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Introducing Poppie

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I swore I was done with pocket pets. I said that before Bugs’ arrival, too, and soon he became family. Okay, he was supposed to be the final basement dweller in the house. I have nothing against smaller pets, of course. I’ve had several over the years, but now that I’m older, the cleaning of the littler creatures’ enclosures is no longer as easy as it once was.

Bugs, our resident rabbit, has been with us since before the pandemic. I’m not sure how long we’ve had him, or how old he is. He’s been king of the basement for quite some time since that part of the house is off limits to the other fur kids. Every king needs a queen, right?

Enter her majesty Poppie. She is a five-year-old bunny with a shiny black coat and lop ears. I’m not certain what breed or mix she is; I’m guessing Mini Lop or Holland Lop, but she’s a cutie no matter her parentage. I’ve had several lop-eared rabbit breeds through the years including French Lop, English Lop, and Fuzzy Lop. I think Mini Lop or Holland Lop will be a first for me.

We’re her second home. Because my basement is an unmitigated disaster, her arrival forced me to do some much-needed reorganization of the space where she now resides. She came with a roomy traditional cage, but I have upgraded her digs to an enclosure similar to Bugs’. She is now in a C&C cage (which Google tells me stands for Cubes and Coroplast, which is news to me). The entire setup sits on interlocking foam puzzle pieces on the basement floor. The cage is assembled using grid panels stacked two high. Two panels aren’t tall enough to keep curious buns from hopping out, so to prevent that, a sheet is put over top secured by clothespins. I’ve come home to a missing bun before (ahem, Bugs), and I have no desire to hunt for a hiding cottontail again.

Poppie has all new furnishings including a food dish, water bottle, hay rack, toys, and litterbox. So far, she is good about using her box, which makes cleanup of her space a breeze. I have a long-handled dustpan and brush to sweep out any debris on the floor, and I have found this to be so much easier than vacuuming, which can be scary to the buns. I top off the food, water, and hay, and change the litterbox. Done. If only I had known these setups existed years ago. They are far superior to the old-school wire cages with slide out trays lined with newspaper; the pans always unwieldy to empty. I will never go back to that style of housing again.

Poppie is a sweet girl, enjoying head rubs. She has a healthy appetite, devouring every morsel that lands in her bowl. She enjoys hopping around her enclosure, and it looks like she is settling in well. Even though we had to make room to accommodate her, I am glad that we did. She will spend the rest of her life with us, a member of the family. For some reason, I think I am destined to always have at least one bunny, and as long as I am able, that’s okay with me.

(Poppie arrived in August 2023)

Introducing Capone and Cosmo

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We thought about what we would do when the unthinkable happened and we lost Moose and Red. Our intention was to adopt a bonded pair of Italian Greyhounds, preferably 1 to 2 years old, similar in size, but different colors, like Moose and Red were. Well, you know what they say about the best laid plans.

Capone and Cosmo came home on May 14, 2022. They were born on February 15, 2022, just days after Moose passed away. They are male littermates, who look like twins, and if it weren’t for the size difference, it’s almost impossible to tell them apart. Capone is the larger of the two, but the difference is ever so slight. They have few white markings on their paws and are mostly solid fawn in color. On close inspection, Capone has a white patch that resembles a star on his neck, while Cosmo has a white streak on his. That is the way we tell them apart, because when they were this young they tore off each other’s breakaway collars and destroyed them, so we gave up on collar wearing. (Now that they are over a year and microchipped, they still do not wear collars in the house. They do have a tag collar for walks along with their martingale and leash. Also, Capone has grown to be long and lanky, while Cosmo is short and stocky, earning him the moniker of D.B. for Dad Bod).

It was one thing to raise one puppy when the hubby and I were 20 years younger, but two puppies 20 years older is something else! I think this is how my parents must have felt when they found out I was on the way, 11 years after my brother. Talk about starting over! When Moose was a wee pup long before we adopted Red, we had the benefit of my mom to let him out for potty breaks during the workday. She lived seven houses away and loved her grandpuppies, and was always available to lend a hand when needed. Sadly, these boys will never know their grandmom, but despite that, we couldn’t ask for better timing to bring home a pair of squirmy pups. These guys arrived just before my hubby’s summer vacation from his job. With one of us being home for a couple months, it was easier to house train them and acclimate them to the household.

It’s tough starting over with new dogs when your prior pups lived to such an advanced age. It will be a learning curve for us, but one that is well worth it. We entertained thoughts of other breeds, but there is nothing quite like an iggy. To know them is to love them. We have experience with IGs, so it was a no-brainer for us. (Corgis and dachshunds were considered, shh). What I wish for Capone and Cosmo is a lifetime of love and fun, plus the longevity to rival that of their predecessors. They have some huge paws to fill and although they can never replace Moose and Red, Capone and Cosmo are welcome and beloved additions to the family.

The Integration

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Since his first vet appointment, Bram has been microchipped and registered, and an appointment has been made for his neuter. The office has been turned into a makeshift room for Bram. He’s been in seclusion from the other pets until his two week quarantine following his initial vet visit is over. Don’t feel too sorry for him, he’s in a climate-controlled environment and has all the feline necessities including a bed, scratching post, and litterbox. He even has a new flatscreen!

We have been keeping him company in his room and occupied with a variety of toys. He is friendly but has too much interest in playing with human hands. That is something we’ll need to address. The resident cats have patrolled the hallway outside of his door a few times. They know he is in the room, but at least no one is incessantly hanging out by the door. They all know the drill, whatever is in the room will come out eventually. Bram has seen Tiger twice. The first time was when we carried Bram into the room by way of cat carrier. Bram hissed at Tiger from behind the metal door, but that was it. They also saw each other briefly when the office door was opened.

After the isolation period, it was time to start the integration process. This can take a while considering the number of critters residing in the house. As long as this process takes all the time it needs, and isn’t rushed, things tend to work out. Before we added any animals to the mix, we let Bram have the run of the house solo so he could get the lay of the land before meeting his housemates. He was able to locate the bowls, litterboxes, and scratching posts.

From there we continued integration in stages, from the easiest pet to the most difficult. We decided to let Bram out only when the dogs were out. Once he was acclimated to them, we introduced him to Vlad and Barnabas, and then finally the oldest cats Tiger and Tiki. It took a few weeks, but it seems to be going well.

When Moose and Red were younger and prone to chasing, we crated them when introducing new cats. In Bram’s case, we left him out when the dogs were sleeping on the couch. He jumped on the couch with the boys and sniffed them. No problems there. On another occasion, we let Bram out with the boys when they were awake. They were walking around, and Red was barking. Bram wasn’t bothered by them. The dogs don’t see well, but I’m sure Bram has a different scent from the other cats.

After a couple weeks we added Vlad and Barnes. Barnes hissed and wasn’t the welcoming brother I expected him to be. Vlad wanted to play with Bram, but he was unsure at first. I’m happy that both seem to get along with him now.

Finally, we added the two older cats. Tiger took to him right away, which surprised me because he was the one I was most worried about. Tiki isn’t thrilled but tolerates him as long as he doesn’t get too close. She is like that with the others anyway, so it’s good to see she treats her new brother like the others.

Bram is now out of his room full time. He’s happy to have the run of the house, and I am happy to have my office back. Training cats to stay away from doors is an ongoing process when you have one that has previously been outside. So far Bram has shown little interest in being a door darter. Everyone gets along reasonably well. There is no hissing or chasing, which are all signs that the integration is heading in the right direction. We’re happy we decided to take a chance with the little guy.

I’m pleased to report that since the above was written, Bram has been neutered and there is household harmony among the fur kids. (Human hands are safe, too).

The Patter of New Paws

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I’m embarrassed to admit that I have been away from my blog for so long. I created content for the site since my last post, but I just never published it. Several events transpired during my break, some good, then bad, then good again. I will bring this site current, but it may take a while to catch up with past pet anecdotes. Let’s start with something good that’s happened.

We were quite content with four cats. That was a number that seemed to work for us. The loss of Annie and Ozzy reduced our number to two for about a year, but missing the chaos that multiples can sometimes bring, we adopted two more cats a couple weeks apart (Barnabas and Vlad).

So much for even numbers. A family member found a friendly stray, did we want it? No room at the inn was our usual response, but for some reason we caved. I think it was in part because of the melancholy surrounding Moose’s kidney failure diagnosis. My husband and I needed something positive, an exciting hello when a tragic goodbye drew near.

Having agreed, I asked for a photo of the kitty, which showed it drinking water outside. A brown tabby with white feet. I’ve had two in the past; both Puff and Annie were brown tabbies. I hated to think of it outside in the summer heat with no permanent place to call home.

The cat rescuer traveled to where it was usually seen, and it voluntarily went into the cat carrier. The kitty arrived at our house on July 9, 2021. We never released it from the carrier, instead we went right to the pet urgent care down the street to check for a microchip. There was no sense in falling in love with someone else’s pet. A scan failed to find a chip. Kitty wasn’t part of a colony, as neither ear was tipped. I secretly hoped kitty would be a female I could name Lizzie. We only have one female; the others are males. No such luck. Kitty was an unneutered male with claws. They weren’t able to do any vetting of the kitty, but our normal vet was able to squeeze us in that night.

Kitty was named Bram on the way to the vet, in keeping with the vampire-themed names of two of our other cats. He was very good at the vet’s office. Bram was swept again for the presence of a microchip and still none was found. It turned out that he was a young man of 10-11 months, or a teenage kitten.

Bram had little flea dirt on him, but he did have ear mites, so I was given a topical to treat them along with any other parasite or worm he could have. (I think he may have been expelling something in the days that followed, so it was good that he had the medicine). He tested negative for feline AIDS and leukemia, so he was safe to bring home and keep. Bram will have to be kept isolated from the rest of the menagerie for two weeks, and if there are no signs of anything upper respiratory or otherwise unusual going on, he can begin the integration process. He also received a rabies shot during his visit. Welcome to your new life Bram!

Quarantine Canines

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Quarantine Canines

Can Someone Post Bail?

My heart goes out to everyone dealing with the pandemic. My state was locked down in May, when life as we know it changed. The hubby and I both found ourselves at home (fortunately still working), and to pass the sudden surplus of time, I read, rekindled my love of jigsaw puzzles, and found a new hobby in adult coloring books. Writing took a backseat; I just didn’t have the desire with the barrage of doom and gloom from the television and internet. My furry friends, of course, were the glue that held my fractured world together.

Cats are known to be fiercely independent. Three out of my four are real snugglers. Tiger cuddles on his terms. Still, I think even the cranky orange tabby enjoyed having us around more. I know the dogs enjoyed the bonus time. In fact, I don’t know who enjoyed it more, me or them.

I’m a natural homebody, and as such, there is no greater feeling than the comfort and security of home. I always say that the best part of my day is bedtime, when I am surrounded by my partner and best friend, with two dogs nestled beside me, and a revolving door of felines waiting their turn for affection. Truth be told, if it weren’t for the pandemic requiring the stay at home orders in the first place, I was happy with the arrangement.

When it comes to Moose and Red, time marches on whether we want it to or not. They have surpassed the average life expectancy for most dogs, and I have witnessed their decline. It is sad to see my once robust, playful puppies turn into shadows of their former selves. Therefore, I appreciated the quarantine, if only to spend more time with them.

Other than just hanging out and having the ability to share a midday snack with them, I was thankful that they were able to have more couch time. Normally they are crated during our workday. When they were younger, we worried about leg breaks while we were gone, now we worry about injury due to their blindness and mobility issues. With us home far more, they were able to lounge peacefully on the couch in their blanket for hours on end, getting up only for potty breaks and meal times. It was fun while it lasted.

As soon as restrictions were lifted, I was back at work five days. Hubby is a teacher, so his schedule was unknown until the school year started in September. He is virtual until October 13, but he had to attend in-person meetings the week prior to the students returning. This change in the household meant that the boys would be crated again, if only for a week.

Rousing them from the couch when leaving for work can be a challenge, each dog with a different degree of crankiness. I carry them out to do their business, most of the time Moose returning to the back door while Red waits patiently at the bottom of the stairs to be carried in. Once they were wise to the fact that they were going into their crates, they started wandering the yard, forcing me to retrieve them. As they say boys, all good things must come to an end.

The Beat Still Goes On

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The Beat Still Goes On (2)

Moose’s cardiology appointment is always stressful for everyone. It’s a matter of hoping for the best but preparing for the worst. Of course, I hope that his heart is no worse for the wear, but the fact remains that he is a dog of 17 years. Even though he is enjoying a long lifespan (he would be in his nineties in human years), the inevitable bad news we receive one day will still be shocking.

A cardiology appointment requires a day off from work, as it’s a comprehensive visit. Moose’s doctor practices in a large city out of state, which means that his dad escorts him to the visits. My better half is a pro at driving in big cities, while I am terrified of the idea. I can handle appointments solo if they’re in the suburbs.

Both of us are nervous before the appointment, but it is my better half that has to hear the results, good or bad. (For this reason I can’t say that I am envious that he goes to these appointments without me). He leaves our boy at the hospital for a few hours to undergo an exam and testing. The good thing about the city is that there is always something to do to pass the time, in walking distance from the hospital. Still, even though he finds ways to occupy himself, I’m sure it seems like an eternity until he can be reunited with Moose.

We have observed no serious deterioration in Moose’s health, other than a little stiffness when walking; a bit of an anti-inflammatory twice a day has greatly improved this issue. He does not seem to get winded, and we haven’t heard him coughing, which are all good signs that the heart condition hasn’t worsened.

When asked if Moose was still a candidate for teeth cleanings under sedation, the vet thought it best to leave well enough alone. Unless Moose were unable to eat due to a tooth issue, we were advised to forego any unnecessary dental procedures notwithstanding an emergency. Italian greyhounds are notorious for having bad teeth, with some pups requiring so many to be pulled that dogs are sometimes left with their tongues hanging out. So far neither Moose nor Red have lost the necessary teeth to cause this. To be honest, this was something I dreaded and hoped would never happen to them. (Although they would still be adorable).

I am pleased to report that Moose’s condition has remained status quo since his diagnosis three years ago. He has chronic degenerative valve disease, but he is not yet in heart failure. Moose remains on the same dosage of medication, as it seems to work well for him. I only pray that his disease progression is moving along at a snail’s pace. While I am elated over this news that he hasn’t gotten much worse, next on the radar is the boys’ annual checkups. Senior bloodwork will be done, and I hope that it won’t reveal any underlying problems. As I mentioned, we have recently added an anti-inflammatory medication to their routine to help with age-related joint stiffness. They haven’t had kidney issues in the past, but we need to be sure with the new drug. Every day with senior pets is a gift, one that I never take for granted.

The Beat Still Goes On (1)

The Moo, The Myth, The Legend

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The Moo The Myth The Legend (2)

Happy 17th Birthday Moose!

If you said I would have a dog live to 14, I would be hopeful. If you said he would live to 15, I would be skeptical. Over 15? That’s crazy, yet here we are. Tomorrow Moose turns 17 years old, an advanced age for a canine.

He was our first puppy, and we made mistakes with him. For starters, we botched crate training. We didn’t know we were supposed to limit the space in his crate. We gave him a big crate, and we spent many late nights cleaning a dirty puppy as a result. We finally got the gist of it, and Moose became well housetrained, which is a major challenge with Italian greyhounds. That is one of the biggest reasons this breed is surrendered.

I remember being scolded on our first trip to the pet store. He was the tiniest, cutest puppy on the planet (if I do say so myself). As such, I was excited to show him off. I didn’t realize how dangerous that was, as he was a bit too young and hadn’t had all of his shots. He could have picked up something from other canine shoppers just by being on the floor. Fortunately he didn’t, and we only returned when he was fully vaccinated. He was always social and looked forward to adventures outside of the house and yard.

His first official bath (aside from the spot cleaning due to crate messes) was by a groomer. This person picked him up by his front legs at their initial meeting, and I should have canceled the appointment right then and there. Instead I spent the entire time he was getting bathed a nervous wreck. He emerged clean and in great shape, but after that experience, it was puppy shampoo and the bathtub at home from that day forward. Italian greyhounds don’t require much grooming when it comes to their coats. A bath a handful of times a year is sufficient, and Moose would agree, as they were never his favorite activity.

The first time I heard a reverse sneeze I was hysterical. It’s sort of a weird wheeze, basically their way of clearing out their nose. I thought for sure my little guy was fatally ill. It turns out that they’re normal and common in small breed dogs. Whew.

Moose’s first birthday was memorable. I bought him some sort of all-natural doggie cake online. What a disaster; he was so sick after eating it that I thought for sure his first birthday would be his last. I would be more careful about special treats in later years. Of course, his special day wouldn’t be complete without a trip to the store for a toy. We let him pick out his own special gift, and squeaky toys were his favorites.

Not a day goes by that I don’t appreciate the time we have had together. I never expected him to live this long; that’s an old age even for a small-breed dog. His health may be declining, but I treasure every moment with my senior pup.

Happy 17th Birthday Moose!!! I Love You!!!

The Moo The Myth The Legend (1)

Flashback to Moose’s 5th Birthday Party

Exciting Announcement II

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Exciting Announcement II

I am pleased to announce that I am again a contributing author, this time in Carol M. Ford’s Golden Linings II: More Tiny Tales about Pets, for Pets. As with the first Golden Linings, author proceeds from sales are donated to animal rescue groups and shelters. As a writer and animal lover, I am proud to have contributed two tales. If you’re interested in purchasing a copy, details can be found here. The animals and I thank you for your support!

Also, Tails of Mirth & Madness is now on Instagram! Check it out here.

Appreciating the Black Cat’s Gotcha Day

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He Loves Me . . .

Yesterday was Black Cat Appreciation Day, which coincides well with today. It was three years ago on this date that we adopted Vlad, the most awesome of all black kitties. (I might be just a tad biased).

I appreciate all the cats I have known and loved, but black cats have their own special day. Black kittens and cats are not adopted as often as their counterparts in different colors. There’s a stigma attached to them, which is a shame, because to know one is to love one. Black Cat Appreciation Day raises awareness of just how awesome black cats are.

Since Halloween is my favorite holiday, I wanted a black cat and Vlad more than fit the bill. For me, looks are secondary to personality, and three of my current cats picked me. (Barnabas picked my husband, wrapping him around his little paw at their first meeting). This time I sought a black cat, but he had to have a great personality, one that would mesh with the resident cats.

What I love about Vlad is how lovable he is. They say shelter pets seem to know when they have been rescued, and show their appreciation to their new owners. Vlad shows it every day in little ways.

I love to kiss the top of his big plush head. The neatest thing about Vlad that I have never seen another cat do is return kisses. For every peck on the top of his head, I get a nose lick. It’s automatic, like he knows how to give kisses back. It really is endearing.

Vlad and Tiki are both lap cats, with a preference for hanging out with me. (The two gingers are more Daddy’s boys). Sometimes they vie for lap space, with Tiki more often than not getting the prime seat. That’s just as well, as she has higher seniority.

When Vlad is able to jump in my lap, he does it with gusto. While Tiki is 11 pounds, Vlad is more. How much more I’m not sure until his next vet appointment, but suffice it to say that he is beefier than his sister.

Sometimes he will bop you in the face with his giant black head. I think this is somewhat new for him, possibly learned from resident head butter Barnabas. After that, he makes himself comfortable. He likes to curl up under your arm, completely outstretched, big black feet extended. He was a long cat, lanky when we adopted him. He’s still long, but not so lanky these days.

If you think working will keep you safe from Vlad’s affection, you would be wrong. He has no problem standing on whatever you’re reading until you acknowledge him. If you’re working on your computer, he likes to sprawl out in your arms or on your lap while you try to type. On your phone? He will gnaw on the corner of it. Writing something long hand? The writing implement will be chewed.

Sometimes he can be annoying in his quest for affection, but of course, you have to give in and lavish Vlad with lots of love. He’s my cuddle bug and I wouldn’t trade him for the world.

Appreciating the Black Cat's Gotcha Day (2)

. . . And I Love Him

Nite Nite Bedtime

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NIte NIte Bedtime (1)

Zzzzz

When my brother was little, he would grab his pj’s and tell our mom he was ready for bed. He was one kid who looked forward to bedtime, while I tried to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. Now I have a doggie equivalent of my brother, a pup who can’t wait to go to bed.

Red’s bed is our bed. Known as “velcro dogs,” Italian greyhounds love to cuddle close, and most of the time they sleep under the covers with their owners. If you think that’s weird or gross, this might not be the breed for you. We have baby gates keeping the boys in the family room, where we are most of the time in the evening. The gates prevent access to the rest of the house, including the bedroom, located on the first floor of our Cape Cod.

When Red would like to go to bed, the pacing and staring start. If that fails to get any notice, he ups his game by grabbing a toy if one is laying around, and walking to the baby gate and staring at the bedroom door. He continues to pace back and forth to the baby gate with a toy in his mouth, before dropping it and barking at us as a last resort.

Even though we know what he wants, all we have to do is ask the magic question, “Nite, nite bedtime?” This gets Red even more riled up. By this time we have to relent, but not before he goes outdoors one last time. As soon as he returns from doing his final business of the night, he runs into the bedroom, the baby gate already removed. When he was younger, he could jump onto the bed and start burrowing by himself. Now he will bark to let someone know he is ready and needs help. We turn down all the covers before picking him up and placing him onto the mattress. He wastes no time burrowing under, although sometimes he plants himself too close to the edge for my liking, so I scoot him closer to the center of the bed. We cover him up, turn on the fan (weather permitting), leave the light on low, and he is content to stay there the rest of the night. He is even generous to move over when the humans come to bed.

You may be reading this and think, “What about Moose?” Moose doesn’t do any of this. When Red goes into bed, Moose is content to hang out with us on the couch. Once in a while he will join his brother, but he often won’t stay settled until we come in with them. Red on the other hand knows we will come in eventually, and that is good enough for him.

I never thought I would have a dog I would have to tuck into bed. This is something that makes Red unique, and I just love it about him. I wouldn’t change this little guy for anything.

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Serious Sleeper