The meaning of M.U.T.T.

Dudley wasn’t sure how many weeks he’d been in the animal shelter, but it seemed like forever. Each day was the same as the one before and he spent most of his time sitting on the wooden palette in his pen, staring at the wall and waiting for dinner. His life with his former owners, brief though it was, hadn’t been great - he wasn’t loved or wanted - but even that was better than this, he thought.

He occupied himself by watching a fly on the wall until he heard some of the other dogs barking a greeting to the old bloodhound Humphrey, as he made his morning rounds. Behind his back the others called him “Harrumphrey,” because of his habit of “harrumph!-ing” whenever anything displeased him, which was most of the time.

Humphrey was the mascot of the shelter, allowed to roam the building as he pleased, and he slept overnight in the office. He’d lost a hind leg years ago when a nearsighted hunter couldn’t tell the difference between a bloodhound and a deer, so the shelter staff didn’t have to worry about him wandering very far.

To love another

Your eyes, so bright,

Your lick, so dear,

Your heart, so loyal,

Yet these, I fear. 

A life so vibrant,

A bond so true!

How could I survive

the loss of you?

Your fur, so sleek,

Your gait, so spry,

Your years, so measured,

and more perfect than I. 

Healthy Pumpkin Cookies

• 1½ cups whole wheat flour
• 1 ½ cups unbleached flour
• 2 tablespoons dry milk
• 1/2 cup oatmeal
• 1 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1 teaspoon dry yeast
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1/2 cup water
• 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
• 1/2 cup canned pumpkin

 

1. Place all the ingredients in your bread maker and set it for the dough cycle.
2. When the dough is done, remove it and roll it into 1/4-inch thick sheets.
3. Use bone-shaped cookie cutters, or a pizza cutter to cut the dough into squares or diamonds.
4. Place the dog cookies on a lightly greased pan, and let them rise for an hour.
5. Bake the dog treats for 45 minutes to an hour, at 275 degrees F.
6. Turn off the oven, and let the cookies continue to dry overnight in the oven. In the morning, they will be hard and crisp. And they will keep well, stored in an airtight container, at room temperature, for about 30 days. 

(Jim Willis;

Author’s note:

“Use your bread machine to mix the dough, or your mixer with a dough hook, or mix by hand.”)

*****

I would like to thank Jim Willis for his kind permission to publish his writings on my blog.

Also I would like to thank Gabi Stickler for her kind permission to publish her photos on my blog. You can find more of her great photos here.

On this day a child was born ...

No - not HIM - that was 3 days ago (how much eggnog have you had?). My child. My last and final furkid (please God), Manfred Albrecht Freiherr von Richthofen, a.k.a. The Red Baron.

 

The Baron is 3 years old today. He and his "siblings" are getting a special dinner (Rahmen noodles for me, although I don't think their chicken flavour has ever met a chicken).

 

I have survived 4 months with The Baron, who I adopted 5 weeks after my beloved Pomeranian "Dandy Lion" passed. Dandy was the fifth furkid I lost this year, and I took his death exceptionally hard. I've always considered myself a big dog/wolf person, but after missing Dandy's huge personality there was a hole, although I expected it would eventually be filled by somebody needy. (I've found and placed two stray dogs since I adopted The Baron. Whew!) I wasn't trying to "replace" the incomparable Dandy and preferred someone of a different or no breed, but after trying to rescue away an intact male Pom puppy from an idiot woman who instead sold him, I was an easy target for The Red Baron whose former owner needed to give him up "immediately" - in fact, when I called her back after deliberating overnight about whether to take him sight unseen, her mother was en route to an animal shelter to relinquish him and was reached on her cell phone and ordered to turn around. (The Red Baron is used to close calls.)

Deck the halls and Alexis too! (from the Bassett Chronicles)

I put the finishing touches on the Christmas tree and stood back with the animals to admire it. We all instinctively tilted our heads slightly to the right in order to ‘straighten’ it.

‘What do you think guys?’ I asked.

‘It’s beeyoootiful!’ they concluded.

‘Are you sure Martha Stewart recommends attaching ornaments with duct tape?’ Alexis asked.

‘Martha Stewart does not have badly behaved cats and kittens,’ I replied.

‘Let’s follow her example,’ Alexis said.

‘Let’s not. Now, Alexis, why don’t you entertain the troops with a Christmas story while I make us some refreshments.’

 

I walked into the kitchen from where I watched as a potpourri of cats and dogs gathered around Alexis and the tree. It wasn’t exactly a Kodak moment, but it would do.

‘Please, Alexis,’ they chorused, ‘tell us about Christmas!’

‘Well,’ Alexis began, pleased with the opportunity to share her encyclopaedic knowledge, ‘Christmas is the birthday of Baby Jesus. Shortly before he was born a bright star appeared in the night sky and …’

‘What’s a star?’ Sassy the Maltese terrorist interrupted.

‘I’m a star,’ said Alexis.

‘Ohhh,’ the group nodded and pictured a glowing Basset in the sky.

‘Anyway, these Three Wise Guys saw the star and decided to follow it so they could bring gifts to the Baby Jesus …’

Cleo - the visionary

(Author’s note:

“On the first anniversary of the fire, I wrote a tribute to my lost animals and focused on one dog from a Pit Bull fighter, who I named *Cleo*.”

(The tribute was entitled “Where’s Daddy’s Baby?” and can be found here.))

 

I am writing this in the morning, because I know that about 3 p.m., the approximate time that the fire started that day, it will take all of my energy to focus on the here and now and the present rescued animals under my care, over 30 of them including five of my survivors and the foster animals.

 

I don’t believe that “time heals all wounds,” but time allows one to put events in perspective. I no longer relive that tragedy daily or suffer from frequent nightmares about it, although I still greatly miss those I lost. It was a life-changing event and my surviving animals and I were the recipients of the greatest mass outpouring of kindness and generosity I have ever experienced. I received so many cards, gifts, and messages that it was impossible to thank everyone individually and I still hope that somehow my gratitude has been conveyed back to them. I had seen the best of humanity.

 

Life after the fire was difficult, but made easier by the family who boarded my horse and took me in for five months. During those months, I adopted a Pomeranian, who had been rescued by a woman in North Carolina, and sent to Pennsylvania. I named him “Dandy Lion.” I then moved out on my own, took back my survivors, and frankly, did not do well on my own. If you’ve read my first book “Pieces of My Heart – Writings Inspired by Animals and Nature” then you know that I survived my father’s suicide. Following the publication of the book, I survived a divorce. And now I was expected to survive a devastating fire that not only cost precious lives, but also took nearly everything of family heirloom and sentimental value with it. I was tired of surviving and I became blind to the love and beauty and help around me. I had become angry and bitter, a textbook case of post-traumatic stress disorder.

Where's Daddy's Baby? - A tribute to my lost children

You had come from everywhere, on two continents, and you had come from every circumstance: neglect, abuse, apathy, human boredom and irresponsibility, human “inconvenience” (e.g., “we’re moving; a new baby; career changes”), medical issues, elderly, handicapped, blind, deaf, psychic pain and behavioural problems.

 

Almost none of you could have been described as “well-behaved” and I counted myself lucky if you happened to arrive housetrained and without aggression. You cost me a small fortune and I had started with far less than a small fortune.  I knew from the beginning that you would become the “too many” and that I would be subjected to some criticism, especially from those who do too little, too late, or from the “theorists” who never provide a practical application.

 

I hadn’t been “schooled” in how to rescue animals – almost nobody is – so it was a lot of “learn as you go.” I did learn, over three decades, and you became my best teachers. I accumulated some academic accolades that should have proven that I knew what I was doing, but you were always the first to embarrass me in public and prove to the world that I didn’t know how to proceed.

A last walk in the woods

Lord, consecrate this ground,

My Friend is buried here,

Some may say, “Just a dog,”

But to me, she was most dear.

 

The trees bowed in respect,

As Sadie and I walked by,

She, wrapped in a blanket,

Me, stopping to breathe and cry.

 

We’d come this way so often,

Sadie always knew the way,

I can’t believe she’s gone now,

When I prayed for another day.

 

Cover her grave in flowers,

Send gentle breezes through the air,

Enjoy her company, Dear Lord,

And assure her I’ll see her there.

 

(Jim Willis, Tuesday 17th November 2003;

Author’s note:

“For my beloved Sheltie, “Sadie,” April 1991 – November 17, 2003”)

*****

I would like to thank Jim Willis for his kind permission to publish his writings on my blog.

Dog Days

The 'dog days' are upon us,

and for a dozen summers you have slumbered, shaded,

under the same tree.

As I watch you from the window, as I always do,

wishing that I could lie there, too,

but not wanting to disturb your peace,

I am envious.

You haven't a care in the world and I have too many.

Still, I'm glad that you are so carefree.

Perhaps that is one of my greatest accomplishments.

Perhaps that is why Man keeps dogs ...

as a reminder that life isn't only worries and responsibilities,

and that we can give you what we cannot give ourselves.

You remind me that simple pleasures are enough, more than enough ...

that it should take so little to be happy.

Would that with a life of worry we had your years,

and with a life of contentment, you had ours.

But neither of us made these rules.

So sleep well, my friend, there in your cool shade.

One day, you will rest there forever.

I'll glance out the window again in awhile,

to make sure all is well,

and to be assured that you are still the keeper of my peace,

and to be grateful that I am the caretaker of yours.

 

(Jim Willis, 2002)

*****

I would like to thank Jim Willis for his kind permission to publish his writings on my blog.

Can anyone help my cousin Sadie?

I'm addressing this to all humans. I need help! My name is Stella and I'm a purebred dog - what you'd call a "breeder." I live in a huge high-volume kennel in Missouri. There are a couple thousand dogs here. I've been here about eight years (that's human years) and I figure I've had at least two hundred puppies. At least.

 

Oh, I don't want to give you the wrong idea ... I'm not in any danger, or anything like that. There are people here who take care of us. They probably each have about a hundred dogs with litters of puppies to take care of, but they eventually get around to each of us. I know I get at least one pat on the head per day. I have a stainless steel cage and there's room enough to lie down and turn around. We get two meals a day, just dry kibble, and at least the water is clean. They even have veterinarians who work here. At first it struck us as odd that they could find people who studied to be doctors and took an oath about compassionate care of animals to work here, but they did.

 

But enough about me, it's my cousin Sadie I'm worried about. You see, I haven't seen her since we were puppies. We can't write or call of course, but I hear things occasionally through the "grapevine." Some of the delivery trucks that take all the puppies from where I am to pet shops also stop at the place where Sadie is, in Kansas. I hear things ... and they worry me.

The Basset Chronicles: The Tale of the Telltale Tattletale

I was working furiously on deadline to edit a book manuscript and hoping that the biggest immediate threat to my sanity, Alexis, would stay otherwise occupied. Not likely - I heard the dog door swish and her royal sableness paraded into the living room, weaving her way around half a pack of sleeping dogs.

"You'd better go out and rescue Daphne," she said.

"Alexis, I have to have this manuscript to an express courier by five p.m. - what's the problem?"

"Well, she doesn't do reverse, so when she gets stuck in a corner of the yard she bounces back and forth between the two sides of the fence until she starts making that noise."

"Which noise?" I asked.

"You know - the one that sounds like Luciano Pavarotti got his pee-pee caught in his zipper."

"Fine, I'll take care of it and then you must leave me alone for the rest of the day."

"While you are out there, how about giving her a new mantra?" Alexis suggested.

"Mantra? Daphne is Buddhist?"

"Might as well be," Alexis said. "She walks around all day long mumbling 'lovedaddy, lovedaddy, lovedaddy.'"

 

I went out and pointed Daphne in the opposite direction and she waddled off happily, chanting as she went. Once again, I took up my red pen and cursed an author.

"This is not English. It's some alien language!" I groaned in frustration.

I heard Alexis shuffling along the hallway making a siren noise.

"Wooo-wooo-wooo - double cat calamity in the bedroom," she warned, looking pleased with herself.

"What happened now?" I asked curtly.

"First, Jasper coughed up a hairball the size of a hamster - we're not missing a hamster are we? Then, Fleck must have eaten something baaad. He did one of his projectile numbers. Colorful, I must say - looks like a Disney film back there."

"THANK YOU ALEXIS, I'll take care of it."

Before I die

'Tis lonely here in prison,

I dream of sun, of fields,

I saw them from a window once,

but I don't know how they feel.

 

I've never known a caress,

a friend, a bone, a toy,

I'd happily companion,

a human girl or boy.

 

But some men have decided,

with selfishness and greed,

that my fate shall be a cage,

and for my keep, I'll breed.

The messenger

I dreamed I came upon a meadow

sunlit and fragrant, a small dog at my side.

As we walked on in silence I saw

across the blue ribbon of a river, a field,

where animal spirits licked the morning dew

from brilliant poppies ... basked in sunshine ...

batted at butterflies. 

"Is this Heaven?" I asked.

He nodded yes and as we rounded a bend in the path,

I saw ahead a wondrous garden

surrounded by a halo of mist,

where animals and children lay among the flowers.

Cool breezes rustled leaves

and over all hung an aura of beauty and peace. 

"Is this Heaven, too?" I asked.

"An honored place," he said, "for those who lived

a Hell on Earth - who died of neglect, torture,

unloved, unwanted and abandoned." 

Good Night, Precious

Before you die, unwanted one,

I swear there was no way,

 

I tried - I did! - I promise ...

I cried, I cursed, I prayed.

 

I mailed, I called, I pleaded,

for one to make room for you,

 

but only Heaven responded,

and there you'll find your due.

 

You've the most honest eyes I've seen,

a heart so loyal and true -

 

but our society has decided,

you've no purpose or value.

 

I wish that I could change things,

you've been wronged - it is not right!

 

But all I can offer, Precious ...

a gentle passing into that good night.

 

(Jim Willis, 2002;

a poem written especially for the "Killing With Kindness" campaign)

 

*****

 

I would like to thank Jim Willis (http://www.crean.com/jimwillis/) for his kind permission to publish his writings on my blog.

On learning from animals

Anyone who has ever worked with animals, particularly with formerly abused or neglected animals, has observed their capacity for adaptability, their ability to forget their former lives and to respond to love. Many of these animals come to us with "baggage," and after a certain amount of reliable good care, they display little evidence of their former lives. Most animals even have the capacity to adapt following a medical trauma, such as amputation of a limb, and most throw themselves back into life as successfully on three legs as they once did on four. As they age, they do what they can do until they can't do anymore. 

Animals live in the here and now, they live for the moment. They don't spend time brooding about the past, they don't worry about the future, and except in the face of clear and present danger, they aren't concerned about their own mortality. 

Animals are honest. When they are happy they make the appropriate noises and they play. A warning growl is a warning to be heeded. A cry of pain means genuine pain. A lick and a caress mean affection and trust. There is no duplicity in their world and what you see is what you get. 

Promises kept

You run in different fields now. … Effortless.

You jump and play with wild abandon. … Painless.

Eternally young and carefree. ... Timeless.

There is a shroud over my heart. … Darkness.

Days are longer and empty without you. … Cheerless.

I still keep your pillow next to my bed. … Sleepless.

The years march on. … Ceaseless.

The memories never wane. … Impervious.

I feel the moment of my fading, then ... Brightness.

We run in different fields now. … Effortless.

We jump and play with wild abandon. … Painless.

Together for all eternity. … Glorious.

 

(Jim Willis, 2001)

 

*****
 

I would like to thank Jim Willis (http://www.crean.com/jimwillis/) for his kind permission to publish his writing (taken from "Promises Kept Poem Memorial Keepsake Picture Frame and Pet Loss Sympathy Gift”) on my blog.

I stole your dog today

I stole your dog today.

No, I didn't set a foot on your property, but from the condition of your dog, I can imagine what it looks like ... the word "junkyard" comes to mind.

I found her along a road, with a heavy chain wrapped around her neck, still attached to rotten boards from her doghouse, with rusty six-penny nails protruding. Not only did I know that most of the town had already ignored her, judging by where I found her, but I knew that if she had gotten into the woods the "cross" that she dragged behind her would have wrapped around a tree until starvation or thirst killed her. The local populace is usually deaf to the sound or blind to the sight of an animal in need, unless they decide to shoot one for trespassing.

That her ribs showed, that her ears were filthy, that her overall condition was poor and that her coat and eyes were dull, were good indications that you didn't deserve her. But just to make sure, I checked with the local authorities for a report of a missing (unlicensed) dog matching her description and to see if you'd placed a "lost dog" advertisement in the local newspaper. You hadn't, which I can only surmise means that you do not miss her. That's rather convenient, because the fact that she is not spayed, probably unvaccinated, and possibly heartworm positive means that restoring her health could cost me around a thousand dollars.

Free Kittuns

The sign on the mailbox post was hand-lettered on cardboard and read “FREE KITTUNS”. It appeared there two or three times a year, sometimes spelled this way, sometimes that, but the message was always the same.

In a corner of the farmhouse back porch was a cardboard box with a dirty towel inside, on which huddled a bouquet of kittens of different colors, mewing and blinking and waiting for their mama to return from hunting in the fields. The mother cat managed to show them enough interest for the first several weeks, but after having two or three litters per year, she was worn out and her milk barely lasted long enough for her babies to survive.

One by one, people showed up over the next several days and each took a kitten. Before they left the woman who lived there always said the same thing, You make sure you give that one a good home I’ve become very attached to that one.”

One by one the kittens and their new people drove down the long driveway and past the sign on the mailbox post, “FREE KITTUNS”.

The pieces of my heart (on fostering)

Our paths will cross for only a short time,

but while you are in my care I will be devoted to you.

If memories of your former life are painful, I will help erase them.

No longer will you hunger and I will help to heal your wounds.

If your former life was good, I will promise you an even better future.

One day our time together will come to an end

and you will go off to your new home, healthy, happy and healed.

As a parting gift, I will give you a piece of my heart to remember me by.

I may shed a tear ... not for my loss, but for your gain.

Perhaps our paths may cross again for a fleeting instant

and I will be comforted by the aura of love that surrounds you.

There will always be a bond between us,

though we walk separate paths through this life.

After we reach our heavenly reward our paths may cross again.

You may try to return the piece of my heart

with thanks for all that I did for you.

I will tell you to keep it and thank you

for showing me that I could be better

than I thought I could be,

and that I learned in giving came the greatest gifts.

The pieces of our hearts are like grains of sand.

They are pulled along a current beyond our control

until they come together and form a safe haven.

I, like you, came to understand what it meant to be saved. 

(Jim Willis, 2001) 

*****

 

I would like to thank Jim Willis for his kind permission to publish his writings (taken from his book “Pieces of My Heart - Writings Inspired By Animals and Nature” (http://www.crean.com/jimwillis/) on my blog. It’s possible to order the book here.

"IF" for dogs (by Jim Willis)

If you can stay off of the couch when others can't

and are blaming it on you,

If you can keep from counter-cruising,

or at least have the sense to blame them, too,

If you can wait and not be tired of waiting

for your owner late from work again,

and not mess your crate, or if not crated,

have the sense to use the den.

 

If you can run a little faster than your master,

If you can drink and pee with aim,

If you can meet cats without disaster,

and from eating them refrain;

If you can try to hit non-doglovers

with flings of food and drool,

or bury the things your human needs,

especially car keys, gloves and tools.