tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47047322598711653812024-03-14T01:41:45.230-04:00Complete with Dogs...and CatsLife with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.comBlogger103125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-464162657348935212013-08-06T07:17:00.003-04:002013-08-06T07:19:09.986-04:00Everybody into the Pool!The reporters on TV were gleefully attempting to fry eggs on sidewalks. Mayors were online and on the air promoting cooling centers. Headlines everywhere ensured that every last human on the east coast knew that it was The Hottest July On Record. As if those of us living it didn't realize it was hot.<br />
<br />
Triple digits hot. High humidity hot. Wilting people hot.<br />
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During the worst of it, the dogs went outside, did their business, and came right back in. I certainly didn't blame them; I don't think I'd want to walk into an outdoor oven while wearing a fur coat. Lilah, with her hippie-long obsidian black fur, has known since she was a puppy how to cool down in the summer heat, finding the shady--and muddy--spots in the yard. But even she stood by the door asking to go back inside to air conditioned relief.<br />
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On the days when it was tolerable--and safe--for humans and canines to be outside, we all tried to make the best of it. The people gravitated toward the pool, which, for several days, featured water temperatures above ninety degrees. Even that was a refreshing difference compared to the warm, moist dragonbreath heat of the day. Night time swimming became the activity of choice when the sun was no longer an issue; the high heat and humidity were tempered by a dip in the water. Well, more than a dip; we spent hours cooling off there.<br />
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Previously, our terrier Rosie had love to swim; she'd leap into the water to chase a stick and climb onto a wobbly raft when she needed a lift. Our current dogs had no desire to set so much as a paw in the human pool. So, in an attempt to offer them the same relief as we two-footed creatures were enjoying, I set out two small kiddie pools in the yard.<br />
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As always, Lilah jumped right into each pool as soon as I filled it. Snout under the surface, she walked counter-clockwise, blowing bubbles through her nose. She lifted her face dripping with water and a smile, and offered a wag of thanks. Jasper and Tucker, on the other paw, gave the pools a wide berth, in case an errant drop of water would trouble their otherwise dry fur. The boys don't like Wet.<br />
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Wiley Lilah used the situation to her advantage. During a game of chase, she aimed for one of the pools, landing with as huge a splash as she could muster. Jasper skidded to a halt, looking like a kid crying "No fair!" Tucker just kept running, never breaking pace as he made an extra-large detour around the water hazard. I swear I could hear Lilah giggling.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-llL8oWOxzjw/UgDWCerYcpI/AAAAAAAANN4/JZyE4izzpnI/s1600/IMG_7120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-llL8oWOxzjw/UgDWCerYcpI/AAAAAAAANN4/JZyE4izzpnI/s320/IMG_7120.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lilah enjoying the water.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Up to this point, the only possible use the boys could think of for the pools was as giant water bowls. This year, though, I thought maybe with the severity of the heat, I could interest the dry dogs in at least getting their paws wet. Perhaps they could learn that water didn't burn and might actually feel good on a hot summer day.<br />
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I armed myself with numerous treats--and not just any dog biscuit or training aid. I brought out the big guns, what my trainer would call a high-value treat. Hamburger pieces. Left over from a recent cookout.<br />
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Three dog noses lifted high in the air, huffing in great chuffs of burger smell as I walked toward one of the pools with enticements in hand.<br />
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Jasper, perhaps the most food-oriented dog I've known, quivered with anticipation. His eyes glittered as he looked at me, then my hand then me again. Whatever I ask. What. Ever. He would do it for that meat.<br />
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Now began a merry dance between Jasper and I as I held out one of the precious burger bits in front of his nose and quickly moved to position the pool between me and the dog. As he tried to circle around, I kept the pool between us. I held the bit just out of reach over the water.<br />
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Jasper's right paw lifted. Slowly he moved it over the water. Like a paw crane, he began to lower it, stretching his neck to get the coveted morsel. His paw stopped a whisker's breadth above the water. He looked at me again, pleading. He touched the water, drew back, touched again.<br />
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"Good boy, Jasper!" I handed him a treat. He didn't realize his entire paw was in the pool until the deed was done. I gave him another bit for keeping his foot in the pool. He began to lift it out. Once again, I held the burger piece just out of reach. He put it back. Now his left paw slowly lifted. With eyes on the prize, Jasper gingerly placed his second paw in the water.<br />
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"Good boy!" A few more treats. Jasper managed a subdued wag.<br />
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While all this was going on, Tucker maintained his distance, mournfully watching his brother undergo water torture. Lilah lay down under a clump of Lilac bushes with a bored sigh.<br />
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"I want all four feet now, Jasper." He looked up at me. I waved the treat in front of him as he stood with two paws in the pool and two paws out. Beef aroma wafted toward him. The third foot was much easier. The burger reward was worth it.<br />
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That last paw, however, stayed anchored to try dry land. No matter where I walked, Jasper would try to reach the treat without lifting the fourth foot. He wasn't really In the Water as long as one foot wasn't.<br />
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But. Hamburger. Hamburger! The siren smell drew him ever toward the cool depths of the kiddie pool.<br />
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It was too much. As if it had a mind of its own the last foot landed in the pool as Jasper lurched toward me to get his treat.<br />
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Lots of treats. Burger bit after burger bit. Happy, happy Jasper. He walked around, getting more bits as he explored the entirety of the 5-foot wide, 8-inch deep plastic pool.<br />
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I looked up. Lilah sighed again and closed her eyes. Tucker looked nervous and backed away slowly, keeping his distance.<br />
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"C'mon Tucker!" He lowered his head. "Look, Jasper is in the pool and he's still alive."<br />
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Jasper stayed in the pool while I walked over to Tucker, who was trying to look small and comfortably arrid. I asked him to sit, and gave him a taste of the meat.<br />
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He followed me back to the pool. Having seen his brother go through the exercise, Tucker knew what was expected. At first he hoped he could just put a paw on the edge of the pool. Perhaps that counts? But plastic bends with the weight of a dog and the result was a small river of water pouring over the edge, soaking his front two paws. He tried again. Same result. This plan wasn't working.<br />
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As Tucker watched sadly, I gave Jasper a few pieces of the burger for staying in the pool.<br />
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Ears back, neck bowed, my dry terrier submitted. He put his right front foot in the water.<br />
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"Good boy, Tucker!" Treat.<br />
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Left front foot. Treat. Right rear foot. Treat. Left rear foot hovered just above the water. As it was with Jasper, so it was with Tucker. Not the last foot. Please? Tucker pleaded with me silently. The burger whispered sweet scents in his nose. I gave Jasper another piece. With a doleful glance that questioned my humanity for requiring this task of him, Tucker slid the fourth paw into the pool. Two dogs, eight paws in the water.<br />
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"Good boy!" Treats and treats and treats for Tucker and Jasper.<br />
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I called Lilah over to see if she would join the boys in the pool. She was having none of it. "Now everyone's in the pool. It's not cool anymore." She crawled deeper under the bushes, enjoying the mud bath that was hers alone.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rHZ2Wlc4hHM/UgDWCy0-PJI/AAAAAAAANOA/lv4ODAwHygg/s1600/IMG_6282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rHZ2Wlc4hHM/UgDWCy0-PJI/AAAAAAAANOA/lv4ODAwHygg/s320/IMG_6282.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boys. "How long do we have to stay in here?"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-46236369960237771832013-07-23T10:53:00.002-04:002013-07-23T10:53:29.712-04:00The Good, the Bad and the Snuggly<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I live in a spaghetti western movie.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I didn't realize this until I began recording short </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">videos of my home’s furry inhabitants. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">As I watched the videos—and my pets,when I wasn’t recording them—I realized there were...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Good guys and bad guys. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Showdowns. Staredowns.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Thundering herds.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">And music.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">Actually, the music is all in my head…the kind that plays during the pivotal showdown scene, or when everyone saddles up and the posse heads out to catch the Bad Guy. So it seemed that nearly every video required a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFa1-kciCb4">Ennio Morrione</a> score.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Here are few examples. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">(Each video is only 6 seconds long, since they were taken with Vine.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Scene 1, Western: </b> Camera pans over a desolate landscape. Pushed
by a dusty wind, a tumble weed skitters past the skeletal remains of an animal.
The audience understands this is a place of emptiness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Here’s how the scene plays out in my house: <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/OHAm6cd3uJc?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Of course in my version, it’s not tumbleweeds but stuffing that came from a headless and disemboweled
plush horse, courtesy of Lilah. No skeletons, but close. And no emptiness. Definitely no emptiness. That would be impossible in a house with three dogs and four cats. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Scene 2, Western: </b>Bad Guy is holed up in the local
flophouse, with an injury sustained in a gun battle during a bank robbery. Good Guy spots him, and the Bad Guy leaps out of the window
onto his waiting horse and escapes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My house:<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Z7FfDjEM6Ns?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">While we’re not exactly talking Good Guys and Bad
Guys here, Elsa Clair has been spotted by Calvin, and leaps to a quick
getaway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Scene 3, Western: </b>The showdown. In the center of
town, two men face each other, eyes glaring, fingers twitching, waiting to draw
on each other. Kitty, the whore with a heart of gold, runs for the sheriff, who
comes just in time to break it up “afore someone gets hurt.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My version:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/WQ13HPIEHFw?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Athena and Calvin stare each other down, until Sheriff Tucker arrives to save the day. You'll note we have not one, two kitties.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>End scene, Western: </b>Good Guy figures the only way to
catch Bad Guy is to set him up, create a trap that he can’t resist. Usually Bad
Guy gets shot, but sometimes, he gets away and the audience knows he’ll be up
to no good somewhere else. Maybe he’ll sneak back to hunt down the
sheriff who ran him out of town.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And in my house:<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://i1.ytimg.com/vi/WqG-_jOJGlg/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/WqG-_jOJGlg?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/WqG-_jOJGlg?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sly Elsa Clair knows Calvin is hungry, and waits for
him from their feeding spot, on top of the buffet. She successfully runs him
out of town…kitchen. But he’ll be back. And all my cats find ways to be up to no good somewhere.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Fade to black. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">See what I mean?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Where’s Ennio Morricone when I need him?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-86909878243355910112013-06-18T06:17:00.002-04:002013-06-18T06:19:05.750-04:00Lion AroundIn a previous post, I've written about the many ways that dogs play with stuffed animals. (<a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2012/02/plush-with-joy.html">Plush with Joy</a>.) We always have quite a few of these plush toys around for Jasper, Lilah and Tucker to romp with, gnaw on, chase after, or discuss ownership.<br />
<br />
Recently, I've noticed that there are some favorites. Tucker has been quite sweet on a certain Headless Horse, whose injury was the result of a particularly enthusiastic game of Tug. It doesn't matter that his toy is missing an essential part of it's anatomy. Actually, I imagine that it's more fun that way, because a gaping hole where the head ought to be creates great opportunities for stuffing removal. And that's almost as much fun as Tug. Plus, once all the innards are out, the flat scraps of a once-huggable toy also provide great amusement. I think it might have something to do with the Flop Factor; holding an unstuffed animal in ones' mouth and shaking it very hard creates a very satisfying effect. We keep several of these barely recognizable pelts around until, after repeated Tug battles, they are reduced to unsafe bits of furry cloth and are added to the recycling pile.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sAfGHxwvgHY/UcAsdOUDvpI/AAAAAAAAMLk/635uugN8YqU/s1600/IMG_3495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sAfGHxwvgHY/UcAsdOUDvpI/AAAAAAAAMLk/635uugN8YqU/s320/IMG_3495.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tucker and the Headless Horse</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Lilah's lion, however, doesn't seem to be headed ("be headed?" Snicker!) toward the same fate, even though there's a slight tear near the neck--the result of a misguided attempt at Tug by Tucker. A very sweet, even-tempered animal, Lilah is the nurturer, the one who always comes running when anyone--dog, cat, or human--seems injured or sick. Yet if Jasper or Tucker tries to take her lion, she can go from zero to ferocious faster than a ticked-off tiger--or at least sound that way. Her snarly growls and frozen stare are enough to make even the bravest of dogs reconsider just how much he wants to play with that particular toy at that particular moment. It's all a game to Lilah, but Jasper and Tucker let go and back away slowly.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LMZVrmQrFik/UbBiNoW86KI/AAAAAAAAMJI/ZW0ZUjbBaFA/s1600/IMG_3147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LMZVrmQrFik/UbBiNoW86KI/AAAAAAAAMJI/ZW0ZUjbBaFA/s320/IMG_3147.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lilah, Lion</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Why the lion? What is it about this particular plush that makes sweet Lilah disinclined to share?<br />
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It's got whiskers.<br />
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I don't know why whiskers are so attractive, but Lilah loves them.<br />
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Every morning, when the dogs come downstairs with me, she heads straight for the lion. The boys take a drink of water, look out the window to see what's barkable, sniff a cat toy or two--or a cat--and generally assess the area to see if anything has changed since they went to bed last night. Lilah ignores all that; she locates her lion and settles down for a good floss.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-khV5U1VEwng/UbBiN9kTyLI/AAAAAAAAMJM/qziq-VxqIUc/s1600/IMG_3151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-khV5U1VEwng/UbBiN9kTyLI/AAAAAAAAMJM/qziq-VxqIUc/s320/IMG_3151.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Flossing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
With one paw holding the inanimate creature steady, she nibbles those whiskers, closing her eyes, centered on the task. Her nose mushes up against the fake fur snout as she chews gently.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kIJa6i5gONo/UbT9ki_jKNI/AAAAAAAAMJ0/0rKxvYpcQ0E/s1600/IMG_3235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: 13px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kIJa6i5gONo/UbT9ki_jKNI/AAAAAAAAMJ0/0rKxvYpcQ0E/s320/IMG_3235.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lilah's little wrinkled nose is just so cute.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The morning routine ebbs and flows around her as the cats greet me, the dog beds are put back into position, and I prepare to take the pups out for their morning business. Lilah stays focused and undisturbed.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bzdXjg3qCJc/UbT9kxW0qjI/AAAAAAAAMJ8/QWG1-2LuOLE/s1600/IMG_3301.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: 13px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bzdXjg3qCJc/UbT9kxW0qjI/AAAAAAAAMJ8/QWG1-2LuOLE/s320/IMG_3301.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bones? No. Stuffed lemur? Nope. Gotta have that lion.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It's not just a morning routine, though. Whenever we're in the family room, Lilah will gravitate toward the lion and enjoy a nibble or seven. She'll often fall asleep with the toy between her paws.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RBF7jQHnLxM/UbBiOE-eLSI/AAAAAAAAMJY/xJXPYjAcDG4/s1600/IMG_3211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RBF7jQHnLxM/UbBiOE-eLSI/AAAAAAAAMJY/xJXPYjAcDG4/s320/IMG_3211.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lion in her arms</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Lilah is ever so gentle with those little plastic bits, and after months of whisker flossing, they're still there--a little bent, a little thin in some places, but still there.<br />
<br />
Maybe that's why she has such a brilliant smile.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JDiOLd5Vdzc/UbBiNe58vfI/AAAAAAAAMJA/dlz5PLvfGDE/s1600/IMG_1520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JDiOLd5Vdzc/UbBiNe58vfI/AAAAAAAAMJA/dlz5PLvfGDE/s320/IMG_1520.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lilah smile<br />
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Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-20123414039317184182013-06-11T05:49:00.002-04:002013-06-14T05:47:15.643-04:00Stair DownA herd of buffalo live in my house.<br />
<br />
Or may it's a dozen third-grade boys.<br />
<br />
Poltergeists with bowling balls?<br />
<br />
What I have is kittens. Though at just over a year, they're technically cats. Whatever the label, they have a combined weight of perhaps a dozen pounds. Which means there is no way I can explain the amount of thumping, crashing and thundering that occurs when Elsa Clair and Calvin play their favorite game, Chase on the Stairs.<br />
<br />
If you live in a multi-level house with feline roommates, you may be familiar with this game. There are as many variations as there are shades of cat.<br />
<br />
The game often begins with Someone peering down from the top of the stairs at Someone Else. That's the fun part about stairs: the staring from on high.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gxWryrQcdHo/UbBhzmvnOBI/AAAAAAAAMIY/WcXfC_ifwRQ/s1600/IMG_0870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gxWryrQcdHo/UbBhzmvnOBI/AAAAAAAAMIY/WcXfC_ifwRQ/s320/IMG_0870.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin and Elsa Clair: the stair down.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The stair stares continue. Tension builds. An ear flicks. A whisker twitches. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KGErep34IH0/Ubb3R3c1dhI/AAAAAAAAMK8/MJjkEBG6B08/s1600/IMG_3275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KGErep34IH0/Ubb3R3c1dhI/AAAAAAAAMK8/MJjkEBG6B08/s320/IMG_3275.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Stair Stare</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Then Someone pops...and the Chase is on. China rattles. The dogs wake up. I get up from my morning coffee to investigate, expecting to see hordes of cats pouring down the staircase. Instead, I'm greeted with two tiny faces attached to small kitten bodies that are sitting calmly on the bottom step. They peer at me. "Kittens? Running? Nope, haven't seen any."<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_VICfSMkkng/UbBhz8WwEdI/AAAAAAAAMIg/F_sJ6JSj1Ro/s1600/IMG_0872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_VICfSMkkng/UbBhz8WwEdI/AAAAAAAAMIg/F_sJ6JSj1Ro/s320/IMG_0872.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fun on the stairs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
There must be a law of physics that can account for the huge sound of two kittens racing up and down a staircase. I know that <i>f</i> = <i>m</i> x <i>a</i> (Force equals Mass times Acceleration, for those who don't remember the formula from science class), but maybe there's a scientist somewhere who is working madly in his cramped lab on the top floor of Victorian home developing <i>m</i> x <i>a</i> x (2<i>k </i>+ <i>S</i>) = <i>Ch</i> (Mass times Acceleration times 2 Kittens on the Stairs = Chaos).<br />
<br />
Each step in our main staircase has a lip on it (technically called decorative nosing; I looked it up), which makes it perfect for Sneaking. Elsa Clair, who is the tinier of the two kittens, hides just under the nosing (See? I found a way to use my new word). At the top, Calvin will know, just KNOW she's there, but will be unable to see her from his vantage point. He also knows that, even though his sister is small, she packs a pretty good left hook, more daunting because of it's sharp and pointy edges.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x2ZSIwASbng/UbBh0O9vUOI/AAAAAAAAMIk/ZLOBewN8wX0/s1600/IMG_0931.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x2ZSIwASbng/UbBh0O9vUOI/AAAAAAAAMIk/ZLOBewN8wX0/s320/IMG_0931.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elsa Clair Sneaking</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Calvin will take up a post at the top. He'll suddenly remember he hasn't cleaned his forehead. Elsa Clair is patient, patient. The tip of her tail curls slightly to the right. Then the left. Stops. Calvin finishes his forehead and moves onto an ear. He gets distracted by an imaginary bug and looks up at the ceiling. Finally, he reaches a tentative paw over the edge of the step, followed slowly by another. Front half of cat on the first step, back half still moored to the floor. It seems safe. A cautious descent begins. From below, a tiny black ear tip moves; before Calvin can react, Elsa Clair charges up the stairs.<br />
<br />
And the chase begins again.<br />
<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6S8q_Cm47Rc/UbBh0icb2II/AAAAAAAAMI0/lPfpr_D1rAU/s1600/IMG_0939.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6S8q_Cm47Rc/UbBh0icb2II/AAAAAAAAMI0/lPfpr_D1rAU/s320/IMG_0939.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Chase!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Even with only one cat, stairs are fun. Calvin likes to roll on his back and claw his way up stair by stair, upside down.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vzFPj_fcElk/Ubb3RyT_lVI/AAAAAAAAMK4/fks-us8HLPE/s1600/IMG_3322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vzFPj_fcElk/Ubb3RyT_lVI/AAAAAAAAMK4/fks-us8HLPE/s320/IMG_3322.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin ready to roll and rock.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Elsa Clair loves to peer through the balusters (another new word) and swat at people as they walk by.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3PzdwWpeVio/UbBh0PTKhDI/AAAAAAAAMIs/va1xoTlpr8w/s1600/IMG_0879.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3PzdwWpeVio/UbBh0PTKhDI/AAAAAAAAMIs/va1xoTlpr8w/s320/IMG_0879.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cuteness with pointy edges.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Living with cats, one might begin to think that the sole purpose of stairs is to provide amusement for kittens.<br />
<br />
But then again, isn't that the main purpose of nearly anything?Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-51341334114159572802013-05-23T05:46:00.002-04:002013-05-23T07:37:51.042-04:00The Grass is Always GreenerIf you live with dogs in any place on earth where it rains and snows, you will know this to be true: there are only three seasons in a year. <br />
<br />
Snow.<br />
<br />
Mud.<br />
<br />
Grass.<br />
<br />
For the uninitiated, I will attempt to explain here. <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/tucker.html">Tucker</a> has volunteered to illustrate them for me.<br />
<br />
<b>Snow </b><br />
<br />
Snow is exciting. The dogs dig in it, push their snouts in it. Stitch trails across its pristine whiteness as they play Chase. A short dog like <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/lilah.html">Lilah</a> bounces her way through it, ending up sprinkled with snowflakes and looking like a powdered chocolate donut. The snow sticks to Tucker's wiry fur as if he's part Velcro. When the gang comes back inside the house after a romp with their best buds through the white stuff, we go though a de-snowification process. While this isn't a favorite activity, we play a game called Treats for the Feets, where the dogs earn snacks for each foot cleaned, and that makes it just a tad more tolerable.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z2ZfkTHHOiM/UZwfn-uykSI/AAAAAAAALqs/SO4v6ipoJ9c/s1600/IMG_7872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z2ZfkTHHOiM/UZwfn-uykSI/AAAAAAAALqs/SO4v6ipoJ9c/s320/IMG_7872.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snow sticking to Tucker's paws</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Just as a pearl is formed around a minuscule irritant within a clam, snowballs form around just a few strands of dog fur. With her long black fur, Lilah has to deal with this every winter. Because she has fuzzy paws, she winds up with hard, cold pepples stuck between the pads. In the middle of a spectacular game of Snow Chase, Lilah will suddenly stop, sit down, and lick her paws. That's when I know she needs help digging rock-hard snow chunks from her paws.<br />
<br />
One of my previous dogs, a Keeshond mix, had it worse than Lilah. <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/pasha-1994-2009.html">Pasha's</a> paws were so furry that it looked like he was wearing fuzzy slippers. And when snowballs formed around his fur, they could be huge. We're not just talking golf-ball sized snowballs. We're talking cantaloupes.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6qdWgMyGjBY/UZygmk1z2LI/AAAAAAAALrM/tW6lcd9d5AE/s1600/Pasha-snow-ball-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6qdWgMyGjBY/UZygmk1z2LI/AAAAAAAALrM/tW6lcd9d5AE/s320/Pasha-snow-ball-web.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, that giant snowball is stuck to poor Pasha.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Mud</b><br />
<br />
Mud comes twice a year...before and after Snow. Sometimes there is a brief interlude of frozen ground, but it eventually melts and we're left again with oozy, squishy, splashy mud.<br />
<br />
The key word is splashy.<br />
<br />
If you've ever watched a horse race on a wet track, and seen horse and jockey afterwards, then you'll have an idea what the dogs look like after a few minutes of Fence Running during Mud. This is why we have designated linens known as dog towels--towels that are so ratty and abused that one doesn't mind them turning a lovely shade of chestnut brown as we clean paws. And legs. And bellies. And tails. And sometimes faces.<br />
<br />
We use up lots of Treats for the Feets during Mud. Sometimes we need a bowl of warm water to dip paws into, or we soak small dog towels in water to wipe down the pups. Treats are given freely while all body parts are cleaned on each of the three dogs. The washer and dryer get a workout as soaked and muddy towels are cycled through to make sure we have enough for the next time the dogs come inside.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qaV8QAFwZ2k/UZwfkY_tNQI/AAAAAAAALqc/I3QC8b-3n-E/s1600/IMG_5901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qaV8QAFwZ2k/UZwfkY_tNQI/AAAAAAAALqc/I3QC8b-3n-E/s320/IMG_5901.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can see the mud all the way up Tucker's legs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Grass</b><br />
<br />
My favorite dog season is when the grass has grown in and there is little or no mud. The dogs run freely, and even when it rains, all we have to deal with are a dozen wet paws. If it's raining while the pooches are outside, however, they may need an overall body rub-down and dry off, or the resulting floppity will splatter everything within a five-foot radius. (The cats have learned this the hard way--hard for them, amusing for me.) Sometimes, particularly after the grass is cut, Jasper and Tucker will sport green-tinged fur, but that wipes off easy. For the most part, though, the Feets don't require as much attention--or Treats--during Grass.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rZjjqOhyi-0/UZyhzpwFs8I/AAAAAAAALrY/oGlFgdlVx5Q/s1600/Tucker+paws+grass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rZjjqOhyi-0/UZyhzpwFs8I/AAAAAAAALrY/oGlFgdlVx5Q/s320/Tucker+paws+grass.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tucker, a dog out standing in his field, or backyard. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I think we all might agree that Grass is a favorite. As show in the picture below.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pnpepkxTTkg/UZwfjrdxmRI/AAAAAAAALqU/SiDF2WVhETs/s1600/IMG_0834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pnpepkxTTkg/UZwfjrdxmRI/AAAAAAAALqU/SiDF2WVhETs/s320/IMG_0834.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grass time is play time!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Other folks look forward to the flowers of spring, the warmth of summer or the color of fall. As for me, I just wait for Grass season.<br />
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Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-22994751765496752482013-05-06T20:47:00.000-04:002013-05-07T05:44:09.632-04:00Elsa Clair, the Great Black-and-White HunterAs soon as I grab the leashes, they come running.<br />
<br />
The cats.<br />
<br />
The dogs come, too, but the cats get there first. Elsa Clair skids into the laundry room, brakes screeching (I swear!) as she makes a snap-quick turn to leap onto the counter. Calvin knows his sister has her paw on the pulse of all things interesting to cats, so he's not far behind. Athena, keenly aware of her dignity, arrives after the dogs and all their inconvenient large paws and waggy tails have settled into well-behaved Sits.<br />
<br />
Jasper, Lilah and Tucker are currently being trained to WALK across the deck, and WALK down the stairs, instead of running like crazed derby horses when the gates are released, so leashes and treats are required equipment every time we go outside.<br />
<br />
There's always a chance that a snack will fall from the treat bag as we're getting ready, which is one of the reasons the cats materialize when I'm about to take the dogs outside. However, the true cause for all the excitement is that when I open the door, Something might get inside. Its a sure sign that spring is here when the warmth brings out the insects and the cats turn into Bug Hunters.<br />
<br />
There are several opportunities for the winged creatures to enter the house, beginning with the first time I open the door for the dogs. Elsa Clair stands on the corner of the counter, neck stretched out, eyes wide, plaintive mrows escaping from under her quivering pink nose. Calvin peers over her shoulder.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LCkiZEgf7ps/UYhUJ2_POTI/AAAAAAAALlI/J8I0ZM1P1V4/s1600/IMG_1586.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LCkiZEgf7ps/UYhUJ2_POTI/AAAAAAAALlI/J8I0ZM1P1V4/s320/IMG_1586.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anything bugging you?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I come back in a few minutes later to hang up the leashes. If an invader has made it past the storm door, Elsa Clair is instantly on the hunt. Calvin knows something is up, and is looking puzzled, but stands ready to steal his sister's prize. Athena takes up position on the washer or dryer, where she has the best view of the action. She likes to watch.<br />
<br />
After dark, the porch light just outside the back door attracts the most fascinating prey. Almost every night, a twitchy lamp-blind moth slips in the house and sketches an erratic flight through the laundry room. As long as it stays on or very near the ceiling, it will live a few minutes. Once it comes below a certain height, it's demise is a near certainty.<br />
<br />
If I can reach it, and the poor creature is harmless, I'll capture it gently and release it back into the wilds of suburban living. When I'm successful, the cats glare at me dolefully, not quite believing that I ruined their sport.<br />
<br />
I can always tell when Elsa Clair has her sights on a bug. She narrates the process with a series of meerows, wows and trilling purrs that are off the charts on the Cat Sounds Adorability Rating Scale. Her mews and calls always sound like she's asking questions, as the tone of each utterance ends in an upnote of utter cuteness.<br />
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I have been attempting to record these sweet sounds for quite a while, but have been mostly unsuccessful. Either Elsa Clair decides her soliloquy is over, or the bug is caught by the time I grab my cell phone, or--the most common occurance--some other sound like a barking dog (as if that <i>ever</i> happens in my house), interferes with the recording.<br />
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Below is a video with just a taste of Elsa Clair's adorable I'm Hunting a Bug song. The clip starts slow, but is worth watching in it's 22-second entirety. Please ignore the dog sound of Jasper slurping in the background.<br />
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Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-13453618457229561622013-04-30T05:51:00.002-04:002013-04-30T05:51:49.697-04:00Let Sleeping Dogs Lie...Somewhere Else<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VQFBY6euC1A/UX5AM9OgsLI/AAAAAAAALdk/GqB3QKtiPUM/s1600/IMG_7646.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VQFBY6euC1A/UX5AM9OgsLI/AAAAAAAALdk/GqB3QKtiPUM/s320/IMG_7646.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tucker</td></tr>
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We can't figure out how he does it. <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/tucker.html">Tucker</a>, our terrier mix, weighs in at a small but sturdy 45 pounds, yet he can take up an entire bed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_niGph-KF9w/UX48EgVtg-I/AAAAAAAALdM/0qkRSqVtITQ/s1600/IMG_8901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_niGph-KF9w/UX48EgVtg-I/AAAAAAAALdM/0qkRSqVtITQ/s320/IMG_8901.JPG" width="294" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jasper and Tucker on their...my...bed.</td></tr>
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<br />
We understand why 60-something-pound <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/jasper.html">Jasper</a> occupies so much space; he's a big dog with legs so long he looks like an AT-AT.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JFgdjgbxjhQ/UX0KQUOnqWI/AAAAAAAALa0/RWgAxBzVOJ4/s1600/Jasper+flipped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JFgdjgbxjhQ/UX0KQUOnqWI/AAAAAAAALa0/RWgAxBzVOJ4/s320/Jasper+flipped.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Jasper</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kcvTXfKJMww/UX0KQSm0xzI/AAAAAAAALaw/GwKq4eEFvp4/s1600/atat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kcvTXfKJMww/UX0KQSm0xzI/AAAAAAAALaw/GwKq4eEFvp4/s320/atat.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">AT-AT ( ©Lucasfilms)</td></tr>
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But when he sleeps, Tucker takes up more space than the other two dogs combined.<br />
<br />
He starts out small enough, curling into an adorable Tucker Ball.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uGMQnt0anJw/UX48DugzvNI/AAAAAAAALdE/59p160LfkBk/s1600/All+Curled+Up%0A%0AWe+call+this+a+Tucker+Ball.+Amazing+how+small+he+can+make+himself,+and+then+how+he+can+spread+out+and+take+up+an+entire+bed..JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uGMQnt0anJw/UX48DugzvNI/AAAAAAAALdE/59p160LfkBk/s320/All+Curled+Up%0A%0AWe+call+this+a+Tucker+Ball.+Amazing+how+small+he+can+make+himself,+and+then+how+he+can+spread+out+and+take+up+an+entire+bed..JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny Tucker Ball</td></tr>
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Within a few minutes, he starts to expand.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mVDm6ulr_aY/UX0PSJLE9yI/AAAAAAAALbo/Ham-kPeBHDA/s1600/IMG_1423.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mVDm6ulr_aY/UX0PSJLE9yI/AAAAAAAALbo/Ham-kPeBHDA/s320/IMG_1423.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's getting bigger</td></tr>
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<br />
Like a liquid, he fills the space he occupies.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PNj6for9JlU/UX0QRVzjPkI/AAAAAAAALcM/K-S8O_b42v4/s1600/IMG_4881.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PNj6for9JlU/UX0QRVzjPkI/AAAAAAAALcM/K-S8O_b42v4/s320/IMG_4881.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And bigger. </td></tr>
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Sometimes he even spills over.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vrisXZ-ieT4/UX45CzK2gWI/AAAAAAAALcs/sorpkVGrT4w/s1600/Tuckered+Tucker;+he+was+playing+ball+during+the+day..JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vrisXZ-ieT4/UX45CzK2gWI/AAAAAAAALcs/sorpkVGrT4w/s320/Tuckered+Tucker;+he+was+playing+ball+during+the+day..JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">This is the same bed as above.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
On occasion, he just pours out.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Jq0n1oiS0ss/UX0P_ouSZvI/AAAAAAAALcE/XX81kXwZSFM/s1600/IMG_8883.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Jq0n1oiS0ss/UX0P_ouSZvI/AAAAAAAALcE/XX81kXwZSFM/s320/IMG_8883.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still the same bed. Really.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This is why Tucker is not allowed to sleep in our bed at night. By the time the morning sun sifts through our blinds, we humans would be scrunched into four inch strips on the outer edges of the mattress.<br />
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And it is the unlucky person who winds up on the leg side of Tucker when he sleeps. As part of the expansion process, he kicks whatever or whoever happens to be near him.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ln3u9lnjs7I/UX0NeHx4WsI/AAAAAAAALbc/Ung-tB1u8Uw/s1600/IMG_7724.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ln3u9lnjs7I/UX0NeHx4WsI/AAAAAAAALbc/Ung-tB1u8Uw/s320/IMG_7724.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Expanding Tucker</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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When he wakes up, Tucker will bow, stretch, and somehow manage to fit himself back into his normally compact size.<br />
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There must be a law of physics somewhere to explain this.<br />
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Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-30748176421128568712013-04-23T06:53:00.001-04:002013-04-23T06:53:03.757-04:00High and MightyEvery once in awhile, one of the cats discovers a New Place. It's not as if her or she suddenly has access to unexplored territory. More likely, Someone realizes she can go somewhere she hasn't thought of previously, or he attempts to squeeze in, jump on, or go into someplace that just hadn't occurred to him until that moment. <br />
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Calvin had been eyeing the top of the medicine cabinet in our main bathroom for a couple of weeks. He would jump up on the counter while I was putting on my makeup in the morning. He'd climb in and out of the sink and be ever so Helpful in that way that cats have of being completely in the way. The he'd get bored, and I'd notice him looking up.<br />
<br />
"Really Calvin?" I asked, when I realized what he was pondering. "Don't even think about it. It is Not a Good Idea. I haven't dusted up there in...hmm...well I don't know that I've <i>ever</i> dusted there." Yuck. Then I'd pull out my hair dryer and Stupendous Cat would get distracted by the cord, hop off the counter and suddenly remember he had some other kind of Trouble to get into.<br />
<br />
Until last week. He began staring at the top of the cabinet the minute he hopped up on the counter. Then he hunched down and performed his ritual I'm Getting Ready to Jump butt wiggle. And up he went.<br />
<br />
Ah, the look of accomplishment. Satisfaction. Superiority. Cats are so impressed with themselves when they reach a new higher-than-people spot. Okay, well, cats are impressed with themselves nearly all the time anyway, but the "I'm Impressive" meter goes to 11 on these occasions. Calvin was no exception. He paraded back and forth across the top, tail held high, reveling in his achievement.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8dbfF7fmJNU/UXUImIHh5kI/AAAAAAAALUY/jG5nUQ1InxA/s1600/Calvin+medicine+cabinet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8dbfF7fmJNU/UXUImIHh5kI/AAAAAAAALUY/jG5nUQ1InxA/s320/Calvin+medicine+cabinet.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin reaches the summit.</td></tr>
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The exultation lasted until Calvin realized I intended to leave the bathroom. That was the moment he figured out there was a down side to this feat. Literally. Our intrepid explorer had only considered how to go up; the reverse trip hadn't been given similar attention. This posed a bit of a conundrum.<br />
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He began the I Need to Get Down But Don't Know How To dance. If you've never seen it, it goes something like this: One step forward, one step back, one step forward, one step back. Repeat. Put your front half over the edge with paws on the vertical surface. Then scrunch back to your perch. Repeat three times. Sit down and clean yourself. Then start again, from the beginning.<br />
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After several rounds of the dance, the cat decides he or she really does need to get down, and--during one of the paws-on-vertical-surface moments--continues the movement into a hopefully-graceful-but-usually-not leap to the ground.<br />
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Once a cat has discovered a new place, of course, he must Return to it. He must Own it. He must show the world--and the other cats--that the most exalted of felines has reached new heights.<br />
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To do that, it is necessary to explore every inch of the fresh territory, ensuring no corner is left untouched, no dustball left undisturbed. Then you must lay down and roll around, striking adorable poses and ratcheting up the cute factor. This last bit delays the inevitable Get Down From There moment that humans always seem to reach way before cats do.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E5fNUGe9SaU/UXSKaDLVdnI/AAAAAAAALT0/NSCyTSTsHaA/s1600/IMG_0680.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E5fNUGe9SaU/UXSKaDLVdnI/AAAAAAAALT0/NSCyTSTsHaA/s320/IMG_0680.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's no more dust up here.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nl2Y9WdsLDI/UXSTQN-HeTI/AAAAAAAALT4/D6xJry8A3Go/s1600/IMG_0685.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nl2Y9WdsLDI/UXSTQN-HeTI/AAAAAAAALT4/D6xJry8A3Go/s320/IMG_0685.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Striking a pose.</td></tr>
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One of the bests parts of being First, though, is the amount of prestige one gains when one of the other cats sees you Up There. It didn't take long before Elsa Clair came strolling into the bathroom when Calvin was reigning. She padded nonchalantly onto the tiles and caught a deliberate movement from him, who was looking down at her. Elsa Clair stared at her brother: "How did you--?"<br />
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For a few moments, Calvin's cat smugness reading was off the charts.<br />
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Elsa Clair's eyes flashed to the counter. The mirror. The cabinet. She had the whole route planned out before she twitched another whisker.<br />
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She leapt to the counter.<br />
<br />
Calculated the next jump.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7j2NAGtFF5k/UXSTQHCmuVI/AAAAAAAALT8/egQDXlOvgRo/s1600/IMG_0704.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7j2NAGtFF5k/UXSTQHCmuVI/AAAAAAAALT8/egQDXlOvgRo/s320/IMG_0704.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elsa Clair figures it out.</td></tr>
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And joined Calvin at the top.<br />
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The two cats stared at each other. Ears flicked. Eyes squinted. Volumes were spoken. Calvin poked Elsa Clair. Slowly, grudgingly, the interloper conceded the victory. Besides, the top of the medicine cabinet was boring.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RySYgvo5vzI/UXSTQfm6DxI/AAAAAAAALUE/HPDyQrBmnKw/s1600/IMG_0710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RySYgvo5vzI/UXSTQfm6DxI/AAAAAAAALUE/HPDyQrBmnKw/s320/IMG_0710.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The staredown</td></tr>
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Elsa Clair left.<br />
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Calvin wore his greatness like a crown the rest of the day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KfZWmYj3kZ4/UXUTss041lI/AAAAAAAALUk/L49FI3lSkjI/s1600/IMG_0690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KfZWmYj3kZ4/UXUTss041lI/AAAAAAAALUk/L49FI3lSkjI/s320/IMG_0690.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin, King of the Bathroom</td></tr>
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Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-90062562599977484242013-04-17T05:46:00.000-04:002013-04-21T20:49:51.334-04:00Bowled OverYou would have thought that the family member with the opposable thumbs would be able to feed three dogs and four cats without dropping the one breakable dog bowl.<br />
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You would have thought. Particularly if you were Lilah, whose bowl I had broken.<br />
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Poor sweet Lilah. The other dogs wouldn't even have twitched a whisker at the prospect of eating from a new bowl. But for Lilah, whose Border Collie attentiveness means nothing gets past her, it's a challenge.<br />
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When Ms. Lilah first came to live with us, she was a bit skittish. And by a bit, I mean very. She didn't like New Things. Like a garden hose. Or a plumber's wrench. Or a box delivered by the UPS man, who had to toss a dog biscuit her way because she was afraid to come closer. So many things made Lilah anxious or startled her: a school bus on our morning walk, a piece of furniture moved out of place while she was gone.<br />
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But that was a few years ago, and with lots of training and practice, and a wonderful game we call Touch it With Your Nose, Lilah today is a calm, sweet, well-adjusted dog who is truly brave and rarely nervous. Just ask Jasper and Tucker, the boys who hide behind me at the vet's office, while Lilah wags her tail and greets the vets with a swishy sweep of her tail and a gentle kiss.<br />
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But Lilah is still a bit picky about her food bowl, and doesn't like it when her collar tags clang against the sides. She'll still eat, but you can tell it unnerves her, as she paces around her bowl, trying to find a way to eat each morsel without the accompanying jarring bangy noise.<br />
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Which is why I felt so bad about breaking Lilah's special yin / yang dog paw ceramic bowl this weekend. And why I had bought her a new one by the next day, though she did have to endure a couple meals with the Nasty Metal Bowl, even though I took her collar off the make it a little easier for her.<br />
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The new bowl was also ceramic, and had an added feature of a rubber bottom so it didn't slide across the floor as Lilah ate. All was right with the world, or at least with dinner that day.<br />
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During the after-meal Inspection of the Other Dog's Bowls to See if They Left Anything, Tucker figured out Lilah's bowl had a small curved lip around the top. Which meant he could pick it up. I caught him at it: "Tucker, Drop It." (One of our favorite and oft-used commands is Drop It. It's used almost as frequently as Leave It.)<br />
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I was ready for my own breakfast, opening the fridge to get my Greek yogurt, when I heard the crash. I saw the unmistakable ropy tail of Mr. Tucker disappear around the corner as I found the shards of the new bowl on the floor.<br />
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Poor Lilah. Back to the Nasty Metal Bowls.<br />
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I will work with her on getting used to eating out of various different containers, but in the mean time, I went online and bought two replicas of her original--and comfortable--bowl.<br />
<br />
And now that they've arrived, she's quite content.<br />
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(You can read more about Lilah's journey to overcome her fears in a previous post, <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2011/04/lilah-becoming-brave.html">"Lilah Becoming Brave."</a>)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0RHrOfD-tGI/UWyYr3e7vlI/AAAAAAAALPo/w7ZAzPRoZyQ/s1600/IMG_0313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0RHrOfD-tGI/UWyYr3e7vlI/AAAAAAAALPo/w7ZAzPRoZyQ/s320/IMG_0313.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lilah enjoying her new old bowl.</td></tr>
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Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-72791194286843880522013-04-09T07:28:00.000-04:002013-04-09T07:31:17.995-04:00The Carpet Shark Attacks<div>
With three dogs and four cats in the house, one does not need to channel surf to find something entertaining to watch. Usually, all you have to do is look around until you find a four-legged Someone to provide amusement. More often than not, there are several at hand. Particularly for me, since I tend to travel the house with a dog and cat entourage.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Calvin is such a funny cat that he nearly always provides a laugh or two or seventeen. I'm not so sure the dogs agree, but they are very tolerant of his antics. The other day, he was in a bit of a mad cat mood and decided that his toy of choice for the moment was <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/lilah.html">Lilah</a>. He became Calvin the Carpet Shark, a dastardly denizen of the family room, who preys on its unknowing inhabitants. The kitten crouched down low, waggled his little butt and pounced in Lilah's general direction. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Lilah, bemused, nosed him and ever so gently took one of his paws in her mouth. He rolled over on his back and grabbed her with his claws. Not meanly, just playfully. And he showed her his Big Kitty Jaws of shark teeth--to make a more powerful impression.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Of course Lilah was spectacularly unimpressed, but she went along with the game, standing quietly through the Calvin attack. At one point, it look like he was Velcroed to her face, but she didn't mind. The cat continued swatting and rolling, adding a few mews for effect. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It was definitely worthy of a giggle or two on my part, but I didn't let it go on too long. A toss of a furry mouse magicked Calvin the Carpet Shark into Calvin the Great Mouse Hunter, and off he ran. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I believe the slow wag and quick glance Lilah gave me as she lay down with a sigh could be loosely translated as a thank you. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I swear, it's better than Animal Planet. And it's 24/7.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-POb-ym0GqEM/UWHwAgmTkNI/AAAAAAAALBI/2R-PfXEG8Vo/s1600/IMG_9489.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-POb-ym0GqEM/UWHwAgmTkNI/AAAAAAAALBI/2R-PfXEG8Vo/s320/IMG_9489.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lilah, you have something on your face. Oh, wait, that's Calvin.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-14051658597895350182013-03-12T06:41:00.001-04:002013-03-12T06:44:47.589-04:00CSI My Kitchen, Part II<br />
In my <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2013/03/csi-my-kitchen.html">last post (which I recommend reading before you read further </a>on this one), I had made a rather disheartening discovery one morning of a toy Mousie laying in a sad, wet puddle in my kitchen. A few days later, I was confronted with the felt-eyed stare of another victim.<br />
<br />
My current theory was that they had been Waterbowled.<br />
<br />
Since my dogs were with me all night, they had....ahem...watertight alibis. So I figured the culprit was one of the cats or kittens. But <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/dawn.html">Dawn</a>, <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/athena.html">Athena</a>, Calvin and Elsa Clair were all innocence and whiskers, and nobody came forward as a witness, or to confess.<br />
<br />
With two dunked Mousies, I wondered if perhaps the perpetrator was making a game out of it, and feared this may be just the start of a trend.<br />
<br />
And then, a few days after I encountered the first two victims, my fears were realized, as yet another bedraggled and sogged cat toy lay just a few inches from the water bowl.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bzlz-LWksBo/UPMN_s7m7HI/AAAAAAAAJV4/5P-BI0K5vec/s1600/IMG_6466.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bzlz-LWksBo/UPMN_s7m7HI/AAAAAAAAJV4/5P-BI0K5vec/s320/IMG_6466.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Victim #3: Another Pink Mousie</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I had to face the facts; we now had on our hands--or paws--a Serial Dunker.<br />
<br />
And it only got worse from there.<br />
<br />
Every few days I would discover a new twist on the crime:<br />
<br />
Three Dunked Mousies:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7RTcFtF2Qwk/UPMOBfbj6XI/AAAAAAAAJWg/3c0FFOZQsAk/s1600/IMG_6793.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7RTcFtF2Qwk/UPMOBfbj6XI/AAAAAAAAJWg/3c0FFOZQsAk/s320/IMG_6793.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Multiple victims</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Two victims, still in the water bowl:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l4QPN5WUWDw/USq2FGsLlnI/AAAAAAAAKC4/wUfWDxJJER0/s1600/IMG_7215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l4QPN5WUWDw/USq2FGsLlnI/AAAAAAAAKC4/wUfWDxJJER0/s320/IMG_7215.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Floating like ex-goldfish.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Dunked Crinkle Balls:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gOQlUvKYsKQ/USq2EeQJagI/AAAAAAAAKCo/bIuDbI8dTnA/s1600/IMG_7214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gOQlUvKYsKQ/USq2EeQJagI/AAAAAAAAKCo/bIuDbI8dTnA/s320/IMG_7214.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/Complete%20with%20Dogs*:%20CSI%20My%20Kitchen,%20Part%20II">Jasper</a> is on the case.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It looked like our perp was getting creative.<br />
<br />
Once again, I tried to interrogate our four suspects. The following are excerpts from our interviews. I've provided translations for those who don't speak Cat.<br />
<br />
<i>Me:</i> Dawn, where were you last night?<br />
<i>Dawn:</i> Merp. Merp. Mowl. [Translation: I was sleeping. Or something. Where's my Noms?]<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tIcuO__QESU/UTyvC9QMCzI/AAAAAAAAKdA/Hfttlro_9Tc/s1600/IMG_9037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tIcuO__QESU/UTyvC9QMCzI/AAAAAAAAKdA/Hfttlro_9Tc/s320/IMG_9037.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dawn</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<i>Me: </i>Athena, were you responsible for this wet Mousie?<br />
<i>Athena:</i> Mew. Ew. Ew. [Translation: Yuck! I wouldn't touch that thing. It's wet.]<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P2hU-Uq_WrE/UTyvCHgufBI/AAAAAAAAKco/IVBi1uWbo9E/s1600/IMG_8303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P2hU-Uq_WrE/UTyvCHgufBI/AAAAAAAAKco/IVBi1uWbo9E/s320/IMG_8303.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Athena</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Me: </i>Calvin, do you know who waterbowled this Mousie?<br />
<i>Calvin:</i> Mrow! Eerow. Purr. Purr. Purr. [Translation: Mousie! I want to play with it.]<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SpFeOAAwBWE/UTyvCRoDBrI/AAAAAAAAKcs/CA6LkAMGE-c/s1600/IMG_8940.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SpFeOAAwBWE/UTyvCRoDBrI/AAAAAAAAKcs/CA6LkAMGE-c/s320/IMG_8940.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<i>Me: </i>Elsa Clair, what do you know about these Dunked Mousies?<br />
<i>Elsa Clair:</i> Meeoow? Marow wow. Purr. [Translation: Dunked Mousies? I don't know anything. Gotta run, got stuff to do.]<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VL-b8QkDgog/UTyvCW-dlyI/AAAAAAAAKcw/yJkRqdGdWcw/s1600/IMG_8944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VL-b8QkDgog/UTyvCW-dlyI/AAAAAAAAKcw/yJkRqdGdWcw/s320/IMG_8944.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elsa Clair</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In short, I was getting nowhere fast.<br />
<br />
And I was running out of Mousies.<br />
<br />
And thus, I felt lucky when the next weekend I got a break in the case.<br />
<br />
Or maybe luck had nothing to do with it. I was home and therefore was able to keep a closer eye on Things. Like Cats.<br />
<br />
I had decided to try an experiment; I didn't clean up the Dunked Mousies immediately after discovering them. I left them out, to see who might play with them; maybe I'd catch our little Dunker in the act.<br />
<br />
Sure enough, Calvin came by. Started pawing at the wet Mousies. Batting at them. Sniffing at them. But that's all he did. And it didn't prove anything other than the fact that Calvin found waterlogged fake fur intriguing enough to play with.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1Wfhvb1t1xU/UTOyJPso6DI/AAAAAAAAKQs/RobWSEfe_Fk/s1600/IMG_6469.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1Wfhvb1t1xU/UTOyJPso6DI/AAAAAAAAKQs/RobWSEfe_Fk/s320/IMG_6469.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These Mousies are wet!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ifEDZHuZOtY/UTOyIyPIhAI/AAAAAAAAKQc/6WqKTgEm7W8/s1600/IMG_6468.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ifEDZHuZOtY/UTOyIyPIhAI/AAAAAAAAKQc/6WqKTgEm7W8/s320/IMG_6468.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin toys with one of his...toys.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
The next day, yet another sad little Mousie floated in the waterbowl. Even though it seemed wrong somehow, I left it there for awhile.<br />
<br />
Once again, Calvin took interest. He sniffed at and then gently touched the bobbing blue toy. A few times. Then he walked away. And that was that. Which only showed that my little black and white kitty liked to poke things in the water. It just wasn't enough.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Cj7CaEpqFeI/UPMODF3_2DI/AAAAAAAAJXA/jtBIq-Q5Xy4/s1600/IMG_7038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Cj7CaEpqFeI/UPMODF3_2DI/AAAAAAAAJXA/jtBIq-Q5Xy4/s320/IMG_7038.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What's in the waterbowl, Calvin?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-grHvnUHwiJg/UPMODPIYuBI/AAAAAAAAJXE/n3yliB1_p8c/s1600/IMG_7037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-grHvnUHwiJg/UPMODPIYuBI/AAAAAAAAJXE/n3yliB1_p8c/s320/IMG_7037.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mousie smells kinda watery.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And then...it stopped. As suddenly as it started.<br />
<br />
The toys were still found in various places around the house.<br />
<br />
But not in or near the waterbowl. And not drenched.<br />
<br />
Weeks went by. I guess Someone got bored. Or wet. Or cautious.<br />
<br />
No more bodies. No more floating Mousies.<br />
<br />
Calm settled over the household. I began to walk barefoot again. I would look in the waterbowl and find only water.<br />
<br />
Until, one day in late winter, while my husband was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with his requisite glass of Ovaltine, he saw it.<br />
<br />
From across the table he could see Calvin facing the waterbowl with his back to Brian. With a flick of his paw, Calvin fished a Mousie out of the water. And then picked it up in his mouth and plunked it back in. Flicked it out. Dunked it in. Flicked it out.<br />
<br />
Perhaps feeling Brian's accusatory gaze, Calvin froze and turned around. He looked at Brian, calmly turned around and walked away, tail held high.<br />
<br />
Of course that doesn't really prove anything about the original crimes. Perhaps Calvin had been the culprit all along. Maybe he learned from the real mastermind, who has since given up the habit.<br />
<br />
But that was the last of it. Months later and there have been no additional victims.<br />
<br />
The Mousies in our house can rest easy.<br />
<br />
It's over.<br />
<br />
Or is it?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-McCif8TxTBw/UTyvC_rlPKI/AAAAAAAAKc4/zHdN99lsnKk/s1600/IMG_9009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-McCif8TxTBw/UTyvC_rlPKI/AAAAAAAAKc4/zHdN99lsnKk/s320/IMG_9009.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And so it begins...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
[CUE SCARY MUSIC.]<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-10048643281043456352013-03-05T07:40:00.001-05:002013-03-10T12:24:52.090-04:00CSI My KitchenIn the winter morning darkness, I tried not to stumble down the stairs. <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/jasper.html">Jasper</a>, <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/lilah.html">Lilah</a> and <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/tucker.html">Tucker</a>, all legs and tails and happy moods, swirled around me. Though I've been getting up for years at this obscene hour of the day, 6 AM always seems much more objectionable when the sun hasn't even thought about approaching the horizon. And here, on the mountaintop, where the rays take their time to climb past the height and the trees, it's tempting to call it night time and creep back to bed.<br />
<br />
But one has to pay the bills, and the Dogs Need to Go Outside and the Cats Must Be Fed. And so it goes most weekday mornings as I convince myself I don't have to turn on the lights. Because I shouldn't have to do that in the morning. I just shouldn't. And if I squint the right way, I can see enough through the limpid dark to get to the kitchen. Only then do I allow myself to flip a switch; since I'm turning the lights on in just one room, it somehow feels a little more acceptable to my sleep-deprived brain.<br />
<br />
Which is why, in the moment before my fingers reached out to shed some light on my morning, I didn't see it. And I stepped in it.<br />
<br />
Nothing like putting a bare and vulnerable foot into something wet and slippery and unseen to stop you cold. If you have pets, you'll understand the list of possibilities that flashed through my head at that frozen moment.<br />
<br />
I slapped the light on.<br />
<br />
And looked down.<br />
<br />
The lifeless body lay limply on my kitchen floor. The tail thrown at an awkward angle. Eyes black and sightless as felt. Pink ears darkened and sagging. Fur wet, matted...and blue.<br />
<br />
It took me a moment to register the death of a cat toy--a once vibrant blue fake-fur Mousie.<br />
<br />
While my husband and I and the dogs had slept blissfully unaware--well, maybe not blissfully, but definitely unaware--a tiny kitty plaything was being drenched and ruined.<br />
<br />
I had walked into a crime scene, literally, as I was still standing in a splash of water, a few inches away from the victim.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FAGO9XlLH5c/UPMODsqc35I/AAAAAAAAJXI/rq15nAF0HTU/s1600/IMG_7039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FAGO9XlLH5c/UPMODsqc35I/AAAAAAAAJXI/rq15nAF0HTU/s320/IMG_7039.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">The Victim: Blue Mousie</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
But right now, I had business to attend to, as Jasper, Lilah and Tucker reminded me, scampering to the back door in anticipation of their morning constitutional.<br />
<br />
Leaving the scene undisturbed, I took the dogs outside, set them to their business and returned, to begin the slow, painstaking work of solving the Mystery of the Drowned Mousie. That was my theory, at least; death by waterbowl. Anyway, with the dogs outside, it would be a little easier to look for clues without a dozen large paws muddying the evidence.<br />
<br />
I removed the body and placed it by a heating vent, in the hope that it would dry out enough to still be a viable kitty amusement. Other than the splashes of water and the proximity to the bowl, there were no other hints of the culprit or the act; whoever he or she was had not left behind any telling details.<br />
<br />
I brought the dogs in and began the daily breakfast routine, feeding the cats first, then the dogs. As the kitties chowed down, I looked at the fe-line up and pondered which of them had done in the Mousie. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W3hOTgI9F3s/USq2D6iWE4I/AAAAAAAAKCU/-yx2WW04WIo/s1600/IMG_4796.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W3hOTgI9F3s/USq2D6iWE4I/AAAAAAAAKCU/-yx2WW04WIo/s320/IMG_4796.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Line Up</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Jasper, Lilah and Tucker, of course, had perfect alibis; they were with my husband and I all night, in our bedroom with the door closed. And since I was the last human to bed, I knew first-hand there were no bodies in the kitchen before I headed upstairs.<br />
<br />
I decided to interrogate the cats that night, after I got home from work. I interviewed them one at a time, away from each other, in case Someone was in cat cahoots with Someone Else.<br />
<br />
"Does this look familiar?" I asked each cat, holding up the now-dried but somewhat scraggly blue fur toy by the tail. I was hoping to catch the killer off guard and reveal a guilty look.<br />
<br />
The Suspects:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IV8PUr1FpiU/UTOyHGR8hCI/AAAAAAAAKPg/f2J3Gy90Dcs/s1600/IMG_1783.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IV8PUr1FpiU/UTOyHGR8hCI/AAAAAAAAKPg/f2J3Gy90Dcs/s320/IMG_1783.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/dawn.html">Dawn</a>, the Queen</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8S-uyYeoWb8/UTOyHLUa7EI/AAAAAAAAKPc/iBaoKP9S6E0/s1600/IMG_1775.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8S-uyYeoWb8/UTOyHLUa7EI/AAAAAAAAKPc/iBaoKP9S6E0/s320/IMG_1775.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/athena.html">Athena</a>, the Master Mind</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-65l0R_pdADI/USq2E_hOAlI/AAAAAAAAKCw/tZgPPS1p2V4/s1600/IMG_8290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-65l0R_pdADI/USq2E_hOAlI/AAAAAAAAKCw/tZgPPS1p2V4/s320/IMG_8290.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin, Stupendous Cat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N9-ZiICDie4/UTOyJSC2bsI/AAAAAAAAKQw/U74dmKFjk4A/s1600/IMG_6513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N9-ZiICDie4/UTOyJSC2bsI/AAAAAAAAKQw/U74dmKFjk4A/s320/IMG_6513.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elsa Clair, Smart 'n' Sweet </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The results were somewhat predictable.<br />
<br />
Each cat in turn looked adorable, swatted at the toy and then chased it when I tossed it across the floor.<br />
<br />
Note to self: Cats Don't Do Guilt.<br />
<br />
With no clues, no additional evidence, no confessions and no witnesses, my case had reached a dead end rather quickly. I was stumped and it looked like our mystery would never be solved.<br />
<br />
Maybe, though, I was looking at it wrong. It could have been an accident. Perhaps someone had inadvertently knocked the Mousie in the waterbowl from atop the buffet. Instead I should be looking for the hero who fished it out.<br />
<br />
The story could have ended right there. I had started to think I had an anonymous cat crusader, rescuing helpless toys from the terror of the deep water dish. I began to look at my cats with pride, knowing one of them had seen a wrong and righted it.<br />
<br />
But sometimes evildoers get hooked on the evil that they do. And mischief makers want to make more mischief. And thus it was when I came downstairs a few days later to find another victim.<br />
<br />
This time it was pink.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WOCV3Lo_3zw/UPMOB1bONEI/AAAAAAAAJWw/gsxnQB5oSqU/s1600/IMG_6795.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WOCV3Lo_3zw/UPMOB1bONEI/AAAAAAAAJWw/gsxnQB5oSqU/s320/IMG_6795.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Victim #2: Pink Mousie</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Once again, the sad, soggy fake-furry creature lay in a puddle of water. Once again, the absence of clues was maddening. And once again, the cats maintained their innocence. <br />
<br />
Over the next several days, I would find myself looking at the bewhiskered suspects. "Which of you is it? Which of you during the darkest hours of the night finds it a satisfying to dunk a Mousie?"<br />
<br />
I couldn't helping thinking as I looked into those enigmatic eyes above cute pink noses. Someone is Hiding Something.<br />
<br />
Okay, well, Someone Hides Something nearly every day, as I discover cat toys under pillows, tucked in couch cushions and mixed in with the laundry. But this was different.<br />
<br />
Deep inside, I feared that one of them had become a serial dunker.<br />
<br />
And it would be only a matter of time before another Mousie got dunked.<br />
<br />
Will the kitty culprit strike again?<br />
Will I have to buy more Mousies?<br />
Will we ever know whodunit?<br />
<br />
Read my next post to find out.<br />
<br />
<br />
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Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-46512314370819517732013-02-19T07:36:00.002-05:002013-02-24T10:30:54.720-05:00Owl Be Seeing YouI am lucky enough to live on a piece of property that lies nearly adjacent to a 700-plus acre county park. If I so choose--and I do fairly often--I can walk through the woods on my property straight through to the park. Takes about five minutes, at most.<br />
<br />
What this means is that the inhabitants of this forest oasis will sometimes visit, or get close enough for me to connect with--and it's always special when that happens.<br />
<br />
<b>An Owl Flies Overhead</b><br />
One night, in the fall of 2004, a few weeks after we moved into our house, my family gathered on our deck to witness a lunar eclipse. As we were out there in the cold, looking skyward, the silent silhouette of an owl flew just above us. It was an awesome moment, solidifying my love for this place, nature lover that I am.<br />
<br />
We've seen fox and coyotes, deer and <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2012/09/squirrelly-behavior.html">flying squirrels</a>. We've seen evidence of raccoons, and had close--and smelly!--encounters with skunks. <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2012/02/for-birds.html">Birds of all kinds come to our feeders</a>: woodpeckers, finches, sparrows, cardinals and <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2011/10/hum-along-with-me.html">hummingbirds</a>. And of course, the hawks come to feed in turn on the birds.<br />
<br />
<b>Whoos in the Distance</b><br />
But we've never seen owls. Over the years, every once in a while, we hear them. We've heard the eerie and indescribable calls of screech owls; those are the prototypical sounds encountered in the movies when the characters are lost and alone in dark scary forests. You can l<a href="http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Eastern_Screech-Owl/sounds">isten to an example or two on the Cornell Ornithology Lab's website</a>; hearing them in person on a dark and lonely night has actually given me goosebumps.<br />
<br />
More often, however, on a cool starry night, we'll be treated to the <a href="http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/great_horned_owl/sounds">calls and responses of Great Horned Owls</a>. When I hear them, I am reminded of one of my favorite children's books, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Owl-Moon-Jane-Yolen/dp/0399214577/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1361236065&sr=8-1&keywords=owl+moon"><i>Owl Moon</i> by Jane Yolen</a>. The story, which reads more like a poem, is about a father taking his young daughter out owling on a cold winter night. He calls out like an owl, and is rewarded with a response; eventually, they see the owl himself. I read this book to my kids so many times, I could just about recite it by heart--and I've given it as gifts to many a child because I love the story so.<br />
<br />
And when I hear the sound of Great Horned Owls in my woods, I call out to them, like the father in the book. And nearly always, they respond. Call and response. Call and response. Sometimes my son will join me and he'll call out, too.<br />
<br />
Am I am thrilled every single time. I feel like I've been given a very special gift--the ability to connect with another creature, even if all I'm doing is repeating its call.<br />
<br />
But I've never seen one of these awesome creatures. I know they're there. I've heard them. I've communicated with them. But not a single sighting.<br />
<br />
Until last week.<br />
<br />
<b>The Forest Calls to Me</b><br />
On any given day, I'm likely to take a quick walk through our woods--a five or ten minute walk around our path, camera in hand. Sometimes I'm inspired by the lighting, or by a bird call, or a heard of deer. Sometimes I just need to plug in; the forest rejuvenates me in ways nothing else can.<br />
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Last Sunday, a wren was calling and I followed it with my camera and telephoto lens, hoping to get a decent picture of the sweet tiny bird in a more natural setting than feasting at my feeders.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-26wyXtJZUUg/USFQ-DL_jfI/AAAAAAAAJ_Y/DGjQUqyVGKo/s1600/IMG_8130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-26wyXtJZUUg/USFQ-DL_jfI/AAAAAAAAJ_Y/DGjQUqyVGKo/s320/IMG_8130.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Wren, calling me to follow it into the woods.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
At first, I couldn't find the wren, and as I was looking, a large bird-shaped shadow passed over the snow-covered ground. I looked up in time to see a sizable creature flying through the trees. When it landed on a branch a few hundred yards from where I stood, I took that as an invitation to a portrait session, and followed, camera in hand.<br />
<br />
Within a minute or so, another large bird flew overhead, settling near the first. I couldn't tell what they were: hawks? vultures? I stared into the tangled limbs high above and ahead of me, and soon made out the silhouette of a bird.<br />
<br />
I started snapping pictures, trying to focus between the branches.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gJBo-kc0Sy4/USFAS8cMeAI/AAAAAAAAJ8E/Aoo4DpirlKI/s1600/IMG_8048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gJBo-kc0Sy4/USFAS8cMeAI/AAAAAAAAJ8E/Aoo4DpirlKI/s320/IMG_8048.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">There he is, but what is he?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I'd take a few pictures, walk a couple dozen steps forward, snap a few more.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gxc2HLkum3Y/USFASgNwPJI/AAAAAAAAJ74/4-SchQy8mUY/s1600/IMG_8045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gxc2HLkum3Y/USFASgNwPJI/AAAAAAAAJ74/4-SchQy8mUY/s320/IMG_8045.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Still can't figure out who it is, the the short tail is a hint.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I walked to the right, in a different direction, hoping to find a better perspective.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cJqgT4U-6cI/USFAUH-t2YI/AAAAAAAAJ8g/GoYcdUTr2W4/s1600/IMG_8064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cJqgT4U-6cI/USFAUH-t2YI/AAAAAAAAJ8g/GoYcdUTr2W4/s320/IMG_8064.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Too many branches in the way. But look at those ear tufts.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Owl Take You For A Hike</b><br />
When I had a clear view, I began to suspect I was looking at owls--specifically Great Horned. This was a huge thrill for me, so I just kept taking pictures. I tried to get closer, but first one, then the other would fly away--not too far, though. I was wondering if there was a nest nearby, but didn't see one. But it did seem to me that the birds were very deliberate in their flights.<br />
<br />
They led, I followed.<br />
<br />
This silent chase lasted about twenty minutes. I didn't feel the cold. It was me, my camera and the birds; was aware of very little else as I watched them fly and tried to follow them with the camera, clicking away.<br />
<br />
And then they were too far for me to follow, and I walked back to the house, hoping that when I downloaded my shots, they would show me my owls.<br />
<br />
I walked into the house a bit breathless, stopping long enough to remove coat, hat, gloves in a flurry. I removed the disk, from my camera, inserted it into my MacBook, and waited.<br />
<br />
I clicked Download New Photos, and the magic began. Many of the pictures were blurry, with perfectly focused branches and smudgy suggestions of owls behind.<br />
<br />
Some were too far away.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mxlOEHgR_0Y/USFATN_WiAI/AAAAAAAAJ8M/hZmCLqkwwWI/s1600/IMG_8054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mxlOEHgR_0Y/USFATN_WiAI/AAAAAAAAJ8M/hZmCLqkwwWI/s320/IMG_8054.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">You can see the ear tufts quite clearly here.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And in some, my subject wasn't cooperating; owls can rotate their heads as much as 270 degrees, so it's easy enough for one to remain motionless in body, but turn away in an slow arrogant huff.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E2f1GJlA2QE/USFAT8YuyeI/AAAAAAAAJ8c/GvboCxv-pz0/s1600/IMG_8062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E2f1GJlA2QE/USFAT8YuyeI/AAAAAAAAJ8c/GvboCxv-pz0/s320/IMG_8062.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking toward me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N2HeyTKy0NI/USFATSfWDnI/AAAAAAAAJ8Q/4eNIQ5JewwM/s1600/IMG_8055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N2HeyTKy0NI/USFATSfWDnI/AAAAAAAAJ8Q/4eNIQ5JewwM/s320/IMG_8055.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turning away</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NI3B4YeMvvc/USFATVIb6FI/AAAAAAAAJ8Y/kDdUwB19u3E/s1600/IMG_8061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NI3B4YeMvvc/USFATVIb6FI/AAAAAAAAJ8Y/kDdUwB19u3E/s320/IMG_8061.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And facing the opposite direction,</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wNzPtoBHkBY/USFAVwgGJzI/AAAAAAAAJ9E/a5Xq_WlK6mM/s1600/IMG_8083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wNzPtoBHkBY/USFAVwgGJzI/AAAAAAAAJ9E/a5Xq_WlK6mM/s320/IMG_8083.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is better; but there are way too many branches in the way.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The pictures I took of the birds in flight were, for the most part, blurry sweeps of somewhat recognizable forest. Or a bit of a wing barely in the frame.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-78366D4gqFE/USFAWYt_zAI/AAAAAAAAJ9I/s9m3auhpJlY/s1600/IMG_8092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-78366D4gqFE/USFAWYt_zAI/AAAAAAAAJ9I/s9m3auhpJlY/s320/IMG_8092.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The back half of an owl.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
But when all was said and downloaded, and when I zoomed in on a few of the better shots, I wound up with two pictures I love, each featuring a gorgeous, recognizable Great Horned Owl.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gK3C225tz10/USFASlOQIvI/AAAAAAAAJ78/xKtu042_RwY/s1600/IMG_8046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gK3C225tz10/USFASlOQIvI/AAAAAAAAJ78/xKtu042_RwY/s320/IMG_8046.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's lookin' at you, human.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
And my favorite...pure serendipity. I have no idea how I managed to capture this phenomenal creature in full flight. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2jEL7D77_Zo/USFAUXx7P6I/AAAAAAAAJ8k/RbpgdEYoBwA/s1600/IMG_8067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2jEL7D77_Zo/USFAUXx7P6I/AAAAAAAAJ8k/RbpgdEYoBwA/s320/IMG_8067.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Simply. Gorgeous.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I love this place. And I love the gifts nature gives me.<br />
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Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-61898763866434876822013-02-13T06:48:00.001-05:002013-02-13T06:48:51.034-05:00Tucker, CertifiedSeveral years ago, my dad fell on the stairs of Temple University Hospital, while carrying a lunch tray of curry back to his office from the cafeteria. Without going into the unhappy details, this incident triggered a series of events that kept him hospitalized for weeks. My dad has since recovered, and I have safely stowed most of those unhappy memories in the Boy Am I Glad it's Over and I Don't Want to Think About That Again dungeon of my brain.
<br />
Except for the dogs.<br />
<br />
<strong>Dogs As Therapy</strong><br />
During the course of his treatment, my dad was transferred to a hospital that was closer to my parents' house--and that hospital had frequent visits from a group of therapy dogs.<br />
<br />
I had heard of dogs visiting nursing homes and children's wards and it always seemed like a good idea to me. Studies abound showing the healing effects of simply petting a pooch. But I hadn't seem them in action until I wound up spending so much time in hospitals, and later, a rehab center.<br />
<br />
Just like Elvis, you could tell when the dogs were in the building. There was a palpable sense of excitement. You'd hear it in the halls: a jingle of a collar, a soft squeal of delight. Nurses would mention it as they came into the room to deliver meds or check an IV. And then two faces would appear in the doorway of the room--one human, one canine--and they'd ask if we wanted a visit.<br />
<br />
Of course we did.<br />
<br />
And here's where I learned something ever so important. I thought the dogs were therapy for the patients. Which of course they are. <br />
<br />
But they do so much more than that. Doctors and nurses and other hospital staff would stop and pet the pups. I could see the stress of their vitally important jobs melt off of them. <br />
<br />
I watched my dad reach out to scratch a furry chin or pat a fuzzy head. Whoever was visiting that day would ask the dog's owner what the pup's name was and we'd guess at the breed. For a moment, the conversation wasn't about blood pressure or medications or physical progress. We all stopped focusing on health and hospitals and how long we'd been there. It was all forgotten in the wag of a tail, the nudge of a snout, the gentle touch of a soft paw.<br />
<br />
These therapy dogs helped everybody. Every body.<br />
<br />
<strong>Paying it Forward: We Could Do This Too</strong><br />
Since then, I've heard of therapy dogs offering comfort in other stressful situations. The Red Cross welcomed therapy dogs to support people displaced by natural disasters like Hurricane Sandy. Colleges and universities bring in puppies for students to chill with during finals. And some of the children of Newtown were visited by therapy dogs with warm hearts and cold noses as just one of the ways to begin to cope with the horrific events at their school.<br />
<br />
So I decided that one day, I would volunteer with my dogs. I wasn't sure when, due to the constraints of being a full-time mom with a full-time career. But I could take steps toward that goal, so that when the time came, I--and my dogs--would be ready.<br />
<br />
For many years, I've worked with a fantastic trainer named <span class="st"><a href="http://www.ongoodbehavior.com/">Anne Macaulay of On Good Behavior</a>. I've attended many of her classes for years, from basic obedience when my dogs were round-bellied puppies, to the agility classes that gave my <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/rosie-2005-2009.html">Rosie</a> an outlet for her exuberance, and my <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/lilah.html">Lilah</a> the bravery she didn't know she had. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="st">In September, Anne was going to hold a class to train dogs for the AKC Canine Good Citizen test. Owners wishing to have their dogs take the test sign a document promising to be responsible pet owners. Dogs who pass the test have shown that they behave well in social situations, such as meeting strangers and other dogs, and are able to stay focused and calm in the face of distractions. These dogs sit quietly and allow strangers to pet them and handle them, and are confident enough with themselves to be away from their owners without freaking out. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="st">In order to become a therapy dog, and work with some of the therapy dog organizations--and thus being allowed on site for many of the hospitals and other locations--the dog and owner usually need to pass some kind of training or test. For some, getting the AKC CGC designation is either a good start, or all that is needed to be qualified.</span><br />
<span class="st"><br /></span>
<span class="st">Thus my decision to help my dogs become official Canine Good Citizens. </span>Anne knew all three of my current dogs, and we had a few discussions on who to start with, since I could only train one dog at a time.<span class="st"></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RGdyX3TeY0g/URgsfT4wbDI/AAAAAAAAJwo/PGzRe7Ij3ug/s1600/IMG_5699.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RGdyX3TeY0g/URgsfT4wbDI/AAAAAAAAJwo/PGzRe7Ij3ug/s320/IMG_5699.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who amongst these noble canines would be the best to start with?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="st"><br /></span><strong>
Who Will Be the First in the Family to Become a Canine Good Citizen?</strong><br />
<span class="st"><a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/jasper.html">Jasper</a> is probably the friendliest of the bunch. But he's 67 pounds of bouncy You're My Best Friend Though I Just Met You happiness.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9aibIy5u3DM/URgseISyb4I/AAAAAAAAJwU/zyUrDxIL_Hk/s1600/IMG_2561.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9aibIy5u3DM/URgseISyb4I/AAAAAAAAJwU/zyUrDxIL_Hk/s320/IMG_2561.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jasper is so very friendly, but perhaps a bit too enthusiastic.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="st"><br /></span>
<span class="st">Lilah is the calm one, the most sensitive, and the sweetest thing on four paws, but also the most skittish and perhaps too easily startled.</span><br />
<span class="st"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WT3xr1wLMDA/URgsfW_jZNI/AAAAAAAAJws/vqOILXfgjLA/s1600/IMG_6711.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WT3xr1wLMDA/URgsfW_jZNI/AAAAAAAAJws/vqOILXfgjLA/s320/IMG_6711.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet Lilah might be a little overwhelmed and nervous.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="st"></span><br />
<span class="st"><br /></span>
<span class="st">And <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/tucker.html">Tucker</a>, the baby of the family, is pure terrier: an ever-energetic ball of distractable scruffiness.</span><br />
<span class="st"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O3Ie78SJ3Kk/URgsg3FWc4I/AAAAAAAAJxU/QJ3w-XAxLe0/s1600/IMG_9415.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O3Ie78SJ3Kk/URgsg3FWc4I/AAAAAAAAJxU/QJ3w-XAxLe0/s320/IMG_9415.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tucker may have tons of energy, but he's also a very caring and warm pup. When he stops running. Or chasing Balls.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="st"></span><br />
<span class="st"><br /></span>
<span class="st">After much pondering, I decided to train Tucker. I thought Jasper could use an extra year of calming, and Lilah could use some more confidence building. And the Tuckster--who could fool you into thinking that he's all about The Chase and The Ball--is also the first one to sense when something isn't right, and has a special warmth characterized by the gentle hugs he gives when he feels they're needed.</span><br />
<span class="st"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bx19LVVwuHE/URgsfSLeBkI/AAAAAAAAJww/rEjMLMNjn2Y/s1600/IMG_7646.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bx19LVVwuHE/URgsfSLeBkI/AAAAAAAAJww/rEjMLMNjn2Y/s320/IMG_7646.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The soft side of Tucker.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="st"></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RWtOzHpvGcg/URgsf4RFR9I/AAAAAAAAJw8/ROYsqlLn8kE/s1600/IMG_7721.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RWtOzHpvGcg/URgsf4RFR9I/AAAAAAAAJw8/ROYsqlLn8kE/s320/IMG_7721.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's a silly side, too. And a sleepy side.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>
Practice, Practice, Practice</b><br />
<span class="st">We began classes in September. Tucker and I practiced walking together, with No Pulling. He had to perfect the concept of paying attention to me, stopping when I stop, turning left or right as I did, matching his pace to mine. He was quite good already with his Sit, Stay and Come. And he had no problem with folks petting him or looking at his paws. What we had to work on most was meeting and greeting, and the most difficult for Tucker, Reacting Appropriately to Distractions. </span><br />
<span class="st"><br /></span>
For six weeks, Tucker and I and the rest of our classmates practiced being Good Citizens. This meant that Tucker had to learn to sit quietly next to me as someone With Another Dog(!) came up to me, greeted me, shook my hand and asked if she could pet my dog. No jumping. No leaping. Just waiting quietly and allowing the Someone to pet him. And, by the way, ignore the Other Dog.<br />
<br />
This was Very Hard for Tucker.<br />
<br />
The other challenge for Tucker was keeping his brain inside his head and his mind focused on me. There were so many Distractions. Other dogs. Other people. As part of the training, Anne set up all kinds of distractions we had to walk by. Traffic cones. Dog toys. Treat bags. Not to mention the fact that the training took place outside in a parking lot of a vet after business hours--which meant that there were other dog Smells everywhere, and people sounds and cars going by on the street.<br />
<br />
We practiced at home as best we could. Tucker could do everything quite well--but he was consistently inconsistent. During any one class he might do everything perfect and then a Sniff would distract him and he'd instantly lose focus.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kJftdVbhQ7E/URgse-aY8PI/AAAAAAAAJwg/9afiG2gBXsM/s1600/IMG_5348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kJftdVbhQ7E/URgse-aY8PI/AAAAAAAAJwg/9afiG2gBXsM/s320/IMG_5348.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what a Focused Tucker looks like. Eyes on me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<strong>Testing 1, 2, 3</strong><br />
The test was held in the parking lot of another vet, on a Sunday afternoon. We drew numbers to see who would go first, and we wound up last to be tested. That meant by the time we were up, Tucker was bored out of his mind, having walked around the grass a zillion times while we waited for our turn.<br />
<br />
I tried not to be nervous, since I knew Tucker would read my emotions.<br />
<br />
There are 10 parts to the test, including:<br />
<ul>
<li>Accepting a friendly stranger.</li>
<li>Sitting politely for petting.</li>
<li>Allowing basic grooming procedures.</li>
<li>Walking on a loose lead.</li>
<li>Walking through a crowd.</li>
<li>Sitting and lying down on command and staying in place.</li>
<li>Coming when called.</li>
<li>Reacting appropriately to another dog.</li>
<li>Reacting appropriately to distractions.</li>
<li>Calmly enduring supervised separation from the owner.</li>
</ul>
Each one of those parts had specific requirements. For example, there needed to be at least three people to make up the "crowd" we walked through. (<a href="http://www.akc.org/events/cgc/program.cfm">More information on the exact specifications can be found on the AKC Canine Good Citizen web site.</a>)<br />
<br />
And the entire test had to be done with No Treats. I couldn't hold them. I couldn't pretend to hold them. I couldn't even mention them. Mr. Tucker had to behave like a gentleman--not because of the promise of an instant reward. He had to behave...Just Because.<br />
<br />
<strong>Tucker Takes His Turn</strong><br />
Finally, we were up. We went through our paces. Tucker walked great on the leash, but I could tell he was distracted. I talked to him the entire time, telling him he was a great doggy, and that he should focus. Which he did. Mostly. Sometimes I was afraid his brain had left the building, but he somehow managed to find it again, and listen to me. As for me, I was so focused on Tucker that I was barely aware of anything else, except Anne's instructions to me.<br />
<br />
The last part of the test is the supervised separation. One of the volunteers took Tucker on his leash, handed me a timer, and I walked out of sight to spend an incredibly long three minutes away from my dog.<br />
<br />
When the timer beeped, I hustled myself back around the corner to be greeted by a huge canine smile gracing my favorite scruffy face. I gave my buddy lots of love, and was rewarded with big wags and a Tucker-style hug.<br />
<br />
And the news that he had passed.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HltiLgiYLFQ/URgsgi73iaI/AAAAAAAAJxQ/NWC0II2YFrk/s1600/IMG_7975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HltiLgiYLFQ/URgsgi73iaI/AAAAAAAAJxQ/NWC0II2YFrk/s320/IMG_7975.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yay Tucker!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It was a great experience, and I've continued practicing with Tucker--and with my other dogs. I think Lilah will get the training next. Jasper, Mr. Exuberance himself, will be trained after Lilah.<br />
<br />
I've started investigating therapy organizations, so I can continue training, and eventually will start volunteering. One of the workers at our vet is connected with a therapy organization, and I found out in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy that one of my neighbors volunteers with her dogs.<br />
<br />
One step, one paw at a time. I'm looking forward to sharing floppy ears and waggy tails with lots of folks who could use a dose of canine therapy.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9aibIy5u3DM/URgseISyb4I/AAAAAAAAJwU/zyUrDxIL_Hk/s1600/IMG_2561.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G6XV3LJVc9w/URsTr2p9QRI/AAAAAAAAJ1M/wMUubCzR1p4/s1600/IMG_7972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G6XV3LJVc9w/URsTr2p9QRI/AAAAAAAAJ1M/wMUubCzR1p4/s320/IMG_7972.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tucker posing with his Canine Good Citizen certificate.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KlAdqMZzHLA/URrbUzX8rkI/AAAAAAAAJzg/ddx9KuG-FS8/s1600/IMG_7973.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KlAdqMZzHLA/URrbUzX8rkI/AAAAAAAAJzg/ddx9KuG-FS8/s320/IMG_7973.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The true Tucker: Certificates are BORING!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WPV7B1z1CC8/URgseZp4g9I/AAAAAAAAJwc/j3Exz1EliXU/s1600/IMG_3365.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WPV7B1z1CC8/URgseZp4g9I/AAAAAAAAJwc/j3Exz1EliXU/s320/IMG_3365.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Tucker looking ahead to a future as a therapy dog.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-14321934090263035082013-01-29T07:07:00.001-05:002013-01-29T07:07:44.098-05:00It's the Little ThingsMany years ago, when I was a student at Cook College, Rutgers University, I volunteered to take children on tours of the working farm on campus and sometimes Helyar Woods, a forest on the property of the school. For the most part, the kids came from inner-city schools, with little exposure to either farm or forest. I was trained on the farm part of the tour--calling the pigs over to the fence so the children can feel their soft noses or bristley backs, playing the "Guess the weight of the entire class" game and then weighing them on the truck scale, and petting the calves while I explained how cows have multiple stomachs.<br />
<br />
I wasn't given much guidance on what to do if the tour groups had chosen to do the hike in the woods, though. My brother suggested I might find some ideas in a book called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sharing-Nature-Children-20th-Anniversary/dp/1883220734/ref=sr_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1359323463&sr=1-5&keywords=teaching+children+environmen">Sharing Nature with Children</a> by Joseph Cornell. Filled with suggestions on how to get kids interested in and excited about being outside, the book inspired me as well. There was the Web of Life game, which uses a simple roll of twine to teach the interconnectedness of all living things, and the Know a Tree exercise, where one child in a pair is blindfolded, and learns about a single tree just through touching it--and has to try to find it later once she can see.<br />
<br />
More than three decades later, I still find myself using some of the techniques in that book. For example, the other day, I took a micro-hike. Now, the way the book describes it--and the best way to do it with a bunch of unruly children--is to take a hula hoop and put it on the ground and have the kids look really closely at what they could see, just within the confines of the hoop. If you've never taken the time to explore a small section of the earth (and by small I mean one or two square feet), I highly recommend it--particularly in the spring and summer.<br />
<br />
I used to do this exercise before we went into Helyar Woods, because it taught the kids to be observant--and to be excited about discovering things, even things that might seem boring. They would notice bugs, and ants, and sticks. They'd realize that all grass doesn't look the same, and there might be clover and dandelions and thistle mixed in. Someone would invariable find bird poop, but it was ever so much more exciting when we talked about what bird it might have been, and how you can tell things about a living creature from examining what it eliminates. <br />
<br />
The other day, I was inspired to do a version of the micro hike in the woods behind my house. The hike was along a fallen tree--one that had come down a few years ago. Since I brought my camera--and a macro lens--you can come with me.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P-S8E5DjHrw/UPMRMHljr4I/AAAAAAAAJaU/FVhGwtGyGhk/s320/IMG_6698.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The micro hike takes place here.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
At first glance, even from a distance and in the dead of winter, you can see that the trunk is covered with moss of some kind. It's when you take a few steps closer that you realize there's a lot more than moss growing here.<br />
<br />
There's moss and fungus and lichen!<br />
<br />
And here's where I wish I had a resident expert to help me a bit. I think most of us can recognize moss.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZTZX1em-Rhc/UPMRV7JFteI/AAAAAAAAJac/XezKsZFhn3o/s320/IMG_6674.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moss</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
And probably we would know what a fungus looks like, particularly when we remember that a mushroom is a fungus.<br />
<br />
But lichen?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HUKAc_dDnz8/UPMR4u7vqTI/AAAAAAAAJa0/ClRLRhYGcFs/s320/IMG_6683.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lichen! (and moss)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Actually, now that I realize it, what the heck is a lichen exactly? A little bit of research has helped me learn a little about these fascinating organisms. For one thing they are true symbionts. A lichen is a composite of a fungus and a photosynthetic organism--usually an alga. Fungus get food from the algae's photosynthesis, and the algae get moisture from the fungus.<br />
<br />
Lichens live in the most inhospitable environments--on rocks, logs, walls--and in harsh climates. They occupy a niche that other organisms can't survive. Though they also apparently are very sensitive to pollutants, and are indicators of poor air quality; no lichens = possible air pollution. I guess they're the plant versions of the canary in a coal mine.<br />
<br />
On most of my other posts I can identify some of the plants and animals and insects in the photographs I feature. But in this case, I can just barely do that with lichens. But here's the thing, they sure are pretty. And quite fascinating. And make great subjects for a micro hike with a camera.<br />
<br />
To sit back, relax, and enjoy the hike. I'll identify where I can.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EF4tEUpnpw0/UPMRLC6s2BI/AAAAAAAAJaM/iYr_Y-7fc4s/s1600/IMG_6695.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EF4tEUpnpw0/UPMRLC6s2BI/AAAAAAAAJaM/iYr_Y-7fc4s/s320/IMG_6695.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bottom of the log, where it meets the ground, shows grass, lichens and moss.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gl7NUv5J5ts/UPMRIRZLxQI/AAAAAAAAJZg/8X3OEf4RtCs/s320/IMG_6672.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moss on the top of the log shows tiny stalks that have captured water droplets.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sPcKuYwVwPw/UPMRKZEQy7I/AAAAAAAAJaA/Xohl_yrq7Yw/s320/IMG_6691.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I believe this is called turkey tail lichen. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_Hhded1uu5M/UPMRGnn4ffI/AAAAAAAAJZA/634uYCEDoUg/s320/IMG_6665.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is really young turkey tail lichen. Each of these little fruiting bodies are no more than a quarter inch tall,</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eIhkgirNuTg/UPMRGk9HIqI/AAAAAAAAJY8/BDxIM6PzUhc/s320/IMG_6662.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These turkey tails are a little bigger. You can also see some moss--that's the dark green--and the lighter green is a common greenshield lichen, I think.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q83N42V0f-M/UPMRGgt361I/AAAAAAAAJZE/8LKEtqzHCLA/s1600/IMG_6661.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q83N42V0f-M/UPMRGgt361I/AAAAAAAAJZE/8LKEtqzHCLA/s320/IMG_6661.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here is a combination of all the mosses and lichens, young and old.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3hd_GmeEtn4/UPMRHnQx3RI/AAAAAAAAJZQ/JlM84xJFDno/s320/IMG_6667.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A close up of turkey tail lichen. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L-jzyvxGS1w/UPMRJZ1ErSI/AAAAAAAAJZ0/E2oPNI6kQlc/s1600/IMG_6689.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L-jzyvxGS1w/UPMRJZ1ErSI/AAAAAAAAJZ0/E2oPNI6kQlc/s320/IMG_6689.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seems like the turkey tail lichen can feature several colors...though I'm not sure.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZTZX1em-Rhc/UPMRV7JFteI/AAAAAAAAJac/XezKsZFhn3o/s1600/IMG_6674.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
The naturalist in me always wants to <i>know</i>, to identify, to understand what I'm looking at. In the case of this particular micro hike, I don't know. Instead, since I don't have a lichenologist or a mycologist on staff, I must sit back and enjoy canvas painted by capital N Nature.<br />
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And sometimes, that's enough. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-17907794698394657812013-01-22T09:45:00.002-05:002013-01-22T09:50:26.610-05:00Cache & CarryIf you share your home with cats or kittens, or spend any time with animals of the feline variety, you will know that one of their favorite things to do is to poke their paws into things. Around things. Through things. And under things.<br />
<br />
So it came as no surprise to me, and probably wouldn't surprise anyone who knows kitties, to have come across our Calvin with his little furry paws madly scrabbling underneath the bookcase in my kitchen. Probably a lost kitty toy, I figured.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BrR28PGdVhg/UPNiNIPqHHI/AAAAAAAAJiw/sIuMeleg4pE/s320/IMG_5959.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin trying to reach something.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SxbEsZXLPV8/UPNiNLbkaBI/AAAAAAAAJi4/9py8a4p30qM/s320/IMG_5966.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who could resist that adorable face? I had to help him get what was underneath the bookcase.</td></tr>
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I tried to reach under the bookcase, but my hand couldn't fit.<br />
<br />
Now it so happens that we keep a yardstick under the couch in the family room. This would make perfect sense if you knew anything about our friend <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/tucker.html">Tucker</a>'s favorite game--well, second favorite after chasing The Ball. This game involves putting The Ball in an inaccessible place, unsuccessfully trying to retrieve it, and then whining pitifully until somebody gets it for him.<br />
<br />
Such an inaccessible place, for example, is under the couch. This has happened enough times that we decided it was expedient to keep a yardstick under the couch for the unfortunately not-so-rare occasions when Tucker decides that it's the best place to roll his Ball. Then all we have to do is reach under the couch, grab the yardstick and pull it towards us and, somewhat miraculously for Tucker, we've saved the day as the slobbery blue Ball comes rolling out from underneath.<br />
<br />
But I digress.<br />
<br />
Getting back to the cat-astrophe at hand--or paw--I grabbed the yardstick out from under the family room couch and used it to sweep under the bookcase to get whatever toy was under there that was tempting Mr. Calvin so.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IC5q5Zdp97g/UPNiNR-lEtI/AAAAAAAAJi0/3_Zs7n4f8rc/s320/IMG_5968.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin, the ever Helpful cat</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZScAwtKgyIY/UPNiNxyOddI/AAAAAAAAJi8/o7eNYEleqho/s1600/IMG_5971.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZScAwtKgyIY/UPNiNxyOddI/AAAAAAAAJi8/o7eNYEleqho/s320/IMG_5971.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks like I found something</td></tr>
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<br />
And what I found was the Mother Lode. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jnJDzT22wL8/UPNiP6cYOXI/AAAAAAAAJjQ/Of82-Xl45Vs/s320/IMG_5999.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you look past the begonia petals from the plant on the plant stand above, you will see no less than 20 kitty toys--and an arrow-shaped magnet, which had become a kitty toy.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kgXjeo860FU/UPNiOu6e-ZI/AAAAAAAAJjE/2qYp5cEQJ6w/s320/IMG_5975.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For a moment, Calvin is more interested in the yardstick than the toys.</td></tr>
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One might well ask, why so many toys? And thus, I will provide one with an answer. Every night, <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/jasper.html">Jasper</a>, <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/lilah.html">Lilah</a>, and Tucker sleep in our bedroom with Brian and I, while we leave the cats the run of the house. And right before we head upstairs, I take a handful of cat toys and scatter them on the floor, so that the cats and kittens can amuse themselves in the evening after we've retired. In the mornings, when I come downstairs, I pick up whatever toys are left, and put them away. This is because my dogs think all toys are dog toys and great fun is had by all of the pups as they run around with tiny kitty toys in big slobbery doggy mouths. The end result is usually a mangled mess of crunched up fuzzy bits, which aren't even interesting to kittens.<br />
<br />
Now don't worry about whether the cats and kittens have enough to play with during the day. There's always each other and of course the dogs themselves. And there are always a few toys left out that they can pounce on and chase and bury in blankets and run around with. And while the dogs still sometimes get to those toys, there are usually one or two survivors. And of course, there are nighttime toys.<br />
<br />
So now, another routine is added to our evening ritual. Before I grab some cat toys and throw them on the floor, I grab the yardstick from under the family room couch and take a nice sweep underneath the bookcase in case there are toys that are needed for the evening.<br />
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9ZizRuRSHZ4/UPNiPMIOE0I/AAAAAAAAJjI/HnIrPn9v44U/s320/IMG_5980.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/dawn.html">Dawn</a> stops by to assess the Evening Recovery Mission.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YKz1qM2EYFU/UPNirY2XWmI/AAAAAAAAJkY/AzPOPzBpdw0/s320/IMG_5977.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They might even be enough to share? Well if there were a word for "share" in Cat. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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During one of my nightly sweeps, I made yet another discovery: I noticed that all the toys were the same. <br />
<br />
(I guess, at this point, I should admit that I did buy some kitty toys in bulk. Because, well, there's Jasper, Lilah and Tucker. And it's less expensive to buy a couple dozen cat toys wholesale.)<br />
<br />
While I was pulling the cache of similar cat toys out from under the bookcase, Ms. <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/athena.html">Athena</a> made an appearance. And it seemed that she was even more interested than usual in what I was doing.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XxhWd8Uf0ZY/UPNiQ6qwCLI/AAAAAAAAJjc/-x3sKwpaKuI/s320/IMG_6395.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Athena takes notice.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-utwC1p-Byl8/UPNiQFHKbSI/AAAAAAAAJjY/gh0-rz_FzqU/s320/IMG_6393.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And Calvin joins in the fun.</td></tr>
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That's when it occurred to me: these must be Athena's favorite toys, her favorite mousies. And what made this so interesting was because in all of her two years with us, Athena has rarely ever played with toys. She seems afraid of them--or afraid that someone--let's call her Dawn--will pounce her and take it away if she tries to play with a toy.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GE4j94IfqXc/UPNiRmDQ1KI/AAAAAAAAJjk/G7XPJnVyWIk/s320/IMG_6396.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of the same kind of mousie.</td></tr>
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It turns out that Athena does, in fact, have a favorite type of mouse. And she plays with that mouse-- or those mice--in a special spot in the corner where Dawn and the kittens don't tend to bother her. I guess somewhere along the way, during the night, Athena loses them under the bookcase.<br />
<br />
Now I pay special attention to the kitty toys that I toss on the floor every night. And I make sure that there are at least a few of Athena's favorites included among the evening's choices. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K9jQweWmtY4/UPNiSHLkdMI/AAAAAAAAJjs/wiHSwtQh12o/s1600/IMG_6405.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K9jQweWmtY4/UPNiSHLkdMI/AAAAAAAAJjs/wiHSwtQh12o/s320/IMG_6405.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Athena with one of her special mousies.</td></tr>
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I think everyone should be able to have their own special mousie.Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-43686013636747933102013-01-08T07:34:00.000-05:002013-01-08T20:03:20.147-05:00Winging ItEach year, I set goals for my photographer self.<br />
<br />
In 2011, my goal was to get some pictures of hummingbirds. You can see the results in the post <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2011/10/hum-along-with-me.html">Hum Along with Me</a> from that fall.<br />
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In 2012, I set two goals. The first was to stretch my hummingbird goal--and get some photos of them flying; most specifically, I was trying to get a hummingbird, in flight, but not at a feeder. And the second goal was to photograph a butterfly in the air.<br />
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I did manage to get some great hummer photos; I'll share them in a future post. In the end, they were rather easy--at least compared to trying to capture butterflies in flight.<br />
<br />
Below are my attempts--and I don't feel I actually achieved my goal. Of course there's always next year. But on a cold grey winter day, even less than perfect pictures of butterflies and flowers and green, green grass sure do look purty. (And if you'd like to look at some of the butterflies-at-rest pictures I've taken in the last two summers, you can find them in the 2012 post <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2012/07/butterflies.html">Flying Flowers</a> or the 2011 post <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2011/08/great-spangled-fritillary.html">Great Spangled Fritillary!</a>)<br />
<br />
In attempting to perform this elusive feat, I learned a little bit about butterfly photography. First of all, the little buggers are skittish, particularly when large shadowy things move nearby. That's easy to understand; large shadowy things (think birds) eat butterflies. And from a butterfly's perspective, if you're a human, you are a large shadowy thing--and you might as well be a predator. They're not going to stop and ponder the situation. So you have to move slowly around them, or they flitter away.<br />
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Of course, if you're trying to catch a butterfly on the wing, flittering away ain't such a bad thing. Except butterflies are also quite small, and therefore hard to see through the camera viewfinder.<br />
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So you need a telephoto lens. <br />
<br />
But if you ever watch how a butterfly actually flies, you'll epitomize the word "erratic." No straight lines here. Nothing like the cooperative hummingbirds who sometimes hover in place and allow you to focus for a half second. Butterfly flight is more like...well, you know when you play pinball and your ball gets into that magical part of the machine where it pings around and back and forth and up and down, bouncing on bands and walls and lights and bars? And you rack up all kinds of crazy points? That's kind of like it, except that butterflies do it in three dimensions. And you don't get any points.<br />
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This explains why my first attempts resulted in blurry blobs of unrecognizable butterfly. Either I couldn't focus fast enough, or the spot auto focus was in the wrong place, or I was trying to move the camera to follow the butterfly--and failed completely.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TVVOzT4GDU0/UOmrruMvTOI/AAAAAAAAJMI/gQv9EH8PJbU/s320/IMG_7240.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An out-of-focus Cabbage Butterfly.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ynhowXg6Crk/UOmrs5SaoEI/AAAAAAAAJMk/5x5Sg1qouZM/s320/IMG_7446.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two Monarchs, too far away.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K66Vh11aHes/UOmrqe2K4cI/AAAAAAAAJL8/G6Mpd5CY6Tw/s320/IMG_7180.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well, at least some of the flowers were in focus.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zaG3zcalkhM/UOmrumbWpyI/AAAAAAAAJM8/zQ92WefZXjo/s320/IMG_7674.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Autofocus thought I was taking pictures of <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/lilah.html">Lilah</a>. The butterfly is that yellow blur on the lower right part of the picture.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mNWi4QxFf8E/UOmrz9_HNHI/AAAAAAAAJN0/G-C3UeykfRU/s320/IMG_8516.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty flowers, blurry Swallowtail.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O27VIJWaQe8/UOmrxcOVb5I/AAAAAAAAJNU/vvuxMsbLFA8/s320/IMG_7907.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trying to follow the erratic flight path of a butterfly isn't easy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I eventually figured out that the best way to attempt to capture a flying butterfly on (virtual) film, was not to try and follow it as it flew, but instead to focus on an imaginary plane where I thought a butterfly would fly, set the lens at a wider angle, and when one of those flittery creatures flew in the general direction, just start snapping away.<br />
<br />
My pictures improved a bit, but my subjects were still often slightly out of focus. Or they didn't cooperate by staying in the frame.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rgf-gBWTpVM/UOmrsZ_7uqI/AAAAAAAAJMU/OyY7263XHcQ/s320/IMG_7275.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Missed it! (It's an Orange Sulfur.)</td></tr>
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But then, as I started getting better photos, I began to really see how butterfly wings work. And they don't just flap nicely, in concert. There are four parts to their wings, and they move differently. So I might have a butterfly in focus, but the moment I captured shows some really awkward wing positions.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kf3b5beDoa0/UOmrt4DUxoI/AAAAAAAAJMo/klCKsuG843c/s320/IMG_7662.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This Eastern Swallowtail was heading toward the flower, with its wings flapping forward. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Mzbkxd9rnPY/UOmrucwFJdI/AAAAAAAAJMs/px0MukckIBY/s320/IMG_7683.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another one caught on the down flap.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FtM-8uaav3o/UOmrwrjo-lI/AAAAAAAAJNM/JVA4-2nj2qQ/s320/IMG_7889.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Awkward wings.</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eO4P-H1Z1-0/UOmrzqOA7dI/AAAAAAAAJNw/3fcq_ZUTCQI/s320/IMG_8546.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And more awkward wings.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And sometimes I would capture the creatures at odd angles, such as flying straight toward me.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tAuPueIGNqk/UOmrs67g3_I/AAAAAAAAJMc/tOGATFCs4G8/s320/IMG_7405.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Comin' at ya...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x2aDQVDAOiQ/UOmrvxSHdeI/AAAAAAAAJNE/-DwfRHWofJM/s320/IMG_7848.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flying away from me, this swallowtail makes a lovely V shape, but it doesn't make a great picture.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oC_-a4V6mws/UOmsFsKivQI/AAAAAAAAJSE/DNC90axgKdk/s320/IMG_9818.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coming? Going? </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VtuafpNGrWA/UOmr5bFHOnI/AAAAAAAAJO4/0d57_B9FaDw/s320/IMG_8604.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two Swallowtails could have been really cool, but they're at a very strange angle.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qIfCzt8Mp_A/UOmsDH5DOZI/AAAAAAAAJRk/Aq6b3w78fW4/s320/IMG_9424.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stealth bomber?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qtg7A0dw6DU/UOmsAbP_jdI/AAAAAAAAJQ0/gdcV6lzS-sA/s320/IMG_9244.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This Monarch looks like it was poorly photoshopped into the picture.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I also realized that a picture of a butterfly out of context, that is, away from it's food source of pretty flowers, looks kind of lonely. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8QnnqUrUB_o/UOmrwgdZ3SI/AAAAAAAAJNI/J__rFunaI-E/s320/IMG_7877.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lonely butterfly</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hFdlDnbqFaU/UOmrvAByjxI/AAAAAAAAJM4/ONGj5td7h-E/s320/IMG_7697.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This Monarch is just a little too far from the butterfly bush, but if I cropped out the butterfly bush flowers, the picture would be boring.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And I discovered that a picture of a butterfly flying away from flowers didn't tell the right story. <br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uT_fI7-6eEA/UOmrrDzDPpI/AAAAAAAAJME/6nenxFy92e0/s320/IMG_7202.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't like what's on the menu?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MgKytkBxyOs/UOmrtBr6neI/AAAAAAAAJMg/_tLHwdlyPkQ/s320/IMG_7474.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The nectar must be better at another establishment.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And then I realized that when you try to take a picture of a butterfly near flowers, you can't really tell that it's flying. Many of the pictures of butterflies flying that are in focus look like they aren't flying, but have landed on a flower.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wSNHN0mwRGI/UOmrxozGTZI/AAAAAAAAJNc/6S55RdRLPog/s320/IMG_8016.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two butterflies: awesome! But you can't really tell that the guy on the left is flying, and hadn't landed yet.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--Enm4iq_lQQ/UOmr0V9o3FI/AAAAAAAAJOA/AENXjTIWDjY/s320/IMG_8556.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Firey Skipper on the bottom is flying upwards, but because there is a second skipper, it's hard to tell what's happening here.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And sometimes, flowers, leaves or branches get in the way at the wrong time.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kqTzEaHt6lY/UOmruiJl2zI/AAAAAAAAJM0/RaZ1rdDya_I/s320/IMG_7684.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The blur over the top right part of the picture is from a blossom that was in the way, but very close to me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And of course, as in any photo, sometimes the composition is off, or the lighting isn't quite right.<br />
<br />
In the end, I came close, but didn't really get that perfect shot. I know I took hundreds of pictures, probably more like thousands. There are a few that I like, but I never took one that made me say, "Ah, that's what I was looking for."<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--ubazumf8_0/UOn8YTQ6BLI/AAAAAAAAJT0/Yr-FL733Rfc/s320/IMG_6577.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A tiny fraction of the photos downloaded to my laptop.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
There's always next summer. Until then, these will have to do.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-azA2f--gXeY/UOmsBWIlo3I/AAAAAAAAJRI/BDrKThSVgjg/s320/IMG_9245.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is pretty, but the Monarch is just a little too far away from the flowers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2bHuZzc-HiY/UOmrpRCu-PI/AAAAAAAAJLw/R8EmXFHxBf8/s320/IMG_1149.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This American Lady is just a little out of focus.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X3Sh2Q1Fnc0/UOmsG97K_5I/AAAAAAAAJSM/34NeUvJXO-I/s320/Monarch+and+Lilies%0A%0AAt+first+glance,+it+looks+like+one+of+the+flowers+%22escaped.%22.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="256" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is one of my favorites, although the butterfly isn't really in focus. It looks like one of the lilies escaped.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-118pReE9eEo/UOmsEVZE4BI/AAAAAAAAJRw/rlgoQ-Tr_rM/s320/IMG_9505.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The silhouette makes an interesting picture, but I want a photo with more color.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b-9qOOim3pc/UOn8YoykuJI/AAAAAAAAJT4/50o5z5g5TQY/s320/IMG_9207.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another one of my favorites; my Facebook friends will recognize this from my page. Even though the butterfly is out of focus, it captures a nice moment.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-35332648588951889802012-12-31T16:12:00.001-05:002012-12-31T16:12:17.144-05:00It's Snow Time!Winter has only just begun, yet we've had two snowstorms already. Like most dogs, my three love the snow. I don't know what it is about the cold flaky stuff that makes <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/lilah.html">Lilah</a>, <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/jasper.html">Jasper</a> and <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/tucker.html">Tucker</a>, well, flaky.<br />
<br />
Dogs who normally can't stand getting wet (that's you, Jasper and Tucker) romp around in the snow like it's the Best Thing Ever. A Gift From the Sky. And you can Eat It, too! Just an inch of white on the ground and my dogs turn into goofy puppies.<br />
<br />
And I love it. I turn in to a kid as well, watching my four-legged friends romp and jump and pounce and bound. Sometimes I just run around in the snow with them. And then we all come piling back in the warm house, happy and tired--and wet.<br />
<br />
Eventually, it all melts. And we're back to plain hard frozen ground--or worse yet, nasty thick mud that sticks to dog paws like Velcro. Until the next snow storm blankets our yard and we get to go out and do it again.<br />
<br />
The first storm of the season came in the fall--November 7. This year, The Weather Channel started naming winter storms, and this one was christened Athena. I'm sure our <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/athena.html">Athena</a> felt she finally got her due.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zfvVnGxahQE/UODAt2jEayI/AAAAAAAAJDY/yXijerm10-0/s320/IMG_4011.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Wait! What? A snowstorm named after me? Of course. As it should be."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EQ8tu7O3NG4/UODAsGdnoaI/AAAAAAAAJDI/9c24EMqYlbo/s320/IMG_3979.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tucker, Lilah and Jasper run through the snow as the storm just gets started.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qrNQnedukLE/UODAtC7vaXI/AAAAAAAAJDQ/XTfUhuIb_Cg/s320/IMG_3992.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Too much snow on your back and you have to Floppity it off.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0sX34PUUunY/UODAuklpF0I/AAAAAAAAJDg/NrtFbWwEbyM/s320/IMG_4027.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By nighttime, we had more than six inches. The heavy wet snow covered everything with a soft white blanket, including our patio.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iL0v-j66rrE/UODAvciuNjI/AAAAAAAAJDo/1eTBZyNKzv8/s320/IMG_4033.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And the snow kept falling...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The next morning, a walk through the woods revealed nature's beauty at every turn. The heavy snow bent branches and trees already stressed from Hurricane Sandy's wrath a little over a week before, creating a new landscape--and in some cases breaking limbs that couldn't bear the weight. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IyJDNxM0a4s/UODA00AkeyI/AAAAAAAAJEI/GydNvlwAtwQ/s320/IMG_4137.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morning sun shines through the trees after Snowstorm Athena.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yN0SmSSrGHY/UODAyOi872I/AAAAAAAAJD4/Gs-DSuZrnDM/s320/IMG_4110.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The wind blew snow against one side of the trees, streaking them with white.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2ndFJmAzvWQ/UODAzmsmH1I/AAAAAAAAJEA/hH0m0D-o4pM/s320/IMG_4131.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The jagged jumble of fallen limbs was softened by the covering of snow.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mfvn10tUH0c/UODA1yLjcsI/AAAAAAAAJEQ/hTqFGOL0Pas/s320/IMG_4158.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wasn't the only one walking in the woods after the storm. A deer had come through earlier.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AJSFhyQlj3s/UODA3R3LvaI/AAAAAAAAJEY/pX1T96_FTxY/s320/IMG_4179.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading back toward the gate and my home. Leaves were still on some of the trees.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rD2W1ZkCbR0/UODA42RO_rI/AAAAAAAAJEo/poC8UsXJjLY/s320/IMG_4203.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The front yard offered up its own beauty.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6PLQK9y9Pmc/UODA4FTaL7I/AAAAAAAAJEg/B5CkxiJZ9DM/s320/IMG_4190.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And in the back yard, the dogs explored their territory..</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The second storm, Snowstorm Freyr, came just a few days ago. It was colder, and the snow was dryer. Only three inches fell, but that was enough for doggy fun and games.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2gtFodNyqzI/UODA_nqiCuI/AAAAAAAAJFk/BkMXvCXfD8s/s320/IMG_6235.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With snow still falling, the dogs are ready to romp.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zyYR4_AIjts/UODA-snizwI/AAAAAAAAJFc/_swN91N6RV4/s320/IMG_6215.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ooh! A sniff under the snow. All Noses report to duty.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Once the dogs get started, they play in all combinations.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nb8F41SPcnI/UODA8rGzyTI/AAAAAAAAJFM/uwJA_9HCVAI/s320/IMG_6199.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three dogs chasing each other. (That's Jasper's head in the corner.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SEcI__xSP0s/UODA5yYm33I/AAAAAAAAJE0/udaQniVY_j4/s320/IMG_6172.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jasper and Lilah</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BArIbpm-bjI/UODA7gztjPI/AAAAAAAAJFA/iRIYUtJogLo/s320/IMG_6184.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tucker and Lilah</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wPSaY2Ndy_Y/UODA9ig0z_I/AAAAAAAAJFU/yh9YRJaDRHI/s320/IMG_6203.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jasper and Tucker</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rpUd07SoUbQ/UODBF7-TEXI/AAAAAAAAJGk/AvCkP-bgsIk/s320/IMG_6312.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tucker and his Ball. Doesn't matter how frozen or snow covered it is, we eventually have to Play Ball.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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There are a few quiet moments, usually with one dog sitting it out while two others run around. It's at those moments that I like to try and capture a few Snow Portraits.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mMdwqXEL9Pc/UODBBkcVnfI/AAAAAAAAJF4/3eVSDydPL1o/s320/IMG_6269.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lilah, with a snowy snout. I love how the snow decorates her fur like fine sugar.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AO6RYE73Hwc/UODBDInIA3I/AAAAAAAAJGA/if09GRJ9v3I/s320/IMG_6280.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jasper, always looking regal, even as his fur is coated with snow.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-maSQ9KbLSOk/UODBFPN0eHI/AAAAAAAAJGc/C8t2vOm8uwo/s320/IMG_6307.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tucker, showing off his Snow Beard, acquired from digging in drifts.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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And every once in a while, I capture something that just makes me smile. In the picture below, it wasn't until after I enlarged it on my laptop that I saw Tucker reflected in Jasper's eye. Cool.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-n11IJwGFDBs/UODBD988JbI/AAAAAAAAJGM/5YBagA0_Rbg/s320/IMG_6285.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Through a dog's eye's: Tucker reflected in Jasper's eye.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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All of our cats are indoor kitties, though it doesn't stop them from watching us and wishing they could join in the fun. Though I would hazard a guess that one step into cold wet snow would have them turning around in a whisker's instant and heading back into a warm dry house.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OwS2cmu71_Y/UODBEkKHyaI/AAAAAAAAJGQ/xLRSBFyBAQs/s320/IMG_6292.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin, Elsa Clair and a partly obscured Athena peer out the window at us.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Once we head inside, we all play the Treats for the Feets game, where each dog gets a treat for getting his or her feet wiped. This also involves toweling off and removing snow clumps from furry paws. Of course all this activity requires Supervision by at least one of the cats.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XD4EVWkO0WY/UODBG3DXHUI/AAAAAAAAJGs/cOEYQ0Swdnc/s320/Wet+Tucker+and+Lilah+after+coming+in+from+the+storm.+Little+Elsa+Clair+looks+like+she%27s+about+to+pounce+something..JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tucker and Lilah waiting for their Feets to be dried. Elsa Clair Supervises.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SAO16bL1MvQ/UODAxEV8RQI/AAAAAAAAJDw/pPoEJCPELKc/s320/IMG_4071.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What IS this stuff? Calvin ponders snow brought inside and shaken off the dogs' fur.</td></tr>
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The Winter Games have just begun, and we're looking forward to the season.<br />
<br />Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-68531175426301285472012-12-18T08:06:00.000-05:002012-12-31T16:44:34.385-05:00Living TogetherIn the end, it took about six weeks...from kittens hidden away like fairy tale characters in their bathroom safe room, to full-fledged family members roaming amidst the friendly monsters/inhabitants who inhabit the world inside our home.<br />
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<a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2012/12/life-in-pen.html">In my last post</a>, the kittens were spending time inside a pen I set up in our family room. And when the dogs were outside chasing squirrels in the back yard, I would let Elsa Clair and Calvin run around the house; this helped them become familiar with lots of kitty Hidey Places and escape routes.<br />
<br />
By this time, our two babies were such escape artists that there were daily close encounters with the dogs and cats as one or the other of the little fur balls flew over the gate when I opened the bathroom door. The dogs were mostly compuzzled; the cats were a little annoyed. But there was no meanness or chasing from the elder critters, and no fear from the kittens. It was time to let everyone mingle.<br />
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Armed with a squirt bottle in one hand and some treats in my pocket to control dogs and cats, I allowed the kittens the run of the house--well, almost the run. Many of the bedroom doors were closed to restrict their access. Since the kittens knew their way around the rest of the rooms, it made it easy to follow them as they explored and played and kittied here and there.<br />
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<a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/dawn.html">Dawn</a> and <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/athena.html">Athena</a> didn't really Like the kittens. Of course, they are
Cats, and if it wasn't the Cat's Idea to get the kittens (and it was most certainly Not), then they don't like it. They
registered their displeasure with hisses and glares, but eventually got
used to the extra felines in the house. I fed them together, gave them
all treats at the same time, and made sure to pet and give Scratchies to
the elder cats whenever the kittens were around. This may have helped a
bit.<br />
<br />
And while Their Highnesses would probably not willingly admit it, I
think they're starting to like the little black and white Nuisances.
I've seen Athena come bolting through the kitchen with Calvin hot on her
tail. And when nobody is looking, late at night, Dawn and Elsa Clair
sleep next to each other on a furry cloth at the top of the stairs.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vY50xqsbEyU/UM_njqDNXUI/AAAAAAAAJB8/odXvncRQT40/s320/photo-43.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dawn and Elsa Clair sharing a bed. <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/jasper.htm">Jasper</a> looks a tad Worried. But that's Jasper's normal state.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1_mq1mqGSvI/ULwhjw7mSkI/AAAAAAAAI4k/HSJncasvVWc/s1600/IMG_4796.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeding time is happy time. Usually, everyone is in the same positions. Athena and Dawn on either end, and the kittens in the center.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2h_i_XO9h4A/ULwhVOdrSeI/AAAAAAAAI3k/thuUoIBGt2w/s1600/IMG_2945.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Athena grooms Dawn, while Elsa Clair takes notes. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2dUwl-Y9xZw/ULwhd3wfA0I/AAAAAAAAI4I/fNt8Zis65rk/s1600/IMG_3903.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Athena grabs a Secret Sniff of Elsa Clair.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X8tKgYqUFxQ/ULwg5lZo0EI/AAAAAAAAI1Y/shngzhh1vCs/s1600/IMG_1926.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Queen is in residence. A lowly kitten is Not Welcome.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BgN1-ohJ0Gg/ULwhHpokRBI/AAAAAAAAI2c/RiqLoGFyYGM/s1600/IMG_2122.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Athena jumped onto her bed only to discover it was occupied by Elsa Clair. Neither was giving up an inch. The Queen was Not Pleased. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Adlv7u-JCfE/ULwhLg4hG8I/AAAAAAAAI2w/k4qdskNGhCk/s1600/IMG_2613.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin and Athena play Cat Inside the Box. In this case, the CIB was Dawn.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxEcvZqa5Ks/ULwhgUIy-QI/AAAAAAAAI4U/_zlJMmzwQvE/s1600/IMG_3929.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A variation of CIB is Cat Inside the Drum. The kittens are fascinated. I<i> think</i> Dawn was having fun.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ljoyQ9FPuBg/ULwhQ42E-BI/AAAAAAAAI3M/lJ6pPlTRHeM/s1600/IMG_2664.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Athena teaches Elsa Clair and Calvin the finer points of Helping put the groceries away.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7S3cwxIaCUY/ULwhbbM2GEI/AAAAAAAAI4A/Sp999mB-QZM/s1600/IMG_3616.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">During Hurricane Sandy, we took refuge in the basement, where Athena served as referee during a competitive game of foosball between the kittens.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KA-zSJnppJQ/ULwhO9laeXI/AAAAAAAAI3E/NBnLHTxEAQc/s1600/IMG_2648.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dawn demonstrates the Full Meatloaf position to Calvin.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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As for the dogs, the squirt bottle turned out to be mostly unnecessary. I think I only had to use it twice ...mostly a warning shot across someone's bow to make sure they weren't too aggressively nosey with the kittens. Because now that they had access, Jasper, <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/lilah.html">Lilah</a> and <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/tucker.html">Tucker</a> just wanted to Smell them. And by Smell them, I mean stick your nose as far into kitty fur as you can get and Inhale. Deeply. It's a wonder they didn't sniff the kittens right up their nostrils. The dogs could have broke their Sniffers with the amount of of snorting they attempted.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lWZjbt0Dihc/ULwg9vQ9MXI/AAAAAAAAI1s/fh-C8t4eWjE/s1600/IMG_1999.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two dog noses trying to Sniff Elsa Clair. Jasper's head is about the same size as Elsa's entire body, but she doesn't seem to mind. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qNmjyeZMuPM/ULwg13CsGLI/AAAAAAAAI1E/vP4rFMRWexQ/s1600/IMG_1619.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elsa Clair and Jasper nose to nose.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TnLWjji6jhc/ULwg7s9P2NI/AAAAAAAAI1k/4811wsZfiMw/s1600/IMG_1966.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tucker is trying to figure out what could be so interesting about paper in a Box. Calvin is happy to show him.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y7K7QudG7ho/ULwhFmvXosI/AAAAAAAAI2U/cj9fS2whaK4/s1600/IMG_2080.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jasper discovers a potential stowaway in Aaron's luggage. He promises Calvin he won't tell.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Once they got their fill of Sniffs, then it was on to Licks. Actually, that was mostly Lilah. The kittens needed to be Cleaned. Really. She spent the good part of several days hanging around, trying to lick Someone. Didn't matter whether it was Elsa Clair or Calvin. She just want one Lick. Or maybe two. Her Dr. Lilah instincts were so strong, she just had to Lick a Kitten. For the most part, they would walk away from Lilah, or offer a tiny Leave Me Alone hiss. Until one day, she caught Elsa Clair in Sleepy Kitty Mode. That day surely ranks as one of the Top Five for Lilah.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-it4rhndGNL0/ULwg_Ew9PLI/AAAAAAAAI10/2RdGF4ap_x0/s1600/IMG_2002.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lilah gets a Good Sniff of a sleepy Elsa Clair.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-izXg2DH4J2g/ULwhBKuZ-eI/AAAAAAAAI2A/8cLfnkJgaLY/s1600/IMG_2015.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elsa is so comfortable with the dogs around that she just dozes off. And Lilah--Happy Happy Lilah--was able to just lay there and Sniff to her heart's content.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-w1JO7CSD1j8/ULwhDWkniKI/AAAAAAAAI2I/BdIrTBz0fKM/s1600/IMG_2030.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eventually, Calvin joined his sister in the cat bed. And patient, patient Lilah got to Lick Calvin's ears. It was a banner day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Today, four months after Elsa Clair and Calvin came to live with us, peace reigns in our home. Everyone gets along, for the most part, though sometimes there are differences of opinion as in any typical home. But usually those are quickly solved, with few issues. I think the only thing that has ever gotten hurt was Tucker's feelings after his Ball antics had irritated Athena one time too many and she swatted him just for walking by her.<br />
<br />
Everyone tries to respect each other now. With an emphasis on "tries." We're all fallible here--humans, dogs and cats. Nobody's perfect (though I would guess the Dawn and Athena might argue with that.)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H692FCV1nBc/ULwhJgX6FsI/AAAAAAAAI2o/yKhixpdh9ZI/s1600/IMG_2200.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tucker is Worried. Is <i>that</i> where kittens come from? He thought they were dust bunnies. Maybe they're Dust Kittens? We'd better keep the floors swept.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zZeb0Rr662E/ULwhS67tGpI/AAAAAAAAI3Y/kVQwp3K3JKs/s1600/IMG_2692.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dogs may all run to look out the window, but the commotion is not enough to make Elsa Clair and Calvin leave their comfortable bed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P-YgcPxT1cM/ULwhZUZSSMI/AAAAAAAAI30/Dd0t0CSXvck/s1600/IMG_3459.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Favorite Kitten Game: chase the dogs' leashes as we get ready to Go Outside. Lilah and Calvin are having some fun with Chase the Leash here.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical daytime scene: Tucker, Calvin, Athena and Jasper share the couch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical nighttime scene: Jasper, Calvin and Lilah share the couch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I got something on my foot." Calvin curled up on Jasper's foot and fell asleep. Jasper spent about 5 minutes worrying about it; he didn't want to wake up the sleeping kitty. Eventually, he slowly and gently slid his paw out from under him, without a murmur from Calvin.</td></tr>
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<br />Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-46550213891921031772012-12-11T07:49:00.001-05:002012-12-31T16:44:53.435-05:00Life in the PenAs I write this post, I'm sitting on a couch in my family room with two purring cats on my lap and two dogs sleeping soundly on either side of me. It's a peaceful scene, but it didn't happen this way by accident. In <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2012/12/dogs-cats-kittens.html">my last post</a>, I wrote about my first steps in getting all of the animals in the house, including the new kittens, to learn how live together peacefully together.<br />
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When the story left off, the kittens had graduated from their bathroom home to being able to play in Aaron's bedroom, or in our dining room. Gates kept the dogs out, but the cats could climb over and visit, which they did.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin and Elsa Clair in Aaron's room.</td></tr>
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My next step was to set up a pen in our family room. Imagine six gates connected to each other in a hexagonal safe area. The dogs and cats could run free, but the kittens were confined to the pen. This allowed everyone to sniff freely and get used to each other; in particular, it gave the dogs a chance to see the kittens run and pounce in dog territory, but it kept the tiny furballs safe from large paws and running Moose.<br />
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I never thought the dogs would knowingly hurt the kits; I just wanted to make sure there were no accidents, and that the kittens would learn that the dogs are friendly, and wouldn't be afraid of those towering, noisy creatures.<br />
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When I brought the kittens into the pen, I (or another family member) would sit in there with them. Mostly this was because someone or another would try to escape. Remember how Elsa Clair can fly? She'd try that from the pen as well--and she is fast! To keep them amused and distracted--and therefore, theoretically less likely to bold--I would put in one of our horizontal cat scratchers for Elsa Clair and Calvin to play in, on and around. Add a few mousies and other kitty toys and it would keep them busy--for the most part.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O1A4Vuw-C5M/UMPHHf3xXfI/AAAAAAAAI-Q/j3VW0W-yBB0/s320/IMG_1374.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elsa Clair in The Pen.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin lounges in the scratcher.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0dwshDor2Xs/UMPHIiB0mDI/AAAAAAAAI-Y/Q0lphi8VGAw/s320/IMG_1376.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Standing on top of the scratcher, Elsa Clair ponders escape from The Pen.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-v3aIdFrraNc/UMPHGRsJvjI/AAAAAAAAI-I/pmwnOI5oF9w/s320/IMG_1371.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The two kittens play on the scratcher. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/athena.html">Athena</a> is about to reach through the sides of the pen, as Calvin looks on.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DM4tfhhB8c4/UMamljxNoyI/AAAAAAAAJAc/47MPnQ3XNx8/s1600/IMG_1589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DM4tfhhB8c4/UMamljxNoyI/AAAAAAAAJAc/47MPnQ3XNx8/s320/IMG_1589.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin and <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/jasper.html">Jasper</a> have a nose-to-nose moment.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lS1uHSAOMBY/ULwgyMiH97I/AAAAAAAAI0w/MZ-fdxOjgV0/s1600/IMG_1587.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/dawn.html">Dawn</a> looks down on the kittens. Seriously. She looks down on them. The Queen is Not Pleased.</td></tr>
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By now, everyone was getting quite used to everyone else. The dogs were still Very Interested in the kittens and would watch them closely. But eventually, they'd get bored. The same with Dawn and Athena. Though Athena simply didn't like the fact that there was a place she was supposed to stay out of.<br />
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Therefore, it was only a matter of time...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-um8Qc13I9dY/UMPIsfBGSpI/AAAAAAAAI_E/_G-WGiQlqHQ/s1600/photo-23.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-um8Qc13I9dY/UMPIsfBGSpI/AAAAAAAAI_E/_G-WGiQlqHQ/s320/photo-23.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pen,
without kittens. When I left it open after bringing Elsa Clair and Calvin
back upstairs to the bathroom/bedroom, Athena would walk in and own the space. Of course.<br />
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Stay tuned; more cats, dogs and kittens in my next post, where The Walls Come Down!<br />
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<br />Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-12700321020704654692012-12-04T06:50:00.001-05:002012-12-31T16:45:11.040-05:00Dogs + Cats + Kittens = ?When Elsa Clair and Calvin came to live with us, we already had a full house, animally speaking. With three dogs and two cats already, we were adding two kittens, thus tipping the scale toward a cat-house if you count individuals, but we were way ahead in dog, if you count pounds.<br />
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So how do you introduce kittens to a group of animals that have already achieved some kind of balance of power? I had introduced kittens to dogs already; I did that when <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/dawn.html">Dawn</a> and <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/athena.html">Athena</a> joined the family. But I was somewhat clueless about how to bring kittens into a home where cats live.<br />
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It's one thing to read books and Web articles about how to do it--or how others have done it. It's completely different when you're trying to do it yourself.<br />
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So, armed with as much information as I could gather--including advice from people who live with multiple cats, I took a leap of faith. My hope was that the integration of Elsa Clair and Calvin would go faster than with our first two felines, and that there wouldn't be any lasting damage--to relationships (both human and non), to animals, and to our home.<br />
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As mentioned in my earlier post, Elsa Clair and Calvin started out living in our main bathroom. All the comforts two little kitties could want were in there: a couple of beds, a small cat climber, water, litter box, a scratcher and some toys. I visited them often, switching their sleeping blankets out so the other animals could get used to kitten smells. But for the first week or so, nobody saw the kittens in the bathroom. They were nothing more than interesting smells and sounds--perceived only through the bathroom door.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ORgg2_xTX6A/UL1eOH9GmBI/AAAAAAAAI6s/sR-aLbaNZMY/s1600/IMG_0615.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin and Elsa Clair in their bathroom home.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="243" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ovxhglws6lo/UL1eQ5fjz9I/AAAAAAAAI60/BotaMdYsjwY/s1600/IMG_0783.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kittens on one of the interchangeable blankets.</td></tr>
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Every night, when I brought them their last meal of the day, I spent some serious "just us" time with the kitties. I'd sit on their little drum-shaped cat house, and after they had eaten their fill, the two of them would eventually climb up onto my lap, and snuggle into a purring ball of adorable kittenness. I could have stayed there for hours. It was really special bonding time.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_P5slLKJZ5c/UL1lDnD7nZI/AAAAAAAAI8w/HFh8bwFbwf8/s1600/photo-24.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin snuggling up to me in his bathroom home.</td></tr>
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Here's a hint; it's hard to contain kittens. I would say near impossible if they have a mind to bolt. It didn't take the kittens long to realize it was easy enough to zoom out of the room when I opened the door to go in. I solved that problem with a gate in front of the door; I would have to step over the gate to get into the bathroom.<br />
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It only took a day or so for Calvin and Elsa Clair to figure out that they could climb the gate. Here's something else to note: kittens can fly. I swear it. On several occasions, Elsa Clair zipped up the gate and literally flew over the heads and backs of all three dogs who were always accompanying me to the bathroom where the interesting sniffs and sounds were coming from. The little miss would land on the floor behind the dogs and head off down the hall or into the office, often followed by a giant yet gentle Jasper who could not figure out who or what this creature was. <br />
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Eventually, the little purr-balls needed to expand their horizons, and once I felt they were comfortable and settled, I began bringing them to other rooms of the house.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FUW_OLjQIvA/UL1eScOgkfI/AAAAAAAAI68/wxJqawU8gH4/s1600/photo-32.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's a big world out there; Calvin ponders what it's like the Outside the Bathroom.</td></tr>
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We began in Aaron's room. Away at school, Aaron was informed of this decision as the next step in kitty integration. A cat lover, Aaron was cool with it. Now the kittens could play and explore in a larger room.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cxzeDdje3-M/UL1lCB8PFqI/AAAAAAAAI8k/1hwkt-M59nU/s1600/IMG_1502.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kittens played with toys and chased each other around--since they now had more room to run.</td></tr>
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At first, I kept the door closed. I wanted the animals to be able to see each other but not reach each other. And due to Elsa Clair's ability to fly, I knew gates weren't a good solution. Eventually I devised a system with a screen wedged in the doorway, held in place by old <i>Encylcopedia Brittanicas</i>. (I knew they'd come in handy sometime.) So now everyone could watch everyone. And there was quite a lot of watching going on.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nM5uEieX50g/UL1k_dRIAxI/AAAAAAAAI8c/k9P8JrQuFak/s1600/IMG_0876.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lilah and Dawn watch through the screen as Calvin cautiously approaches.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LKKdOq2CvKQ/ULwgtgaKi-I/AAAAAAAAI0c/ZwcCECTAwfA/s1600/IMG_1497.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tucker observes kitty chaos from behind the screen.</td></tr>
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Dawn and Athena most definitely did not like the new kittens and they registered their complaints with the management. There was hissing and growling and feline grumbling. But the cats could not contain their curiosity and they kept coming back for more.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IYOCxIGAOp8/ULwhsLcgY5I/AAAAAAAAI5Q/4Ay9ay3LtPs/s1600/photo-21.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First Elsa Clair, then Calvin figured out how to climb up the bedspread to get to the top of the comfy bed. Here, Elsa relaxes at the summit of Mount Aaronsbed.</td></tr>
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As is true of all cats, Elsa Clair and Calvin were very helpful while I stayed with them in Aaron's room.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g5-4lDp-lWI/UL1k6LNK09I/AAAAAAAAI8M/3KOQyUSGd6s/s1600/IMG_0838.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elsa Clair helped work on my computer.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZSaPx9b8m1M/UL1lFAC-0WI/AAAAAAAAI84/FuTFzkMRb2o/s1600/photo-31.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin helped with the photography.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zw1GwjHTFIQ/ULwgifY7OgI/AAAAAAAAIzw/q_WRW8Vy7aM/s1600/IMG_0872.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elsa Clair dusted the books in the bookcase.</td></tr>
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Eventually, I replaced the screen with a tall gate. This gave the big cats the opportunity to climb over the gate and come into the room--only allowed when I was there to oversee any interactions. Dawn would supervise from a high vantage point, and hiss if Elsa Clair or Calvin came too close. But she wouldn't leave; she had to keep an eye on these small furry pests who had invaded her home.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zNAIGhmqyqA/UL1k83EKmrI/AAAAAAAAI8U/PyC9Ib4maYg/s1600/IMG_0859.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zNAIGhmqyqA/UL1k83EKmrI/AAAAAAAAI8U/PyC9Ib4maYg/s1600/IMG_0859.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Once the kittens got used to Aaron's bedroom, I introduced them to another room--the dining room. This was where Athena and Dawn first were exposed to the dogs; with gates placed at both entrances to the room, the kittens were able to safely explore. The cats could come and go as they pleased, but the dogs were kept out.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8Pgfel-0CKc/ULwgki4A-QI/AAAAAAAAIz4/ZF9O4C4LHYQ/s1600/IMG_1201.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin and Elsa Clair explore the dining room.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zl6dotviG0o/ULwgnCyImgI/AAAAAAAAI0A/zrvqlDdPWyc/s1600/IMG_1217.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lilah and Tucker peer at Calvin through the gate.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ciz5mmyxwcU/ULwhtKlSdgI/AAAAAAAAI5Y/qaUGYXOWM34/s1600/photo-25.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Both kittens are now excellent photographer's assistants.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UJgso4lycsE/ULwgoz20qWI/AAAAAAAAI0I/VH7BCbaAawQ/s1600/IMG_1223.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From a precarious perch on the gate, Dawn considers whether she wants to enter the Kitten Room.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9vwSG-WI7qY/ULwgq6PgbZI/AAAAAAAAI0U/xHYuE4s0zLU/s1600/IMG_1228.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the other gate, Athena ponders the same action.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EdJbY5GsSfE/ULwg329MbII/AAAAAAAAI1Q/uTm7bK7PJCo/s1600/IMG_1622.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Once in the Dining Room of Kittens, Athena is not so sure she likes its current inhabitants. Calvin stays safely out of reach.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As the dogs and cats got used to the kittens, I gave them all more and more time to see and sniff each other. The kittens showed no fear of the dogs, which was awesome. I think they were more concerned about the cats. But things were improving every day; the dogs were less tense around the kittens as they got used to their smells. And there were less and less cat growls mixed in with the hisses.<br />
<br />
We were off to a great start.<br />
<br />
More to come in a future post... <br />
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<br />Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-7513780247207554172012-11-27T07:02:00.000-05:002012-12-31T16:45:26.711-05:00The Continuing Story: Elsa Clair and Calvin Come to Live with Us<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1;">
A few weeks ago, <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2012/10/smitten.html">I introduced our two new kittens, Elsa Clair and Calvin</a>. Unfortunately, the Part II of my story got interrupted by a little ol' hurricane named Sandy (which you can read about in <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2012/11/stormy-weather-sandy-pays-unwelcome.html">Stormy Weather</a> and <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2012/11/sandy-part-2.html">Sandy's Aftermath</a>.) That was followed by Snowstorm Athena (Stay tuned for that entry, still to be written).</div>
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We now return to our story...</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U_YFYDALK_I/UJbIdiq84PI/AAAAAAAAIlA/725QnNUm40w/s1600/IMG_2103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U_YFYDALK_I/UJbIdiq84PI/AAAAAAAAIlA/725QnNUm40w/s1600/IMG_2103.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elsa Clair</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SdQOEQDNvII/UJbIg-FVifI/AAAAAAAAIlI/MgrAPIPEeKk/s1600/IMG_2796.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin</td></tr>
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Tiny black and white balls of fluff and fur, the two kitties
traveled in style to their new home from the vet clinic where I had adopted
them, riding in one of our cat carriers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Having done the research on how to introduce kittens to the current four-legged
inhabitants of our house, I whisked the babies up the stairs and brought them
right into the bathroom safe room I had prepared for them. </div>
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In the bathroom were a litter box, some toys, a blanket, a
soft, circular bed and a curved floor scratcher. I opened the door of the crate
and two curious faces peered out. Within seconds, the two Adorables tumbled
into my home.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--t9SQA78-28/UJbHsSFULpI/AAAAAAAAIkU/l-pyJmXE-64/s1600/IMG_0615.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin and Elsa Clair on the cat scratcher. They slept on it as if it was a bed.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I left them there to adjust and brought the crate downstairs
for all the other creatures to investigate. Which they did. Quite thoroughly.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R_T8UD2v-5o/UJbHpGOXpyI/AAAAAAAAIkM/aGcWXxN9Bto/s1600/IMG_0609.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Athena inspects the crate. It smells like Kitten!</td></tr>
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I spent lots of time with all the other creatures with whom I share my home: the dogs,
<a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/lilah.html">Lilah</a>, <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/jasper.html">Jasper</a> and <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/tucker.html">Tucker</a>, and the cats, <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/dawn.html">Dawn</a> and <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/athena.html">Athena</a>. I left the kittens to
get used to their new surroundings, checking in with them periodically to pet
them and snuggle them and to feed them and get them settled for the night. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Yc2gjw7KXBg/UJbHv9UL68I/AAAAAAAAIkc/mud9EMDbG4c/s1600/IMG_0652.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin and Elsa Clair snuggling together and getting used to their surroundings. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I hadn’t named them yet, so I began to ponder some ideas. I
had picked out names for the original pair of kitties. (If you missed it, r<a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2012/10/smitten.html">ead my last post</a> where you can find about the kittens I thought I was
adopting.) The male was going to be Max, as he reminded me of the troublemaker
Max in the book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Where-Wild-Things-Maurice-Sendak/dp/0064431789"><i>Where the Wild Things</i> are by Maurice Sendak</a>. And the girl cat
just seemed like a Chessie, named after the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chessie_%28railroad_mascot%29">kitty logo for the shipping companyChessie Systems</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those names
belonged to the other cats as far as I was concerned, and I had to start all
over.</div>
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The tiny girl kitty that came home was so thin and
delicate; holding her felt like you were holding a bird in your hands; you could
feel her ribs, and she was so, so light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I starting thinking of black and white birds like the <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=magpie&hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=b9o&tbo=d&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=z8qyUNPYNcy80QHp7IHAAQ&ved=0CAcQ_AUoAA&biw=1080&bih=536">magpie</a> (I could
call her Maggie!). As for the boy: nothing. No ideas. I came up blank.</div>
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In conversations with my daughter, I was describing the new
kittens and talking about black and white birds. I told her about Maggie.
Another option I said was <a href="http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/birds/adelie-penguin/">Adelie, like the penguin</a>. But the cat was so thin, she didn’t look chubby like a penguin and that name just didn’t fit. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that’s when Corinne’s boyfriend Luke
said, “You should name her Claire.” </div>
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Ah yes, the character Claire from the TV show <i>Lost</i> (that
Corinne refers to as the “TV Show That Must Not Be Named” because she was so
angry at the cop-out ending).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
one of the early episodes of the series, when strange animals like polar bears
began appearing out of nowhere, I was convinced that there was a penguin in the
rustling bushes of the jungle. Turned out it was Claire. Thus, our new cat was
not a penguin, so she should be Claire.</div>
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Sounded right. I said I’d think
about it, try it out.</div>
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But the next morning I had other issues to deal with; I woke
up to find nasty messes all over the safe room floor, and it didn’t take long
to realize that the little girl kitty was sick.</div>
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Very sick. Not eating. Diarrhea.
Hunched over. Lethargic.</div>
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She hadn’t been home 24 hours, and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>before I knew it, she was on<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>her way to the emergency animal hospital. </div>
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As I signed her in, they asked me her name. Tears welled up
in my eyes and I said, “She doesn’t even have an official name yet.” I wrote down
Claire, not feeling right about it, but needing to put something.</div>
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Here’s something you learn when you are at the emergency
clinic—whether it’s for a human or a pet. Time can go backwards. Or slow to
stopping. For months—or an hour and a half—I watched little Maybe Claire
breathe and purr. And even though I barely knew her then, I just kept willing
her to be okay. She was too small, too tiny to be so ill. The vets admitted her to the clinic where they assessed her condition and gave her fluids.</div>
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The rest of the weekend passed in a blur. Eventually, I
brought little boy cat (still un-named) to the emergency vet, where I picked up
Maybe Claire and brought them both back to the original vet where I had adopted
them. There, she was nursed back to health, with her brother to keep her
company. We went to visit them on a Sunday morning, bringing a bed and blanket
from home so the kittens would have some familiar smells when they finally came
back to live with us.</div>
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Finally, on Tuesday evening, after tests and xrays and lots
of special food and tons of love, the kitties came home. (The vet didn’t charge
me a nickel for their care; they were only focused on making everyone well, and
felt so bad that Maybe Claire had gotten so sick.)<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div>
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On the way to the vet to pick them up, I was inspired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The boy cat had a mask that reminded me
of Calvin, from the <a href="http://astore.amazon.com/ucomicscom/detail/1449433251">comic strip Calvin and Hobbes</a>. The comic character Calvin
would dress up as <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=stupendous+man&hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=0Ep&tbo=u&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&tbm=isch&source=univ&sa=X&ei=HsyyUJ3CCKGa0QH2mYHgCw&sqi=2&ved=0CD8QsAQ&biw=1080&bih=536">Stupendous Man</a>, with a mask and cape. Thus our little kitty
became Calvin, Stupendous Cat.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dCkFjacFd7k/UJbH0bsIz1I/AAAAAAAAIk4/hO6i2KwHkEc/s1600/photo-37.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin, Stupendous Cat on a jar of sea glass that we use to prop the door open.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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And I had become increasingly unhappy with Claire as a name
for our thin little girl. The Claire of Lost was whiny, and disappears during
the TV series, and maybe dies. (Sorry for any spoilers!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I needed a replacement name, one that
felt stronger. I suddenly remembered the lioness Elsa, from the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Born-Free-Lioness-Two-Worlds/dp/0375714383/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1353895071&sr=1-1&keywords=born+free">book</a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Born-Free-Virginia-McKenna/dp/B0000844M8/ref=sr_1_2?s=movies-tv&ie=UTF8&qid=1353895099&sr=1-2&keywords=born+free">movie Born Free</a>. Elsa was the first
lion raised by humans but taught to live in the wild.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was a strong, loving character. Sold! But somehow, it
didn’t seem right enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </div>
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When I had first considered Claire, I had looked the name up
online. Claire—or more specifically Clair—means “light” in French. Think of the
orchestral piece <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N3iORDe7Mxw">Clair de Lune (moonlight) by <span class="st">Claude Debussy</span></a>. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rz55kU0Z6oI/UJbHxqh3MBI/AAAAAAAAIko/Qlpjzay17es/s1600/photo-29.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elsa Clair on the same jar.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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And then I realized. My strong little kitty, who fought off
her illness, deserved two names. It just seemed right. Take off the “e” in
Clair so she’s not quite named after the character, but more after “light,” and
combine it with Elsa and there you have it: Elsa Clair. Perfect. I hear the
name with a southern accent: “Elsa Clair, what are you doing up there? “Elsa
Clair, leave that alone!”</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div>
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As for Elsa Clair’s health? My best guess is that our little
girl had picked up some little intestinal bug. I think she was thin to begin
with; perhaps her three brothers bullied her a little around the food bowl?
After she was all better and settled back home, both Calvin and one of the big
cats got sick, too, though they both recovered within a day.</div>
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Today, Elsa Clair and Calvin are healthy and energetic.
Calvin outweighs Elsa Clair by quite a bit, but she makes it up for it with the
spunk and Don’t Mess With Me of a lioness.</div>
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<br /></div>
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And I couldn’t imagine having any other cats. These little
furry fuzzheads crawled into my arms and my heart within minutes of my meeting
them. They so obviously chose me. And so obviously were meant to be part of my
family.</div>
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It was simply Meant To Be.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b-1zC8R9fIA/UJbHzC_UqxI/AAAAAAAAIkw/X8mGlV94B48/s1600/photo-32.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's a big world out there. In a future post, I'll write about how the kittens and the other four-legged family members met each other and learned to get along.</td></tr>
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Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-27377635441172906322012-11-13T08:15:00.004-05:002012-12-31T16:46:43.021-05:00Sandy's Aftermath (Part II)In my last post, I wrote about <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2012/11/stormy-weather-sandy-pays-unwelcome.html">Hurricane Sandy</a>, and how the various inhabitants here on the mountaintop weathered the storm.<br />
<br />
We had made it through the night as Sandy come through New Jersey. We lost power at about 7:30 pm, but our generator kicked in and we were able to keep some lights on, and the house stayed warm.<br />
<br />
The next morning, the winds were still going, but had settled in to
a lighter roar. My neighborhood was truly a mess. Trees were down
everywhere, taking power lines and transformers with them, and creating
tangled webs of dangerous wires. Some trees landed on houses and some
crashed down with their branches just brushing the siding or barely
missing cars.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V6dQmQqNmfY/UJr2mYFoHrI/AAAAAAAAIsQ/nIpAkGX_PgA/s320/IMG_3704.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We were very lucky. Our home was barely touched. Here, <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/jasper.html">Jasper</a> and <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/tucker.html">Tucker</a> inspect some of the damage to my potted plants. Did I say we were lucky? Yes, I did.</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KKAn_gytYXs/UJr2kFY8x3I/AAAAAAAAIsE/kQ6n2GpX_gc/s320/IMG_3703.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After the storm. Jasper sits under the relatively safety of the tree. There he's safe from wet grass that might moisten his toes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I took a walk through the woods behind our home. It was amazing to see the number--and the size--of the trees that had been blown down. I would guess that
within a five minute walk diameter of my home, there had to have been at
least 50 trees toppled by Mother Nature. And I'm not talking about your 6-inch trunks.
Think more like decades-old trees one- to two-feet wide. Dozens of feet
tall--the kind that tower over homes in this heavily forested
neighborhood.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Itb7icTGqDs/UJr2hgom8bI/AAAAAAAAIr8/82qTM1Iyixk/s320/IMG_3670.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes trees were simply broken, like this small one. It's hard to imagine the power that snapped this 8-inch trunk like it was a toothpick. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_ZK5lAflsRU/UJr2y2rBE1I/AAAAAAAAItA/0-5mpCPFVS4/s320/IMG_3739.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some trees that were knocked down by the power of the winds were huge, like this one.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OEoNcAslmH8/UJr22XbFfyI/AAAAAAAAItM/iUfO_x5dQHM/s320/IMG_3750.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The park behind our house had paths with markers on the trees. Here, the blue trail (notice the blue marker on one of the fallen trunks) is blocked by fallen trees.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qO82BcVBqm8/UJr242UYsiI/AAAAAAAAItY/pgchTJ6rPvQ/s320/IMG_3755.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking at the uprooted trees, you could almost hear the groans they must have made as they were falling. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
One look and you knew it was going to be a Very Long Time before people had power again.<br />
<br />
Neighbors
on either side of me had trees down--one blocked a driveway. The
neighbor on our right side, Anne, was okay, so together we went and
checked on our elderly neighbors across the street. Luck or something
must have smiled on them because four huge trees had come down in their
yard, just missing their home and their cars.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oN70U56dWuw/UJr2XfdUMSI/AAAAAAAAIrU/tmCnLVUPAQs/s320/IMG_3647.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our next-door neighbor; a large pine tree fell across their driveway.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wO7l7KEKILw/UJr2oUt7U5I/AAAAAAAAIsY/kz6WczqgNKI/s320/IMG_3707.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As this tree blew over, in another neighbor's yard, it took with it metal stripping that had lined their paved driveway.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-32cGYtOjo9o/UJr2aWszZXI/AAAAAAAAIrg/nRgZ-j7Tikw/s320/IMG_3649.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our neighbors across the street were actually lucky. None of trees that came down in their yard hit their house or their cars.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZblByZv8MBQ/UJr2dnyj8pI/AAAAAAAAIro/HrHUTtDu26w/s320/IMG_3658.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some pieces from our roof wound up in our yard, as did shingles from my neighbor's roof. Here is one of the pieces wrapped around a tree.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Brian and
I offered up our home to anyone who needed a place to stay or to get
warm or to power up their electronic devices. We shared stories of what
we heard on the radio, since we had no TV, no internet, no landline
phones.<br />
<br />
If we thought the devastation was real and
scary in our little neck of the woods, it was even worse and more
horrific elsewhere. Areas of New York were flooded--not just the beachy
areas, but Queens, the Rockaways, lower Manhattan. Manhattan under water? This is the stuff of
disaster movies, not reality. The Jersey shore of my youth--where I took
my kids to play in the sand and stroll the boardwalks and play on the
amusement park rides--has been devastated. In some places demolished.<br />
<br />
One
picture that I saw that stays in my mind shows the <a href="http://www.nj.com/ocean/index.ssf/2012/10/seaside_heights_boardwalk_is_heavily_damaged_from_sandy.html">roller coaster from the Seaside boardwalk--in the ocean</a>. The pier where the roller coaster was is no more. It's
gone.<br />
<br />
People lost their homes, their lives. The
flooding from the high tide and the driving wind was unprecedented. And
even though the forecasters said it was going to be bad, I don't think
they could have predicted the enormity of it.<br />
<br />
Fast
forward to two weeks later. Though believe me, the time did not go by fast.
It took us days before we could travel off the mountain. There was only
one road open for most of the first week. Streets were blocked not just by
trees, but by downed wires. Two weeks later and some of my friends and family still did not
have power.<br />
<br />
It's a labor-intensive process to put the power back
on; every tree has to be taken apart carefully, with the PSE&G
(Public Service Electric & Gas, our power company) supervising and
approving to make sure no wires are live. And once the trees are cleaned
up, they need to make sure everything is connected before they turn the
grid section back on. Assuming the substations haven't been flooded or
transformers blown, which was the case in many areas of our town and our
state.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hdDQyfZ_EgQ/UJr2vM7ZSqI/AAAAAAAAIss/nSCEuKNrso4/s320/IMG_3719.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The street we live on looked like this every few hundred yards. It took many days before the roads were all cleared in our neighborhood.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Sometimes they have to turn power off for one area in order to restore power to others. Our electricity has gone down four times since the storm. (Admittedly, that includes power lost due to the snowy nor'easter named Athena that hit our area a little over a week after Sandy. But that's a story for another post.)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kxKSOD97mlA/UKBU4kaKjFI/AAAAAAAAIvU/-dpKhjTJy2U/s320/IMG_3914.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At one point, we lost power again, and our generator didn't kick in like it was supposed to. When Brian got it to function, it started making weird noises. Afraid that something would explode, we shut it off for the night until we could find out if it was safe. By morning, I was wearing a hat and coat and scarf and blanket--and was very happy that Tucker and Jasper wanted to snuggle with me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The whole situation is more than one state can handle. 2.8 million customers lost power in this storm. I've heard it reported that trucks from 36 states across the U.S. have been driven or flown to New Jersey.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A_TnuQa46SQ/UKBVcwwm4uI/AAAAAAAAIwM/d-SEaMNBuL8/s320/IMG_4264.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The church parking lot about a mile from us became a staging area for out-of-state utility workers. These folks were from Missouri. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YQgRadmQQiM/UKBU7F_DpEI/AAAAAAAAIvk/wI7VfwviiXg/s320/IMG_4383.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A common sight. Notice the transformers on the ground. Thousands of transformers were lost from Sandy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OyfqKNSJ29U/UKBU8yhLUPI/AAAAAAAAIvs/ug0-DVmeAMA/s320/IMG_4384.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I grew up in a Philadelphia suburb where Asplundh was a familiar tree service company. Their distinctive orange trucks were easily identifiable. It was a little weird seeing them here in New Jersey.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
JCP&L (the other power company in the state) reported several days ago that they had removed 45,000 trees just to get to power lines. Now, I'm no statistician, but JCP&L served about 2/3 of the customers that were affected. If that many trees had to be cut up and removed by just them--and they weren't even halfway through the fix-up--and at most maybe 1 in 10 trees knocked down took out wires, I think I could safely say that NJ lost a million trees in the storm. At least. Ouch.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fMtQYP8nrxU/UJr2rnnLqwI/AAAAAAAAIsk/BpHh212A2_k/s320/IMG_3716.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Repeat this scene over and over again and you can begin to have a picture of what it was like across New Jersey.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
With power gone, and thousands of people using gas generators, and gas stations with no electricity and the entire gas supply chain knocked out in myriad ways--from shipping to refineries to distribution and beyond--the next issue was getting gas. Within days, there were mile-long lines at gas stations,
as people tried to power their generators and go places where they can plug in and be warm. Police were stationed in any open gas station to prevent altercations; it wasn't long before our governor began a gas rationing system. Even with that, it was several days before the supply loosened up and we didn't have to make decisions on whether to "spend" our precious gas to get anywhere--to work, to the store (if it was even open), to a diner to eat a warm meal.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v2bIt0KqrZA/UJr2wsFSgtI/AAAAAAAAIs4/sOefrQQsG3U/s320/IMG_3727.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Long lines at the gas stations--lines for cars trying to fill up, and lines for people with their ubiquitous red gas cans trying to get fuel for their generators.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WZUrtBZt3pU/UKBU1dgDpFI/AAAAAAAAIvE/SrtTqcc9sPI/s320/IMG_3734.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Since we had power, and our office didn't, I was able to work from home. A co-worker joined me, and the dogs and cats made sure we focused--on working and giving them snuggles and pets. In this picture, if you look carefully, you can see Elsa on a chair in the rear, Calvin on a chair in the front, and Jasper hanging out under the table.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This whole experience of being part of a major disaster--and being one of the extremely lucky ones who didn't get hurt or lose a home to falling trees, fires or flood (thank you generator)--has made me realize that I didn't have a clue about other disasters. I think about Katrina. Haiti. The tsunami that hit Japan. The media cover those events for a while and then other news took over. And maybe you hear or read a story one month or one year later. For the people in those areas, recovery isn't measured in weeks, but in years.<br />
<br />
And, as they say, the devil is in the details, and there are so many things you don't think about.<br />
<br />
The people in lower Manhattan who live in buildings where the basements have flooded, and therefore there is no power. No power means no elevators. This is a problem if you live on the 27th floor. And maybe you're told your building won't be livable for the next 3 weeks or 3 months. Because they can't get the contractors or the parts to fix the problem--because there are 34 other buildings in the same situation. Where do you go? Where do you stay? You can break your lease, but then you can't move your furniture down 27 floors without an elevator. And then, how do you go to work?<br />
<br />
Which is another story, because so much of New York's transportation system shut down. Subway tunnels were flooded. Some of the main car and truck tunnels into the city were also flooded. The same is true in New Jersey. Two weeks after the storm, and New Jersey Transit still has limited service in many areas. You simply can't get places you used to be able to. Hour-long commutes become two or three hours--each way. <br />
<br />
And then there are folks like my neighbors who don't have city water; well water requires a pump, and without electricity, they don't have water. We helped them out by giving them buckets and jugs of water--and leaving our water hose hooked up to the front of the house so they could get water any time they needed it.<br />
<br />
Schools were closed here for over a week. Some schools still haven't opened, and in some cases, classes have begun, but in different buildings. One school system has middle school students sharing the high school in shifts: middle school in the mornings, high school in the afternoons until 6:00.<br />
<br />
The whole disaster has shown how important a reverse 911 or text messaging system is so critical to communication. How do you tell people what is going on and where they need to go for help if they don't have power. No power means no TV, radio or internet--unless you have a smart phone, until it runs out its battery. And with the gas shortage, where can people go?<br />
<br />
Last Tuesday, when everyone went to the polls to vote for President (and others), here in New Jersey, we had to figure out where to go. Our voting location changed because it had no power. And the one we finally wound up at turned out to be powered by generators. I guess it's no wonder that this year's voter turnout in New Jersey may have been the lowest on record.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fSVBpLR-2ts/UKHHOVBVj6I/AAAAAAAAIxU/l5RrwXp7spo/s320/photo+3-3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lighting by generator outside the polling place on election day. My son Aaron (in the picture) voted for the first time in this election; it will be quite memorable for many, many reasons.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Last week, several New Jersey and New York musicians including
Bruce Springsteen, Jon Bon Jovi and Billy Joel held a telethon to
benefit the victims. I texted REDCROSS to 90999 to <a href="http://www.redcross.org/hurricane-sandy">support the cause</a>.
But I can tell you, it was the weirdest thing to see a telethon to
benefit my state, my neighbors, my city and the Jersey shore of my
memories.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UXTMviLl3FE/UJr260_MAuI/AAAAAAAAItg/7W-XsSk3cEg/s320/IMG_3771.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elsa Clair encourages everyone to <a href="http://www.redcross.org/hurricane-sandy">donate to the Red Cross</a>. We've seen them around town and heard wonderful things about how much they're helping.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In all of this, I was able to get to know my
neighbors better, as we all pulled together to help each other, offering
whatever we could to those who needed anything. We all watched out for
each other. And that was a very good thing.<br />
<br />
We'll
recover. Things won't ever be the same, but we'll recover. And we'll
have made new friends and strengthened bonds along the way.<br />
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Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-31271656000637743832012-11-09T07:27:00.000-05:002012-12-31T16:01:55.486-05:00Stormy Weather: Sandy Pays an Unwelcome Visit (Part I)I think you would probably have to be living under a rock these days to not have heard about Hurricane Sandy or Superstorm Sandy or whatever you call the monster storm that hit the east coast of the U.S. in the last week of October. It was, the weather forecasters told us ahead of time, a recipe for disaster. Take one nasty hurricane, add a nor'easter, sprinkle in a cold front and stir with a backwards jet stream. Cook slowly with a full moon to create an ultra high tide. And hunker down.<br />
<br />
(The last time we got hit by a hurricane was Irene in 2011; feel free to read my post on the <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2011/09/battening-down-hatches-hunkering-down.html">battening and hunkering</a> we had to do back then and the <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2011/09/after-irene.html">post about how we weathered the storm</a>, which was only a little over a year ago.)<br />
<br />
We knew it was going to be bad when Jim Cantore of The Weather Channel showed up in Battery Park in the lower tip of Manhattan. He only goes where they expect the worst weather to happen. Jim Cantore and Mike Seidel. Mike showed up on the Jersey coast. When you see them in your neighborhood, you know you're in for it.<br />
<br />
So it wasn't too surprising that Sandy hit New York and New Jersey very hard.<br />
<br />
During the storm, which began in earnest on Monday, October 29 and lasted through the next day, we spent most of the daytime in the basement. It was the first time the kittens were down there, so for them it was mostly fun and games and exploration.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VKy8CKH-ZUU/UJr2OOIPJ3I/AAAAAAAAIq0/GpnT8rNh7BU/s320/IMG_3611.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How do kittens while away the time while in the basement? By playing Foosball. Of course.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The wind kicked up as the day went on, and by evening the wind really was howling. I would take the dogs outside to do their business and I kept looking up at the sky and wondering why jets were still flying--and so low that I could really heard their engines. And then it dawned on me. The sound wasn't from airplanes; it was the wind. That loud. Really.<br />
<br />
The dogs weren't happy. It was loud and wet. And blowy. Not fun to play in. They kept looking at me as if to say, "Turn it off already!"<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P46oJye6KFU/UJr2K2DYX6I/AAAAAAAAIqk/kd18q-7JUww/s320/IMG_3565.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/jasper.html">Jasper</a> and <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/tucker.html">Tucker</a>: It's raining! We're getting wet! Let us in already!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BtG-pJQ_8Tw/UJr2U1RWm8I/AAAAAAAAIrM/uH17cioF2Xw/s320/IMG_3642.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even when the rain let up a bit, Tucker and Jasper weren't that happy with the nasty winds.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-od67j0a5_Do/UJr2MRPc3KI/AAAAAAAAIqs/dYpXO7cq8D0/s320/IMG_3569.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A wet <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/lilah.html">Lilah</a> didn't mind wind or rain.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I always thought hurricanes meant lots of rain. But this was really a wind event. We would get bands of rain with serious downpours now and again, but it was the blowing, thrashing wind that showed Mother Nature's power to us.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gh0zaQWyER8/UJr2Ihwf_dI/AAAAAAAAIqc/tDWGKA5wRWs/s320/IMG_3554.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pine siskins attempted to shelter from the winds by clinging to the side of our large maple tree. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uaKxHmMlPeg/UJr2fgEo8AI/AAAAAAAAIr0/o6A0hDnSWyg/s320/IMG_3666.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Strong winds shredded leaves from the trees and plastered them against the house. Jasper didn't care; he just wanted to get inside where it's warm and dry.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GkM4eiPdqvU/UJr2RJGgw8I/AAAAAAAAIrA/SPD-KL7I67c/s320/IMG_3624.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the midst of it all, <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/athena.html">Athena</a> slept right next to the windows as the wind rattles the panes. She barely twitched a whisker.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
By nighttime, the winds were getting stronger. You could hear it even within the safety of our home. The dogs and cats and kittens, for the most part, ignored the storm. You could tell Lilah wasn't very happy as she stuck a little closer to me when the winds were bad. And every once in a while, a gust came through that made everyone perk up their ears and brace for something. But nobody was panicking or hiding...except for maybe <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/dawn.html">Dawn</a>, but she Hides all the time; it's her hobby.<br />
<br />
At 7:30, the power went out. I would say we are lucky enough to have a generator, but we have a generator because two years ago we were very unlucky; an ill-timed storm caused us to lose power, and our battery back-up sump pumps couldn't keep up with the rain. We lost a lot of what we had stored in our basement from the resulting flood. It took us months to pick up the pieces; the silver lining was we were able to put the insurance money toward finishing the basement, and most important, installing a generator that is hooked up to our natural gas line.<br />
<br />
That last part is real important: the generator is hooked up to our natural gas line. Which means when the power goes out, the generator automatically starts up. And keeps going. We don't have to fill it with gas. All we have to is check the oil if it runs for more than five days. Which one always hopes never happens.<br />
<br />
We invited our neighbor over to spend the evening with us, and we spent the evening with our generator providing light and warmth--and power to the pumps. At one point, a particularly vehement gust shook the house. We halted our conversation and looked at each other, wide-eyed. When we started breathing again--not realizing at first that we had been holding our breaths--I could feel the adrenaline pounding through me. We all did. It felt like we had been brushed by something unbelievably powerful.<br />
<br />
Later that night, we put the cats and kittens in the basement, as it was one of the safest rooms in the house--and the one most likely to stay closed and untouched if a tree landed on our roof. And my husband and I slept (make that "attempted to sleep") in my son's vacant room, along with the dogs, figuring it was furthest from the giant tree in our backyard, and hopefully less likely to be damaged.<br />
<br />
It was a Very Long Night.<br />
<br />
In my next post, I'll write about the aftermath of Sandy. <br />
<br />Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4704732259871165381.post-22900020149344964072012-10-16T08:00:00.000-04:002012-10-17T23:12:25.520-04:00SmittenSome people are dog people.<br />
<br />
And some people are cat people.<br />
<br />
As for me, I am animal people. I love 'em all.<br />
<br />
When I was a little girl, I wanted to be like Dr. Dolittle. I wanted to live in a house full of animals. (Before there was the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dr._Dolittle_%28film%29">Eddie Murphy movie</a>, there was <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doctor_Dolittle_%28film%29">Rex Harrison in a musical</a>. And before that, a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dr._Dolittle">series of books by Hugh Loftig</a>.) <br />
<br />
Then I wanted to be <a href="http://www.ted.com/speakers/jane_goodall.html">Jane Goodall</a>. Or <a href="http://gorillafund.org/dian_fossey/">Diane Fossey</a>. And live with animals in their homes.<br />
<br />
Or maybe <a href="http://www.koko.org/foundation/penny.html">Penny Patterson</a>, who works with <a href="http://www.koko.org/world/">Koko</a>, the gorilla who speaks American Sign Language.<br />
<br />
Today, I work in a web consulting firm. And I work with humans all day.<br />
<br />
And then I come home to my husband and my three dogs and my two cats. <br />
<br />
Um.<br />
<br />
Make that four cats.<br />
<br />
Though technically, two are cats and two are kittens.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-roEZ2P7K5Lw/UHnSK1V2vNI/AAAAAAAAIbk/ShL7Pdjdzwo/s320/IMG_0772.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Elsa Clair...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6jn1FVAfArw/UHnSJQA6yrI/AAAAAAAAIbc/wlRSCijOxHk/s320/IMG_0769.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and Calvin.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
How, you may ask, did I wind up with two new additions to my menagerie?<br />
<br />
Good question.<br />
<br />
I should probably make up a story, because what really happened doesn't make a heck of a lot of sense. But the truth is probably more entertaining.<br />
<br />
Let's begin in August, as poor <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/p/jasper.html">Jasper</a>--once again--wound up at the vet having surgery relating to his anal sac removal many months ago. (Feel free to read his <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2012/03/spoiler-alert-dog-is-okay.html">happy</a> <a href="http://www.completewithdogs.com/2012/03/patient-jasper.html">story</a>.) When I dropped him off that day, there were some adorable kittens in a cage in the waiting room.<br />
<br />
Of course they were adorable. They were kittens.<br />
<br />
And I was in a particularly vulnerable moment. Dog heading for surgery. Aaron, my youngest child, was about to leave for college.<br />
<br />
And I walked over to the cage and this adorable (of course) black and white kitten jumped up onto a shelf, purred, and rolled over onto his back. And then he stuck his paw through the bars of the cage and said, "Rub my belly." At least, that's how I remember it.<br />
<br />
I was, as they say, smitten.<br />
<br />
Later, when I went to pick up Jasper after his surgery, I took Aaron with me to help. Aaron loves cats. He's a cat person. And he saw the same kitten, who put on a similar I Am Adorable show. And of course Aaron fell in love, too. And started lobbying me to get the kitty.<br />
<br />
We went home, where I took care of Mr. Jasper, who needed my attention. I did, I'll admit, drag Brian back to the vet the next day to visit the kittens. Yes, that was plural. Kittensssssss. <br />
<br />
Because there were two black and white kitties. Brother and sister. And the nice people at the vet (who could spot an animal sucker...er lover...a mile away) thought I should look at both. Maybe they could go to a home together?<br />
<br />
They were adorable. (They were kittens, right?) Brian agreed. Who wouldn't?<br />
<br />
And then we went back home and I played nurse and doctor to Jasper.<br />
<br />
I hadn't planned on having any more pets. I had told everyone I was full up with a complete set of three dogs and two cats. And I could never have more cats than dogs.<br />
<br />
Plus, my daughter had told me she'd call an intervention if I ever considered taking in more animals.<br />
<br />
But I couldn't stop thinking about whether we should adopt the two kittens. Because by then I had realized that adopting two was actually easier, and better for all involved, than adopting one. The kittens could amuse each other when I wasn't home...and they wouldn't annoy the older cats quite as much.<br />
<br />
Somehow I had gone from No More Pets to Just Two More.<br />
<br />
After much pondering and discussions with my incredibly loving and tolerant husband, I was leaning heavily toward the "we should really do this" side. So that Sunday night, I filled out an application and sent an email to the adoption organization (which was connected through the vet clinic), saying I was interested, and that I'm sending the application in, but Jasper was still recovering and my son was going to college in a couple days and I couldn't make a final decision until after the dog was better and the boy was delivered to NJIT.<br />
<br />
The next day, Brittany (from the adoption group) called and said the kitties were mine if I wanted them. I repeated my Not Now story, and told her if someone else wanted them, not to wait on me. And that I would know by Thursday, and if I decided to adopt them, I'd call by the end of the week.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to Friday. Aaron was safely ensconced at college. The house was quiet. Brian had agreed to go with my decision, whatever it was. (Bless that man!) And I decided I was going to bring home the kittens!<br />
<br />
I called the vet's office and asked if the two black and white kittens--the brother and sister--were still available for adoption. They were. So after work, I ran out and bought a few kitten items--a bed, some kitten food, an extra litter box--and some toys and treats for the cats and dogs, and I was off to pick up our new additions.<br />
<br />
I walked in to the vet's office near closing time, and one of the techs brought out the little girl cat first. She was so tiny, like a bird. And then Brittany came out with the boy cat.<br />
<br />
Wait a minute. Didn't the male have a patch of black fur on his chin? This cat didn't.<br />
<br />
With a sinking feeling, I suddenly realized: These were not the kittens I was looking for.<br />
<br />
(It felt like a twisted Star Wars moment.)<br />
<br />
Apparently, one of the vets had felt sorry for the other two kittens and had adopted them. And these two were a different set of black-and-white brother-and-sister kitties.<br />
<br />
Right. So, what do I say? I don't want these kittens? These are not the ones I wanted?<br />
<br />
They were still...say it with me...adorable.<br />
<br />
So without any pressure (really, truly), Brittany asked me if I wanted to spend some time and meet these guys and decide if maybe I might want them instead.<br />
<br />
So I spent about a half hour with them. And they were sweet and friendly and (you guessed it) adorable.<br />
<br />
The office was closing, and I thought, I'm just going to do this. Maybe those other kittens weren't meant to be mine. The boy cat was rubbing in and out of my legs, and the little girl was getting all kitty sleepy and tired and snuggly and loving.<br />
<br />
So I brought them home.<br />
<br />
And that's how Elsa Clair and Calvin came to live with us.<br />
<br />
There's a lot more to the story...so stay tuned for the next several posts, where I'll write about their first few days with us, and how the other animals in our household interact with them.<br />
<br />
And there will be plenty of pictures.<br />
<br />
Plenty. <br />
<br />
Here are just a few, for starters, so you can get to know the kittens.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Elsa Clair</b><br />
Elsa Clair is the smaller of the two. She is named after Elsa, the lioness in the famous book (and movie) Born Free. She is sweet and gentle, but with a very loud vice and some serious hunting skills. She's easy to recognize, as she has a half mask on her face, and her body has large black splotches like a cow.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NJJJZ78wDPA/UHnSWoXidWI/AAAAAAAAIc8/sDZpZy0somA/s320/photo-35.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Sweet Elsa</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0uQ-PQMfQx8/UHnbQqN7YPI/AAAAAAAAId8/CV3ITQ1aaPQ/s1600/photo-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0uQ-PQMfQx8/UHnbQqN7YPI/AAAAAAAAId8/CV3ITQ1aaPQ/s320/photo-29.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny Elsa</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lDIbF8WyKZE/UHnSV4sez-I/AAAAAAAAIc0/qHLHMVeVMi0/s320/photo-21.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty Elsa</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-05Pt7i0D8IA/UHnSRV8C3iI/AAAAAAAAIcM/cbVEJCB2WnM/s320/IMG_2103.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gorgeous Elsa</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Calvin</b><br />
If you've ever read the comic strip Calvin and Hobbes, then you can guess who Calvin is named after. For those who are familiar, you might remember that the young boy in the strip sometimes dresses up as Stupendous Man; in that character, Calvin wears a mask and a cape. Our Stupendous Cat Calvin also has a mask--and the fur on his back is all black, like a cape. The larger of the two kittens, Calvin has a smaller meow, but he is full of personality.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMU9SZSXGUE/UHncvOW1UxI/AAAAAAAAIeE/YvPPz_IiTio/s1600/photo-37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMU9SZSXGUE/UHncvOW1UxI/AAAAAAAAIeE/YvPPz_IiTio/s320/photo-37.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tall Calvin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-unADNXrCayQ/UHnSMN1_26I/AAAAAAAAIbs/x67dQjWwwKE/s320/IMG_0833.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Serious Calvin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vb4RDEXeNiM/UHnSNU26vSI/AAAAAAAAIb0/giHP0HPRX5o/s320/IMG_1204.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="213" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stupendous Calvin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-StLJx6sCbno/UHnSS4xjR1I/AAAAAAAAIcc/Dj-9EDbN4B4/s320/IMG_2796.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Curious Calvin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The two kittens love to play to together. And quite obviously love one another.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yhX-aJ1MoSM/UHne0EVnXuI/AAAAAAAAIeY/ECkmQVfGZpE/s1600/IMG_1371.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yhX-aJ1MoSM/UHne0EVnXuI/AAAAAAAAIeY/ECkmQVfGZpE/s320/IMG_1371.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Playing together</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BoTrblRjxoE/UHnSP4i9RzI/AAAAAAAAIcE/grG8Sc4miEI/s320/IMG_2057.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sleeping together</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And just for the record: <br />
<br />
I'm no Dr. Dolittle.<br />
<br />
And I swear I'm not a crazy cat lady. Or delusional dog lady.<br />
<br />
But I am an animal lover.<br />
<br />
Who just happens to live with four cats and three dogs...or, to put it another way: 150 pounds of dogs and 20 pounds of cats.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xav6B9dyJWU/UHnSUoPyb4I/AAAAAAAAIco/0esTJlNK3kU/s1600/IMG_2806.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xav6B9dyJWU/UHnSUoPyb4I/AAAAAAAAIco/0esTJlNK3kU/s320/IMG_2806.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snuggly siblings</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Life with Dogs and Catshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15968596185347365817noreply@blogger.com0