Category: animals Page 1 of 2

More snuggles, less struggles: How an old dog taught us something new

This was something I wrote for my friend’s new dog rescue, Blue Man Dog. I thought I’d re-post it here (on Father’s Day!) for the cuteness…

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Pita the Chillhuahua: How we lost an election but gained a perfect dog

While on a walk the other morning — coffee in one hand, leash and a cranberry muffin in the other — I had this overwhelming feeling of contentment. It was early, and bit chilly, but the sky was cloudless so the sun was warm on my face. Our local cafe had my favorite muffins. And Pita the dog was walking perfectly along side of me.

What? Did I say “the dog”? Oh, I didn’t tell you about that yet? Sorry, it’s been a busy couple months…

we-got-a-dog

We got a dog!

Chespita (her full given name) came into our lives right as the world started falling apart. We fostered-to-adopt her days before the election. She fit in perfectly with our lifestyle — she walks like a dream, she burrows and naps like a champ, and she’s more quite and calm than I’ve ever seen a Chihuahua be. In fact, her nickname is Pita the “chillhuahua.” Things were looking up…

And then the election results started coming in. Ugh. You don’t need the nightmarish recap from me, you all lived (and continue to live) it. But as my anxiety took ahold of my brain, leaving me numb and frightened, she was such a calming presence.

The timing couldn’t have been better

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The rugs, doors, and dogs of Ouarzazate

If you’ve been following me on Snapchat, you’ve already seen all that I’ve discovered on my walks around the small town of Ouarzazate. My feed is basically rugs, doors, and stray animals…

Doors

Photo by Rockmond Dunbar, aka. C-Note in Prison Break

I published a roundup of all the amazing doors and windows I’ve been discovering in Morocco, over on Offbeat Home. Go check it out if you want to see the pretty. My favorite photo in that post is this one of Mike and me. It was taken by Rockmond Dunbar, aka. “C-Note” on Prison Break. He also took this amazing photo of us as well…

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Robot cat-sitters: The products that keep my cat alive while I’m away

I wonder when they're coming back...

I wonder when they’re coming back…

I’m taking off this weekend to go on a quick overnight trip to Sebastopol. It’ll be the first time that I’m leaving Diego (aka. The Woogs) alone in Mike’s our house. It’s too short of a trip to consider a cat-sitter, so instead I’m breaking out my robot pet-sitters.

Here are the products I use to keep my cat alive while I’m away…

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Is this the best self-cleaning litter box?

Because of constant travel, and some up-coming life changes, I just spent some hours scouring the interwebs to find the best self-cleaning litter box. And it looks like it may be the Litter-Robot III Open-Air – Automatic Self-Cleaning Litter Box. I sure as hell hope that that’s the truth, because I just dropped almost $500 on this bitch!

the best self-cleaning litter box

But after all my research, it seems like this litter box checks all these boxes:

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And then there were two: Returning to the original cast

My ex-husband took Peezu, shattering my heart into a million pieces that are all piercing my innards with every breath I take.

Documenting my last moments of Peezu cuddles.

The other morning was the first morning that I awoke and didn’t have to rush out of bed to walk a dog. While it was nice to be able to wake up naturally and linger in bed for a while, it also felt so strange. I naturally felt anxiety about taking Peezu out, even though I knew she wasn’t even there for me to feel anxious about. I wonder how long this feeling of needing to care for a beast who isn’t even there will linger, like a phantom limb.

I do really miss the old animal gang. I miss having a crazy home full of wild beasts, I miss caring for them, and I even miss their stupid barks sometimes… only sometimes.

When I come home now I still expect to hear the pitter patter of little Peezu claws, as she wiggles excitedly down the hall towards me. I often brace myself to hear Jackson’s loud guard bark when my neighbor opens his creaky security gate.

the woogs and me

But the reality is that my old family is gone — the husband and two dogs — and now it’s just me and my cat. I call us “the original cast,” because before there was ever a husband or a dog, there was The Woogs and me.

I will now admit something that I feel guilty about… (lean in while I whisper it in your ear…)

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Checking in with the Finley kids…

I ended up sharing one photo of each of my babies today. So I thought I’d document them here…

Diego aka. The Woogs: Age 12?

The combination of that pillow and this cat makes me laugh every time.

The combination of that pillow and this cat makes me laugh every time.

The Rza aka. Peezu: Age 7

A "little dog on cat" action

A “little dog on cat” action

Jackson Finley aka. The Big One: Age 9

This fucking guy.

This fucking guy.

They’re growing up so fucking fast.

Our dog is going blind: The good, the bad, the questionable parenting

You can see the cloudy in his eye in this pic.

You can see the cloudy in his eye in this pic.

Jackson’s eyes went from looking a little weird when the light hit them just so. To bad: “Oh hey, yeah, his eyes are looking kind of cloudy… I should probably Google that some time.” To worse: Just about everyone noticed his eyes looking strange and cloudy at the Shark Attackiversary. Just two months ago, in August, we had a party with just about the same cast of characters and no one noticed anything off about Jackson, two months later, it’s being brought up constantly.

They got that bad, that fast, and we were both REALLY worried.

They day after the party, Jacksons cloudiest eye was also red and irritated, so Aaron took him to the vet the next day. (Yes, just Aaron.)

Wanna hear the good news/bad news/good news, with some questionable parenting thrown in for good measure?

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Why I’m never taking my dogs to the vet again

He's wearing this muzzle because I can't control MY behavior.

He’s wearing this muzzle because I can’t control MY behavior.

There’s no better testament to how much owners influence the behavior of their dogs than the vastly different experiences Aaron and I have taking Jackson to the vet.

Aaron is the default parent (yes, I’m using the term “parent” because “owner” sounds so sterile) to take the dogs to the vet during emergency situations because I am NOT good with blood and panic-y situations.

But I started taking the dogs to the vet for non-emergency purposes because I’m the parent who works at home. In theory, it’s easier for me to be the vet person.

Now, Aaron always reported perfect behavior from Jackson during his vet visits. But the last few times I took Jackson, he’d get panic-y in the waiting room, cowered from vet employees, and bared his teeth at our usual vet!

WTF, Aaron, you liar!? Our baby is a god damn monster. And he really hates our vet. I have no idea why — she’s a totally sweet lady who always speaks gently to him and treats him well. And he’s NEVER been one to hate people. Other dogs while on a walk, yes. But people? No. (Well, except for that one crazy guy once… thank gawd.)

So this time, when Jackson’s weird neck wounds from two months ago refused to heal up completely and seemed to get worse, I begged Aaron to resume his role as “the vet person.” Jackson behavior and my anxiety was making the visits way to stressful for me. And I suspected that my anxiety may even be triggering Jackson’s mood.

Aaron obliged, and took off work to be a good parent. I wished him luck today as he left the house, even suggested he take the muzzle that had come in handy last time.

Guess what…

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Thanks for 13 silly, stinky, happy years, Ayla

323677733_39e4eb5737_zAyla, my family dog, died at 2:30pm on July 20th, at 13-years-old. She spent the last four years of her life living with our longtime housekeeper, Elsa — aka. Ayla’s favorite person on Earth. Elsa was by her side for her last breaths, just as I hoped she’d be, just as Ayla deserved.

The day Ayla died (after crumbling into a sobbing mess, screaming “no!” while Aaron held me) I rushed over to Elsa’s home. I spent hours sitting with Elsa and her nieces and nephews — alternating between tears and laughter — as the WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD came by to say their goodbyes to Ayla…

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