I guess it's time for a new header image ...

It's been a while.

I think I've mentioned before that because I post a lot to Facebook that seems to meet my need to keep in touch with friends and family near and far; but it doesn't really, coz not all of them are on Facebook.

When finally I do think about creating a blog post, I feel overwhelmed as so much has happened.

So very much has happened.

Butters, Roswell and Charlotte.

I began the New Year with four cats and two dogs.  Today I have one cat and two dogs; and one of those dogs is not the same as before.

Sooki, Wendy, Butters and Charlotte.

The precis version:  Roswell (died from a collapsed lung), Charlotte went to live with Kait, Butters (died from complications from diabetes) and my dear, dear Wendy (died from bone cancer).

My beloved Wendy.

Sorry to lay all that on you in one lump, but it is what it is.

My wonderful Wendy.

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I have never however been known for my practicality, and hence by summer's end a new pup entered our household.

His name is Dexter and he has fit right in...

Clara, Dexter and Sooki.

... but I still miss Wendy.

I have left memory stones at places we used to walk.

A hole where a cat used to be.

Where did the "Rainbow Bridge" concept  appear from ?   When someone's companion animal dies they say it crosses the Rainbow Bridge and will be waiting for their human when they die.

If the Rainbow Bridge exists, will the calves and chickens and pigs we have eaten be waiting for us too, but with a less welcoming demeanor than our beloved pets ?

I ask because this afternoon I took dear old Roswell to the vet and only one of us returned home.  

Snoozing three days ago in front of the fire

Over the last few days Roswell showed obvious signs of having difficulty getting enough air into his lungs.  His thin sides heaved from the effort.

The vet listened to his heart and lungs, informed me he was in heart failure and said "It's time".

I suspected when I went that that would be the outcome, but part of me hoped...  

It's at times like this that you realize what a painful thing love can be.  That silly sweet pain in the ass cat had no idea that as I held him and stroked him in his fuzzy blanket that he was about to die.  I stroked him and cried quiet tears.  My head still aches from those tears and tears.  At the time I could see how he fought to breathe -- and then he didn't. It's rare to see the reality of death.  Here now.  Now gone.  GONE not to be called back by all the love in the world. Comforting words spoken.  "Just sleep sweetie.  Just go to sleep".   Then wishing those eyes would open and gaze upon you one more time but knowing that you would not wish him back into this realm the way he was.  

Yup.   Love hurts.

Still ...

I missed his shrill "meow" as I walked back in the door; tonight I'll miss his nudges as he demands I lift the bed sheets so that he can track his litter covered paws into my bed and I'll miss his painful snaggle tooth scraping across my cheek asking for attention.

I know Roswell is out of pain and he didn't suffer fear about death.  That is left to me.  To wonder where my little friend is now and where I will go when it is my turn.

And if we will see each other again.

What do you think ?

YAWN ...

I've missed blogging, but found it hard to kick myself in the arse and just write a post.

In order to make it easier on myself I decided to make today's attempt at re-entry into the blog-o-sphere simple.

It's late in the evening and I'm tired, so I simply searched my photo "tags" for "yawn" and am posting what I found ...

If defy you NOT to yawn looking at these pics.

Roswell

Charlotte

Wendy and Butters !

Roswell baby sitting Charlotte back when she was a kitten.

Butters.

Roswell and Trey

Now confess.

Did looking at these pictures make you yawn ?

A kitten update.

Kittens are tiny cute, balls, of adorable fluff for about two weeks after you adopt them.

After winning your heart and thereby ensuring their survival, they blast into the kitten version of "the terrible twos".  I suspect phase lasts well over a year.

How can something that weighs under two pounds, "thunder" around the house, knocking rocks off ledges and terrorizing dogs that are big enough to "snuff" their lights out  ?  

I've been fortunate enough to locate a great kitten-sitter.  And would you believe it: he lives right here in my house !

Ta dah !   

It's Roswell.

Though he is seven, and a pretty mature sorta guy, Roswell often thunders around the house with the kittens.  If two kittens careen through the living room, wait a second and Roswell might come flying around the corner after them.

When Charlotte and Clara get out of line, I can count on Roswell to give them a smack and a growl, and then all is forgiven.

 

Just don't ask Butters to babysit them...

Full House !

We've just had a couple of very nice, mild days during which I was able to get outside and do some garden tidying.  Mostly, I was "harvesting" a bumper crop of "doggie do".  If there was money in dog crap, I'd be a wealthy woman.

My daughter and her boyfriend moved out recently: so I am now free to let you in on a secret.  Are you ready ?  

While they lived here, we had a total of seven -- YES !   SEVEN !  -- dogs in our house: in a semi-detached house with a small yard.   Two of the dogs were rescues, that they were fostering.  Luckily, Kait's boyfriend, Des, is a dog trainer, so things were not as chaotic as you'd imagine.  Nevertheless, as far as the poop production goes, it was very impressive.

Kait working with her wonderful, Red-nosed Pitbull, "Sooki".

But I can hear what you're thinking: and you're right.  Seven, is too many dogs.

My other two boarders had moved out over a month ago, taking their two cats with them.

Did I mention that Kait's boyfriend, also has two cats ?

Yup.  We were living in a lil' house with SEVEN dogs and SIX cats !   And FIVE people.  

A funny sign from the Happy Dudes Surfing Emporium.

Are you sitting there with your mouth gaping open ?    There certainly were days when I did.

Des's beautiful pit bull, Rascal, enjoying the rope swing.

The dogs did not have the run of the house or chaos would really and truly broken out..  My dogs, Wendy and Trey never go downstairs, and the kids' dogs never came up un-escorted.  And "no", we never had a dog fight.   In an year, not one dog fight.  Four "pits" or "pit bull crosses", two Bouviers and a lab-cross, lived in relative harmony.  The lab-cross is Wendy.  My sweet-natured, darling, Wendy.

So in this house full of dogs, would you be surprised to know that Wendy and the Des's female, Bouvier, Liza, were the "alpha" dogs.  Wendy posses a calm demeanor, but the mere subtle curl of her lip causes Trey to flatten his ears and turn away in deference to her higher status.  She doesn't need to fight.  She exudes confidence.

My cats, Roswell and Butters.

In a way the cats were more trouble than the dogs.  Of the six, five were inside cats.  Butters as a rescue, never adjusted to indoor life, and displays his displeasure in very tangible ways, and hence gets to go outside and play in the traffic.

Surprise number two, regards the identity of the "alpha" cat in our animal-hoarding,  home.

Roswell, my space-alien cat.

It's the smallest of the cats, none other than our own resident, space-alien cat, Roswell.  If Roswell decides one of the "other" cats (anyone who isn't Butters) shouldn't be upstairs, he chases them back downstairs

I'm still pet-sitting Des's two cats: Max and Bocce, aka, "Bean", so I'm currently living with two dogs and four cats.

Max.

Still, the house seems VERY quiet with five fewer dogs, four fewer people and two fewer cats.

The house seems so much bigger now.

This is the first time I have been alone since I retired here in '09.

Ahhhh bliss ...

Reeelaaaaaaax

Dogs and cats seem to have a knack for being able to make themselves comfortable in the most unlikely spots.  Butters in particular, loves to jam his bulk into places he shouldn't really fit.

Sometimes Roswell even squeezes in there with him.

Being comfy in tight spots isn't just something the cats enjoy.

Kait's dog Sooki.

Trey in one of his beloved beds.

Sometimes having two cozy beds don't guarantee Trey will get to lie in either of them.

Time to buy another bed.

Damn cats !

As you know, Trey loves to suck on his bed, and Roswell loves to lie in Trey's bed.

Trey does not want Roswell in his bed.  Roswell doesn't care.  Trey growls ominously as Roswell settles into Trey's bed for a nap.  Roswell still doesn't care. Trey sucks furiously on his bed to relieve his frustration.

Trey does NOT want to share his precious bed with a stupid cat.   Nor does he want to be a cat sandwich.

Both cats ignore him.  Sometimes you've just gotta live with the hand you're dealt.

Damn cats !

Butters.

I have two cats, Roswell, the bald cat that looks like Gollum from Lord of the Rings, and Butters.  While Roswell is a pure bred Sphynx cat, Butters is a bruiser of a tabby cat that we rescued as a kitten off the street in Peterborough.

He's a big cat, more than double Roswell's seven pounds.  But despite their obvious differences,  he and Roswell are best buds, with the latter often snuggling up to him like a furry, heating pad.

As for Butters' friendly nature -- the neighbour's cat would beg to disagree.  Butters has been known wander over the back fence to beat him up in his own back yard.

For a big cat, it's amazing the tight spots that Butters squeezes himself into. Unfortunately there was a plant already in the pot.

Though he is sweet and gentle, Butters does not like to be picked up and held.  Our suspicion is that as a tiny kitten living on the street he'd had his share of being grabbed, picked up and subsequently dropped by children.

But give him a box, and he's in kitty heaven.

THE END !