Mother’s Day Madness

Mothers Day Madness (1)

Annie – Never a Mom

Happy Mother’s Day! Since my cats and dogs are all spayed and neutered, none of them have ever been parents, at least not since they came to live with us. However, when I was a kid, our pets sometimes came with surprises.

The first family cat I remember was Puff, a stray tabby with a chronic ear condition taken in by my parents. One day my mom was holding her when she felt something wet run down her arm. To her surprise, Puff’s water had broken, and we were about to have more than one cat in the house. It now made sense why Puff was spending so much time in a closet, as she likely planned to bring her babies into the world in the secluded space. She had three kittens, who later were all rehomed, and the new mom was spayed soon after to prevent any other unplanned pregnancies. (Puff was an indoor/outdoor cat at the time, which was common in those days). In fact, she had her surgery when we still had her kittens in the house. Our family dog, a male Beagle named Sam, took charge of her little ones in her absence. If any of them wandered too far, Sam would retrieve it, returning the wayward baby to the rest of its siblings.

When I was growing up, pet stores were the place to go for pocket pets. Today care is taken to identify the sex of the animals for sale. Some retail chains will carry either male or female, but not both. This was not always the case back then, when we brought home a golden hamster, a male I named Teddy. One day I asked my mom, “What are those pink things in Teddy’s cage?” It turns out that Teddy wasn’t the male hamster we expected. Those “pink things” were tiny, hairless babies. We kept Teddy, but her kids were taken to the pet store when they were old enough to be separated from her.

As I got older, the pets got bigger. Graduating from hamsters, we brought home a brown and white guinea pig I named Lucy from a local pet shop. It turns out that she was indeed the female I was promised, but we didn’t realize that she was carrying an added bonus when we brought her home.

One day I noticed that Lucy had a smaller version of herself in her enclosure, a tiny brown and white baby. She only had one little piggie, and when we verified that it was a female, we named her Suzy and kept the mother and daughter together.

If my memory is correct, that was the last time I got more than I bargained for when it came to pets and their unexpected offspring. Currently we have a parakeet that sometimes lays eggs, so I should probably change her name from Elvis to Priscilla. Unless she has been entertaining birds in her cage late at night, the eggs will never hatch, as she is the only bird in the house. So, no matter how many kids you may or may not have, I hope your Mother’s Day is filled with more mirth than madness.

Mothers Day Madness (2)

Tiki – Also Not a Mom

The Case of the Missing Tabby

Tiger the Gotcha Day Lump (1)

The Lovable Lug

Not to be outdone by brother Moose, Tiger celebrated his own Gotcha Day recently. February 22, 2018, marked nine years since the orange tabby with attitude came to live with us. However, in that time he’s sometimes given us quite a scare.

We have learned that Tiger has a unique skill, something not done by any cat we’ve ever had. Perhaps he picked up this talent from watching his canine siblings. Italian Greyhounds love to burrow in their blankets, but what about cats?

When Tiger first came home, he was a dreaded door darter. This is not unusual for a cat who was allowed both inside and outside by his previous owner, but it is a problem since all of our cats are kept strictly indoors. Tiger got out our back door three times into the yard, and three times I was able to grab him and thwart any notion of freedom that he had. It seems he has since lost interest in this pursuit, but you have to remain vigilant when it comes to open doors. We live on a heavily traveled road, so a positive outcome for an escapee is unlikely.

We do a head count of the fur kids as a matter of course in our house. I also tend to do this when I’m doing the laundry, because I worry about a kitty taking an unintended ride in a Whirlpool. Every time we go out, and before bed, we check everyone’s location. Prior to implementing this practice, poor Tiger once spent a chilly night in the laundry room closet before being discovered the next morning.

One night during our rounds before lights out, we couldn’t find the cranky orange tabby. After checking the usual hiding spots and coming up empty, panic began to set in. Did he sneak down the basement stairs unnoticed? Worse yet, did he slip outside the safety of the house? That’s my biggest fear, one of the cats getting out the door and losing them forever. We continued the search, but still couldn’t find him. I called his name and even shook the treat bag, which summoned all the cats except Tiger. Where was he?

It seems our boy got tired and maybe a little chilly and called it a night early. A close inspection of our bed found a mysterious lump beneath the comforter. Peeling back the bedclothes revealed a blinking orange tabby, oblivious to the chest pain he was causing his pet parents. His hiding spot uncovered, he calmly stretched and walked into the other room, relinquishing the queen-size bed to its rightful owners.

I have since observed Tiger burrowing under the covers. He will also disappear under the comforter on the bed, or under the throw we keep on the couch for the dogs. You have to be careful where you sit or you could wind up with a claw to the backside. I wonder how the dogs feel about sharing their blankets, and I also wonder if I should have a cardiologist on speed dial.

Tiger the Gotcha Day Lump (2)

Hiding in Plain Sight?

Red Dog in a Blue Cone

Our two Italian Greyhounds recently had a routine dental procedure and while they were sedated, common canine growths were removed.  This is all part of their annual routine care, but it is an upsetting ordeal nonetheless, at least for my husband and me.  Sighthounds are sensitive to anesthesia, and it seems like an eternity passes before the vet calls with a post-surgery report.

Our boys were brought to us following a briefing with the vet.  Each had tooth extractions, but only Red had lumps removed necessitating an Elizabethan collar to prevent him from removing his stitches.  The collar was a soft blue cone, and I wondered how he felt about it.

He looked silly.  It was too large for him, and it appeared to swallow his head.  From the side you couldn’t see his muzzle, he resembled a lampshade with a dog body.

I wonder if he felt as ridiculous as he looked.  Did he cringe as we left the vet, passing other dogs on the way out?  I don’t think he cared, as he was still under the influence of the anesthesia.  Was our other dog Moose now embarrassed to be seen with him?  I don’t think he cared, either, as he was also still a bit loopy.

When all of his faculties were restored, Red ran through the house with a swoosh.  If curtains could run, this is the sound they would make.  Swoosh.  Then a crinkle.  It took Red a bit to adjust to the size of the cone.  He would scrape it along doorways and walls as he ran.  SwooshCrinkle.

Red answered my unspoken question as to his affinity (or lack thereof) for the cone.  I came home one day to a Red dog missing a blue cone.  It was left in a wad on the crate floor.  Red was pleased with himself, wagging his tail at me, but I was not pleased to discover that stitches from one wound were removed, exposing bone.

Off we went for repairs, the blue cone in tow.  Not only did Red receive three staples in lieu of stitches, but the blue cone was tied even tighter.  Poor boy.  One more week to go until he is the Red dog no longer in a blue cone.

Red the Dog

Red the Dog