(But you aren’t obligated to read it if you don’t want to.)
The new kittens are eating well now — thanks for all the tips and suggestions! “Fluffy” has already gained some weight, and looks and feels much healthier. Bob has calmed down, and was even napping next to Flossie earlier today — they looked so cute together, the sight of them almost didn’t remind me of the apocalyptic prediction of cats and dogs, living together (which is, as you know, preceded by the dead rising from their graves, and human sacrifices). However, despite his recent (apparent) forsaking of evil, I have decided that his official name shall be “BeelzeBob.” I still need a name for his sweet former cellmate. I guess going with the whole “good vs. evil” theme, I should name him Gabriel or Raphael (or maybe Malik, keeper of Hell).
But speaking of pound kittens, I was saddened to learn on Wednesday that all the other cats that were at the shelter when I visited on Monday have been euthanized. When I found out that the sweet, bouncy young yellow lab was going to be put down this Wednesday (the dogs got a week stay of execution because their cages weren’t needed for new arrivals yet), I posted her info on various state-wide sites – and I am happy to report that she got a new home on Saturday. And what makes it even better, it seems that there was so much interest in Remmy that the shelter was able to find homes for ALL their adoptable dogs, even the ugly (but sweet) Rottweiler mix! I am pretty happy about that. (I wish that there was an equal demand for the cats, but there just isn’t.)
Right now as I type, Bix, one of my handraised orphan kittens, is asleep on my lap. Yodie, the rescued dog, and Jet Jaguar, the rescued cargo plane, are at my feet. Andy, the geriatric cat, and Flossie, the Princess dog, are asleep on my bed. The other pets are either napping on the couch, or are out in the yard, mugging mice and terrorizing voles. Life is good.
The new kittens are eating well now — thanks for all the tips and suggestions! “Fluffy” has already gained some weight, and looks and feels much healthier. Bob has calmed down, and was even napping next to Flossie earlier today — they looked so cute together, the sight of them almost didn’t remind me of the apocalyptic prediction of cats and dogs, living together (which is, as you know, preceded by the dead rising from their graves, and human sacrifices). However, despite his recent (apparent) forsaking of evil, I have decided that his official name shall be “BeelzeBob.” I still need a name for his sweet former cellmate. I guess going with the whole “good vs. evil” theme, I should name him Gabriel or Raphael (or maybe Malik, keeper of Hell).
But speaking of pound kittens, I was saddened to learn on Wednesday that all the other cats that were at the shelter when I visited on Monday have been euthanized. When I found out that the sweet, bouncy young yellow lab was going to be put down this Wednesday (the dogs got a week stay of execution because their cages weren’t needed for new arrivals yet), I posted her info on various state-wide sites – and I am happy to report that she got a new home on Saturday. And what makes it even better, it seems that there was so much interest in Remmy that the shelter was able to find homes for ALL their adoptable dogs, even the ugly (but sweet) Rottweiler mix! I am pretty happy about that. (I wish that there was an equal demand for the cats, but there just isn’t.)
Right now as I type, Bix, one of my handraised orphan kittens, is asleep on my lap. Yodie, the rescued dog, and Jet Jaguar, the rescued cargo plane, are at my feet. Andy, the geriatric cat, and Flossie, the Princess dog, are asleep on my bed. The other pets are either napping on the couch, or are out in the yard, mugging mice and terrorizing voles. Life is good.
9 Responses to “Obligatory Pet Post”
i won’t quote your 3rd ‘graph cause it made me all teary reading it but really, you should be proud of yourself. *hugs*
Ugh. I’m going to start beating people who don’t spay and neuter.
Have you considered “Hecubus”, the fantastic Dave Foley character from Kids in the Hall? I’d post a link but I’m lazy.
Have you considered “Hecubus”, the fantastic Dave Foley character from Kids in the Hall? I’d post a link but I’m lazy.
LOL D. Sidhe! My husband and I still occasionally shout “Eee-vil!” at each other.
If you’re interested in Biblical names, there’s always Esau, which according to behindthename.com was derived from a Hebrew name that could mean “hairy”. Or Hirah (splendor), Ira (watchful), Jair (he shines), Jesse (possible meaning: gift), Malachi (my angel/my messenger), Mattan (gift), Philemon (affectionate), Solomon (peace), or Thaddeus (heart).
…yeah, that website is fun.
If you’re interested in Biblical names, there’s always Esau, which according to behindthename.com was derived from a Hebrew name that could mean “hairy”. Or Hirah (splendor), Ira (watchful), Jair (he shines), Jesse (possible meaning: gift), Malachi (my angel/my messenger), Mattan (gift), Philemon (affectionate), Solomon (peace), or Thaddeus (heart).
…yeah, that website is fun.
What,
no photos!
no photos!
If “fluffy” is in fact fluffy may i suggest the name “Tribble”
Man! When you wrote, “(w)hen I found out that the sweet, bouncy young yellow lab was going to be put down this Wednesday(…),” you really had me worried. I thought you had yet another addition to your family, and Labs are so energetic, at this point, one would kill ya. Phew. That was a bullet dodged. Plus, the cats would likely not appreciate one. My sister’s cat’s didn’t much like my previous black Lab. One of them was on Phenobarbital, for epilepsy, and was very… laid back. The cat would be sitting up on a chair, snoozing, when the dog would come barreling up and stick his face right up in the cat’s. The cat would only manage feeble swats, without his claws extended. The dog just thought this was amusing, and shoved his face farther forward. Fortunately, he was just being friendly, since he outweighed the cat 90lbs to 10.
I really don’t think it should be cats with the dearth of interest. I mean, if we’re going with biblical references, when was the last time that you heard of a cat returning to its vomit as a fool returns to his folly?
Those are the luckiest animals in the world, to have found a home with you, S.Z.
I know it hurts that you can’t save them all, but know that you have done and will always do as much as is humanly possible for all the others that shall continue to come your way.
Since we’re expecting a “hard freeze,” our “mascot ferals” here at Hotel du’Fucktards (we’re not allowed cats or dogs inside, or my fat spoiled chirren would be here, rather than at the Beastmaster’s, dammit) needed a nest.
So, walker and all, spine brace intact, Isotoner gloves, I took the two cardboard boxes that I had, filled them with crumpled newspaper, with freshly-opened cans of catfood (I feed them every day, as much as I can afford to, anyway, as well as the cats that live down by the recycling dumpsters), and crawled over the erosion-proofing (Ha!) rocks at the little former creekbed/property line where they huddle in the brambles & pine straw & canes & dead blackberry vines, and made little nests for the two adults and the three or four gorgeous babies.
They are lucky to still be leery of humans, because here, we don’t even HAVE an animal shelter or an SPCA anymore. They take the dogs to the pound at the jail until some trustee or deputy takes ‘em home.
Stray cats, they shoot on sight or leave to become roadkill.
So, my personal mission is to try to keep as many as possible alive through the winter, and if we can get Lee the emergency medical help that she needs, my next major campaign will be to get a REAL animal shelter built here, where the Barney-Fife-On-Scotch-And-Way-Too-Much-Ego & Viagra “sheriff” has TWO HELICOPTERS, TOO MANY DEPUTIES, TOO MANY ‘Homeland Security’ GRANTS, AND TAKES MOST OF THE CONSTANTLY-INFLOWING TAX MONEY *HOME* with him. Sure, sure, this formerly cool little ol’ town is being polluted with white-flight nouveau-riche white-trash from Baton Rouge, still fleeing Katrina survivors in the so-called “city” — it’s booming like a throbbing ingrown pubic hair in tight leather chaps. (Thanks to Ted for that analogy, btw!)
But do they bother to help lowly ANIMALS? Pfft. Only if they show potential as HUNTING DOGS.
In the meantime, the mascots are fed & hopefully warm enough to make it through the night.
If I could catch the lightning-fast little shits, I’d smuggle ‘em in here for the night, but I can’t exactly “run” yet.
Love to all your critters and you, S.Z., and to Scott for that wonderful post for Lee, again and again.
I know it hurts that you can’t save them all, but know that you have done and will always do as much as is humanly possible for all the others that shall continue to come your way.
Since we’re expecting a “hard freeze,” our “mascot ferals” here at Hotel du’Fucktards (we’re not allowed cats or dogs inside, or my fat spoiled chirren would be here, rather than at the Beastmaster’s, dammit) needed a nest.
So, walker and all, spine brace intact, Isotoner gloves, I took the two cardboard boxes that I had, filled them with crumpled newspaper, with freshly-opened cans of catfood (I feed them every day, as much as I can afford to, anyway, as well as the cats that live down by the recycling dumpsters), and crawled over the erosion-proofing (Ha!) rocks at the little former creekbed/property line where they huddle in the brambles & pine straw & canes & dead blackberry vines, and made little nests for the two adults and the three or four gorgeous babies.
They are lucky to still be leery of humans, because here, we don’t even HAVE an animal shelter or an SPCA anymore. They take the dogs to the pound at the jail until some trustee or deputy takes ‘em home.
Stray cats, they shoot on sight or leave to become roadkill.
So, my personal mission is to try to keep as many as possible alive through the winter, and if we can get Lee the emergency medical help that she needs, my next major campaign will be to get a REAL animal shelter built here, where the Barney-Fife-On-Scotch-And-Way-Too-Much-Ego & Viagra “sheriff” has TWO HELICOPTERS, TOO MANY DEPUTIES, TOO MANY ‘Homeland Security’ GRANTS, AND TAKES MOST OF THE CONSTANTLY-INFLOWING TAX MONEY *HOME* with him. Sure, sure, this formerly cool little ol’ town is being polluted with white-flight nouveau-riche white-trash from Baton Rouge, still fleeing Katrina survivors in the so-called “city” — it’s booming like a throbbing ingrown pubic hair in tight leather chaps. (Thanks to Ted for that analogy, btw!)
But do they bother to help lowly ANIMALS? Pfft. Only if they show potential as HUNTING DOGS.
In the meantime, the mascots are fed & hopefully warm enough to make it through the night.
If I could catch the lightning-fast little shits, I’d smuggle ‘em in here for the night, but I can’t exactly “run” yet.
Love to all your critters and you, S.Z., and to Scott for that wonderful post for Lee, again and again.
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