Ollie aka Mr. Kitten Mittens Found a Home

A Bit of Good News on This Awful Day

Remember the dog I rescued from death row last month? Well, he found his forever home1 today. (And I found my sanity.)

A woman and her 12 year old son came by to pick him up. The boy fell in love with the dog and Ollie looked happy as a clam.

As for me? Peace and quiet, FTW.

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Early Morning Open Thread: Dog in Black



From commentor Rob!:

Attached are pics of our dog Johnny, who is a Pomeranian/American Eskimo mix.
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She just turned five a few months ago, and we got her when she was 4 months from an older couple who adopted her and her sister and came to the conclusion that two dogs like this were too wild. We got example after example of this during Johnny’s first few months with us–she chewed on every conceivable corner there was available, chased the cat, and barked at every other human being in existence.
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She’s an unfathomably smart dog, and knows how to manipulate a situation–when she sees I’m about to go out, she gives me her most pathetic look and rolls over so I can rub her belly, knowing I can’t turn the offer down (she is correct). Also, if she’s bored and my girlfriend and I are both busy, she will quietly disappear into the bedroom and return with a sock or pair of underwear, showing it to us knowing it will get the proper response.
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As is the case with many smart dogs, she’s a handful. She seems to hate every human being on the planet except us and my parents, whom she adores. But everyone else is a suspect, a potential predator, or at the very least worthy of barking at. She would bark non-stop at perceived threats outside if we let her. We’ve tried over and over to control this, and have had only marginal success.
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And that disdain for everyone extends to other animals–we have dreams of owning lots of dogs, cats, what have you, but we both realize that’s probably not realistic while we have Johnny. She wants to be an only child, dammit.
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One of the things I am most thankful for is the realization that Johnny had not ended up with us, she might not be here at all. The older couple who first got her were determined to give her up, and I shudder when I think where she might have landed. The average person might have seen how much work she is and dropped her at some shelter, where her inherent fearfulness and aggressiveness would probably have scared off any potential parents.
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We named her after Johnny Cash, because when we first got her she was nearly all black. Over time more and more eskimo white is popping out, including some patches on her back–we call them her angel wings.








I’m Probably Going to Hell for This

Took the dogs to the park for a run, and… Rosie ran off as I was gathering them up to go home and the Lily followed her. I drove around town looking for them, because they had followed the creek and up to the other side of town up a holler, and after about ten minutes, I found Lily and Daphne (an adorable beagle/bassett mix who may be the orneriest and squirmiest dog ever) treeing a squirrel or some other rodent. I scooped them up, drove down the block and dropped off Daphne at her owners house, and went to resume the hunt for Rosie, when in my rearview mirror, I saw her fat ass racing down the middle of the street to catch up with the car with a frantic “Wait for me, wait for me” look. Instead of stopping and throwing her into the car, I slowed down and drove around the block a couple times like a pace car, with her chasing the whole way.

I’m probably going to go to hell for that, but it was worth it, and at least now she is sleeping and leaving me alone so I can get some stuff done.








Early Morning Open Thread: Queen of the House


From commentor Mike S:

In the Spring of 2002 we lost Marta, our 14-year-old mixed breed, a medium-brown “Heinz 57” (as my father called her) rescue, to old age. That was such a terrible trauma for me that I didn’t know if I wanted to get another dog. But by July the house didn’t seem right without a dog. I began thinking seriously about getting another dog, and my wife was ready too. So I stopped by the Animal Rescue League to see who was waiting for a good home. I had walked through and looked at about 3/4 of the dogs there and none of them seemed right somehow, either too big, too small, too noisy — you know, the whole Goldilocks routine.
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Then I saw one cute little one who put her front paws up on the fence and stuck her nose through the mesh as far as she could; she was obviously inviting me to be friends and play with her. So I asked the staff If I could meet her and take her for a walk outside and they were happy to oblige. She was somewhat shy when we got outside and mostly wanted to smell and poke around, but we got along well and I thought she was the one. The staff told me that someone else wanted to adopt her but it hadn’t gone through yet because the other potential adopter wasn’t the owner of the home where she lived and written permission from the homeowner was needed. So she was available, for now!
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I went back with my wife the next day, she was still there. We walked her outside again and we agreed that she was the dog we wanted. But we couldn’t take her that day as my wife and I were going away all of the next day, and I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving here locked up all day in a strange laundry room as her first experience in our home. I asked if we could adopt her, pay all of the fees and even boarding fees and pick her up on the following day, when we could be home with her round the clock. No! we were told we can’t let you do that. If you adopt her you have to take her then and there. So reluctantly I said we would be back on Saturday morning and adopt her if she was still there. She was such a cute doggie-type dog I really worried that she would have gone to another home until we came back, but I knew that there are always lots of dogs in need of a home and if we didn’t get her there would be another equally deserving one soon.
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On Saturday morning I showed up at the Rescue League’s door bright and early and found that she was still there! So I paid, and signed and took home our girl. They thought she was about 6 months old and weighed 30 lbs., so we estimated she would be on the large size for a lap dog, but it turned out she was closer to 9 months old and here final weight is 42 lbs. which is excellent lap dog size as far as I am concerned. She moved in ands settled in very well. She seemed to be already housebroken but we put here in the laundry room at night, instead of crating her for the first couple of months just to be sure. She never had an accident. To this day she almost never needs to go out to pee other than during her regular morning and evening walks after her meals and she has had exactly one accident in the house in almost 8 years.
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We named her Tasha, and she is a smart and wonderful dog.
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Early Morning Open Thread: Zinnia




From commentor Cat Hair Everywhere:

My cat Zinnia was part of a feral litter born under a bush at my former school several years ago. The custodian was watching over the litter (he loves cats too) and one day when the kittens were only two weeks old, he found the mom kitty dying. It appeared she had gotten into some kind of poison or something. He was devastated, and called the SPCA to come put her down. When I came through the office, the box of kittens was sitting next to the secretary’s desk. I grabbed the box and took it back to my classroom. The teacher next door called her husband and he brought us kitten formula and bottles. The custodian, much relieved, made the kittens a comfortable bed in the box and, with the help of my students, we bottle fed the kittens. The custodian took them home with him at night, and we traded off weekends. My principal pretended he didn’t know what we were doing, and conveniently never
visited my class during the weeks the kittens were there.
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My first and second period class was a English class for students who didn’t qualify for special education, but were reading 3-grades below level. It was kept under twenty students, but many of them were drug or alcohol babies and many had emotional and/or behavior issues. Because the class was my smallest and because it was the time when the kittens most wanted to be out of the box, I let them wander around the classroom. Several of my tough boys told me they didn’t like cats. I told them that was their loss, but they always had the option to ignore the kittens. I also warned them if they were mean to the kittens they would be in big trouble. Pretty soon, I noticed those same boys were holding their pencils under their desks, trying to lure the kittens over to play. Then I started hearing, “Mrs.! Mrs.! The kitten is sitting on my lap.”. I would tell them that they could gently put the kitten on the floor if it was bothering them, and they would reply, “Oh, that’s okay.”
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In the first two pictures, you can see Zinnia’s brother and sister, Stripe and Duchess sitting with a coupleof my ‘cat hating” boys. When the kittens were old enough, I took Zinnia, the custodian took Stripe and the other boy, and Duchess and the other girl went to loving homes. The custodian and I trapped one other feral who we thought was an sister to our kitties from a previous litter and had her spayed. She still lives at the school, and the custodian still feeds her on the patio outside the teachers’ lounge.
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Zinnia (bottom picture) is still a little shy, but she is a sweet and loving cat. She brings my husband live rats and bugs for the two of them to “play” with. I’ll never forget the time he was lying on the floor doing the crossword and Zinnie dropped a huge, live bug right on the crossword, then looked at him like, “look what I brought you!”