For Pet's Sake: A Story of Percy and Quinn

This weekend we took off for the Iowa Games to catch our boy play just a little more soccer. No, we really don't get tired of it. You might hear my husband sigh and complain about going, but don't believe it for one second. That's all pretend. We both love it. Watching talented youth with all of their energy is uplifting as heck. And, there's beer to be had after those games.

Whenever we leave for a short weekend away, we need to decide what to do with our pets. I'm usually all for boarding. Doug, the true-blue farm kid, doesn't believe in this philosophy. He's of the camp that animals can stay at home and be checked by the neighbor. I usually fret over this decision. On one hand, the animals like staying at home. On the other hand, what if a storm comes up? On one hand, there's less hair in the car when we don't transport them. On the other hand, Quinn might get eaten by a coyote. It usually comes down to whether there's rain in the forecast and how long we decide to stay away. Since we were only going to be gone one night and the weather appeared amenable, we decided to let them stay home and sleep under the stars... on their honor. We made implicit instructions: no parties while we're gone. Grandpa Ron will be checking on you!

Well. As usual, we left in a flurry – running in and out of the house seventeen times to ensure we had everything. Sunscreen. Allergy pills. Beer. Water. Snacks. Beer. And, oh yes, soccer gear. Finally, we were off to Ames. I always have this bit of anxiety when we leave for trips. I'm certain we've forgotten something. And that something is so unique that it could never, ever be purchased at a Target store. #irrational #neurotic_mom

Waiting for an ear-scratching.

By the time evening came, we had our first pet report:

Percy is good. Can't find cat. 

A good report! Our cat only appears when its hungry or needs its belly scratched. It's the dog I mostly worry about. On top of his over-domestication (guilty!), you see, our dog was just recently diagnosed with diabetes. It seemed overnight, our chubby terrier gained new nicknames: Slimdawg and Skeletor. The poor thing receives insulin shots twice a day and can no longer partake in ice cream. Thus, the worry over our dog rivals the worry over our kids. Just kidding. Sort of.

The next day as we were getting ready for the games, we received a call from Grandpa Ron. No Percy. No Quinn. He called out to them and looked everywhere. We told him not to worry. He was probably under the deck. His hearing was failing too, after all. But after I hung up with my father, I had a pit in my stomach. Maybe his time had come. And I hadn't really said a proper good-bye to him... all those stupid trips in and out of the house!

But we had some games to watch. I said a prayer that our animals were not suffering and flipped to soccer mom mode. But it wasn't far from my mind.When the weather switched and the clouds grew dark during the last game, I began to internally berate myself. Even if our pets were safe and sound, now they'd be caught in a storm. I should've boarded them.

The last game was finally called due to lightning. Our boys got second place. (They should've gotten first, but that's a story for another time.) I was ready to get on the road. We took off in the rain. I buried my head in a book and tried to push back the dread that perhaps we had lost our beloved little barker.

Two and a half hours later, we pulled into our driveway. The rain had stopped by then. But there was no one to greet us. My heart was sinking just as Cole said, "There he is!"

Our little Percy came prancing out, bright-eyed and muddy as hell. Hallelujah! The pang zipped out of my heart. I hopped out of the truck to hug the rain-soaked dog, not caring about the stink he was gifting my hands. I glanced around for the cat whose usual ploy was to lurk on the ledge. But there was no Quinn. I began a futile call for the cat who doesn't like to be commanded to come. And then the most amazing thing happened. Doug opened the door to the house. And the cat rushed outside. Quinn had decided to stay at the Hotel Kramer for the night. I had to laugh. I couldn't even be upset. Our cat and dog were alive! That's all that mattered... for the next couple of minutes, at least. Then I realized something. The cat most certainly had a party in our house. We'd have mess. Kitty mess.

Messes. Schmesses. My joy over our pets made up for any poop or pee left to clean. Besides, we have Cole for that duty. Good boy, Cole.

It's always naptime for these ole dogs.

For the Love of Animals

Our Percy

The other day we started to watch The Family—a movie about a mobster family who’s been put into a witness protection program. In one of the opening scenes the family is seen traveling along in the car with their German Shepherd. My son commented, “I hope nothing happens to the dog.” We all concurred. (Well, most of us did—not sure if Doug voiced an opinion.) Sure, I would've felt bad if any of the people got gunned down—and quite a few did. But I was most nervous about the pup. (Those movie writers...ingenious with pet scenery!)

Which brings me to my next, sad (non-fictional) story. I came home the other day and asked Doug how his day was. He said he found one of his cows dead in the creek. No! I exclaimed. A mommy? He nodded. But how? Must’ve been pushed in, lost her footing, he stated solemnly. A horrible death. Will her calf be alright,I asked. Doug said so, but I couldn’t help but feel sad for a cute little cow looking for his mother. Tears emerged. Doug said my daughter had the same reaction. No, I didn’t even know the cow. And I eat cows. But I can hardly stand to think of any creature suffering.

I've decided every day should be spent with just a tiny does of animal musings. It brings about a certain joy that humans can't replicate.

Here are some examples: 

• Every morning I pass a beautiful horse on the way to work. It takes me less than five seconds to enjoy one of the most noble creations on earth. Sometimes I pass by and forget to look at the chestnut equine and my heart feels a little sad. 
• Our wiry dog has gotten into the habit of snuggling up with Cole every morning after we let him in. Even though he’s probably creating a huge hairball mess on my son’s bed, it’s the most heartwarming scene you could imagine—seeing the mutt sidled up to a skinny twelve-year old boy with the hair of Medusa. Precious.
• Even the self-absorbed cat gives us quite a few chuckles as it plans guerrilla attacks on a Terrier who could bite its head off in one taking. Oh the joys of violent animal outbursts.

Anyway, when Doug and I began our family, we definitely weren't on the same page when it came to pets. He absolutely said, "No pets in the house." That lasted about six months. Pretty soon a kitten showed up. Then there was a dog. Now we're on our second dog...and we've had several cats come and go. But I can't imagine our household without a little animal animosity. Because even when there is some "human" tension in the air, animals always find a magical way to dissolve it.

Christmas Miracle, Part Two

For those of you following this blog, last time I boasted of a Christmas miracle. Remember the kitty on the church steps? Well. Here's the rest of the story.

"Skye" seemed a bit off since his homecoming. Had he forgotten how much he loved the shenanigans of our crazy terrier? How I cradled him like a baby? He certainly was more exuberant. Not the lazy pile of hair who would only glance at a mouse if it was within reach. And of course there was the eye. Either the cat was in a knarly fight, had LASIK surgery, or maybe, just maybe, he wasn't Skye.

So we took him to the doctor to have him checked, much to my hubby's dismay. But he had been on his own for four months. What else could we do?

The vet's findings:

In addition to being three pounds lighter, Skye reversed his age and gender. He's a she and only approximately one year of age.

Sometimes you see what you want to see. I really missed Skye when he went missing. And when we "found" him on Christmas morning, I was ecstatic.  So, maybe it wasn't a miracle. But I have no doubt it was a gift.

Meet Bernadette. Our newest addition.

Cole and Bernie the Cat

Cat Whisperer Update

I’m a little worried about Shrek. It’s been two days and no sign. Have I told you that he lets me pet him now? He rubs his neck against me and I scratch his ears. Sure, I get hissed at every now and then, but we’re making progress...well, we were until he ran away. I’ll keep you posted.

Skye was trying to play it cool with me for awhile...I think a little jealousy was setting in, but how can you tell for sure with a cat? Anyhoo, he buckled under my charm and soon he was purring in my arms with a good cheek-scratching. Do you suppose Skye had anything to do with Shrek's sudden absence? Somehow I doubt it. Before Sky was neutered, we raised him as a female...so now he shows qualities of a metro-sexual.

Enough kitty talk...

For you hamster fans, Flash is good. Getting fatter.

And Molly is still alive. God bless the loyal mutt. She's gonna live forever.

Grandma Shirley and My Inherited Love for Animals

You know my cool Grandma with the tattoo? The one who plays guitar? The one I don't visit near often enough? Please keep her in your prayers as she is recovering from surgery.A large mass was removed from her intestines. We haven't heard the full report from the pathologist, so I can't tell you much more except that we're all worried.

Anyway, while I hate the fact that it always seems to take a misfortune to bring families together, it's been fun seeing three of my aunts -- Sandy, Kim and Angie. (Aunt Connie was hosting my parents in Phoenix, who were all sitting on pins and needles, waiting for the results of the operation.)

The Ronfeldt side of the family are great lovers of animals. (Perhaps this was what attracted my mother to the clan??) Anyway, my husband's affection for pets can best be described as 'tolerant.' As a matter of fact, our first real fight occurred after I brought a kitten home. And luckily, I found our dog by the bridge on a day when a few cocktails made Doug's heart soft for the abandoned pup. (That was 14 years ago, and we still have the 'pup'.) Anyway, I once picked up a Brittany Spaniel off the Interstate and brought it home. Doug absolutely refused another dog on the place -- luckily I worked with someone who knew of a Brittany Spaniel shelter. Another time, we found another black dog, mysteriously living with us. The destructive Lab bought a ticket to the shelter in Harlan. Anyway, Doug thinks I'm a little cuckoo when it comes to animals. So, after sitting in waiting rooms with my kin this weekend, I think Doug grew a deeper appreciation for my animal affection.

Aunt Sandy just got her fourth dog -- some sort of hairless Chihauhua that walks on its two hind feet.
Aunt Angie has four ferrets, and I lost count of the number of dogs she also owns.
Aunt Kim only has one dog, she refers to as Stupid Dog, but she also lives in an apartment.
My first cousin-once-removed (my cousin's son) has some sort of lizard, a python, a cat and a tarantula. I think he still has the tarantula anyway. There might have been a few other exotic species, but I couldn't quit thinking about the python as they spoke.

Of course my Grandma and step-Grandpa has a dog, who now looks more like a pot-belly pig. But she sure is a sweetie.

Anyway, who couldn't love a family as interesting and loving as mine? They remind me that the most important thing we can do is laugh and love each other while we're here. They also reinforce that just because we have a senile dog, a tomcat who thinks he's a female dog, a stray cat who resembles Shrek, and a rat-like hamster, we're not really crazy. We just like to laugh and love.

God Bless You, Grandma.

The Hamster Diaries

May 2007: Cole was the winner today, so we get to care for Eugene, the class hamster, for the summer.

June 2007: Eugene is so cute. I must admit our family has really grown to love him.

July 2007: Something’s wrong with Eugene.

July 2007: Eugene’s dead. The vet had to put him to sleep. I cried like a baby. The kids were much stronger.

Fast forward a year…

August 2008: Cole received a hamster from Grandma and Grandpa for his birthday. Joey is just as cute as Eugene. Maybe even cuter.

Sept 2008: Lost Joey. Turned the house upside down to no avail.

Sept 2008: Grandpa took Cole to get a new hamster. Grandpa didn’t want Cole to feel bad about Joey, so he told him, “I bet Joey got outside and is having the time of his life in one of the cornfields.” Cole looked at Grandpa and replied, “Grandpa, he’s probably dead by now.”

Cole quickly selected a new hamster. Hello, Flash.

When I laid eyes on Eugene and Joey, I was surprised how cute I found them to be. So, when we opened the box to meet our newest hamster, I was disappointed to find something that more closely resembled a rat. It was even difficult for me to hold him at first without feeling squeamish. I think it’s the nose. It’s as if Flash is doing a parody of himself.

Despite his looks, he’s a pretty friendly little guy. And when it comes to rodents, I’d take personality over looks any day.

Sept 2008: Flash is still alive. Only one week left of September. Hope he makes it to Halloween. He could easily go as a rat.