Could My Mutts Be Canine Einstein’s?

So recently I told you about my not so brilliant dogs. But this week is a whole different story; today I’m blogging about how smart they are. I know! I myself am surprised I wrote that sentence since my mutts haven’t exactly proven to be canine Einstein’s. But nobody’s perfect, right?

Now don’t get me wrong; this revelation about their intelligence doesn’t really serve a purpose other than allow me to marvel at their ability to absorb certain things you’d think would go unnoticed by canines. But not by MY dogs. Here’s how smart they are…

When I unplug the hot curling brush in the morning, Taffy, Skip and Wally run downstairs because that means I’m nearly done getting ready. But Callie knows I don’t leave the bathroom until I use my eyebrow pencil. As soon as I return it to the drawer, however, she heads downstairs. How’s that for smart?

Smarty Pants
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You Don’t Know Jack

Jack, my recently adopted 4th cat, will be my last. I won’t be guardian to more felines until one of mine goes over the Rainbow Bridge. And it’s not because I’m afraid of being a crazy cat lady. That boat sailed a while ago.

miss crazy cat lady

No, the reason I’m stopping after Jack is because, well, you don’t know Jack. And as it turns out, I didn’t either. Now don’t get me wrong; I wouldn’t change my decision to add Jack to my animal family. It’s just that the more I get to know him, his true personality emerges. Need I say more? (Well actually, yes, or I won’t have a blog post today.) Continue reading

My Thursday Night

So Thursday night at about 8:30 I’m relaxing in my favorite chair, feet propped up on the ottoman, when I decided to check on one of my foster cats. A couple minutes later I return to find my dog Taffy munching something orange. I thought, what is that? That’s when I saw what was left of a pack of gum.

Scene of the crime

I’m a gum chewer from way back, which is why a friend gave me a pack of Trident Orange Swirl with my Christmas gift. It sat on the table next to my chair, which apparently was a big mistake. Sugar free Trident has xylitol in it and is extremely toxic to dogs. So I quickly called Pet Emergency because Taffy didn’t have the courtesy to poison herself during regular business hours.

Pre-Taffy

Pet Emergency had me call the ASPCA Poison Hotline to give them info so they’d know how to treat Taffy. Turns out xylitol causes hypoglycemia, seizures, liver failure and sometimes death. It’s even more toxic to dogs than chocolate.

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Copycat

 

copycat2

I’m living with a copycat.

The weird thing is, it’s an actual cat. No surprise I guess, as I’m assuming the saying originated when someone astute recognized that kittens tend to copy their mothers. Hold on while I google that. Okay, I’m back. Turns out the earliest reference to copycat was in 1887 with no mention of felines. After that it gets too boring for words, so Iet’s move along.

My copycat happens to be my cat Tippi, so named because her tipped ear is severe. Seems ever since I adopted the ever-entertaining Jack a few months ago, Tippi’s personality has changed. And not, might I add, for the worse.

tippi

Tippi

I trapped Tippi in a feral colony 2 1/2 years ago in the small farming and ranching community of Valley Ford. Tippi and her 21 assorted siblings were born under the grocery store. Thankfully, the store owners asked us (Marin Friends of Ferals) to have them spayed/neutered before she had 41 siblings. Long story short, I ended up keeping Tippi after realizing she was a tweener – not adoptable at the shelter yet not feral enough to be content living under the market.

valley-ford-market

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A Day of Thanks

So here we are 3 days after Thanksgiving and I’m not feeling even a tad bit sorry I essentially hibernated the whole day. Well, except to walk the dogs. Other than that, I had a glorious indoor day all to myself…unless you count my 9 pets and a feral foster kitten who hates me.

You see, with Covid-19, I opted to heed warnings about not congregating with anyone outside my immediate household. Hence, my menagerie and I had a pleasantly quiet Thanksgiving — sans my barking dogs alerting me to every person strolling by. And as it turns out, there were droves of strollers.

Although I wasn’t with family or friends this year, I actually enjoyed the day. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not anti-social and I love the aforementioned dearly, but it was nice not to NEED to be somewhere or HAVE to do one single thing if I didn’t want to. And I didn’t want to. Thus, commenced a guilt-free day all to myself.

Often lately I feel like a rat obsessively running on a wheel, round and round until collapsing in exhaustion. I guess many of you can relate. Busy is my middle name and although I prefer to be, sometimes ya just gotta decompress, you know what I mean?

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