Tag Archives: pet ownership

Puppy Tales, Part 83: Oh, how the time flies

This is the face of a 6-year-old pooch. Toby the Puppy turns 6 on April Fool’s Day.

That is no joke, except that there’s more than a little irony that we would celebrate Toby’s birthday on this particular day.

Toby has been part of our family for almost all of the time he has been scampering on the good Earth. He barged into our lives one sunny summer day in Amarillo, Texas. Our great-niece brought him home with her after she found him curled up in an alley not from our home. Our niece was spending some time with us in 2014. There’s a bit of a back story regarding all of this, but you’ve heard it already.

If you’re interested in revisiting the whole story, look here:

Pet ownership lesson No. 1: Don't let them run loose

The irony of all this is that when we took our puppy to the veterinarian, we asked her how old he is. She looked into his mouth and said, “Five months.” That’s it. The doc knew. We backed it up from Sept. 1 and, lo and behold, it happened to fall right on April 1.

There you have it. The “joke” was on us. Except that Toby the Puppy has been no joke. He’s been an absolute joy. He has made us laugh every single day since the moment he entered our home and captured our hearts.

I have chronicled through this Puppy Tales series of blog posts about how smart he is, how well-behaved he is, how intuitive he is and how my wife and I have had to speak in code in front of him because — and I am quite certain of this — he understands the English language.

I want to extend birthday greetings to our beloved Toby the Puppy. There will be more tales to tell about him.

It’s been a wonderful six years. He has made my wife and me so very happy and I know absolutely without a doubt that he shares his happiness with us.

Puppy Tales, Part 32

My wife and I have discovered yet another fascinating trait about Toby the Puppy.

He is a discerning television watcher.

Here’s what I mean.

Toby likes to play “fetch” while we’re watching TV in the evening. We toss the toy, the puppy fetches it from across the room and brings it back. He’ll do this repeatedly. Then he lies down, usually on his mother’s lap.

We watch some more TV quietly while Toby relaxes for a bit, catching his breath.

Then it happens. The moment — the instant — the TV goes to commercial, Toby jumps to the floor, grabs his fetch toy and wants us to toss it some more.

Then we resume our game. It goes on and on and on.

Until the next time he takes a breather. Then the commercial.

And off we go — again!

Puppy Tales, Part 23

puppy

Dog ownership is a bit more complicated than cat ownership.

You mommies and daddies of puppies know of which I speak.

Toby the Puppy went to the doctor this morning. He suddenly had lost his appetite. He was still full of his usual spunk and affection. His disposition was as sunny — and goofy — as always.

He just wasn’t eating. He also was spitting up a little bit. It was clear. Nothing foreboding in whatever it was he was coughing up.

With our kitties, we might not have panicked. Well, we didn’t actually panic last night and this morning. But we felt strangely compelled to take him to the doctor’s office this morning. We didn’t have an appointment, so we had to wait for the veterinarian to “work him in” between surgeries and other appointments.

We got to the doc’s office when it opened. The doc showed up a few minutes later. A few minutes after that, they called for Toby.

The vet tech asked: What do you want to do? I asked: What are the options? Blood work, she said, or we could just “treat him symptomatically.”

Let’s go with the blood work and take it from there.

Twenty minutes later, we got the results. He’s fine, the doctor said. A little dehydrated. He’s just got some kind of bug.

He got a shot for the nausea and a shot of fluid that would be absorbed into his system to hydrate him.

I went to work this afternoon and then returned home.

“Tell Daddy you’re feeling better,” my wife instructed Toby as I walked into the house.

He jumped all over me. Yes, he’s better.

So help me, this puppy is like caring for a baby all over again.

Well … almost.

 

Puppy Tales, Part 22

puppy

It’s official.

Toby the Puppy has found a new sleeping place. He has abandoned his mother and me for comfort in the dark of the night.

We acquired Toby nearly two years ago. He has been bunking with us almost that entire time.

Until just recently.

He now scampers into his kennel when it’s bed time. He curls up and goes to sleep. Lights out for the puppy.

Here’s how it goes.

When it’s time to turn in, we send him into the back yard to take care of his personal business. He does what he’s supposed to do.

Then he comes to the back door. We let him in.

And then he scoots immediately into his kennel. We keep the door open. Thus, Toby needs only to settle in for the night. When he joined the family, we sought to “train” him to sleep in the kennel. No can do. He wanted out of there. He whimpered. We surrendered and let him sleep with us.

Here’s my wife’s theory on the puppy’s change of sleeping habit: He knows he’s loved.

We are unaware of the entire life he had before he joined us in September 2014. All we know is that he was one of several pooches in that house. He wasn’t getting the attention, perhaps, that he felt he needed — or deserved; he had to compete with the other animals in the house for the attention of their human “parents.”

Well, Toby the Puppy has no such need to compete in this house.

He’s the one. He knows it. He is comfortable.

Yep. He’s the top dog.

Puppy Tales, Part 18

kitty

Our learning curve about Toby the Puppy keeps us alert.

Readers of this blog know that my wife and I have been lifelong cat lovers. At this writing, we no longer have cats in our family. Our 14-year-old female alley cat, Mittens, died on Leap Day of this year. We miss her terribly.

But our puppy, well, he’s keeping us in stitches.

This morning we took Toby to the veterinarian to receive a microchip in his neck. We thought it would require a bit of minor surgery: an injection to deaden the feeling in his skin, a small incision, an insertion of the chip and then … presto!

Oh, no. It’s even less invasive than that. The vet tech said all she did was insert the chip through an oversized hypodermic needle. Poof! That’s it. He’s now registered in case he gets lost and someone picks him up.

Then my wife asked: “Why does he keep peeing everywhere when we take him for walks? Is that normal?”

Yes, the tech said. “He’s marking his territory,” she explained. Male dogs do that. The pee on everything. Bushes. Curbs. Rocks. Light posts. Yep, fire hydrants.

I guess it never dawned on me that our pooch felt the need to mark his territory. I have watched enough Animal Planet and PBS “Nature” programs to know that male lions and tigers do it in the wild. But, hey, they have a serious need to let other male lions and tigers know who’s boss, correct?

Toby weighs about 10 pounds. He is extremely sweet. He doesn’t need to prove his male puppyhood to anyone, or so I would have thought.

Silly me.

Boys, I reckon, will be boys.

 

Mourning another loss

kitty

It doesn’t make a damn bit of difference how you lose a pet that becomes a member of the family.

If it’s quick, unexpected and, well, shocking, that’s tough to handle.

If it’s something you expect and are waiting for the inevitable, that stinks, too.

Today we said goodbye to our 14-year-old kitty, Mittens. We knew it was coming. She had developed a tumor in her left cheek about three months ago. The doctor took a tissue sample and sent it out to be tested. It came back malignant. She has a carcinoma, the doc said. We gave her some antibiotics and some pain meds.

She did well for several weeks after the diagnosis. But the doctor warned us: There’s no permanent cure available short of surgery, radiation and chemo therapy. At Mittens’ age, with the risk of organ failure as she came out of the anesthesia, we decided to forgo the heavy-duty treatment.

Well, she stopped eating late this past week. It’s not that she didn’t want to eat. She just couldn’t. The tumor had broken the skin inside her mouth. It had become infected. She couldn’t chew.

Today was the day we dreaded.

My wife reminded me that “this is the price we pay” for owning pets with which we fall in love. It happened with Mittens’ brother, Socks, who died quietly and suddenly in November 2014. Believe me, that one hurt, too.

Today, our hearts are broken once again.

My mother used to joke about those who dismissed cats, people who couldn’t see the personality that these critters possess. Mom knew better. My wife and I knew better, too.

We’ve had a number of cats during our 44-plus years together. They’ve all occupied special places in our hearts. Mittens was no exception.

She was a relentless bird hunter and managed to help us de-mouse our home when he had a mild infestation of the rodents a few years back.

She also was sweet, despite being ultra-shy around people she didn’t know. With her “mother” and me? She was full of love and was unafraid to demonstrate it.

When Socks died, Mittens seemed to know intuitively we were hurting and she became even more demonstrative with her affection. I can’t prove that she felt our pain … to borrow a phrase. I just knew it.

In recent months, we had decided to take her traveling with us in our fifth wheel (see picture). We learned to our pleasant surprise that she traveled quite well.

She rode up front in the kennel in our truck and when we parked and set up our campsite, she would find her favorite places to settle inside the RV. No sweat, man.

Yep, we are mourning today.

Then again, we still have Toby the Puppy to make us laugh. I suspect we’ll be laughing a little harder at the way he carries on.

 

Puppy Tales, Part 16

puppy

We’re more than a year now into dog ownership and we’ve learned plenty about the emotional and mental differences between dogs and cats.

My wife and I have been lifelong cat owners/lovers. We’ve understood during our many years together that cats can be at the same time lovable while not caring one little bit about anything or anyone else.

Not so with Toby the Dog.

Our puppy possesses a serious streak of jealousy.

You see, my wife takes care of a couple of little boys; one of them just turned 3, the other one is not quite six months of age. The brothers are sweet little boys but as you can imagine, the younger one requires quite a bit of attention.

So does Toby.

My wife has become expert at multi-tasking as it regards the kids and the puppy.

And with Toby following her around like a little four-legged shadow, she needs to be an expert.

Toby does not snap at the little guy. He doesn’t growl at him. He doesn’t make any gestures toward him that are remotely hostile.

Oh, no. Instead, he just insists — relentlessly! — that his “mother” pay him at least as much attention as she pays the little boy.

He demands she throw his toys around the house. He loves to fetch ’em and bring ’em back. He jumps on her lap whenever she is tending to the little guy’s needs. Toby puts his paws on her leg, demanding that she look at him, talk to him, do something — anything — with him to keep him busy.

Our kitty, Mittens? Oh, she keeps a low profile while the boys are here. She might venture out to grab a bite of food or a drink of water — but only when they’re both napping. She’ll look at us as the tiptoes through a room en route to whatever she intends to do. And the look usually is one of “OK, folks, you do what you’re going to do; I’m just going about my business.”

Toby the Dog is another matter. Completely and entirely.

How does he know we love him? We tell him so. Repeatedly.

Why? Because he demands it.

 

 

Puppy Tales, Part 13

Toby the Dog continues to impress my wife and me.

Here’s the latest demonstration of how well-behaved dogs are supposed to act when you take them out among others.

We went to Petsmart today to look for a couple of dog and cat accessories. The place was a madhouse, full of barking, yapping, yipping and — in some instances — snarling.

Today was adoption day at the pet store, courtesy of the ASPCA, which brings in a number of dogs and cats to find new homes.

So, how did Toby react to all of this commotion?

He didn’t make a sound. Not one bark. Not one whimper. Nothing. He stayed next to us, waited patiently while we looked for what we wanted to buy. He visited with a nice fellow who was in the same aisle as us, sniffing his leg and licking his hand when the gentleman reached down to pet him.

I’ve noted before how Toby doesn’t bark when the neighborhood pooches start in. He’ll bark at the neighbor’s cats when they venture into our yard to tease him.

Today presented another bit of a test for our dog, who’s just a little more than a year old.

I’m happy to report that he sailed through it — with ease.

Pets can prove their intuitive qualities

Pet owners know this.

It is that your pet — dog or cat — know when you’re hurting.

My wife and I are the proud “parents” of a 13-year-old cat, Mittens, and a year-old pooch, Toby. But until this past November, we owned two cats. Mittens had a brother we adopted along with her from the ASPCA in the summer of 2002. His name was Socks.

One early evening, without warning, Socks went to one of his favorite sleeping places, curled up — and died. Just like that, he was gone. It devastated my wife and me.

We loved Socks very much and those of our friends and family who met this big brute of a cat understand why. He was absolutely the most lovable kitty I’ve ever seen, let alone taken into our family.

I miss him every day.

What’s the point here?

Well, I think his sister, Mittens, misses him, too. In fact, I believe Mittens has been demonstrating in recent months a keen intuition about us and the grief we’re still feeling.

She’s gone through a bit of a personality change since her brother died.

Of the two cats, Mittens was by far the shy one. She wasn’t nearly as demonstrative in her affection toward my wife and me as Socks. Sure, she’d like to be around us, but she was far more reserved.

To this day, she still doesn’t come out when company is in the house. She hides. When the coast is clear, then she shows herself, nibbles on her food, answers nature’s call … all the things cats do.

Of late, though, she’s becoming far more affectionate toward her “mother” and me. She nuzzles constantly. She demands attention from us. She is more vocal than before. When I climb into bed, usually to read a little before nodding off, Mittens jumps up, nudges my hands, snuggles against my cheek and neck and seems to say “I love you” as she purrs loudly in my ear.

I am no animal psychologist, obviously. My wife and I have owned cats almost throughout our 43-plus years of marriage. Toby the pooch is a new experience for us, but we’re getting along quite well with our Chihuahua mix. He’s adorable, smart and quite well-behaved. Does he miss Socks? Hardly.

However, Mittens is showing signs of recognition of the loss we have suffered and I believe she wants us to know that she loves us, too.

Now I know why pets can be so therapeutic.

 

Puppy tales, Part 11

What a glorious mid-winter day on the Texas Tundra.

Indeed, days like this occasionally make me forget we’re still in the grip of winter. After all, didn’t The Groundhog tell us a few days ago we were in for six more weeks of it? Not around here, Phil.

So, with that my wife and I spent the morning trimming perennials, raking leaves that fell several months ago, clearing out the back yard as we prepare for spring.

We also listened to a canine cacophony from next door and across the alley that separates us from our neighbors to the south.

What does this have to do with Toby the Dog, our little bundle of excitement?

He didn’t make a sound while the three neighbor dogs yipped and yapped incessantly at my wife and me — and at Toby as he traipsed along the fence; I’m thinking he was baiting the neighbor pooches. Nor did he make a sound while we all listened to the much bigger dogs across the alley. For the record, we have another dog living on the other side of us, but she’s a very well-behaved mid-sized pooch.

No, the only sound Toby made this morning was to yip just a little bit at a neighbor kitty that’s a frequent visitor to our yard; once in a while she ventures into our home, apparently when Toby and Mittens (our very territorial cat) are looking the other way.

I know some of you out there own small dogs. Ours is a little one. However, take it from me: When he decides to bark — which isn’t very often — it usually is for a reason, such as when the UPS guy or the Fed Ex guy delivers something at the front door. And when Toby does let loose, he sounds a lot larger — and meaner — than he actually is.

Today? Virtually nothing came from him while the chorus was erupting all around us.

Good job, Toby.