Saturday, May 26, 2018

Death to Cave Beds



    We bought cave beds for Ivan and Dasa several years ago. I washed the covers now and then and they were still in good condition when we adopted Tiegan and Miles. The life expectancy for a cave bed in our house shortened considerably when we brought Miles home. The one remaining cave bed from the first set is shredded. The other was too mortally wounded to save. The second set of cave beds is in critical condition. They will be able to maintain their positions during the summer when Tiegan and Miles lie on top on them, but when fall comes along, the battle-worn cave beds will have to be replaced with fresh intact models. We will pull them from the front lines in the kitchen and put them in the living room where there is less action. The beds are not damaged (yet) but the covers are in tatters. 
 

     Our house used to be dotted with dozens of little free range dog beds. Now, fluff-filled dog beds are so endangered as to be nearly extinct. Miles seems to feel they must be destroyed. This is a mission to which he devotes much time with impressive results. Stuffed animals must also be destroyed, and we quickly learned we cannot leave stuffies out to gambol about the house when we are away, because the kill rate is alarming. The real concern when returning home to daily stuffed animal massacres is that the carnage might contain only partial remains which could pose a very serious threat to the Miles puppy’s health. So all stuffies are put in their basket to rest in safety atop a cabinet until we are home to monitor the proceedings
     We now introduce only the sturdy stuffed toys for dedicated chewers. Their survival rate is much higher and I don’t feel quite as though I’m sending innocents to the lions’ den. In the evening, Tiegan stands in front of the toy basket and looks at us expectantly. If we do not respond without delay to our Princess of Sunshine and Magic, she places one dainty white paw on the cabinet and looks at us again. If we are still so incredibly negligent in our duty that we don’t jump up to fulfill her wishes, she makes a small sound, something like a squeak crossed with “ahem,” which causes me to spring to my feet and start tossing the basket’s inhabitants on the rug for her perusal. When it’s time for bed, I round up the toys and send them safely to slumber in their basket until their presence is again required.

Monday, April 23, 2018

The End of the Story: Ginny & Tristan

I had posted a happy ending story on Ginny and Tristan back on December 3, 2010. Unfortunately I must report the real ending to Ginny and Tristan's true "notebook" storybook life together.

They did live a wonderful full life together. They were rescued from a puppy mill in Louisiana when they were around 4 1/2 years old as a mated pair and could not be separated. Ginny had recently had a litter of pups taken from her.  They were fostered in Baton Rouge, LA in a very loving home. A few months later adopted together in Maryland but that was not a good fit for Ginny. Another wonderful foster held them in Delaware until we picked them up to take them to Philadelphia, PA. It was only to be a foster situation but we fell in love immediately with this special pair. 

Ginny had emotional scars and trust issues and Tristan was very jumpy and underweight. Ginny was a little escape artist with such a funny little personality. She was the boss out of the two. Tristan was always a big sweet tempered puppy. 

Over the last couple of years, Tristan developed dementia and seizures, but he hung in there the best he could.  It was truly quite sad. When he got really ill, it seems Ginny just knew.  She went into kidney failure. They passed away together side by side around two months ago.  

~ Joyce Kennedy

Ginny and Tristan

Tuesday, March 27, 2018

Happy Spring


Man the lifeboats. We are having a lot of rain events. Our backyard is a swamp. Miles and Tiegan do not approve. Granted, our back yard is foliage-challenged because two very energetic dogs race madly about and our grass, already frail due to lots of trees and not enough sunlight, is giving up the struggle in many spots. We find ourselves walking Tiegan and Miles down the street in the rain, explaining if only they would go potty, we could all go home and be warm and dry. Wouldn’t that be lovely?

I carry my tiny, dainty Tiegan down the street, put her down occasionally and cajole. She shakes the rain off her water repellant coat and looks at me sadly, as though she simply cannot believe such horrid treatment at the hands of her loving mother. Then, of course, I pick her up, cradle her against me, apologize profusely, and carry her home.

Miles stands on the porch with his head out the doggy door, refusing to expose any other body parts to the dreaded moisture. He requires yummy harness treats to get ready to go for a walk. As soon as we exit the garage, he drags me down the street, determined to explore. My boy who makes it clear he will melt if he encounters moisture in the fenced back yard then stands in running water as he sniffs a storm drain. Sigh

My sweet bunnies wish everyone a sunny, dry, happy Easter