Pet Forum

Where have I been?  Well… besides a lot of overtime due to a big project at work…… let me show you:

That is my laptop.  I’m pretty well-known at work for breaking my laptop.  In the 3 years that I had this one; they replaced a motherboard, the keyboard (a dog ate the ‘q’), a hard drive, and the entire outer-casing.  Why?!   Well… honestly… even though they never believe me… it’s almost always because of one of the dogs. 

This time?  Interesting story. 

A man came into PetSmart (at one of our adoption events) carrying a very frightened dog.  He had found it running along the side of a road.  Putting the dog on the floor, he basically said:  “If y’all don’t take this dog, I’m taking it to the pound.”  So… I decided to take the dog in as a personal rescue.  He was too adorable, frightened, friendly… I named him Butterball.

He fit right into my pack at home.  I already had 5 dogs staying with me… what’s one more?  At first, he was shy and stand-offish… but he was soon cuddling right up to me, and giving me kisses.  He was very playful with the other dogs, and their preoccupation with each other gave me some time to get some computer work done.  Nature called, and I set the laptop on a table near my armchair.  When I came back, the computer was lying on the floor, and the screen was totally cracked.  Oh crap, I thought… they’re never going to believe it was one of the dogs…. again….

On the third day with BB, the dogs and I were out on a walk.  I had just returned with batch #1, and decided to take Butterball on the second walk as well, since he definitely needed the exercise.  We were rounding out about half a mile when Butter simply stopped walking.  His collar slipped up his neck just enough for him to notice he could pry right out of it.  It only took a second for him to realize the freedom he had, and he took off full-speed in the opposite direction.  I ran as fast as I could (as my large dobe mix pulled me along), but quickly lost him.  3 hours of searching that night, several mass e-mails, one photo ad in the newspaper, and many lost dog posters… but I haven’t seen Butter since.  My friends tell me he must have run back home… or found a nice family to live with… and I can only hope it’s true.

So… they say that everone comes into your life for a reason.  I guess Butterball’s reason was to put the final kibosh on my laptop… because I did end up getting a new one.  I always try to look on the bright side……..

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Our worst fears were realized last Monday. Our vet confirmed that Chiller was blind, neurologically impaired, and had developed eye and respiratory infections.

This was not unexpected. Whenever a mother cat abandons a very young kitten, the probabilities are high that there are serious problems with the kitten. Being human, however, we always want to give any baby the best chance. In this case, our best was just not good enough. Even had we opted for intensive medical care, there was only a 1 in 3 chance the kitten would survive, and a near 0 chance that it would have had a normal kitten life.

By Tuesday morning, the end was near. We returned to the vet for a final kindness - and Chiller is now a memory. Two children will not forget him; and two adults wept over his loss.  Would we do this again? Probably, although the toll was very high. I really think this is the difference between humans and animals - we care for those of us who are  disabled, we try to provide a quality of life where, perhaps, none is possible.  Animals are not so generous - they cannot afford to be.  A mother cat has other kittens and herself to look out for, and cannot spare the resources to care for a kitten who has little hope of surviving and reproducing.  A mother human may sacrifice herself for a child who is seriously disabled - simply because it is her child.

Goodbye, Chiller.

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Well, I really thought my kitten fostering days were over. After fostering several dozen for my local pet rescue - and a few on my own - I had come to the limit of my energy. Not to mention that getting up and down to clean cages, etc. was hard on my knees - once down, I can’t get up!!

But never say never. My son-in-law works for a business in Newberry. A momma cat decided to have kittens on the premises, so Animal Control was called. They retrieved the two kittens and left them in a humane trap to lure mom. Well, mom came back - and sprang the largest kitten, who was big enough to walk to the front of the trap, without setting it off.  The little one was left behind as mom headed for the woods with the bigger kitten.

 When it became obvious that mom wasn’t coming back, son-in-law (who is allergic to cats) retrieved the tiny one, and a box was lined with clean shop towels, water offered off a little finger - and The Cat Whisperer (other wise know as mother-in-law) was persuaded to take on the baby. Have I mentioned son-in-law is a top salesman?

I got a room ready, and here comes the kitten. Once I saw it, I realized that it was very, very young. Sent the family out for kitten milk replacement. My granddaughter (who helped foster all those kittens) had donated her stuffed cat for a surrogate mom.

Chiller (yes, named for the product my son-in-law sells) was moved into a cat carrier lined with cloth towels, formula was mixed, and he (or she, too soon to tell) ate eagerly from a syringe. He has excellent lungs!!! After eating, he was rubbed vigorously with a washcloth to help him eliminate, and put back to sleep. I micowaved my neck pillow for a source of warmth, and he settled down.  Surprisingly, none of my other cats seemed at all interested/bothered by Chiller and his cries.

 We spent a somewhat wakeful night, but he is doing well this morning. We will wait and see.  I will keep you updated.

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It has been a tough week, and it may get tougher.  I admit I am not 60 anymore, and keeping up with night feeds is tough. Babies of any species mean more laundry and less sleep - a lot less sleep!!

But Chiller is not just any baby. He seems to have serious problems - possibly blind, perhaps a neurological issue. He won’t play, cannot find a food bowl. I have been bottle feeding diligently, and he has only gained 1 oz in a week - way too little for a normal kitten. He will scream when he wakes up - even if he was fed an hour earlier. He seems only happy if he is in a warm dark place.  A three week old kitten should be playful and happy, gaining lots of weight, exploring this big new world.

 My daughter took him for an overnight stay last weekend, and this one, just so I could get some sleep.  She says she can handle one sleepless night - oh, yes, she is the unmarried daughter, no kids!

These are the problems we face when we find a very young kitten orphaned. Momma may have had a good reason to leave him behind. In this case, a blind kitten that cannot find its way around risks being lost. A kitten who screams, thus letting predators know where the litter is, is a real danger to the family.

We will probably see the vet Monday, even though it is way early for the first vet visit. I want a second opinion on what might be going on with this kitten. We may have to face some tough choices, and I know my youngest grandson will be anxious. So am I.

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As my friend drove us home, CornBread lay across my lap like a perfectly behaved little dog.  I had purchased some food and a leash for her at the adoption center, but soon realized that I had no toys, no bowls, no dog-anything, really.  I had never owner nor taken care of a dog, and honestly had no idea what she would need.  Looking back, I should have asked a lot more questions…

When we got home, she excitedly sniffed all around the apartment.  Since I didn’t have any dog toys, I let her play with my stuffed-cow slippers.  She picked them up, and shook them around as I took pictures with my 35mm camera.  My friends left, and CornBread and I sat on the couch and watched TV until we both eventually dozed off into a mid-afternoon nap.  We woke, ate, and I took her for a loooooong walk around my apartment complex; showing off my new dog to all the neighbors.  

It was the first night that I realized I had made a totally life-changing decision.  CornBread was great… as long as I was with her.  I left her on the couch, as I decided from the start that she would not be sleeping in or on my bed.  As I closed my door to go to sleep, the scratching started.  She scratched and scratched at my door, not allowing me to sleep.  At this point, I put her into the spare bedroom.  That is when the barking started.  It was few and far between at first, but it soon turned to howling, and then a full-out panic.  That night, she was allowed to sleep next to my bed. 

I was determined that this would not become the norm, so I went out and bought her a doggie-bed, and a book on owning a dog; the appropriate:  “Dogs for Dummies.”  That afternoon, as I went about my normal, daily business; CornBread managed to poop and pee in several places.  NOT HOUSETRAINED, I thought to myself; and read the chapter in the book on housetraining. 

The next day would be the first day I had to go to work and leave CornBread alone in the apartment.  I put her into the spare room, closed the door, and went out to my car.  I could hear her barking and howling as I walked to the parking lot.  As I glanced up into my apartment window, I noticed her pawing and tearing at the mini-blinds.  I let out a sigh, and drove off to work; fully aware that I was going to come home to a mess of some sort.  I remember returning one night after dark, and reaching for the light switch in the spare room… only to find that CornBread had completely chewed through the electrical cord.

There were days when she would prance right in front of the television I was watching, and just to squat and let out a big poop.  As she sensed my frustration, she began leaving her messes in hidden spots and dark corners… allowing me to find them with my bare feet.  I would run her outside on a leash, only to have her return to the apartment and stain the rug yet again.

This did not go on for weeks… no; it went on for months.  I’m sure my mother will never forget the day I called her crying and wailing:  “I don’t know what to dooooooo!!!!!!  She’s terribbllllleeee!!!!!” 

Now, almost 4 years later, as CornBread is explained by my friends as “wonderful,” and “well-trained;” I can look back on the memories and laugh.  At the time, though, I can assure you that I was completely frazzled, and regularly stressed out.  I didn’t sleep much, and I definitely kept the carpet-cleaner industry in business.  Last year, as I told a bit of the story, someone asked me:  “Why didn’t you take her back to the rescue?”  Honestly, as I told her; that option had never occurred to me.

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It’s kitten season!!! Warm weather, unspeutered animals allowed to roam, and the next thing you know - kittens!! (”speutered”: spayed or neutered)

Mommy, look at the cute kittens!! Can we keep them?

First, read the articles in the series about cats, then decide if you really, really want one.  If you do, then you can try the following techniques for taming your feral kitten.

Step one is take the kitten to the vet. You need to know if it is healthy, and how old it is.  You need to get it started on vaccinations, deworming, etc. You need to have it speutered if it weighs at least 2 lbs. If it is healthy, and not more than 10 weeks old, there is a good chance you can tame it. but - it will take time, patience and persistance.

First, find a quiet place where the kitten can be confined. If you have a spare bathroom, that is perfect.  If not, a large cage, sometimes called a kitty play pen, or a ferret cage will work. It must be big enough for a litter pan, food and water dishes, some toys, and a kitty bed or towel. If you must use the cage, put it in a less-used area of your house, and cover it with sheet or blankets to make a “cave.” This will help the kitten be less frightened. Keep all young children and animals away.

Several times a day, go into the room, uncover the cage if you are using one, and talk to the kitten, sit and read, turn on the tv or whatever will keep you in the room for a half-hour or so.

Once the kitten shows some interest in you, pick it up and stroke its ears, rub its chin, face and neck as you talk to it. If it struggles, hold it by the scruff of the neck, as its mother would, and continue to talk to it. Offer treats to indicate that you are a good thing, that nice things happen when you come in and touch the kitten.

The next step is to allow the kitten to explore other areas of the house. Confine other animals, and require children to sit quietly (or you can confine the children, too!). If you are using a cage, this is the time to move it into a busier area of the home. You can continue to cover it at night, and keep a cover over the top of the cage if there is an HVAC vent nearby. Allow the kitten out to explore, offering treats. Continue to pick up the kitten, begin to brush it. If you are very confident, you can clip its nails.

If the kitten immediately runs away and hides, then start over. It will take a young kitten 2-3 weeks to get used to being an indoor, domestic cat.

Please do not feed feral cats, unless they are a speutered population. You are causing problems for neighbors, wildlife, and increasing the kitten problem. Call your local shelter and arrange for them to be humanely trapped. This is in the best interest of the cats, birds, neighbor’s pets, and your own health.

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I never thought I would have to stop taking care of a pet. Yet I got to the point where I did not have the energy to clean up after him.

I never thought I would never foster kittens again. I know now that I have not the strength or the finances to do it any longer.

I never thought the cost of pet food, vet care (and the gas to get there) would cause me to stop and think about pet ownership.

But it happens. Suddenly the cost of an annual check-up seems astronomical - it can be $300 if you have all the blood work done. Just the minimum tests to return my pet were almost $90 - and I don’t think my vet is particularly expensive.  I know a lot of pet owners who skip vet care for cats, and go to clinics for their rabies shots just to keep them “legal”.

I spent $55 for pet food for 3 cats this week, and $35 of that will have to be spent again in two weeks. Litter isn’t so expensive - I buy the store brand. When you are retired, you look very carefully at what you pay, but I also have to consider quality. Food isn’t worth anything if your animals get sick on it.

I no longer drive, so it means I have to arrange for someone to take me to the store and the vet. I used to pay for the gas, but now I have to ask them to supply that, too.

I am physically weaker than I used to be, so someone has to carry the food and litter into the house for me. I need help cleaning, especially the bathrooms that the cats use.

I love my pets. They are important to my mental health, especially since I live alone. If all three of my cats should die, would I get another? Probably not; it might be time to move in with my daughter, whose husband is allergic to cats. I could love their dogs, though.

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Growing up, I wanted nothing more than to work with animals.  Year after year, my childhood dream was to become a zookeeper.  I was sure of it.  I’m not sure exactly what changed my mind over the years; from zookeeper, to the accounting position I currently hold… but I certainly did not lose the dream of working with animals.

As a child, I never had a dog.  I always wanted one, and asked for years… but my mother would always bring up the same argument:  “when they make a dog that doesn’t poop or make messes, then we can get one.”  I was jealous of my friends that grew up with dogs in their homes.

I will never forget the first time my mother allowed a dog into the house.  Her name was Mandy, and she was my friend Jessica’s corgi mix.  I adored her, and studied and laughed at everything she did.  One day, Jessica brought her over, and my mom let us play with her in the cellar.  The first thing she did…. well, she trotted on over to one of the few rugs on the cement cellar floor… and peed on it.  My friend and I quickly cleaned it as much as possible and pretended nothing happened.  To this day, I don’t know if my mom ever found out.

Finally, I had graduated college, moved to South Carolina, and into my own apartment.  I didn’t care if a dog made a mess in my place, darn it!  And I was going to get one.  I had it narrowed down that I wanted a pug, and began searching and contacting rescue groups in the area.  I filled out applications, saved up money, was approved for adoption, and had one picked out…until… well, until the foster parents decided they wanted to keep her. 

A few weeks went by, and my search was put aside.  I didn’t want to find a dog just to be disappointed again.  One day, I asked a friend if she wanted to go walk dogs at a local rescue group…just for fun.  As I bent down to put a leash on one dog, another came up and put her paw on my leg… gently suggesting that I take her for a walk instead.  So I did.

CornBread was an impulse adoption… and, by far, the best impulse decision I have ever made.  BUT!!!  I certainly would not have shared these sentiments during the first few months our co-habitation… and I’ll tell you all about it next week…

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One of the hardest things a pet owner has to do is say good bye. With few exceptions (parrots and turtles, for example)our pets do not live as long as we do.

It is, of course, the least traumatic when an elderly pet is simply found permanently asleep. That was the case of my Iguana - he simply did not wake up one morning for his breakfast. I cried for weeks every time I prepared fruits and vegetables, because he always like the scraps.

One step higher on the trauma scale is the sudden death of a young, apparently healthy pet. We had a greyhound who simple came inside, walked into the living room, and dropped dead of a heart attack. For weeks we and our other greyhound kept expecting to see him. Of the 50 or so kittens I fostered, often weak and without a mother, we had many losses - a learning experience for my granddaughter (and me - I did not know what kinds of questions a bright child can ask!). Each loss was very sad.

Then there is the very difficult situation of accident or illness being so severe that euthanasia must be considered. Our first black cat, who had survived the removal of a tumor between her shoulder blades, died five years later of a massive tumor in her chest. Her breathing became horribly labored, and the vet sadly said there was no treatment possible. I held her as he “put her to sleep” and was made to feel a little better about the situation by the idea her suffering was over.

But there is another difficult time of saying goodbye - one I am going through at the moment. There are circumstances in which a person can no longer care for an animal, and other arrangements must be made. We recently had the case of a wonded vet, who has no family in the area, and his two labs needed to be cared for. He did not want to give them up, but there was very little choice. Accident, illness, increasing disability - all can mean the time to say goodbye has come.

I am very fortunate - although my physical condition has deteriorated to where the constant cleaning required by a “special needs” cat is impossible - this animal was adopted from a reputable local rescue group, who will take him back, even two years later, and find him another special home.  Other people are not so lucky - they are sent to nursing homes, and their animals are either turned loose (oh, horrors) or taken to a shelter. The idea that a beloved pet might be killed because it is unadoptable has a horrible effect on people, who sometimes try to stay home and keep it, only to have the animals (and their) living conditions deteriorate to the point that neither is healthy.

If you have a relative who can no longer care for his or her pet, and you already have the maximum number you can care for (or are allergic), please try to help them find an alternative. Saying goodbye is always hard, and it is even harder when the future of the animal is left in doubt.

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You never know just when it’s going to happen.  One minute you’re going about your daily activities, and the next… well, out of nowhere trots a stray dog!  Depending on how you look at it, finding a friendly stray can be good or bad luck.  Good that you have the ability to take the dog home with you and figure out what to do…. bad if you have no idea what to do next.

So… what do you do when you have a lost dog in your back seat/backyard?  No tags?  First thing’s first:  take it to your local vet office and have them check for a microchip.  It only takes a minute, and it may help you find the owner.  No microchip?  Don’t be surprised; many people out there don’t realize the wonders of the microchip.

In case you aren’t already aware, our local paper, The State, offers free postings of ‘found’ ads.  Find a safe place to keep the dog for a week after you place the ad.  You may want to isolate it from your other pets; considering a stray can be unpredictable, and/or may carry something contagious.  If you have the time and a little extra cash, it would be best to have your vet do a quick check for anything that could spread to other dogs, or humans (zoonoses!). 

DO NOT put a thorough explanation of the animal in any found ads; always leave something ambiguous… whether it be the sex, a blue eye, spot on the tongue, etc.  Why?  Well… sadly… some people out there search the found ads in order to get free dogs for various reasons, including:  dog fighting, bait animals, experimentation, etc.  When someone calls, have him/her describe the dog to you before you say anything.

There is that chance that you will not find the rightful owner of the pup in your care.  What do you do now???  Well… there are a few options from here.  A wonderful first step is getting this animal spayed/neutered in order to decrease the chances of this dog getting out and creating more strays!  If you didn’t happen to keep your FREE spay/neuter certificate you may have received from Richland County, then ask around to see if someone you know kept theirs.  If not, or if you don’t live in the Columbia area, you can probably get discounted services at your local Humane Society.   

After a spay/neuter, a round of shots from the vet, and a clean bill of health; you can feel good about finding a new home for your furry friend.  Ask around.  Family, friends, co-workers… you may be surprised to find that someone is looking for a dog just like the one you have!  No luck there?  Well… you can contact some local rescues to find out if they have any available space to keep the dog until it is adopted… or you can keep the dog and attempt to adopt it out yourself.  If you decide on the latter, just be very cautious who you adopt to!  Ask a lot of questions.  The last thing you want is for this newly-vetted and healthy dog to end up right back where it started…. or worse…..

Now… on the other end… if you find yourself a stray that seems wild or unfriendly, call your local animal control.  This particular animal’s fate is probably not going to be the happiest, but at least you can be sure there will be one less stray animal contributing to the overpopulation problem that puts all these animals in the pounds.

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