My 200th Post Celebration Has Gone to the Dogs! And the Cats! PART 1

This is my 200th post.
And it’s HUGE!

First of all, the fact that I, an extremely slow writer with the most erratic life which simultaneously creates inspiration for posts yet prevents me from having the time to actually write them, have completed and posted two-hundred entries is bloody monumental.

Second, it’s quite literally huge because when I put out the call in my last post for your animal rescue stories, I wasn’t sure how many of you would have time to respond, but lot of brilliant peeps came through big time. You came through so much in fact that, despite editing your stories a teeny bit where I could, there was just too much love to put in a single post so this is the first of two celebration posts. When we party we party big up in here, yo!

Part Deux is going to run on Thursday (statically the other high traffic day and I want everyone to get as much exposure as possible…and because I’m not off until Wednesday and I’ll need to sleep at some point this week) so make sure to come back to read the rest of these wonderful tales of rescue love.

As I mentioned above, I work a lot of hours (pretty much all of them between writing and my second job) and whenever one of your stories popped up on my phone it truly made my day, so thank you all so very much for sharing them with me. Not only did your stories make me smile (and sniffle in a few cases) but they are the very things that make a difference in spreading the word about how awesome it is to adopt an animal. As most of you know both Kira and Seamus were rescues so it’s a cause that is very dear to me.

Finally, thank you, thank you, two hundred times thank you for being here and reading my what-the-fuckery and helping me to reach this landmark. I’m a writer which means that I can’t not write but it means the world to have you all here to read it. MASSIVE GROPING HUGS TO YOU!

And now without further ado, here are your animal stories! PART ONE!

~Brody & Stacy: The Bromance (Instagram)

I didn’t think I’d get another fur kid. I saw something on facebook about a dog at a shelter an hour from my house and I just remember thinking how awful it feels to be left alone. As I was walking around [the animal shelter] wondering what to do (and panicking because I *could not* leave without bringing a pup home (I can’t articulate that feeling)), I saw a brown bear right there in a cage. Good God he was huge. And his fur! If an afro and a cloud mated, the result would be what I was seeing before me. And I met Brody. In the 10 or so minutes we spent meeting each other, he showed me no less than 15 facial expressions, a freckled tongue and a gentleness that surprised me.

It’s been three weeks today since we rescued each other. He is kind and gentle and playful and curious and still tilts his head when he’s confronted with anything out of the ordinary. And I’m lucky. It boggles my mind why anyone would get rid of him voluntarily (the story was a “change in lifestyle” and that “he doesn’t get along with other pets” which is ridiculous), but I couldn’t be more grateful. I’m going to write the shelter a letter and a separate one and ask they forward it to his previous owners. Thank you, Person Who Didn’t Want My Dog.

nightmare dog, animal rescue stories

~Roxxi & Gina: Pibble Love

Roxxi is the sweetest girl & best companion anyone could ask for! I went to the shelter in search of a puppy. I sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor amongst all of the dogs & Roxxi came right up, crawled into my lap & laid her head on my shoulder, we’ve been best friends ever since. She was due to be euthanized & I just couldn’t let that happen. I could say that I rescued her that day…but really, in every way that counts, she is the one who rescued me!

animal rescues

~Alexandria, Nineveh, Lucy & Brenda: Finding Out You’re a Dog Person

I found Alexandria & Nineveh in a shelter in South Carolina around 2005 or so. Alexandria convinced me to take her and her sister home, and they have been running the household ever since. (Though I suspect that Nineveh is really the evil genius behind most of their plots).

Lucy adopted my father-in-law several years ago. The story goes that he was at work (I believe he was repairing engines at the time), and Lucy walks into the workshop, walks past several of my FIL’s coworkers, and sits in front of him with a look as if to say “You’re the one. Take me home.” He got her a bowl of water and they were inseparable until just this past year. Sadly, he was diagnosed with ALS last year, and the rapid progression of the disease has made it impossible for my in-laws to give Lucy the time and space an active dog needs. Keith and I took her in, and she has since convinced me that I was, in fact, also a dog person. (I swore I wasn’t, but holy crow I love that dog).

cats, dog

Note from Brenda: Lucy broke her leg in the backyard at the beginning of the summer in a suspected squirrel-related mishap, but she refuses to tell me the details. I think the squirrel won that day. That’s why she’s wearing a cast in the picture. It has since come off and she is running around chasing squirrels and rabbits once again like the vicious hunter (not really) she thinks she is.

~Ozzie & Nancy: Brotherly Love (This Crazy Life of Mine)

We adopted Ozzie in April 2011. We had a crazy idea to adopt a brother or sister for Blue who we had since early 2010. The Humane Society of Pinellas County happened to post a video one day of an Australian Shepherd that had been dropped off by it’s previous owner because they had to move. That video sent me to the Humane Society immediately to meet him. He was shy and timid and oh so handsome. Someone else was in the process of adopting him, but it fell through and we were next on the list. Later that day, we took Blue up to meet him as they recommended. They didn’t even look at each other and we decided that was all we needed to take Ozzie home and spoil the heck out of him.

Ozzie has come so far 2 1/2 years we’ve had home. He came into our home unsure of how to act around my husband, very timid, and afraid of little things like a belt being picked up off the dresser and more. We realized very quickly that he probably did not live in the best circumstances prior to our home. We worked with him closely every day and he is now a happy go lucky dog who is so happy to be in our home.

Ozzie and Blue get along like most “brothers”, sometimes they drive each other nuts, but it’s also not uncommon to find them snuggling on the floor or couch. I am thankful every single day that we rescued Ozzie and have given him a home where he is spoiled rotten. He is incredibly loyal and he just wants to be loved. We joke about how the dogs don’t live with us, we live with them. They are our children and we love and adore them.

australian shepard

~Bear & Andrea: Ten Acres and a Dog  (My Everything Corner)

We had been living at our new home on a 10 acre piece of land for nearly a year, when I decided that enough was enough. Being that I am often alone out in the yard, I deserved a dog, the large space deserved a dog, and a dog deserved the large space.

It didn’t take too long looking at nearby shelters for our puppy to come in. The story was that he’d been dropped off in a Saskatoon parking lot with two young girls. Their big hearts took him home, but being that they already had a dog, and she didn’t get on well with Bear, they would have to take him to the SPCA.

We drove the 3 hours to Saskatoon, fell in love, and brought our new puppy home. His looks, his disposition and his size would suggest that he is Tibetan Mastiff cross.

It’s been well over a year, and with lots of training and even more love, we have the perfect dog. And myself, Bear and our 10 acres couldn’t be happier.

~Yoki & Bryan: Not Your “Classic” Rescue But a Rescue All the Same (A Beer for the Shower)

I rescued Yoki from a pet store. I know, that almost sounds like an oxymoron, but hear me out. I was at the mall one day, walking by the pet store, when I saw this poor disheveled dog looking out at me from behind a glass cage. She was sharing a much-too-small pen with a huge bulldog that had been bullying her. Her hair was matted, her ears were down, and the fur on her tail had been chewed off completely to the point that her tail was nothing more than a limp noodle covered in red, raw flesh. I’ll never forget the sign that was posted beneath her.

“$100. Please take me.”

It was Christmas time. Everyone else was so excited to look at the other dogs and bring home a cute, well groomed puppy for their Christmas gift, but no one was even giving Yoki a second glance. And her, she just sat there, helpless, staring at me. Whimpering. Pleading with me to help her. She was getting old for a puppy – 6 months according to her tag, easily the oldest dog in the store – so I walked up to the counter and asked the girl what they did with puppies that didn’t sell once they got too old. The girl said, “We’re not allowed to disclose that.”

AKA they were going to put her down.

I saw potential in that dog. I knew she could be beautiful if the right person just took care of her, and nursed her back to health, and loved her. I knew that person had to be me. I knew if I walked out of that store that they were going to put her down. That I’d regret it for the rest of my life. I bought her on the spot.

She’s been my best friend for 7 years now, and even though I got her at a pet store** (the very place I hate), I have no doubt in my mind that on that day I saved her life.

**Said “pet store” has since been shut down
animal rescue stories, american eskimo, eskie

(By the by, Yoki is Kira’s unrelated nearly identical twin and if you want to read the comic that they made together then you can check that out here.)

That concludes PART ONE of my 200th post celebration, but please make sure to come back on Thursday for PART TWO and read the rest of the stories because they are all so heart-warming and adorable and so worth the read.

Get Ready FOR EPIC AWESOMENESS!

To quote Dave Chappelle who was quoting Rick James: “It’s a celebration, bitches!”

Or at least it will at my next post, which will be my 200th post!

american eskimo, eskies, dog, 200th post

I knew that I wanted to do something special for this landmark post but I couldn’t think of anything until the other week when one of my Facebook friends mentioned that she was going on a roadtrip to bring home a pup from an animal shelter. That’s when it struck me that I wanted to celebrate by having my 200th post dedicated to the awesomeness of animal rescue. I could do this just by talking about my own experience since both Kira and Seamus are rescues but whether I’m celebrating the anniversary of my BONing or my 100th post, I like to include other people and pimp the love out. Also, since I personally know that many of my awesome peeps have rescue stories of their own, I decided to open the floor–in other words, I want to hear your stories of rescue love and share them in numero 200.

I’ve already put the call out on Facebook last week and have received some completely face-meltingly adorable stories but there’s plenty of room to add more stories and to get yourself so exposure since I’ll definitely put a link to your blog or twitter or Instagram or whatever you want. Email me at katsidhe@gmail.com and send me a pic of you and your rescue dog/cat/ect, and a brief bit about them. I’m taking submissions until October 12th which is a little over a week so make sure to send me your stories ASAP, peeps!

LET’S PARTY!

PS-I made a form below that you can use to send me your info information but the only problem is that I don’t think you can use it to send a pic. And given my recently documented lack of computer skillz the odds aren’t good that I’ll figure out if this is possible, but I’m leaving it on here in case it helps anyone.

How To Look Like A Total Ass at the Beach With Your Dogs

I have been wanting to take my dogs to the beach for a long time. I thought that this would be a brilliant idea because I already love the beach and what could make it better except to be at the beach with dogs! Yes my mind was atwitter with shimmering visions of splashing in the ocean with my dogs and then laying on the beach as they recovered from the exhaustive ocean romp.

I was finally able to realize this beachy doggy dream the other week when I had a rare day off. Not only did I get to take my dogs to the beach, but also I learned how to look like an absolute moron while doing it. Yeah. So, here are my tips if you too are so inclined as to look like stupidass at the beach with your dogs.

(Before we begin I should mention that you get bonus points if you happen to take your dogs to the beach on the absolute hottest fucking day of the year because it makes every one of these points just that more brilliant.)

Make sure that you have to spend at least an hour in the car with your dog to get to the beach.

american eskimo dog

One of the few moments he turned to face me.

Since I like to do things over and above the watermark of stupid I live about an hour and a half from the beach but whether it’s one hour or three you’ll want to use this time to already begin to question your sanity at attempting this trip. The easiest way to do this is to make sure that at least one of your dogs have no car manners. In my case two out of the three dogs that I took on this excursion spent the entire ninety minutes trying to create as much havoc as possible by alternately trying to drive the car (Lily)** and attempting to balance on the middle console despite being the size of a small wolf (Seamus)–the latter of which resulted in long stretches of me having my dog’s ass in my face as I was in the back seat.

Hottest fucking day of the year bonus: During the drive you get no air conditioning because your dogs stick their faces in the A/C vents and hog it all for themselves.

(**Lily was not allowed in the driver’s seat which is extremely dangerous and upsets me whenever I see someone let their dog do this but that did not stop her from trying.)

Have one more dog than the number of people in your party.

Most people seem to only have one dog in their family but I call them pussies. If you want to look like a true ass at the beach then you bring more dogs than you can physically handle. I now have two dogs and I will tell you that it is exponentially easier to look like an ass while trying to control two dogs than it is with only one–especially since one of the dogs has not been trained by me since they were a puppy. I will admit though that I did have my mother with me and could pass off a leash to her while I untangled myself from my dogs’ attempts to mummify me with their leashes but since she still had to contend with the third dog in our crew it was still acceptable.

Hottest fucking day of the year bonus: The sand between the parking lot and the ocean is scorching and you have to carry to carry your dogs over it so that they don’t burn the pads of their paws.

Make sure your dogs won’t go in the water. At all.

You’ve brought your dogs all the way to the beach in a cramped car, carried their pampered asses over the sand and deposited them in front of the cool refuse of the ocean. Now you can watch as all three of them–including the one who loves water and always leaps into creeks like a little furry frog–scatter away from the water as if you were trying to drop them into Tabasco sauce. If you’re really lucky then the largest of your dogs will be so freaked out that he jumps into your arms and digs his claws into your tender flesh.

Hottest fucking day of the year bonus: You had planned on your dogs getting cool by going in the water and now feel like an asshole because they’re hot.

Buy the shittiest umbrella that $5 can get you.

Your dogs won’t go in the water but the good news is that you have an umbrella which snaps in half as soon as you try to shove it in the sand in an attempt to at least provide your dogs some shade.
Another reason you want your umbrella to be shitty is because…

The dog beach is bay-side where the wind whips across the water with massive fury.

The wind will rip that shitty umbrella right out of the sand and send you scrambling down the scorching beach with your arms outstretched and flailing like a drunken Frankenstein.

Hottest fucking day of the year bonus: the combination of heat with the high winds makes it feel like you’re in a massive convection oven.

Have a dog with a deceptively large mane.

He’ll manage to get out of his collar and you can go from chasing an umbrella like a drunken Frankenstein to chasing your dog like a drunken Frankenstein.

Hottest fucking day of the year bonus: Running. Duh.

Be so concerned with keeping the sun off of your dogs that you don’t apply sunscreen to several large areas on your back.

I look like I have vitiligo.

Hottest fucking day of the year bonus: Burns hurt worse in the heat. It’s a Kat fact which means that I said it so it’s true.

Have you fluky heart–which has been a complete trooper during this–finally say “What the fuck you are doing you moron? That’s it! Pass out on the hot sand right now!”

And though I didn’t completely lose consciousness it was nonetheless magical.

Pack up after two hours and take your dogs for ice cream.

american eskimo dogs

“Where’s the ice cream???”

They deserve it after all of the energy they put in to helping you look like a stupidass.

In closing, sometimes I even astound myself at my ability to create clusterfucks.

The Ballad of Seamus O’Horny

So…
Having a boy dog has been quite a learning experience.

As I mentioned in my last entry, I adopted a boy Eskie and I wasn’t aware of how much I had apparently forgotten about boy dogs in the twenty years since I had one.

My first episode of male dog ignorance happened only a few days after I adopted Seamus when I came home from work and he greeted me by rolling over for a belly rub. As I was rubbing his belly I noticed two lumps on either side of his peen. Being the calm, rational person that I am I immediately assumed that he either had undescended testicals or lymphoma. Luckily I checked Vet MD and it turns out that Seamus was just rather happy to see me. Apparently this swelling can happen even if your dog is neutered, however I was soon to discover that Seamus is not. How I discovered this charming fact is because our family dog, Lily, was in the middle of her heat when I brought Seamus home.

Fuck my life and fuck it hard.

american eskimo dog, west highland terrier

I just about pee myself laughing every time I look at this pic. Lily is pissed!

Lily being in heat wasn’t an issue at first because Seamus was too nervous about his new surroundings to pay attention to Lily’s state. This was despite the fact that Lily was walking by Seamus and wiggling her ass at him like she was in a Ludacris video. As Seamus became more comfortable though he began to notice Lily’s booty dance and the next thing I knew Seamus was trying to get jiggy with it. Once he became interested then it became a fucking circus to keep the two of them apart. Lily would fluctuate between jumping at Seamus and shaking her ass to growling at him to get away from her. Seamus, on the other hand, was acting like a sailor on shore leave and would not stop sniffing, pawing and above all whining incessantly at Lily to get it on with him. This is what he would do while she was laying down, but he would kick it up a notch when she got up to walk somewhere by adding some pretty impressive acrobatics to his wooing. To my surprise I discovered that dogs can bounce–I’m talking all four paws leaving the ground at the same time in a vertical propulsion. Those Pepe Le Pew cartoons? Not an exaggeration.

Luckily Lily’s heat cycle is pretty much finished and Seamus has chilled out however we are keeping Lily’s little knickers on her just to be safe because she’s still having bouts of trying to seduce Seamus. (And before anyone considers getting sassy with me about Lily not being spayed I’ll add that yes she should have been spayed but she wasn’t and she’s going to be thirteen years old next week so it’s not happening; I’ll likely have Seamus neutered but my brain is still too fried from Kira’s vet adventure in March to think about it right now.)

Other than my horny dog, I’ve been writing away and my next post is actually going to be about that and not my dogs.

Probably.

It’s a Boy

I only had a few minutes at the computer–time that I could have spent on my manuscript–but instead I was Facebook, a place that I don’t even like and avoid except when my mother needs me to help her with Farmville missions. I wasn’t friends with the person at whose profile I was staring, however I could send them a message. I continued to stare as the clocked ticked down to you-have-to-get-the-fuck-out-of-here o’clock and finally pressed the damn button and sent my message.

“Hi, my friend send me a text that you are trying to find a home for your dog?”

Thus our story begins.

The woman was indeed looking for a home for her American Eskimo boy and while I had always wanted to adopt another dog, I wasn’t sure how Kira the Diva would handle it. She’s good with puppies, but it’s touch and go with adult dogs. The Eskie boy who needed a home was six years old so I was somewhat relieved when the woman messaged me a few days later that it looked like a friend of hers was going to take him.

About a week later, she messaged me again saying that she hadn’t been able to get a hold of the guy and that if I was still willing to give the boy a home that she would really appreciate it. She was giving the guy until Friday to get back to her and would message me if he didn’t. Part of me was hoping that the guy would message her, but the other, bigger part was already worried about how good of a parent this guy would be if he was already this blase about the adoption.

american eskimo dog

First pic! On our way home.

To make a long story, that Sunday I became a fur-mommy again.

His name was Snowy and while I wasn’t crazy about that name, I thought that we could call him “Jon-Snowy” because that’s the kind of “Game of Thrones” nerd I am. Instead we ended up calling him Seamus, short for “The Wee Eskie Seamus” because that’s the kind of Archer nerd I am.

The first thing I noticed when we picked up Seamus was that he was missing a large patch of fur on his back near his tail. His original parent told me that he lost it because of the change of season, but I recognize the effects of fleas and knew that this was more likely the case–particularly when I rubbed him and felt the bumps and scabs back there. Sure enough I actually saw the little fuckers crawling on him during the drive home. Even though I didn’t want to traumatize him more than he already was at being taken by two strangers from his home of six years, my mother and I knew that we had to stop and give him a bath and start him on flea treatment. We stopped at the pet supply store (that has these spa-like bath that I’m half tempted to jump in) and began washing him. As his fur became wet we saw just how scabbed and red he was not only on the entire lower half of his back but also parts of his belly and his man-junk. (It was seriously horrible and I’ll spare you the pictures.) The good news is that, while he trembled and whimpered a bit as we washed him, as soon as he was toweled off (and in a collar since they had only had a leash on him that acted like a choker), he hopped around with excitement and then rolled over for a belly rub. I think he knew that we were trying to help him.

I’m trying to keep this as short as possible and failing miserably so I’ll just let ya’all know that all of the feverent prayers that I had been saying that Kira and Seamus would get along were answered. It’s seriously a fucking miracle because I have never seen Kira so friendly a strange dog–particuarly when that dog is invading her house. I think she sensed that Seamus needed us.

It’ll be two week on Sunday that we’ve had him and he is such a sweet dog. He is a total belly rub fiend but gives lots of kisses as thanks. Also his back and man-junk are nearly completely healed and his fur is already starting to grow back where he had pulled it out. It’s been an adventure already so yes, prepare yourself for even more dog anecdeotes because, as with everyone in my family, he’s kinda mental.

american eskimo dog

He lays with his legs out behind him. It’s weird and adorable.