Dog Lovers Beware: Dangerous Toy.
Aug 23, 2008 Pets & Animals
I would like to introduce you to Chai, and Chai’s Story.
Chai is a special dog, who is double lucky. Lucky to survive and lucky to have an owner that loves Chai regardless of the work and effort it now takes to care for Chai.
Chai’s toy, called The Pimple Ball with Bell, (Item #20227-001, UPC Code 0 4566320227 9) made by Four Paws, broke when Chai bit down on the solid sealed rubber ball. Manufacturers had forgotten to include a small hole within it. Chai’s Veterinarian believes the ball exploded under pressure and created a vacuum which trapped Chai’s tongue. The wound was bad enough that despite efforts to save it, Chai had to have his tongue amputated.
If you have this ball, or products like it in your home you can do one of two things immediately: check to make sure there is a small hole within the ball. You can even create one for yourself to stave off injury before it’s too late. If you have the time, spread the word about Chai’s story and inform fellow dog owners. Take a visit if you wish, to your local pet store and let ‘em know about this product. Take a second and let fellow pet owner’s know. I think Chai would appreciate it. Thanks!
Credit: Photos of dog toy and dog are © The Chai Story
She’d rather have a cat.
Jul 12, 2008 Pets & Animals
Early evening Florida light streaming in through the dirt-stained glass of our kitchen’s double doors. Since it’s summer, Florida’s early evening light generally tends to waddle from bright through clouds, or bright yellow sun though clouds. It’s a particular shade of the sun too that you don’t see in the morning or afternoon due to the angle of things, all the shadows are long except for those in the kitchen. Electric lights above chase them away.
My cat comes silently stalking from around the corner with her tail straight but for the very tip, which always quirks to the left or suggests the shape of a stretched out question mark.
If I am at the kitchen window she will wind around my legs and make a high pitched, short kitteney sort of meow at the window. If I am not, she will make the same sound and then tilt her head over a dainty shoulder then up, expectantly at me.
I pad over in my bare feet and scoop her up from the bare terrazzo floors, letting her front paws dangle over me left fore arm and letting her tail and butt be supported by my right.
She’s tall enough to look out the window now and her pupils grow predator-huge. Her tail starts swishing back and forth, thumping over my stomach and hip as she stares at our back yard. Some times there are birds or squirrels and she’ll lift a paw excitedly to the window and chatter her teeth to make little purrrt-mew-meh-mew-mew? noises at them. Some times, there’s nothing in the back yard but she still watches it like it’s the best thing evar.
She’s warm and heavy in my arms. I always take the time to remember how pencil-thin and skinny she was when we got her from the shelter and compare it to how round, sleek, and solid she is in my hold now. She’s incredibly smooth; I imagine this is what silk or satin might have been created and fashioned after and her fur is always spotless. I am probably messing up the seven hours of licking she does every day to get her fur to lay just so but at that moment I don’t care and she doesn’t appear to, either.
And then she purrs. It’s not a loud purr like our other cat Raven, who sounds like she’s swallowed a diesel engine with some wheezing. Flora’s purr is deep in her chest and belly, more often felt than heard. You have to be very close or it has to be very quiet for you to hear it. She purrs and it travels up and down my arms, rumbles ticks lightly against my chest and that is when I wonder if this is what true peace feels like.
There are no expectations. There are no arguments. There are no judgments, she doesn’t care if I’m lumpy, having a bad hair day, or forgot to brush my teeth after eating something heavily sprinkled with garlic. There are no misunderstandings, no heated words by mistake, no yelling, no expectations, no broken dreams, no self-hatred or regrets. She is not human, there fore, I have no faith to lose in her.
People often wonder why I don’t have friends or wish to go out or wish to go through the rigmarole of finding them–I think it’s because I’d much prefer my kitchen window and the rumble tick of a contented cat.
A Series of Unfortunate Naps.
Jun 29, 2008 Pets & Animals
That is what my sleeping habits and patterns have become. It is not, however, due to insomnia which has generally been an off and on problem for most of my adult life.
It is due, in many great parts, to a large eighteen pound cat we put on a diet the end of last year.
It can start any time at night, some times it starts as early as midnight, some times we catch a break and it starts around 5am. Most nights, it starts around 1am to 3am, and is constant until one of us says some rather nasty crap and gets out of bed to feed the land beast we call Raven.
The ritual for the cat begins with her claws on the side of our bed which she uses to haul herself up. The edge of the bed she uses is now a mess of pit marks, claw swipes and the california King cotton sheets are plucked from her claws; making smooth look knubbed. Once she manages to haul herself onto the bed, she begins her rounds. These start at the feet.
Since Raven is some how physically unable to retract her seven foot long claws, having her walk over our feet every morning is a study in how well we can stand bleedingdeathpain. See figure A:
Figure A
She used to do this on our heads, but I grew wise to this, so as you can see with Figure A, I scoot down the bed every night I crawl into it. I sacrifice my feet for my head–I figure thinking is just as important as walking.
Once she is thoroughly finished leaving new holes within our ankles, she makes a 3/4 circut around the bed, trundling up the left side and across the head of the bed. The delightful part to remember while picturing this is that she is an old cat, and tends to bring gifts with her when she gets up on the bed: some times litter is clumped on the back of her legs, some times my hair. It’s always an adventure in ew, great, now I have to wash the entire bed again. Thanks. While she is doing this, she will often sniff for any random pieces of food that may have mysteriously rained down from heaven and landed on our pillows. The approximate sound I can compare Raven’s sniffing too is the sound of an elephants trunk shoved into your ear. See figure B:
Figure B
Now that I am good and wide awake, contemplating honorable suicide or becomming a nun, Raven will gracefully heave herself to the floor, wait anywhere from five to ten minutes and do it all again.
My sleep at night has turned into a series of unfortunate naps. I long the for the days of sleep that lasted two hours or more before some sort of interruption–Flora, get off the ceiling fan. No, Flora, the blinds are not a jungle gym. Flora! Stop knocking the computer on the floor!
For now I guess I’ll just have to stock up on really good band aids and get used to curling into a fetal position in the middle of my bed while the demented snuffleupagus that is my cat shark-circles around us and I wonder what it’s like to get a full night’s sleep.
Nuggets treehouse: NO GIRLS ALLOWED!
Jun 27, 2008 Pets & Animals
Our cockatiel, Nugget, has recently taken up with boxes and all things box-ey. He tends to get a teeeensey bit territorial over them however…
Iowa paws n’ whiskers having a hard time.
Jun 18, 2008 Pets & Animals
Cedar Rapids, Iowa is home to several stranded pups and kittehs, birds and other paws that need your help.
The humane society is doing its best to rescue, treat and save as many animals as possible but they need your help.
If you have it to donate and are interested in helping, please consider donating toward saving some mew’s. You can donate here: Disaster Relief Fund 2008
If you can’t donate, that’s okay. I’s poo’ folk too. If you want to show your support anyway, why not copy the donate link and pass it along?
Thanks guys and gals for reading! Meow!
Tags: Feathers and whiskers, Fur, Pets
Signs Mel Need Sleep:
Apr 26, 2008 Humor
Holding my cat, Flora, up to the ceiling and exclaiming: “Kunta Kitty!”
And then after a second, rocking up on tip toes to put her paws near the ceiling (I’m short, okay.) then singing Spider Cat, Spider cat.
Really, I’m like this almost every day.
