Category Archives: Animals

Confessions of a Bitchy Angel

Confessions of a Bitchy Angel

I thought about ranting about the lowlife who dumped a helpless, unhealthy puppy at my mailbox this afternoon.  I realize, though, that the people who understand how vile of an act that is don’t need to be preached to, and the scum buckets who carelessly abandon animals don’t really care how upset I get over it.

So I’ll let sleeping dogs lie on that subject…at least for today.  Even though the sleeping dog is unable to stand, is covered in fleas and bloody scabs from all the bites, and has a giant extended belly from the intestinal worms, I’ll go ahead and let it lie.

Next subject.

I have wonderful friends.  Tonight, as I was sharing photos of Annabelle (the name Steve christened the abandoned Beagle with), many people made kind statements about my big heart, and what an angel I am, and how lucky Annabelle is to have found our house.

Bull hockey.  Or is it horse pucky?  Maybe just a crock of crap.

I pulled in to the driveway tonight about 6:30 after a long day that had started 14 hours earlier.  Since it would have been impossible to not see the immobile dog sprawled out next to my mailbox, front paws on the road, I assumed said pup was not there when my husband arrived home just a few minutes before I did.

I approached the little Beagle slowly, not wanting her to bolt into the road.  Not to worry, she was in no condition to “bolt”.  Or walk.  She couldn’t even stand up without tipping over.  Oh, goody.

I was not an angel at this moment.  I was pissed off.  Not at the dog, of course, but certainly at the situation.  I already had 2 stray cats that had shown up in the past couple of weeks, one of them being extremely young, in poor health, and needing a fair amount of rehab work.

So, the first thought that came out of the big hearted angel (Yours Truly), was not exactly reminiscent of St. Francis of Assissi.

“I don’t have time for this.”

Pick up the dog.  She’s lethargic.

“I need more vet bills like I need a hole in my head.”

She’s covered in fleas.

“I am not bringing this flea ridden animal into my house.”

Her belly is hugely extended.  Worms, no doubt.

“I am not doing this.  I have 3 dogs and a sick kitten.”

She cannot stand.  She’s completely head shy.

“Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit.”

“I just want to eat dinner and watch Big Bang Theory.”

I ring the doorbell, which I never do.  I don’t want to walk in with this puppy, because the other dogs will be jumping and carrying on, and I don’t know if she’s sick.

Steve opens the door and says “No f*@#%ing way.  Are you kidding me?”

He’s angry too.  Not at me, of course, and not at the puppy.  He’s ticked off at the situation.  Thank God I married a man who is so in sync with me.

I’m no angel, and Annabelle could have landed a much better mailbox to be abandoned at.   We will do our best to get her healthy and into a good home…..a different home. ( I am *not* keeping this dog.)  I am going to cuss and complain about flea bombing my house, and the chunk of change I’ll be dropping at the animal supply store and veterinary office.  Just don’t confuse me with a kind hearted hero.  I’m doing what I believe is the right thing, but I’m doing it in an annoyed state, not with a warm and fuzzy heart.

On the bright side, at least I won’t break an ankle from falling off a pedestal.



Goodnight, Precious Girl

Goodnight, Precious Girl

I am not a talented enough writer to adequately describe the heart and soul of our Great Dane, Echo.  I’ve written of her in other posts; the adventures, the craziness, the health issues, the uncontrollable urge to eat food not meant for dogs.

She is the gentlest giant I’ve ever been around.  Seven grandchildren have used her as a pillow, a dress up doll, and a protector from the dark.  When we brought hatchling chickens home to populate our new hen house, she laid prone on her side and let them nestle against her, climb over her, and use her for warmth.193137_10150115315733879_85528_o

Those giant, expressive brown eyes have persuaded me to give up my blanket, share my dinner, upgrade to a King size mattress so there was room for her, and rearrange my work station so that she could keep her head in my lap.  Children are drawn to her everywhere she goes, even those that are on edge around dogs.  She always welcomes other dogs into her circle, respecting the older ones and romping like a giant rabbit with energetic puppies.


She loves a good car trip, stretching out as much as she can for drives to Florida or Canada.  She’s a water dog, and it’s impossible not to laugh at how much she looks like an otter when she swims.  She has an obsession with deer, and nothing puts a spring in her step like seeing one dart into the woods and giving chase after them.  I’ve always wondered if she just thinks they’re dogs too, leggy like she is.


Mostly, though, she is a couch potato.  She loves to lounge, to cuddle, to nap, to snuggle, to stretch, to snore.  She has this look about her as if to communicate that it is just exhausting to be as beautiful, as big, and as regal as she is.  She defines beauty sleep.  It always surprises me when people think Echo is a “he”.  She has such a girly air about her, as well as an endless supply of pink collars.  If she were human, she’d be Cleopatra, with humans feeding her bacon while she stretched out on her favorite blanket.


She is a perfect dog for this family.  She is an excellent companion for Moose, a great teacher for Pickle, and for her humans, she is a dependable source of comfort and loyalty.  If I’m ill, she doesn’t leave my side until Steve forces her outside.  While many people use “baby talk” when speaking to their pets, Echo somehow coaxes more of a “cooing” from her humans.  Oh, and she winks.  She’s a big winker, and it always makes me laugh.

echo misses george

********************************************************************************************************************************************* All of this was written last night, as my whimpering dog lay across my lap trying to sleep.  I petted her, cooed to her, and tried to comfort her as she struggled to stand up, finally giving in to emptying her bladder where she lay; not something my dignified beauty is used to.  Moose tried to lick her face, and she growled and snapped at him.  That was a first.  The other dogs kept their distance.  This morning, I called the vet, and off we went.  We talked it over, we looked at options, and I made the decision to end the pain.  Today, the Rainbow Bridge had a beautiful, elegant, sweet, loyal princess cross over it.  I sat on the floor with her in my lap one last time in the exam room, with my daughter by my side being brave for me, and we hugged her neck and cooed to her for the last time as she drifted away.

We are all so lucky to have had these years with her.  I will always be grateful.  I hope I made the correct decision today.  I talked to Echo about it for a long time during the night, and while it may just be my mind creating my own comfort, I think she gave me the go ahead.

Rest well, sweet girl.  You have certainly left your mark on all of your humans.


Deja Vu Chew Spew

Deja Vu Chew Spew

Long ago, when our sweet Moose  was a puppy, he had issues with separation anxiety.  The culmination of that was The Day Moose Ate The House.  On that one fateful day, while left alone for 6 hours, my dear dog ate 2 sofas down to the frame, the corners off of the end tables and coffee tables, a 3 x 3 area of linoleum in the laundry room, the subfloor under said linoleum, and every piece of paper within reach.  Oh, in order to do that, he first ate through the drywall and door frame of the dog enclosure.  The story is now legendary, and it’s absolutely true.

It was a rather stressful day, but we got over it.  Steve doesn’t cope well with things like this.  Accidents on the carpet, a chewed up shoe, running inside with muddy paws, or, worse, after a joyous roll in some other animal’s excrement…..these types of things put Steve in a bad mood.  I’m usually a little more philosophical.  I tend to focus on how much we’ll laugh about it someday, and how we needed redecorating anyway.  You’d think Steve would appreciate being surrounded by such a positive attitude, but it tends to aggravate him more.

With time and attention, Moose got over his affliction, and he now has the title of Best Dog Ever.  That’s why we got a new German Shepherd puppy 6 months ago, so that Moose could teach her how to be a dog in our house.  The new pup, named Pickle for reasons I don’t really remember, is learning quickly from Moose.

Maybe too much.

We came home tonight after a brief outing to run errands, and were immediately reminded of what it means to have a young dog in the house.  Steve was the first one in the door, and when I heard him bellow “What in hell is THIS?!?”, I knew we were in trouble.

The Best Dog Ever was on the couch, looking helpless.  My initial thought was “Woo Hoo, there’s still a couch!  It could be worse!” but my mind was not quite comprehending what I was seeing.

Towels on the floor.

Some sort of explosion of liquid?

A very happy Pickle.

A label from a 2 liter bottle of…….root beer?

Clear plastic bits strewn about.

Oh my word.

Pickle had become bored with the expensive toys that we’ve littered the house with, and decided to chew on some bath towels.  OK, not disastrous.

At some point, she decided to use a bottle of root beer as a chew toy.  So it got shaken up as she was playing with it.  I’m guessing there was some real pressure built up before that first tooth punctured through the plastic.  The ensuing spewage of root beer must have made it more fun as she tossed it all through the living room, dining room, and kitchen.

When I *want* soda to retain its carbonation, it goes flat in a day.  Leave a bottle of leftover root beer from Christmas somewhere that a dog can get to it, and it’s as fresh and fizzy as the day it left the factory!pickleFeb2013

Lines of sticky brown liquid along the oak floor…..making bizarre patterns on the carpet….on the kitchen island cabinets…..the walls……French doors…..bookshelves.  I never realized how much liquid 2 liters really is.  It was like an indoor water gun fight if the water guns were full of root beer soda.

Tonight Steve is annoyed.   Tomorrow we’ll rent a carpet cleaner.  By Thanksgiving we’ll be laughing about it.  I know it could have been much worse, since I still have a couch to sit on as I type this.  Makes me wish we had video surveillance.  How much is the grand prize on that funny home video show these days, anyway?