Is it me?

I am not sure what is going on recently. It seems since I had to let Spot go, I have noticed more and more people complaining about their dogs.

On Wednesday (THE DAY AFTER) a "friend" of mine launched into a half an hour tirade about coming home to her dog who had diarrhea in her crate and then threw up. She ranted on and on about how mad she was at the poor dog. I was steaming. I mean come on. First, it's not the dogs fault. Next, I would have been thrilled to be cleaning up Spots' poop at that moment. Lastly, she begged her sister for this dog. She was so proud of herself for saving said dog. Now the dog is a nuisance? Fuck off.

I seem to notice it everywhere. Outside on break it always seems like some one doesn't know what to do about "it" (which irks me as well. It's not and "it") And it all seems like such minute things to me. "The dog had an accident" or "The dog just wouldn't settle down last night". I understand that I do (as to most foster homes) have a much higher tolerance for poop, pee, jumping dogs, barking, whining, food on the walls, vomit, wrecked household items, tipped over garbage, missing and wrecked shoes, and dog hair covering e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. All of this is rewarded by wagging of tails, wiggles of butts, looks of adoration, cuddles, kisses, snuggles, and the deep doggy sigh they make when they are content and happy.

I guess what I am trying to say here is dogs have feelings (as do cats and pigs and cows and chickens, I think you get the point). The vast majority of dogs want to please their human companions, not piss them off. My "friends" dog didn't enjoy sitting in her shit all day any more than my "friend" enjoyed cleaning it up.

This all reminded me of a story that a rescue volunteer from Florida wrote. You can find the story here. This story makes me cry every single time I read it, but today really kicked me in the ass. It is written as if the dog was telling her story. There is a paragraph after the dog was in a shelter where she talks about her new home. The dog states: "I was so thrilled to have a family at last and so grateful that I just couldn’t help but jump on them all. At first they seemed to like it, but then they started to get mad at me. I also pooped in the house a few times. I had never been in a house before so I didn’t know that it wasn’t OK. "

I think that this is a huge statement. "I didn't know that it wasn't OK". I think that a lot of times people forget that dogs need to be taught things. Even adult dogs. If a dog has never lived in a house, of course s/he isn't going to know they can't relieve themselves there.

Sometimes I am floored at the way people talk about their animals. In so many ways people relegate them to "just a dog". Yet they expect them to have super-psychic powers. Dogs should automatically know where to relieve themselves. Did you just suddenly become potty-trained? I don't think so. Dogs know what they did wrong. Not if you don't teach them what is right. Dogs should know what the word "NO" means. Not so. They don't speak English any better than you speak dog. We have had dogs come into rescue who believe their name is "No, No".

I know of a family that keeps their dogs outside, yet insisted their dogs were like children to them. So you would let your kids stay outside all day?

This was kind of a long ranty post. I hope you enjoy.

Happy Thoughts

Spot is not doing well. I am not sure what is wrong with him, and I am pretty sure that I am going to take him to the vet tomorrow.

He has been drinking water like crazy and thus having accidents in his crate. Which as most dog owners know, isn't normal or good. Last night he threw up. A. Lot. It looked like about four days worth of food. He wouldn't get up to eat. He didn't wag his tail, and I could hardly get him up to go outside. I did and he seemed better and less lethargic than he did in the morning.

As my good friend Alabaster Mom pointed out this morning, we have absolutely no idea how old Spot is. His estimated age is between 7 and 9, but for all we know he could be 14.

I just hope he is going to be okay. I am not ready to let go yet.

Here comes Peter Cottonta....RUN PETER RUN!

The past week in my household has been the week of the rabbit.

On Wednesday night I had to transport a dog from Seymour to Rosendale. (It's about an hour and a half drive, one way). Dog was very sweet and the transport went off with out a hitch. But by the time I got home it was around 10:45 and I was exhausted. (And special thanks to K for coming with me! I know you were tired too)

So I get home and the herd is quite happy to see me. I let every one out. I notice that Cosmo and Razz are standing at the top of the hill dead silent, each with one end of something in their mouth. This is not good. What is it? Is it a toy? A sock? Hmm. I call Cosmo and for once, the fact that he is a mommas boy comes in handy. He comes running down the hill and I put him in the house. Spot's in the house. Now for Razz.

I still don't know what she has in her mouth, so I put on a big pair of boots and go tromping through the snow. As the title suggests, it was a rabbit. And it was dead. Peter didn't quite make it. I can't get any where near Razz and she is circling the perimeter of our yard with her prize.

I also need to point out, that this is the third animal she has murdered in our back yard. She's good. And why does this happen to the vegan? What the fuck am I going to do with it?

I go in the house, get two garbage bags, put my boots back on (in reality, they are hubby's boots so they are way too big) and go back outside. I grab a pooper scooper. I am not touching a dead rabbit. I still can't get any where near her. I try, I fall down the hill, I slip all over and generally get pissed.

By now it is around 11:30 and I WANT TO SLEEP. And it's cold. I called a friend of mine that does rescue with me because I knew she would be awake. She laughed heartily at my expense and said "Just go in the house and get a hot dog".

...

I let that sit in the air. She realized I didn't have hot dogs. I had canned food so I got that. In the meantime, Razz has begun to bury the rabbit. Dig dig dig. Fuck. I take my canned food over by her and she comes back to the house. She is free of blood and fur so I took that as a good sign. I clomp over to where she was burying the rabbit, and of course I can't find it. It's dark, cold, and I am pissed. I go to bed. I will get the rabbit tomorrow and this ordeal will be over.

The next morning when I let the dogs out, Razz came out on leash to avoid incidence before I went to work. I fed everyone and went outside to proceed with the unearthing of the rabbit. And fuck if I can't find it. I am looking everywhere in the vicinity of where she buried it. I blindly assume that another predator has taken her prize and I won't have to worry about it.

Until 10:30 on Thursday night. Apparently hunted prey tastes better in the dark. I was chatting with some freaks that evening and I tend to be a little bit of a drama queen. So I thank the freaks for their humor and support. I went outside with my tools (boots, garbage bags, and pooper scooper) to attempt the seizure one more time. Finally, I have her cornered. She went in between the garage and the fence, and if I stand at the gate, she has no way out. Then I heard a...

CRUNCH.

It was decided then and there that Razz earned her spoils and she could just eat the fucking rabbit. It was bad enough that I possibly had to throw away a dead rabbit, I was not throwing away a dead half eaten one.

I tried to talk to Razz about veganism and animal rights, but I think it was falling on deaf ears. She gets her de-wormer on Monday. From now on, I let Spot out first as a "warning dog" so the rabbits can get a head start.

The end.

Things I am Thankful For

I think I just ended that sentence with a preposition (Alabaster Mom or Margin Walker, can you help me out?). Any way, on this day instead of celebrating genocide, I prefer to think of the things that I am thankful for. So here goes:

1. That I am alive and well.

2. My family. They put up with me, what could be more rewarding? My dogs are my family as well and deserve a huge shout out.

3. My friends. Real life and online. I cherish all of you and wish you nothing but happiness.

4. My enemies. You give me something to work towards.

5. All those who work towards ending the slavery of animals. Those involved in animal rescue, veg*ns, and any one who has adopted a shelter animal.

I know I complain and rant a lot in this blog, but for today I leave you with my gratitude.

Sick...

I have a stomach flu. I have done nothing today but take a succession of naps and spend a lot of time in the bathroom. In fact, I thought about taking a nap in the bathroom, but apparently that only works when you are drunk, not sick.

There are two good things about being home sick. 1. I am not at work. I think we all know how I feel about that. 2. I get to stay home and snuggle with the dogs. I love snuggling with the dogs a lot. Especially puppy cos he is a snuggle-er.

I also learned that dogs sleep. A. Lot. I mean I knew this, but I didn't realize how much it really amounts to.

This may oust yesterday's post as the worst post ever.