Tag: dogs

Another on the list of great unanswerable questions in Becky World

I’ve only had two on the list for a long time, but now a third thing has mysteriously vanished from my life, and after a year of searching, I’ve accepted that I’ll never know how, or why, or where to find it.

1. My push puppet lion (fifth grade)
2. My friend Bobby (1988)
3. My old laptop bag (November 2007)

On the plus side, Jim’s famous and delicious egg dish is baking in the oven, and I’ll be able to ponder these mysteries with it, bacon, and coffee very soon. Life always has its rewards. Including:


Spaghetti and Survivor night with Lynne, in which I talk her into putting
on goofy elf hats, and she closes her eyes in every photo.


Taking photos of Rex, who looks very much like he’s about to be sent away from his village,
while Lindsey and Rhonda sing the Fiddler on the Roof soundtrack to him.

The nagging Aries

I know I’m early to talk about Christmas. However, holiday music has been playing in stores since before Halloween, so I see no reason for restraint.

First, this is Harley.

I’m excited because this is my new nephew. My sister met Harley on Thursday, the day he was neutered, and was allowed to pick him up from his adoption agency on Friday. He’s almost two years old. He came with all his toys, bowls, and bed from his previous home (where he was loved, but was reportedly a little too much dog for them).

Debby said that last night, Harley brought his toys upstairs one by one and put them in her bed. I think he knows he’s home. They’ve already enjoyed walks together, nap snuggle time, and–not really by invitation–Harley joined Debby in the bathtub. She says he’s sweet, energetic, funny, and has a ferocious bark–all qualities she wants.

It makes me happy that Harley has found a good home; his story could have been different.

I’ve been involved in no less than five conversations lately in which people have wondered why the media are focusing on the Obama family’s search for a dog. Frankly, I’m glad for the media attention, particularly since Michelle Obama has announced their intention to search for and adopt a rescued puppy. There are many challenges and stories involved in a new administration, and this one could easily be lost among them. But if one quality of leadership is setting an example, this is a good one to set. And actually, this isn’t an unusual interest; stories and information about White House animals have always appealed to people, particularly when they involve children. In honor of today’s date, I’ll mention Caroline Kennedy’s pony, Macaroni, a gift from VP Lyndon Johnson. In return for being a good companion to Caroline and a great photo opportunity, Macaroni had unlimited access to the White House grounds and received tons of mail from besotted Americans.

There’s a Presidential Pet Museum in Williamsburg with items, photos, and stories to preserve this facet of presidential lore. Thanks to them, I now know that:

• Millard Fillmore was a founding member and president of the Buffalo chapter of the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and

• Andrew Johnson left flour out at night for a family of mice playing in his room during his dark days of impeachment.

I also learned that the gift of a dog to the Trumans caused controversy during his presidency. It’s rarely a good idea to give a puppy as a surprise gift. Many dogs and cats given at Christmas end up in shelters and pounds that don’t have no-kill policies. Black dogs in particular have a hard time finding new homes.

If you’re thinking of getting a dog or cat for yourself, please check local animal control facilities as well as rescue groups. Consider taking an older animal who seems well-suited to your environment, schedule, living situation, and temperament.

Avoid commercial breeders and puppy mills. Breeding is an activity best left to experts, who breed for optimal health and performance. Irresponsible breeding to make money is another reason animal shelters are full.

Some grim statistics from animalworldnetwork.com:

• For every human born, seven puppies and kittens are born.

• One female cat and her offspring can produce 420,000 cats in seven years.

• One female dog and her offspring can produce 67,000 puppies in six years.

• More than 12 million dogs and cats are euthanized in shelters each year. Millions more are abandoned in rural and urban areas.

• Approximately 61 percent of all dogs entering shelters are killed.

• Approximately 75 percent of all cats entering shelters are killed.

• As many as 25 percent of dogs entering shelters each year are purebreds.

If you want a certain breed, check for breed-specific rescue organizations. People should research the qualities of any dog’s breed(s) before getting one: their adult size, their most likely temperament, diseases to which they are susceptible. No matter where you get a dog or cat, if it’s unaltered, please, please get it spayed or neutered at the earliest opportunity. If cost is an issue, check into low- and no-cost clinics in your area.

I know Tim and I talk about our dogs (and his cats) a lot on our LiveJournals, but we’ve tried to be responsible about balancing our fun stories with the more serious ones: River’s astronomical vet bills, Margot’s traumatic incident with rat poison, the stitches near Rex’s eye after an altercation with EZ, EZ’s story of mistreatment, rescue, and medical challenges, Guinness’s and Rex’s clever ability to get into things they shouldn’t, like ham, Halloween candy, and coconut cake. Being a responsible companion to an animal requires thought, time, energy, and financial and emotional commitment. I applaud all the organizations and people who work tirelessly as animal advocates and caregivers. Many of my friends are among them.

Welcome to the family, Harley.

My sister and Bobo

Thursday night, I was hoping that Lynne was going to spend the evening at The Compound and visit with my sister, but she wasn’t able to come. I’d bought a family-sized pack of chicken breasts, and when I actually opened the package, those things must have come off a group of Victoria’s Henhouse models. I quickly called Rhonda and Lindsey to see if they’d made plans, and since they hadn’t, they agreed to join us for dinner–which turned out pretty good for one of those last-minute, thrown-together meals.

Debby let us in on a little-known facet of Rex’s personality. Apparently, they’ve formed a fast bond of friendship, and he likes for her to call him Bobo. Here’s Bobo sitting next to his new best friend and showing Rhonda some love.

Also, I didn’t know that Lindsey, like Debby, is a big fan of coconut cake. She proves it here.

This evening, my nephew Aaron is coming to Houston so he can see his high school in a football playoff game tomorrow. I don’t know if Bobo is jealous that he’ll have to share Debby’s attention with someone else, but he looks a little worried today.

Green, green grass of home

Y’all probably remember this pre-election photo and EZ worrying about whether Tim’s grass would grow in our barren, post-Ike-treeless patch of The Compound grounds:

Last night, a few of us were sitting on the front porch talking because the mosquitoes had some kind of lapse in judgment and forgot to feast on us. Tim asked if I’d considered taking down the Obama sign. In fact, I hadn’t kept it up as a political statement, although every time I’ve seen it since last Tuesday night, a little bit of my insides have relaxed some more. Even with serious losses in several states on issues that matter to me (Proposition 8–don’t think I haven’t been finding ways to protest, even if I haven’t been shrieking about it on LJ–letters, e-mails, finding out which products to stop buying from companies that promote and finance intolerance and inequality), I believe better days are ahead. (And I’m bemused that the neocon pundits think information such as in the Charlie Rose Newsweek interview are going to scare me. HELLO? I like my presidents self-aware, intelligent, slow to react, and confident.)

ENOUGH WITH THE PARENTHETICALS.

The grass is certainly greener on this side of the fence lately.

And the sign is in the garage now.

Button Sunday

Using certain tags, I’ve gone through four years of LJ archives to fix bad photo links. I know this doesn’t matter to anyone other than me, but when one of my reasons for keeping a LJ is to publish photos, it’s kind of ridiculous to think of people ever meandering through my archives only to see “This photo is no longer available.”

Please, if any of you ever stumble over a missing photo or dead link, let me know. I try to keep this place always at the ready for that moment when one of you wakes in the middle of the night–or the middle of the day for some of you–and MUST FIND THAT PHOTO OF THE KENS WITH BAD HAIR. How tragic if you should be denied seeing it. Not that I remember seeing it when I was fixing things. It could be missing for all I know. My brain is fried from looking at old posts, and what I want to know is, WHY are you people reading this thing? Has anyone ever been more random and unfocused and needlessly verbose than I am?

I figure you’re here for the man and dog photos. So from the true archives–the ones from the shelves in the study–here’s a shot from April of 1999, when Stevie became the first of The Compound dogs to adore Tim. Whenever he was here, she was all his.

Dog Day

Saturday, I asked Tim if I could go with him to hang out at the Scout’s Honor tent at the Meet and Greet Adoption Event in the Heights. I told him I wanted to shoot pictures. As it turned out, the person who usually takes photos of their dogs didn’t have her camera, so it worked out perfectly. Because Scout’s Honor doesn’t have a facility, their dogs are fostered by volunteers, and a gathering like this is a great chance to get photos of them. Since I can’t take every dog home–I would if I could!–it was gratifying to feel like I could offer something to such a worthwhile cause.

It was a gorgeous day outside, and the dogs were loving it. Set up next to Scout’s Honor was a Basset Hound rescue group, and on the other side, I saw what I think was a Husky rescue group and a Golden Retriever rescue group. The dogs from Scout’s Honor represented a few breeds and a lot of mutts (that most wonderful breed of all). I thought you might enjoy–from at least a few of the hundred-plus photos I shot–some of the dog energy I got to experience. It’s one of the best things in the world.

Not everyone should have a dog–that’s clear by the ones abandoned, neglected, and abused. But if a dog is right for you, there’s nothing like opening your home to a rescued dog. A little research and some one-on-one time will help you find the breed (or mix), age, temperament, and gender that will be your ideal match. I love it that Tim is fostering EZ until she can find her forever home. And when I look at Margot, Guinness, Rex, and Sugar–all of them rescues–I can’t imagine missing out on the love, laughter, and loyalty they offer unconditionally every single day.

dog love here

BOO!

A happy Halloween to all of you from The Compound, where:


two little ghouls and a goblin are intent on carrying out
the master’s evil orders (i.e., “Sit. Stay.”).


Well, mostly.

And FrankenAnkle just wants to run the grounds and guard us from children of the corn
and other scary things.

Pictured: Margot, Rex, and Guinness, then EZ the Miracle Dog.

Hump Day Happy

Dear Readership:

I know the only way to keep you coming back is to give you something to actually read–well, that and post photos of Tim, but I think he retired from my LJ in late 2007, and I haven’t yet found a good enough bribe to lure him back into camera range. I’ll try to be better about posting, because I miss your comments. And your fondue.

As you may have surmised, this woebegone Compounder has been sick and demanding my attention for a few days:

 

 

Guinness has been as poop-shy as Tim has been camera-shy, which means I’ve been spending a lot of time outdoors cajoling her (with an equal lack of success). When I went out this morning, I noticed the tiny, TINIEST, little bits of green on the part of The Compound lawn that had been nothing but dirt on Sunday, when I last posted a photo.

 


Look HARD for the brand new baby grass testifying to Tim’s hard work. 

Throughout the day, I’ve returned to find that each time, there’s a little more green. There are some other nice sights, too.

 

Last January, Lynne gave us a potted azalea, and it has suddenly bloomed:
 

The morning glories are so in love with the newly moderate weather that they’ll stay open most of the day:

And there’s this beauty, blooming outside Tim’s apartment:

 

While shooting those for you, GREAT HAPPINESS arrived at The Compound when Guinness finally, FINALLY left a gift on Tim’s new grass. Because I cherish you, I won’t force you to see a photo of that. Instead, I’ll give you an odor-free skunk:

 


and the opportunity to comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, so the skunk can give you something to be happy about. (Please feel free, as always, to keep commenting for as many days as you wish. Happiness has no expiration date.)

 

People who work at home have Mondays, too

How many more people can call me today to take me from a project that I’m enjoying and eagerly trying to finish?

On the other hand… When a dog who’s been dealing with diarrhea all day finally begins puking up undigested raw turkey necks that have been sitting in her stomach for twelve hours, you don’t want to be around. Unfortunately for Tim and me, we are. I took the dining room spew; he’s on porch detail.

Oh–is it dinner time at your house, too? Sorry!

ETA: Round Three. Tom’s turn!