller, come back Yeller."

Chris

     I never knew what kind of dog he was.  A friend's dog had puppies.  She was in desperate need of giving all the puppies away.  I agreed to take one.  And so, the little black male puppy with curly hair was coming to live with us.  With approaching Christmas, I saw him as a Christmas present.  My daughter Karen had asked for a puppy.  It would certainly make her happy.  The breed of dog just wasn't important.  All I knew was that he was cute.  The size of his mother told me he would be a small dog when grown.  Although the dog was Karen's, he would be shared by the other two children.  But right away Karen took on complete ownership.  Because it was Christmas, she named him Chris.  The dog was meant for Karen and rightfully so it would remain that way.
     Chris was not to be an inside dog.  With a fenced back yard and a dog house, he was to remain outside.   But Chris apparently had different ideas about the fenced yard.  How he got out was one mystery after another.  It was a four foot fence.  The size fence allowed for our subdivision.  Across the front yard, Chris came running.  He was followed by a Pit Bull dog and neighbors.  As the Pit Bull pinned Chris down and held tight on his neck, I tried pulling them apart.  With the aid of neighbors, Chris's life was saved.
     Back now in the back yard, Chris was put.  He could not at this late date become an inside dog.  He was set in his ways.  And so, around the back yard we went looking for ways he could have gotten out.  If a scratched area of dirt was found or anything which enabled him getting out, it was fixed.  Chris shouldn't get out now. 
     A message was left for me at work.  It was a call from a neighbor.  The message left read, "Your dog has been run over in the street."  I called home and spoke to my son who was home then from school.  I told Kevin, "Go check and see if it's Chris."  He called back saying, "It's Chris and I have buried him."  Chris had been saved from a Pit Bull dog to wind up killed by an unknown driver. 
     I was curious on how Chris kept getting out of the fenced yard.  Around the yard I checked and found no place dug.  Evidently the little small dog had learned to climb the fence.  I guess his life could have been prolonged by chaining him.  But to me that seemed cruel.  Chris died being free.  As people, we choose to be free also. 
     After Chris, I never got another dog.  I am a dog lover.  But memories are still present as to what more could I have done to save him?  Once we have a pet, we always carry lasting memories.  Although he was such a nuisance, I still loved that little fellow.  He remains always in my heart...

Maverick

     Webster's Dictionary describes a maverick as an unbranded cow or calf.  It also may be a dissenter; a nonconformist.  I don't think either fits the dog I am about to write about.  Besides, I didn't know the meaning of such a word back when the dog known as Maverick came into our lives.  It was during the time a western was on television called Maverick.  I am pretty sure this is where the dog got its name. 
     In the country, back in the sixties, it was not uncommon for a stray dog to wander onto someone's property.  As children, we were always taking in strays.  Once we named the dog, he became ours.  No one came looking for the dog. 
     Every morning, Mother cooked our breakfast.  The breakfast was always highlighted by good old country scrambled eggs.  We raised our own chickens and so there were plenty of eggs.  We gathered eggs every day until we noticed them getting scarce.  Had the chickens stopped laying?  No, in fact, I myself caught Maverick in the act of eating one.  I never told!  But soon others in the family caught Maverick eating eggs. 
     "We can't have this," exclaimed Mother.  "Maverick will have to go. Once a dog starts to eat eggs, there is no stopping him."
     None of us wanted Maverick to go.  We had learned to love him.  He played with us.  He followed us.  He was constantly our companion.  We wondered now what was to happen to him.  But Mother loved animals as much as us.  We were confident she would make the right decision and she did.  She talked to a friend in the city who agreed to take the collie dog.  She had a fenced yard.  She even told Mother he would probably become an inside dog.  He would not eat eggs anymore. 
     We found out later that Maverick did become an inside dog.  He even got a changed name.  His new name was Precious.  Duh!  Can you believe that?
     Eggs are considered to be good for dogs.  Maverick sure did like them.  I like my scrambled or fried eggs too.  With Maverick's departure, breakfast came back to normal.  We had our fresh country eggs every morning. 

Chasing Sticky

     Some dogs can live with cats.  Other dogs can not.  They simply can not get along.  A friend once told me about his German Shepherd who he knew did not like cats.  But because his young children wanted a cat, there was going to be one in the house.  I never really asked him how he did it, but the dog learned to love the cat.  As a child growing up in the country there were cats and dogs that got along.  I never really saw any dog chase any cat.  But now I do. 
     Here comes that stray dog wondering up the street.  He stops and then enters my front yard.  A cat, we call Sticky, is chased up our sugar maple tree.  Since we sometimes feed Sticky on the front porch, the dog makes his way to the front porch in search of any food left.  A bark or two is further given towards the cat before the dog is on his way up the street.  Although there is a leash law, several dogs are allowed to run free in our neighborhood.  I don't know if the stray has an owner.  Sticky is in his own front yard, but no animal knows property boundaries.  Unable to bring Sticky inside because of his feline leukemia, he stays outside.  Our indoor cats could be infected if I allowed him in.  We do hate this.  His outdoor existence has to be tough. 
     We love Sticky.  He is an offspring of Skillet (a previous stray we used to feed.)  We can't help but love the little fellow.  Afraid of approaching bad weather and predators, my son built Sticky his own house. 

 

Read: "A House for Sticky" in next week's cat blog.

Singing' Dogs (Jingle Bells)

     Although a national poll found the tune, "Singing' Dogs" to be a least want to hear on the radio at this time of year (Christmas) by women, it is not a least favorite of mine.  My house is turned on to a cable channel for seasonal holiday favorites.  And wouldn't you know it, the song is one played. 
     Singing' Dogs was first released 57 years ago.  It was a musical recording project under whose name two 45rpm singles were released.  The idea for singing dogs came from Don Charles, a record producer working in Copenhagen, Denmark.  The barking-spliced on reel-to-reel tape and arranged pitches to the tune of Stephen Foster song, "Oh! Susanna!" There were four dogs originally named Dolly, Pearl, Caesar, and King.  It was later in the recording that a fifth dog named Pussy was added.
     I think the idea for Jingle Bells by dogs was a great idea.  There are so many other recordings out there of different people singing the song.  Why not dogs?  To someone who is a dog lover, I like the song.  I'd like to see more traditional songs sung by our four-legged best friend.  I am sure if the poll had been done including just dog lovers that the results of the poll would have been different. 
     And now that Christmas 2013 is over, may all have had a Merry Christmas.  I wish for all a happy and prosperous 2014.....