My new friend, Toby

My daughter Val has had the same carpet cleaner for years. It was time for his services, but she couldn't reach him. After persistently trying off and on over a month's time, she finally reached him. He had a pretty bad stroke a year ago, couldn't work, lost his business and was about to lose his house. She has a soft heart, went to his place, found him and his house and his dog in shambles. The two finches who were living in an entertainment center seemed in good health. She couldn't find any dog food in the house and suspicioned that the dog, Toby, was eating bird seed. She took him to Trader Joe's, where he got some food for himself and pet food, and has been keeping an eye on him. He is suicidal, is alienated from his family, and has decided lying down in a snow bank is a pretty painless way to go. She called government agencies, tried to get him some help. He is about to lose his house, he said he has maybe two or three more months and then his savings are totally gone. She suspicions that he is continuing to have some mini strokes. She tried to find homes for the pets so she could take him to the hospital. She found a home for the birds, but not the dog. She said he was very sweet, but dirty, probably malnourished, not very attractive. I said if she couldn't find a home for him, I would take him until Patrick was on his feet and could take him back. She is also looking into housing for him. So how is she going to find housing that will take in a dog and two finches, along with Patrick, who is very ill? Last Sunday, Val and her husband Mike went to Patrick's house and convinced him that he should check in to a hospital, that she would take Toby to me, and that I would take excellent care of him. So Mike and Patrick went to hospital, where Val's suspicions were confirmed. Patrick has had several more small strokes. Val and I met halfway between Mishawaka and Zionsville to do the dog exchange. Yup, he was a mess! But a good boy with a sweet personality. I made sure I would have someone at my house when Toby met Fred, my dog, especially with ice and snow on ground and me in a boot from a fractured bone or two in my foot. I didn't need to have two fighting dogs on my hands, so my friend Jim was there to help when I got home. No need to worry - they got on fine.

I've been reading up on how to train an adult dog that has peed and pooped wherever he wants for 14 or 15 years. I'm trying the umbilical method. He is now tied to me via a long leash, which Phyllis Panozzo made for one of my dogs many years ago. He is pretty good if I watch him all the time because he heads towards a door before he lets loose, but I don't always pay attention. Now, when he heads for the door, I know it because he is attached to me and will be pulling me along as he heads for the door. Yesterday he must have followed Fred out the automatic door while I was at the vet's picking up some paperwork. Of course, he couldn't get back in because he didn't yet have the magic fob on his collar that operates the dog door. Fortunately I had gotten him his rabies shot the day before, tag on collar with vet's name on it. Someone picked him up on Lincoln Way East, where he almost got hit by a bus. They called my vet's office, got my number and got him back to me. I had been driving around but hadn't gotten that far from home. I had also tramped through the snow by the river worried that he might have gone in. A friend chided me for getting an old dog a rabies shot. Did you know that you cannot get a dog groomed in Indiana unless you bring in the paperwork that shows the dog has a current vaccine? Of course, when she heard that she understood why I did it. Thank goodness that tag was on his collar. I might never have gotten him back without that tag!

Jenna grooming Toby

All done!

Back home and having dinner

Beautiful Toby!

I am already in love. But he is Patrick's dog, and if Patrick finds a way to take him back, he will go to his owner. All's well that ends well, and I'm not sure walking around with a dog attached to my dog leash "umbilical cord" is the best ending. What will be will be.

A life well lived . . .

Natasha Marie, or Tashi for short, joined the family on the farm in the fall of 2007. The vet guessed her age at about two years old, maybe a bit older. She loved that farm. She never quite forgave me for leaving it.

Tashi crossed the rainbow bridge today, July 5, 2018 at noon. I am taking her ashes to the farm so that she will be back in her beloved home, her Summerland, for eternity.

Tashi's eating problem - SOLVED!!

I have written extensively about the trials and tribulations of getting Tashi to eat. In case you haven't read the last post, in which I said she was better - sort of, here is the link so you can read, or perhaps review:  A tale of two dogs and their diets

Since I wrote this, I finally got around to putting their personal diffusers on their collars. These are cute little clip-on pendants that can be infused with essential oils. I got them several months ago but hadn't yet done the research on what I might put on them. I found that coriander was good for appetite normalization. I noticed that it didn't say that it would encourage eating, but just that it would normalize the appetite. Tashi definitely has not had a normal appetite since this whole thing started in 2014.

Coriander - that's what I should use. So I did, for Tashi. For Fred, I tried spearmint, which is supposed to help for overweight dogs.

Bingo! Immediately after hanging the coriander essential oil-infused pendant around Tashi's neck, she started eating with no encouragement. In fact, she chased Fred away from her bowl the other night, and she comes to the kitchen begging. The problems with any kind of grain seem to have disappeared, and she is eating kibble for the first time in years - about a cup a day.

I'm taking her to the vet along with Fred today. It's Fred's annual physical, so I might as well take Tashi along and get her weighed in. Right before I put the coriander EO around her neck, she weighed in at 48.1, which is within her normal range (48 to 54). That is a first since the weight started to plunge in 2014.

I'll finish this post when I get home from the vet. Fingers crossed that her weight is holding or up a little more.

Tashi's weight - 48.8! Brava, Tashi!

A tale of two dogs and their diets . . .

Well, here's the latest in the feeding of Tashi saga. She seems to want to eat only once a day. Today, she finally dug in about 4:30 pm. She is on her third bowl of food, so in the end she gets enough to eat. My test is feeling her ribs, don't even want to bother with weighing her. I get so depressed if she has dropped even a few ounces. Her ribs feel fine, nothing like the xylophone she was at the worst of her illness.

As for Fred, he is getting so fat he can barely jump on the bed. He is getting a third of a cup of kibble twice a day. And that's it! I won't even let him lick the bowl when Tashi is finally finished. He is not wild about these meals. I sometimes have to put a bit of broth on his kibble, but then it disappears in less than a minute. He's been pacing in the kitchen beside me while I write, looking in his bowl with optimism, then walking away. LOL

When I am having trouble feeding Tashi, Fred goes in his cage any time her food is on the floor. No more stolen meals. I know that is his weight problem - I walk away from Tashi's dish to get something from the garage or basement, and the next thing I know he is up to his neck in her dog food. He is quick!

Well, they are both satisfied now. Tashi has cleaned up all of her precooked food. Chicken gizzards and hearts are cooking on the stove for tomorrow, or maybe a late night snack. A huge package of thighs and some old stew meat I found when cleaning freezers are thawing out for her next big batch.

She is a good old dog. Nearly totally deaf (but her head stills comes up when I shout, "Want to go for a walk?"), cataracts, arthritis. Hard to see these things getting worse when we have finally conquered the eating issues (sort of), but she has given me 12 beautiful years, and who knows, maybe a couple more are to come. I heart Tashi and Fred.

Fred, my forgotten friend

Tashi demands so much of my time! The coaxing to eat continues more days than not. I am so grateful on a day when she goes to the bowl and eats without coaxing, without an appetizer of pepperoni (I know, she shouldn't eat it) to get her salivating and ready to eat.

Fred is so easy to feed. One day I found half a wine cork in the dining room. If he can chew it, he will eat it. One dog who is underweight, another who is overweight.

Fred is a loyal little fellow who only gets attention after Tashi has been cared for. Of course, he always goes on our walks. I feel guilty that I probably wouldn't walk him except that when Tashi is walked before a meal, she eats better, so Fred gets to come along. Always, it is Tashi first.

I want to tell a Fred story today, a story that made me realize it is time to put Fred first more often! The other night, I came home from a six hour round trip to my home town for my aunt's 100th birthday party. I was so tired! Phyllis had texted me to let me know that there were still two unsold loaves of bread at market, so I swung by there on my way into town. Good! I would have two loaves to take to my son's house the next day. He was hosting Easter dinner, and I knew the bread would be a welcome addition to the meal.

I got home with the bread, pretty exhausted. I booted up my Surface tablet and realized the cord was still at the market. I had just put the dog food down on the floor, so that meant as much as 30 minutes of coaxing with Tashi. I just wanted to go to bed! I decided I would take Fred with me (his bowl was already empty) to go back to the market for the cord. It would be interesting to see if Tashi would eat when she was left alone with her food.

Fred and I headed out, he on my lap with his head on my shoulder, enjoying the extra attention. As we got farther from home, he got agitated. I had to lock him in the car alone while I unlocked the heavy gate and went into the market for the cord. When I got everything locked up and got back in the car, Fred was shaking! I held him tight, the shaking got a little better, but he had started panting.

Fred was dumped on the streets of South Bend a little over a year ago. Someone took him on a ride in a car, shoved him out and left him. I may be wrong, but I think the little guy was reliving that event. I kept petting him, telling him how much I loved him and that we were going home. "Home, Fred. I would never dump you, Fred!" As we got closer to home, he got calmer. Once the house was in sight, the panting quit.

I am mad at the person who dumped him - how can people be so unfeeling to helpless creatures when they become an inconvenience? But I am glad he is in my life. All I have to say to the person who left him with fear of a midnight car ride is, "You lost a great dog. Fred and I won! We've got each other!"

Fred, my much loved friend

Tashi - what a scare!

Wherever I go, Tashi goes. I trip over her a hundred times a day! She seems to sense where I am going next and moves to a spot where I will run into her. When I go to the bathroom, she always comes along. No sense in shutting the door - she will scratch at it, and I like my woodwork almost as much as I like my pets.

I got up at 4 am yesterday and Tashi didn't follow me to the loo. When I went back to bed, she was in exactly the same spot. She was stretched out, not in her usual sleeping position. I called to her, and she didn't move. Her eyes were open and not moving. I couldn't see her chest rise and fall in a breathing pattern. I knelt on the floor beside her, ruffled her hair, called her name. There was no response. I felt for a heartbeat and felt nothing, but then, I don't really know exactly where to look for it. No evidence of breathing when I laid my hand on her side. Two phrases that ALWAYS get a response are, "Do you want to go for a walk?" and "Treats!" Nothing. Eyes open, motionless.

With a heavy heart, I went downstairs to email my family and close friends that Tashi had passed. Right before I hit the send button, I heard a noise upstairs. When I went around the corner, there she was, standing at the top of the stairs. She came down two flights of stairs to get outside and do her morning thing. I saw no evidence of limping. She was perfectly fine. She ate a good breakfast, minimal coaxing.

We had a big event at church, and I had to be there early. I was there by 8:30, and didn't get home until after 2:00. I was very nervous about what I would find when I got home. There she was at the door, greeting me with tail wagging and big grin on her face.

What was it? All I know is that I still have my girl. She is on the floor beside me, snoring gently. I rewarded her with the full mile walk yesterday, and she was still going strong when we got back. I am wondering if she had a small stroke. If that was it, there is certainly no lasting evidence that anything serious happened. I love that girl! Each dog I have, especially as they reach their end time, I think, "This is the best. This one is the very, very best." Yes, Tashi is the very, very best!

Tashi taking her morning nap

My dear, dear Tashi - have I found the solution?

Tashi has had a rough couple of years. Shortly before we left the farm, she developed small intestinal bacterial overgrowth (SIBO), which went undetected for months. Her weight dropped from 63 to 44. I complained, took her to the vet, but answer was she needed to lose weight anyway. But I hadn't changed her food, she had no physical symptoms such as diarrhea or vomiting and still ate with gusto. She was down to about 55 when we moved from the farm. So I did attribute the continued weight loss to her depression. She HATED city living. Her depression was obvious, nearly palpable.

Weight continued to drop. I finally asked to see the head vet at the clinic I went to, and he was alarmed. A 15% loss of weight is cause for concern, and she had reached 30%. Dr. Hoeffert is a great diagnostician, and he immediately thought of SIBO. Tests confirmed it was most likely the problem. Meds didn't help much. I started feeding her kefir. I think that helped as much as anything. It helped to get good bacteria into her system to combat the bad guys. I started making her food so that she got a low carb diet, since SIBO loves carbs. And since she had become a very picky eater, she ate better if the meal was chicken gizzards, liver and turkey that mom made just for her.

Little by little, she gained weight. Then I went on vacation. The person whom I hired to watch her had specific instructions on how to feed her - it took a lot of coaxing. Against my specific instructions, he put food on the floor and left the house for his sister's most days, leaving her alone. She had finally gotten up to 48 pounds when I left her, but in two weeks was back down to 44. Poor thing.

Feeding her was a big deal. Spoon feeding the first few bites was helpful, but then I had to stand beside her. If I left, she left the bowl. If I stayed there, I could watch her, and if she quit eating I would spoon feed a couple more bites. Gradually we got her weight back up to 54, which is the maximum optimum weight for her. I was delighted.

Eating? Well, it had to be home cooked. That worked for a bit, and it did help her to gain weight. But her BUN numbers weren't looking good because I didn't have enough carbs in it, so Dr. Rock suggested adding sweet potatoes and rice or oatmeal, which I did. He also thought she might be having stomach aches, so she got Pepcid twice a day. Nothing really helped.

Through all of this, her behavior was becoming what can only be described as aberrant. In the midst of all this, she lost her lifelong companion, Ayn Chee, to cancer. We got another dog, and while they got along okay, it was not the same for her, and I knew she missed Ayn Chee even more than I did. The behavior got worse. There was much clawing at me, pushing my hands off the computer keys, and nights were hell. The vet prescribed Xanax for her, and it seemed to help for a bit, but then it made no difference at all. She would circle around in the bed, panting pitifully. She would scratch at me, sometimes right across my face. There was no locking her out of the room; she would claw at the door to get back with me. I seriously considered putting her down. I was also sure she was suffering from dementia. based on all of the crazy behavior. Many trips to the vet, many tests run, nothing apparently physically wrong with her led me to that conclusion. It was time to suck it up and accept my old dog was in her final days, and they weren't going to be pretty.

There would be a good day or two now and then. Cooking for her was time consuming, and didn't seem to be all that effective anyway. I started buying grain free soft food, salmon and sweet potatoes being her favorite. I also bought grain free dry dog food with freeze dried wild game bits in it, and mixed the two with the last of her homemade food. She would eat a little of both with coaxing. Gradually all of the homemade dog food was eaten up.

She seemed to be doing better. In fact, we went six days without the crazy behavior, and mealtimes, while a little slow, were better. She would even occasionally eat some of the dry dog food with nothing on it. It was good to hear her crunching away.

Last Saturday, I had some leftover sweet rolls from the market. She loves, loves, LOVES bread! I gave her some ends, which of course she scarfed right down. That night, we had another very bad night. In the morning she was trying to crawl in my lap as I sat at the computer, and she clawed at my arms to get my hands off the computer keys.

Duh! My dog is allergic to grain. In the ensuing week, I have not given her so much as a bite of bread. I am checking her treats for grain - no grain for Tashi. Life is good.

What kind of distress has she been going through? I kept saying to her, "Tashi, I wish you could tell me what is wrong, what hurts, what you are feeling." She is asleep at my feet right now. No more trying to pull my hands off the computer keys. No more panting and circling in the bed. No more lying on top of my body or scratching at my face at night. My dog is just fine, thank you! Dementia? I don't think so. Tashi and I are both at peace again.

Tashi enjoying her food - without coaxing.

Fred has taught himself a trick . . .

Fred, a.k.a. Figgy Pudding, doesn't do tricks. Ayn Chee would play fetch with anything, and keep it up for hours! Couldn't get enough. She could also catch treats in mid-air. So can Tashi, although with her cataracts getting worse, she misses about as often as she catches them.

Fred doesn't do fetch. He doesn't catch food, much as he loves it, even when you toss it in the air towards his nose. When I leave the house, I always tell them it's time for their meatball doggy treats, because mom is leaving now. I hold Fred's right up to his mouth and he grabs it. Don't bother to toss it - he won't get it. Tashi's gets tossed to her even though I have to retrieve it from under a table or chair sometimes, and then hand it to her as well.

A couple of days ago, I gave Fred his treat, then tossed Tashi's to her - and then saw Fred throw his from his mouth several feet across the floor. I picked it up, got very close to him and tossed it. He got it.

Surely he didn't throw it across the floor so I would toss it to him the way I toss Tashi's to her. I forgot about it until this moning, when exactly the same thing happened! Fred wants me to toss him his treat, and lest I forget, he tosses it at my feet so that I will pick it up and throw it towards his nose.

Fred has learned a trick. Lo and behold, I think I am falling in love with that little guy.

Tashi and Fred

Tashi

I took Tashi to the vet for her annual physical. She is in pretty good health, considering that she is coming off a bad bout of SIBO. It took her weight from 63 to 44. Yup, she was too fat, but this is not the way to lose weight! It has been a real struggle to get her weight back up to 48.4 pounds.

SIBO is short for Small Intestinal Bacterial Overgrowth. In Tashi's case, the only sign of it was weight loss. She didn't vomit, didn't have diarrhea, seemed to be eating normally. What was happening was that an overgrown colony of bacteria was literally taking the nourishment from her food, and she was starving. When I went for the third time to vet, I insisted on seeing the head vet at the clinic. He was alarmed. His first guess was right, and we started treatment for SIBO immediately. But every time she started to put on weight, another trauma reared its ugly head. I went on vacation, and my house sitter, who was well paid to stay in my house, night AND DAY, admitted he left her alone all day every day, while he went to his sister's. She needed to be coaxed to eat, and he knew that, yet he left her alone. She lost all of the weight she had gained.

Tashi finally put back on a few pounds. Then we lost Ayn Chee. She decided not to eat. I could maybe get a little down her off a spoon, but she lost three pounds in the week after Ayn Chee died.

In came Fred, aka Figgy Pudding (click on the link to hear that whole story), the only dog I could find that she would accept. She was happy again, and grudgingly started to eat better. But it was still a struggle, and it was becoming obvious that she hates dog food.

I am now making her food from scratch, ground turkey, ground beef, sweet potatoes, rice, chicken gizzards, livers and hearts. My new vet here in Mishawaka gave me some minerals to add to it, and she is on an enzyme now as well. And a B-12 shot once a month.

In addition to SIBO, she has had a lot of trauma. She HATED leaving the farm. She never liked getting in the car, but after we moved up here, she jumped in with no hesitation. I think she was hoping we were going back to the farm. Poor thing! And as I said, losing Ayn Chee affected her deeply. I credit Fred with saving her life.

Her blood tests came back just fine, so that means it will be okay to get her teeth cleaned. She is going to be like new. Last night, for the first time since all of this started, she cleaned her bowl and begged for more. It's a miracle!! Love you, Tashi. :)

Tashi at gate to chicken run on her beloved farm

Mint garden spring 2016

I finally got the mint plants in and hauled in some of the flat rocks that were under the deck before we put in the concrete.  It's looking a little sad - may have to spring for a few more plants this week, but it's a start. Look at the one plant from last year - it's looking pretty good and it was choked by violets. Hopefully the new plants will be robust and spreading next year without all of the violets competing. The flat rocks will prevent their regrowth, and I can move them out as needed to make more room for mint.

Fred is watching over the garden.

All done for now. They will grow . . .

We have a visitor

A baby raccoon was in the yard this afternoon, near the river.  Fred is in the yard with our visitor. They even touched noses when they first saw one another, then both jumped back. Of course by the time I got my camera and got down there, they were keeping their distance.

Here are a few pics.

So little!

Not kissing anymore!

He hissed at me.

Morris and Holly, a tale of two cats

A couple of nights ago, Holly Berry came into the bedroom in the night and slept on my chest, with - GASP! - Fred on the bed right beside us. She didn't stay long, but it seemed like a step in the right direction. Then she disappeared for two days. While they poured concrete, I had shut off the automatic dog door so the dogs couldn't mess up the project. But that meant Holly couldn't get in, so I shut off the basement stairs to keep the dogs out of the basement, then turned on the switch for the door so that Holly Berry could get in. I figure a lightweight cat isn't going to ruin the concrete. But this morning, still no Holly Berry, I was getting very worried!

Part of the reason I was more worried than usual was that she had been so friendly a couple of nights ago, and it reminded me of Morris (a cat with about the same attitude as Holly) and our last night together.

More about Morris.  My husband and I were returning home from visiting my sister and were traveling on I-80. We stopped at the rest stop near Morris, Illinois to take a break. There was a cat hanging out there, no collar, very friendly, but apparently abandoned. A worker at the rest stop told us he had been there for several days. No one had come back for him. Of course, what would Susan do? I took him home with us. He was a yellow tiger, and we found him near Morris, Illinois, so of course we named him Morris.

Morris was a good cat, but like Holly Berry, he disappeared from time to time, always to return. Dave and I had a blended family, with four kids between us. In the summer, we were often empty nesters, and Morris took to sleeping in one of the kids' beds through the day, usually with us at night. But when they were home, he got displaced. And he didn't like it. He displayed his displeasure by defecating somewhere other than the litter box or the garden. When he was REALLY pissed off, he would leave a pile at the bottom of the steps into the garage. I truly believe he knew exactly what he was doing!

In the fall, two of the kids were with us all the time, and every other weekend there were four, using up all of the beds in the house. Morris began to stay away longer and longer, sometimes for as long as a week. One night, I remember there was a full moon because I could see him quite well in the yard. I opened the door to let him in for food and water. He came into our bedroom, something that had become quite rare. He walked across both of our chests, and he talked to us, was quite friendly. That morning, we let him out, never to see him again. I truly believe he had come back to tell us good-bye. His frequent and ever lengthening disappearances bespoke of him having found another home. At some point, he decided the other family was a better deal, but was nice enough to come back and thank us for everything - or whatever he was doing that night.

Back to Holly Berry. This morning, she was still nowhere to be found. Had she pulled a Morris and found another home? But good news, her food and water were gone. I went outside and called her, then I called inside the basement. I heard the bell on her collar ring, but couldn't see her  Finally, she sauntered into the laundry room. Where is she hiding now? Weird cat! I do so love her. I hope she is not cultivating a new home, one without an annoying dog in residence!

Usual Saturday morning . . .

Six baguettes are about ready to go in the oven. While waiting for bread to rise and bake, I'm scrambling to make up labels for and fill essential oil bottles for market. All the other printing got done last night, including our newly designed Ceres & Co. labels for our bags.

Ceres the Goddess - holding the dwarf planet Ceres

Hope we have a good day at market. Phyllis is coming in for Saturday help, and she is making popcorn. I'm making Mexican hot chocolate. Free samples today! People love our popcorn samples, and I'm hoping the scent of freshly popped corn will get people to my booth.  At this time of year, everyone is buying plants for their gardens. While I don't miss the loooooooooooong hours in the greenhouse (well, maybe a little), I do miss having people lined up at Ceres & Co.'s booth for their organic heirloom tomato plants. So today hopefully they will stop by for organic Mexican hot chocolate and Ladyfinger popcorn samples. Maybe I will see you at the Farmers Market today! We're at 1105 Northside Blvd., South Bend, IN

 

Cat, canine and concrete

Argh! Fred and Holly Berry got into it yesterday morning, right in the middle of the exposed dirt where the concrete is to be poured. Holly Berry disappeared for the whole day. Since she had begun to show up in the house proper every now and then, I actually thought the two had reached detente. But she stayed away all day. In the evening, she did show up to let me know she was still a member of the family, but she slept outside. I have no idea where she goes. For all I know, she has another family, blessing them with her company when she is fed up at my house.

This morning, she showed up in the kitchen. That's a first since Fred came to the household. I held her and petted her and she wasn't as nervous as she usually is when inside. Maybe, just maybe it is going to work out.

As for the concrete, first it didn't happen because the forms didn't get in place in time to get the truck out with the concrete on Wednesday. They were supposed to come the next morning. But two of the regular crew were sick and couldn't make it. All of this concrete has to be hauled down a pretty steep slope (a nine foot drop over 30 feet - think about it!) in wheelbarrows. So scratch that. Now delivery has been rescheduled for Monday  All of the damp dirt is sitting exposed, right outside the dog and cat automatic door. It's getting pretty messy inside the door on the basement floor.

Oh, well, hopefully no one else will get sick, schedules will be met, and I will have a concrete pad poured and curing by Monday afternoon. And only then will I have a grooming session scheduled for Tashi. I am NOT paying to have her groomed until her dirt bed is gone forever!

The project

This one will be short. I'm busy! I'm working in yard with the guys who are putting in the concrete pad under my deck.  Right now, it is a muddy mess, no matter what, and the dogs drag in lots of dirt.  Tashi has a dirt bed under the steps where she loves to lie. Sorry, Tashi, it's going to be gone soon!

Here are pics - before and during. Right now they are putting in the forms. This is a bit pricey, since the cement has to be hauled in with wheelbarrows, down the hill by the side of the house, not a simple feat!  They are taking the dirt that has to be moved to a place in the yard that was a flower bed.  I've been mowing it but it needs a layer of dirt, and then I will put on grass seed.  They also hauled a bunch of stone and patio blocks from under the deck down to the river's edge, where I am putting in a little path.

I'll add the "after" pics once the concrete is poured, but this is it for today.  They may not pour until tomorrow morning, and I have to get back outside now.  I want to make sure that the dirt goes to the proper place in the yard.

Before - see that bare dirt!

Before

Putting in forms

Putting in forms

The cat with attitude is living in a box on the file cabinet.

My new dog has been renamed - from Figgy Pudding, which is really cute but unisex, to Fred, definitely a male.  Since he moved in after I lost Ayn Chee, a female, I was constantly referring to him as "her" and "she."  So Fred helps me to remember he is all boy!

Unfortunately the boy in Fred, or perhaps just the dog in him, led him to chase the cat, Holly Berry, at their first meeting.  Holly Berry has not forgotten.  Being a cat, she probably never will.  He leaves her alone, doesn't even get close after many reprimands, but like I said, she has not forgotten, nor forgiven.

A little history on Holly Berry.  She was one of six kittens born in our garage at First Unitarian Church.  When I arrived at church one Sunday a couple of weeks before Christmas, I was greeted with, "Oh, Susan will take one."  Oh, yeah?  I already had three dogs, a cat and a parakeet and I had no intention of taking on another pet.  And I said so.  An hour later, I left with a 15 ounce kitten tucked in my pocket and headed home.  She was obviously strong willed, as I found out on the ride home.  She wanted to be free to run around the car, and even with several stops to put her back into a box I had found in the car or back into my coat, it was a losing battle.  She would have her way.  By the time I got home, she owned me, as cats so often do.

She took over the other cat, an adult male.  She would straddle his back, tiny little kitten, and wash down Smokey's head and ears.  And he let her.  There really was no arguing with her.  As for the dogs, there was no problem, no growling or chasing, they pretty much ignored one another -- except for Tashi.  Tashi was the newest in the household, probably less than a year old (strays don't come with paperwork so the vet was guessing her age), and she didn't want to hurt Holly Berry - she wanted to mother her.  She, a fifty-five pound dog, carried this 15 ounce cat around in her mouth.  They became close, and played together often.  I found one pic of her sleeping with my beloved Ayn Chee.  So I guess they did more than tolerate one another over time, but they were never a close as Tashi and Holly

Ayn Chee and Holly Berry getting along

About a year after I lost Smokey, someone asked me to take a cat because they were moving and couldn't take him along.  It took Holly Berry about a week to run him off.  Never saw him again.  He was twice as big as her and scared to death of her.  One night he slipped out the door, and that was the last of him.  Holly had won.

Our household has lived in animal peace - until Fred.  It has been over three months, and Holly Berry now lives in a box on top of a four-drawer file cabinet in my office.  Occasionally she crawls into the insulation around the foundation, since I didn't put a ceiling in the basement.  So I see those eyes staring out at me from this pile of insulation, just above her file cabinet condo.  She comes down to eat, to go outside, and if Fred is in the kennel at night, occasionally she will come upstairs in the night, licking my hand, lying on my chest, establishing her right to be there - so long as Fred is NOWHERE TO BE FOUND!

Yesterday morning I was working in the soap room.  I heard Holly jump onto the desk that is beside her file cabinet condo, then she wandered into my soap room, where Tashi lay at my feet.  Fred was absent.  She walked right up to Tashi and nonchalantly kissed her.  And then, of course, she went back to the box on the file cabinet.  The message was loud and clear - Tashi is acceptable, Fred is not.

She obviously still loves Tashi, she has not been declawed so can protect herself, and Fred truly leaves her alone.  What is her problem - other than that she is a cat?  Exactly once, she has come upstairs to the bedroom when Fred was sleeping in the bed.  She did the hand licking, hung around on the floor for a few minutes, then she was off.  Perhaps there is hope.  She really needs to get over this!  I feel bad that she is living in a box.  Yeah, I know, it is her choice, but I want her back in the fold.  Sigh . . .

Here's holly in a box of papers in my computer desk.

Super Dog!

Last night I sat down and wrote a thank you letter to the two women who facilitated Tashi's meeting with Figgy.  If it hadn't been for them, if they hadn't shown wisdom, love and patience, Tashi the Terrible would not have gotten her new friend.  After Tashi's meetings with three different dogs, each of which ended in her lunging at them and letting all know in no uncertain terms that she didn't want them anywhere near her, these two women were the miracle workers who made it happen.

A little background - when I lost my terrier Ayn Chee to cancer in January, Tashi went on a hunger strike.  As she was just recovering from a serious bout of SIBO (having lost 30% of her body weight before it was properly diagnosed and treated), she needed every bite of food, but she would only eat if I sat on the floor with her and literally spooned it up to her mouth.  After a few bites, she would walk away.  She lost three precious pounds in two weeks.  How do you get a mourning dog to eat?  Maybe Super Dog?

March 3, 2016

Dear Molly & Kristen,

I just have to tell you how much I love Figgy Pudding. He is Super Dog. First, I truly believe that he saved Tashi's life. They play together. Tashi lets him eat out of her bowl, while she is eating! They even play, batting at each other and doing fake growls while wagging their tails. She is finally putting on weight, and she eats all of her food with gusto. No spoon feeding anymore.

Here are a few of my favorite Figgy stories. The other night, he pulled his blanket out of the kennel. I put it back in and didn't give it another thought. About an hour later, there it was on the floor again, and he was at his kennel, trying with all his might to pull out the bed. He couldn't, of course. He isn't big enough to tuck it through that little door opening. I thought, “What is going on?” I smelled the bed and blanket. He had peed on them. The little tyke was just doing a little housecleaning. I washed and dried them, put them back in his kennel, and he went to the door and sniffed before he would go in. I burst out laughing! He's Mr. Clean!

He never gets tangled in his leash. He has this little skipping step he uses to unwind himself from the leash. I have never seen another dog do this.

He dances. Tonight, I know he stayed up on his tippy-toes for at least six feet while he greeted me when I got home. So cute!

After just a couple of weeks, he was completely housebroken, and today I let him stay out of the kennel while I went to market. No messes, anywhere! Good dog!!

He bites his nails. My Ayn Chee did the same thing. Maybe it's a terrier thing? I never had to trim Ayn Chee's nails, and it looks like I won't have to do Figgy Pudding's either. I am thinking about training him to make my morning coffee. I do believe he could do it! He is the smartest dog I have ever had!

He has adjusted to the electric fence. That was a hard one for me. But after having him dart out the front door and make it all the way to Lincoln Way, I just didn't want to take any chances with him. He is a fast one! And he has TOTAL RESPECT for those flags in the yard now.

Thanks to both of you, from the bottom of my heart, for helping Tashi to adjust to Figgy that Sunday. He lights up our life.  

Sincerely,

Susan, Tashi and Figgy

  

Training Figgy pudding

This is the day I have been dreading -- training Figgy to respect the underground electric fence.  First there was a problem with snow, so I put it off.  Then the warm weather and strong winds took care of all of the snow, but Ayn Chee's old shock collar wouldn't work.  I got to put it off two more days until Tom, my fence installer, could make it out here.

Tom told me that the little collar didn't work because you have to be closer to the buried wire with that collar before it will hum, signally that it is working, and also the batteries were quite old.  While he was there, he gave me some new instructions for moving flags around for a tiny dog like Figgy.  I bought a couple of new batteries, he declared Figgy obviously smart (I knew that!) and of good temperament, and it was time to begin the training. There was no reason to put it off any longer. 

But first I had lunch.  Then I put the newly washed slipcover on the sofa.  Then I unloaded the dishwasher and reloaded with my lunch dishes.  I couldn't legitimately think of one more task.  No more excuses.  Time to put the collar on Figgy and take him out to the yard.  I hate to do this, but he has already escaped once and I found him just a few feet off Lincoln Way, where there is very heavy traffic.  So sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

We walked around the yard with Figgy on his leash while I shook flags and shouted "bad!"  (Don't yell at me for doing that.  It's the official routine, and it works.  And I have already trained two dogs that way.)  After three or four flags, all I had to do was shake the flag to back him off.   He caught on much faster than Ayn Chee did - but that's another story! 

Next step is to deliberately let them get shocked - this is the part I was really dreading.  The owner is to stand outside the perimeter and see if the dog will breach the fence.  Most will.  Ayn Chee did - several times!!  Tashi learned after the first shock.

I walked with Figgy to the end of the yard, nearly to the river.  Then I took off his leash and let him go on his own.  He stayed right in the center of the yard.  Wow, that was easy AND painless.  I still hadn't moved outside the fence line.  Then the cat, Holly Berry, showed up, just outside a line of flags.  Figgy took out after her, got a hell of a shock, and that part of the training was complete!  Poor little guy.  But it sure beats getting run over on Lincoln Way, or going into the river and getting caught in the current, never to return.

Next, I put the control for the Solo door on his collar.  I'll only give him access when I am here, at least for now.  It would be wonderful if he didn't have to go into his kennel when I am gone.  That will be the next step.

Such a smart little guy, my sweet Figgy Pudding.  He's wiped out on the sofa right now.  This was harder on him than it was on me - I think . . .

That was tough, Mom!

SPIRAL celebration of Imbolc tonight

SPIRAL is a part of  the First Unitarian Church of South Bend (click on the link for more about us), and we celebrate the eight Sabbats, sometimes at my house on the St. Joe River, and sometimes at the church.  Tonight we celebrate Imbolc here on the river, gathering at 6:00 pm.  (By the way, I just found out that it is pronounced ee' molc.  Who knew?  It took me forever to learn to say Sow' en at Samhain, now I have another one to re-learn.)

I am making chili for tonight's potluck, and have plenty of kefir .  So the chili represents fire (it's pretty hot), and the kefir represents dairy, two thing associated with Imbolc.  

I'm cleaning now.  Pets make a lot of work.  Just finished doing a complete take-apart-wash-everything bird cage cleaning. Changing the paper in the bottom tray only works so long, and then it has to be the big one.  Figgy had to do a time-out while I did it because birds have been known to escape while taking the cage apart. He was unhappy!  But it is unwise to have a loose terrier and loose parakeets in the same room.

Now down to the basement to clean up the dog and cat footprints from their door with backyard access all the way to (and including) the stair steps to the kitchen.  My maid is nowhere to be found, so off to the basement as soon as I post this.

I cleaned up the poop from the backyard yesterday, will take another swipe this afternoon so that everyone can get to the fire unscathed when we go down to the river for our Imbolc ritual.   But looking down as you walk is still advised!  

My city-born and bred second husband made fun of me for always walking with my head down.  One night after visiting my folks on their farm, he complained that someone must have poop on their shoes because it sure stunk in the car.  I and my two children, all being farm-born and bred, are pretty careful.  My daughter suggested he check his own shoes.  Hah!  There it was, a pile of it filling in the space between the heel and the foot of one of his shoes.  We laughed.  We shouldn't have.  He didn't have much of a sense of humor, especially when my daughter called him out!  But he did quit telling me to keep my eyes up when walking.  LOL  

Back to the business at hand - tonight's celebration.  Catherine and Antonette have been working on our Imbolc (ee' molc, just a little reminder) ritual.  Brigid will be called upon, and they say that she will be bringing a wishing well.  Are you going to be here to drop your wish into the wishing well?

Right now, the weather is spectacular!  Hope it holds for this evening.  Imbolc is such an important Sabbat.  For the Pagans of old, it marked the end of eating the meat that got hung at Third Harvest, Samhain, to get them through the winter.  Now, at Imbolc, there would be spring lambs and fresh milk.  Yay!

Whatever you bring to the potluck will be welcome.  It is always good.  We love to eat, and there will be a bounteous feast as usual, I'm sure.  See you tonight!

If I hadn't lost my grocery list . . .

As many of you know, I have been looking for another dog since I lost my dear Ayn Chee.  At first I thought, "No, no more dogs."  But both Tashi and I were suffering from the loss.  I know my depression was adding to hers.  She is very sensitive to my feelings.

I finally decided to get another dog.  There are a lot of dogs out there than need a home, right?  Well, yes, but . . .

My friend Zae works with Heartland Small Animal Rescue and told me about a hoarding situation, in which 166 dogs were found in deplorable conditions.  Zae is fostering one named Millicent, and I thought that might work.  There was a second one from that group, Yoda, that I was interested in as well.  In the meantime, I was looking through Pet Finder.  I found several terriers, but every time I tried to get in line for one, it was gone.  I decided that since the terriers all went so fast, I would concentrate on these bigger dogs from the hoarder that might be harder to find homes for.

Last Wednesday, we met Yoda.  Tashi let her know what she thought of her - she growled and lunged.  We did take a walk, with her foster parent keeping her a good ten feet away.  But any closer than that, and Tashi had her teeth bared.

Friday we met Millicent, this time on common ground in a park near Zae's home.  We walked on different sides of the street to the park, then entered the park together.  Same story - Tashi lunged, growled, bared her teeth.  We walked them for a bit, keeping some distance between them.  But it was no go.  I tended to agree with Zae that Tashi didn't really need a dog.

I gave it one more try, taking Tashi into the backyard and having my neighbors Georgia and Mike bring over their Aussie.  Tashi met Boogeloo when he was a pup just to make sure there would be no problem, given Tashi is an alpha, if he wandered into the yard in the future.  All went well when they met.  So how would she react to nearly full-grown Boo?  Is it ALL dogs, or just these two from the hoarders? Answer - after some initial friendliness, again Tashi growled and lunged.  Message received - no more dogs here.  Sigh . . .

I had made an appointment a couple of days ago to have Tashi meet a terrier, Figgy Pudding, at Pet Refuge on Sunday.  But given what had happened with the other three dogs, it seemed prudent to cancel it.  I had written the volunteer's personal cell phone number on a piece of paper so I could call her if I had to cancel for any reason.

Where was that paper?  Wasn't it written on the back of the grocery list?  Gone, gone, gone.  And so I packed Tashi in the car, went to Pet Refuge and went in to explain to Molly, the volunteer, that Tashi wasn't accepting any dogs.  I apologized for losing her number, told her I had Tashi in the car but I thought it was no-go.

Molly introduced me to Kristen.  She said Kristen had a way with animals, was very good at "meet and greets," and she had asked her to join us since I had told her that Tashi was an alpha dog when I first went there.  So I decided to give it a shot, although my hopes were not high.

First Kristen took Tashi in a room where she couldn't see me.  Then Molly joined her with Figgy, both dogs on a leash.  There was no excitement (that's a good thing!), and after a few minutes, they brought both dogs into the room where I was.  Then they handed Tashi over to me and we took a walk through the cat room.  One minor growl from Tashi when Figgy tried to get too personal on the first date, and he backed off.  No fighting.  Then we went outside.  After five or so minutes, we switched leashes and I walked Figgy while Kristen walked Tashi.  Still no problem.  Then we went into a large pen and we dropped Tashi's leash.  No problem.  Then we dropped Figgy's leash.  No problem.  Then they met and sniffed and peed on top of each other's spots.  No problem!  Then I picked up Figgy right in front of Tashi to see her reaction.  No problem!!  Tashi and I had a dog!!!!!

They are getting along beautifully.  We took a nice long walk with the two of them walking side by side, just like Ayn Chee and Tashi used to.

If I hadn't lost the grocery list, I would have called Molly and cancelled the appointment.  And I wouldn't have a dog.  You just never know where happenstance is going to lead you.  This time it led me to a very good place indeed!

They met and they got along!

Tashi and I have a dog!