Of Furkids Past- Part Two

Harrigan was named for a song in the musical, Yankee Doodle Dandy. As a kitten, he was a very active, cheeky fluffball. He grew and grew(and grew) into a 13 lb chunk of DLH brown/white tabby- my "kittyboy". He did have a littermate sister, Hillary, who was let out by a roommate too soon after a move. She was gone, never to be seen again, within moments.

Harrigan was one of those kitties that, had he grown an opposable thumb, should never play poker. Everything he thought was immediately evident on his naughty whiskered face. He was declawed(before I knew better) and he loved to entice Cardigan into a lively chase about the apartment. "Monster Cat" would go to the back of a chair and proceed to 'scratch' the dickens out of it. "Tell the kitty- NO!" was Cardigan's favorite command because it meant a kitty head needed honking. You go to the kitty, grab his head and squeeze(gently) a couple of times. Honka. Honka. Just like a bicycle horn. GAME ON. It was just what a frustrated herding dog longs for- running feet just begging to be nipped. And the perfect excuse for 'Lewis and Clark Cat' to blaze new trails across the furniture and walls.

Harrigan was my lovable, purring "lap-lump". He made many a cold evening of book reading, a very cozy time. He didn't like 'people food' and would actually give a very melodramatic gag-action if you let him sniff it. Oh, but how he loved to hunt and he was adept without claws. Snakes, geckos, and water roaches were all brought to me in feline adoration. Snakes went into the 'Catch and Release Program', the roaches were screamed at and then stomped on, and a couple of geckos, unfortunately, weren't found until they had become lizard jerky. Small, desiccated, twig-like things that, when finally noticed, always made me cry. Poor critters.

In his later years, Harrigan developed arthritis in his declawed broken-down paws and his kibble bowl was up high, being kept away from doglips. A thick multi-layered pile of rugs made a soft, impact absorbing landing site, but better still: The Kitty Cafe. I took a medium-sized plastic totebox, turned it upside-down, cut out a "U" shaped door in one end and placed the box back onto its lid. Voila! Inside it an old kitty can satiate, while just outside, dogs salivate.

His health declined rapidly in 2003 and medication could no longer provide him a quality life. I held Harrigan while Dr. Paul made him pain-free. A life well pounced, purred and scampered through: April 6, 1988 to December 3, 2003. Good "Kiddles".

Pic of Yesterday's Blog Subject

This is my sweeters, Cardigan. She was with me from December 17, 1987 to June 3, 2003. And on the morning of June 3, I was there when Dr. Paul ended the pain caused by her failing body. It's my opinion that, if they accompany you in life, you need to be there with them in their last few minutes. I know that, through my Faith in Jesus' life, death and resurrection, I am assured of Heaven. I hope that Cardigan and my other babies will meet me there. I can't say for certain, but neither can anyone else this side of Heaven's Gate. So I think I'll consider I Cor 2:9, "Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him.", until I get there. Pooh, you'll always be my rootin'-tootin'-snortin'-pig-dog. Good girl.

Of Furkids Past- Part One

I can't introduce the current Furfamily members without beginning with two who have been gone only a short time. The 'short time' is actually 3 years, but these sweet ones were with me for 15 years. My heart doesn't go by a calendar.

Cardigan(Pooh) was a blue merle Australian Shepherd cross. So named because of her resemblance, or so I thought, to a moth-eaten sweater. Pooh was small and dainty by Aussie breed standards. At only 31 lbs, she fit nicely into the apartment du jour. She had what I called the "apartment bark"- a light, barely audible percolating sound which she kindly taught to her brother Gunther. However, upon seeing a beloved human, she let out a screeching aahoo-ike-oooh, continuously until she thought that person well met. A very interesting sound, indeed, when in a underground parking garage.

She padded softly beside me through an In-patient stay for depression, a poorly chosen marriage(what was I thinking?) and The Divorce. In an attempt to salvage that marriage, I even offered to give Cardigan away, as my husband was not a dog person. And, though he declined the offer, giving away a family member will never be offered again- to anyone. I kept the dog and lost the husband, the best choice hands(or paws) down.

While I loved Cardigan dearly, she was the result of human ignorance. Born out of the belief that if you let a dog have one litter- she will be a better pet after being spayed. *Soapbox Alert* Nope, still have the same dog, plus a litter of mixed-breed puppies that may never find responsible homes. Added to that, the dog now has a higher chance of breast cancer because of not being spayed before her first heat. And should someone feel the need teach children the "miracle of birth" by allowing(making) the family dog or cat have a litter, be sure the curriculum also includes a fieldtrip. Strap those kiddos in the ol' SUV and head on down to the local Animal Shelter. Where on Euthanasia Day(just a tad different than Earth Day), they can learn what happens to all the leftover Life-ED Course 'materials'. Please find another way to teach the children. Fluffy thanks you, and so do Shelter workers around the world. *Soapbox now stowed away*

No Pets Allowed

I've been on this journey road for nearly forty-nine years, and most of it has been spent walking side-by-side, hand-in-paw with pets. These same pets found a way to pounce, romp and wriggle their way into the Mapsco of my heart, as well. Somewhere along that journey, though, they have managed to shed more than hair- they shed their noun. No longer are they pets: they are Furkids. Mommie's Furkids. I suppose as the years vaporized and no real children materialized, I made the fuzz-covered vocabulary change.

I know that some people have a difficult time with this particular definition of family. Activities after work have to be carefully planned, overtime possibly turned down and spontaneous travel doesn't happen because of the 3 dogs, 2 cats and 1 bird waiting for Mommie to return. I've been asked, "Is it really worth it, you're life's really limited?" The fact that the question was posed means you won't understand the answer given. Like I said, "It's a Furkid thing".

In coming posts, I plan to introduce you to my Furfamily. Well, anyway, I hope to do this and not wander into Soapbox Land. Ahem...that was not, however, a promise to reduce my soapbox to kindling. My apologies.