To the Rescue!

If I told you about the week I had, you wouldn’t believe me. But it’s why I’m re-posting this blog from 2022 since I had limited time this week. So grab a cup of coffee, sit back, relax, and I hope you enjoy this post.

What I’m about to tell you is just between us. Loose lips not only sink ships, they can also land me in the slammer. The problem with that? I doubt jail caters to vegetarians and I’m guessing their sleeping arrangements aren’t as comfy as my king size Sleep Number bed with pillow-top padding.

Jail food

Since you’re finished reading about our dog rescue on Mare Island, I figure this is a good time to tell you about another canine rescue I was part of. Some might call it a dog-napping and they wouldn’t be incorrect. But I prefer to label it as a life or death rescue intervention.

Here’s what happened: One of our feral cat caretakers (who we’ll refer to as Shannon) was told by her daughter (let’s call her Kelly) about a dog she discovered living out of state with a past friend of hers. The dog was locked in a cage in a basement with little food or water. Pretty cruel, huh? The dog was horribly malnourished and basically ignored by her so-called guardian, a drug addict who we’ll call The Neglector.

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Oh Happy Day! Or Is It?

Still playing catch up from my trip, so here’s a posting for 2017 that, sadly, is still relevant today.

I think you all know how much I’ve struggled with house training my one-year-old Dachshund mix, Wally. He’s either the most stubborn dog this side of New York or not a very bright canine. I’d say maybe both.

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After his first bath

My friend Patty adopted a Dachshund mix a day before I took home Wally last summer. Unlike me, she has a history with the breed and wanted a companion for her full-on Dachshund, Jimmy Dean.

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Jimmy Dean

Enter Ali. Hard as it is to believe, Ali is even cuter than Wally. But Patty’s pup has the same issues as Wally. Yippee!

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Ali
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Compassion: A Curse and a Blessing

Okay, so you probably noticed my last post ran for two weeks. That’s because I was in France with my besties, cruising for two glorious weeks along the Seine River from Paris to Normandy, which I’ll be blogging about. But until then, here’s a rerun from 2022. I hope you enjoy it…

I believe I have an overactive compassion gene. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying that’s a particularly bad trait, depending on how you look at it. For one thing, it means I’m not a psychopath since they tend not to have an ounce of compassion, let alone a conscience. So yay for me!

The reason I even brought this up is because I’m in animal rescue, specifically cats. Not that I don’t rescue other creatures. I’m what you would call an equal opportunity savior. Wait. That sounds pompous. Let me rephrase that. How about equal opportunity rescuer? Yeah, that’s better.

Now, you’re going to think I’m a bit loony. And you wouldn’t be far off, especially when I tell you what I did the other day…So I’m having lunch at home when I reach for my glass of water and notice a fly inside, swimming frantically in circles. I’m not entirely certain flies swim but whatever it was doing, it looked frantic.

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So Long, Skip

It was 9:30 p.m. on July 9, 2012. I was at Marin Humane, about to process a feral cat I trapped, when at the same time, an officer was carrying in an 18-month-old frightened fawn with white corgi mix. I immediately stopped and yelled, “Wait! Who is that?” And that, my friends, is how I met my dog, Skip.

Now don’t get me wrong; I knew the moment I saw Skip, he was meant to be mine; he simply had to be. Thus began our wonderful 13-year relationship. If you read my posts, you’re aware I’ve had a few pets in my day, but there was something unique about this one. Maybe it was those big brown eyes and his laid-back demeanor. He was a go-with-the-flow type; in other words, perfect for me.

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