As promised, this is the last Holy Crap posting. Here’s how it ended:
Gracie proved to be nearly impossible to trap. Worried she’d inevitably be hit by a car (like Brownie), we brainstormed for a solution when I remembered seeing a discarded portable basketball system on the side of a secluded dirt road.
We rolled it down to where Gracie eats, cut up licorice plants, then placed a 4’ round net under the hoop. After tying ropes to the edges of the net and connecting them with a carabiner, we looped another cord through that and over the hoop. We covered the net in plantings, then practiced “trapping” a large rock. It worked beautifully, so we put food in the middle. Continue reading →
As you know, an Animal Control Officer informed me he’d received word that 2 small dogs had been run over and killed on Mare Island the night before. Refusing to believe it, yet feeling sick to my stomach, I walked every foot of the reported area, thankfully encountering no dead dogs.
Then, while heading back to my car, I spotted the little gray dog, aka Gracie. What a relief! I immediately texted Loretta and Toni, alerting them she was heading their way, toward a palm tree where she and her buddy, aka Brownie, nap.
By now unsuccessful with traps, we resorted to nets.
Holy crap doesn’t begin to describe the day we had last week.
Actually, how it all started may have been an omen. Loretta and I were driving to Mare Island to trap Spot, the last of many feral cats we relocated from under a condemned building, when we heard a strange sound. Seems a screw was embedded in my tire. Now don’t get me wrong; that didn’t stop us.
Don’t worry, we reached our destination without a flat and quickly caught Spot, who’ll be happy to join his buddies at their new outdoor home. Spot’s feeder monitored the trap while we headed elsewhere on the island to check on other ferals. So far so good. That all changed when Loretta’s eagle eyes spotted some distressed dogs in front of one of the island’s many abandoned military buildings. Continue reading →
Last week you met Taffy, the latest member of my furry family. So now I’d like to tell you what life has been like lately. Now don’t get me wrong; what I’m about to say doesn’t imply I regret my decision to adopt that little monkey. She is both a treasure and a challenge.
Let’s start with the challenging part, shall we? This will give you an idea as to how I spend a good portion of my time at home with Taffy. Picture the two of us standing in the rain in the backyard. It’s 7 a.m. and Taffy is staring up at me, quizzically, while I repeatedly say, “Go potty, Taffy. Go potty.” That scenario is quickly followed by more expressions of total confusion.