Akela

We met our dog on a Cub Scout camp out. Another family brought her mom and siblings to the sleepover. They had met their dog while on vacation. She was a stray who came by their cabin in the Virgin Islands. They fell in love and brought her home to the continental United States. Then they realized she was pregnant. They didn't know because she looked older and had grey hairs.

Akela and her mama, Coco.

She had 8 pups when she had her babies in Minnesota. Four of her babies survived. All four of her babies found forever homes at that Cub Scout camp out. We named our pup Akela after the Cub Scout leader of the pack.

I remember my husband going to the store to pick up essential dog supplies while I drove home with Miss M and our new (as yet) unnamed puppy. At home our kids were immediately smitten with the little girl. None of them wanted to go to bed, even though the poor pup was exhausted and wanted to sleep. All the kids were ready to help with everything that had to do with the dog. As so many parents find out, the promises to take care of the pet were empty but we still have her hanging around.

Our dog is a giant pain in the ass most of the time. She barks at everything. She eats ear plugs then eats them again after she poops them out. She'll nip at strangers or down right bite them if she thinks they're messing with her kids. She's our protector for sure. I tried to get her better socialized, but those plans always fell through. She's overprotective which is both good and bad. Probably mostly bad. She is chilling out a little as the years go on though. Now she spends much of the day napping on the couch or on Miss M's bed.

She gets scared of storms and her safe place is Miss M's room.

It's hard to tell who is her favorite hooman in our family though. It might be a straight up tie between M and my husband. She will get super excited when they walk through the door. She will bypass me in a hurry to get to one of them. Although if I have food she will watch me like a hawk. "I see you have food. I also like food. Look at me. See how cute I am. Hungry. Yum yum."

Did I mention I also like pizza?

Although recently Akela has started to request my attention more often. She will sit and whine by my chair until I greet her and/or rub her paws. As a puppy she would fall asleep on the arm of my chair and I would paint her nails. Those days have long passed. She outgrew the arm of the chair long ago.

Not sure if you heard, but I also like pizza.

Akela loves our kids fiercely, almost to her detriment. We've had to take major steps to keep guests safe when they are at our house (like I said I tried to get her trained better, but promises from friends fell through.) Thankfully, she has been fine with my mom who is by far our most frequent visitor. Akela will not settle down until my mom has pet her and acknowledged her properly, however.

When M's boyfriend visited us from PA to take her to prom, we opted to board Akela, just to avoid any problems. I wish we could be more sure that she would be nice to "outsiders" but we still don't know. If we are away from the house, she is perfectly behaved. Even the boarders we have used have called her a sweetheart and said she is completely fine with other dogs.

So our dog is a major pain in the ass, but she's our pain in the ass.

You Shouldn't Have to Say Goodbye

By the time this is published my cat will be dead. It's not easy to make the decision to end your pet's life. It sucks, and I hate that word, but it does.

She is/was almost 16 and 1/2 years old. For a pet, I know this is a fairly long life. She's been peeing and pooping outside of her litter box for almost a year now. She barfs up her food at least once a week. She yaks hairballs every other day.

I took her to the vet almost a year ago about the elimination outside the litter box. We tried the medication which caused her to have diarrhea. The vet told us to stop it. We bought a new box. We moved the box. We moved her food. We have done everything.

I am writing this in the present tense because she isn't gone yet. I made the appointment today (November 14) and I have cried on and off since.

It's silly, really. I know she's had a great, long life. SIXTEEN and 1/2 years! And for a cat I never wanted (I inherited her from a friend) she's grown on me a lot. I never was particularly fond of cats since I nearly had a cat claw in my eye as a kid. I thought they were stuck-up PITAs.

Chat was different from the start. She had fleas so we had to treat that. She looked pitiful in the bathtub of our college apartment. Then she had ear mites, then she needed to be spayed...then declawed. All of this fell to my roommate, who was her owner.

Then, about 6 months later, circumstances led to me taking Chat as my pet. (Chat means cat in French and is pronounced like "shah.")

Within a few months I had taught Chat to come when she was called, and to sit and then lay down for a treat.When I awoke, (if I was home) she'd be asleep on my chest. If I was not home during the evenings, she'd have pooped on my carpet.

So she's always expressed her distaste if she needed to do so.

At this point, she's ruined multiple carpets and medication hasn't been the answer. We have tried everything I can think of to help her change her bad behaviors but nothing has worked.

I already miss her, and by the time you read this, she will be gone.

Still Struggling With the Cat

Our cat is still with us. (I'm sure everyone is thrilled with the cat status updates!)  I just don't know when the time is right that it is best to let her go. Ideally, (which seems an odd word choice) she will pass on her own time, without too much pain and too much more destruction of our carpeting. My husband's patience has long run out on the cat. Mine is getting very close. She's 16 years old so I know she's probably not long for this world, but it's irritating to clean up cat pee and poop from outside the litter box. I thought one of the best parts of having a cat is they did their business in a box.  Not so when they start to get old I guess.

I never ever WANTED a cat. I took her on when my college roommate could no longer keep her and she was actually a pretty social cat. She let me touch her paws with no problem, she greeted people at the door instead of running to hide. She learned to sit and lay down for a treat. (She doesn't do this anymore though!)

When I first took her home to my parents' house after I graduated from college (and learned I inherited a cat) I woke up almost every morning with her perched on my chest. I almost had her trained to come when she was called. I tried to teach her to roll over, but she never did master that.

I know I will miss this furry face one day soon.

How To Ensure You Don't Have To Buy A New Pet

My two older children have been lobbying for a new pet for years.

We have an old cat that I inherited from my college roommate. I was never really a cat person, but I had to admit "our" cat grew on me quickly after we got her. She was very social, greeting anyone who came in our tiny apartment. She let us hold her, touch her paws, mess with her. I trained her to sit, then lay down for treats. I had her trained for a while to come when she was called. She's too old to perform these tricks anymore. She could still do them but she has no desire to humor us. She's 15 years old now, which is old, but not necessarily the end of life for a cat. I know some live until their twenties. (Don't tell my husband that! He's merely (and sometimes barely) tolerated our cat for many, many years now.)

Several months ago we branched into having fish. We're terrible fish owners. The fish kill numbers due to our family's purchases will probably be reported to the ASPCA soon. We took a break from fish for a little while (with the exception of 2 very brave glo-fish, one of which is so thin we marvel that it still lives)(I'll probably find the thing belly-up now.) but just last week restocked our tank and the Betta bowl.

But I never had pets growing up, and I know that fish are a pretty sad substitute for pets that can cuddle and play. (FINE, I had fish once in a while. Fish kind of suck as pets for the most part.) Did I mention we have a CAT?

When I took the kids to the pet store to re-establish our fish colony, I knew they would see the other pets available there. I knew I'd get the whining for a different pet, a more fun pet.

K settled on a hamster within moments of stepping in the door. Um, I guess at least it is small.

M found the kittens up for adoption and changed her mind about which one she wanted at least 4 times.

Did I mention WE HAVE A CAT?

SHE'S SITTING RIGHT HERE ON THE ARM OF THE CHAIR WHILE I'M TRYING TO TYPE.

Now she's not because I had the gall to try to pick the eye boogers out of her eyes.

ANYWHO! WE HAVE A CAT ALREADY!

And she poops and pees in random spots and drives my husband insane on a daily basis. She used to poop on the carpet in my room if she thought I was out too late at night. (After I graduated from college I moved back in with my parents for a while...) Then she was fine for many years and in the last year or two she's started eliminating in inappropriate places again. It's frustrating to say the least.

I know the kids are attracted to the adorable kitties at the pet store. I think they're cute too, but the kitties grow up and shit and piss on your new carpet.

So when my kids asked for these new pets I made a deal. If they can get their rooms cleaned up and keep them clean for one year I will buy them their hamster/cat/dog/whatever.

No chance that will happen. I'm golden.

I Never Thought I'd Owe the Cat an Apology

Oh the joys of taking the cat to the vet. If you have never done so, you are indeed a fortunate person.

On this trip, it took me approximately 15 minutes to even find the cat, which has to be the all-time slowest cat-finding expedition, especially considering the size of our house. I looked in all the usual spots--or so I thought--no Chat. So I get the treat jar and shake it at random points throughout the house.

Bottom of living room stairs. **shake shake shake** Chat! Treat!?!

Top of kitchen stairs. **shake shake shake** Chat! Treat??! Even I am not convinced I'd get up from a nap for a treat at this point.

**shake shake** **rattle rattle** Chat?

I realize we made the mistake of getting the cat carrier out of storage just the night before instead of a few days in advance. We have to set the cage out days before so that the cat can start to think that maybe, just maybe, we will forget to take her to the vet.

Finally, as I watch the time ticking closer to when she's supposed to be having a thermometer shoved up her butt,* I desperately open another can of cat food even though she woke me up at 5 a.m. for her breakfast. Within seconds she appears in the doorway of the basement. Of course she was in there, it was the one room I didn't look in because I couldn't imagine any comfortable place in there she could possibly have been lounging. Whatever Cat. She tries to escape as I approach her, but even in my old age I am faster than her. I shove her butt into the cage with surprising ease, grab the baby and away we go.

**Meow meow meow meow**

Chat feels the need to express her misery.

*Meow meow*
**
*meow*

Wow, a small pause in the whining! I enjoyed those blissful 3 seconds.

Dear cat, You are just riding in the car. You're in a cage. No one is hurting you. I can assure you that this whole trip will be more uncomfortable for me than for you. Enough with the whining. Cordially, Me

Did I mention that it is raining? No? Of course it is raining and not the lovely sprinkling that feels so nice on a hot day, not the intermittent drizzle, no, it's a steady downpour.

**shakes fist** Who scheduled this appointment for today anyway? Why is everyone looking at me?

So I'm driving along listening to Chat complain about the horrors of riding in the car in a cozy little cat carrier and I start to compose a blog post (quite possibly this blog post) in my head because that's what I do. When life hands me lemons, I write a blog post about it in my head because I'm nothing if not considerate enough to share my pain with others.

Then I start to realize that the Baby is kind of quiet so, oh joy, she has probably fallen asleep and I will have to rouse my sleeping baby to carry her and my whiny cat through the rain into the vet's office. Who scheduled this appointment for nap time? Who? Me? Why? Oh yeah, because I'm STOO-PID.

But as luck would have it, D woke up just as I pulled into the parking lot and the rain let up to a slower downpour so we only got soaked enough to be mildly uncomfortable during the entire visit to the vet. I should note that the whiny cat was completely dry.

I've grown weary of explaining that my cat's name is Chat, pronounced Shaw, which means cat in French, so I just say yes when they ask if I've brought Chat-like the conversation-with me. What kind of weirdo do they think I am for naming my cat after a conversation?

*turns out they take the cat's temp with an ear thermometer now.

Once we get in the exam room, the real fun begins with the laundry list of things wrong with the cat, which, interestingly enough does NOT include the arthritis the vet last year told us that she was developing. It does, however, include impacted anal glands. Say that 5 times fast without cringing. Then the vet said "I'll evacuate those for you before you leave" and I'll admit "thank you" didn't seem quite like the most appropriate response to that statement, but there you have it.

Apparently I was wrong about this visit being harder on me this time.

On the way home with my baby in the back seat and my cat with the newly-cleared anus on the seat beside me I pondered the estimate for $700 of workups and procedures for my 13-year-old cat. Cat's don't live that much longer than 13 do they? I mean I love my cat but I don't have $700 to spend on a cat that is going to die in a year anyway. Plus we have human medical bills to pay at this point. I know, I'm a terrible pet owner, but there you have it. So I don't know what to do about the cat now.

But hey, at least the butt probe was free!

At Least I Knew How She Felt

Our cat was not always our cat. She was, in fact, the cat that my best friend and (second) college roommate decided to get when we moved into our first apartment together. It was still summer and school had not yet reconvened. We’d moved our belongings into the tiny apartment and furnished it with borrowed items for the most part. I bought a tall shelf that we put together amidst several beers, lamenting the heat in our non-air-conditioned apartment. That shelf still stands in my living room today, holding new treasures mostly gotten long after college graduation.

The cat is here with me too—older, grayer, growing arthritic—but she remains a link to my youthful days when I was teetering between childhood and adulthood. When we picked her up at the run-down home that was giving away free kittens, she was mewing pitifully and trying to climb my leg. She had a beautiful cream-colored coat, gigantic ice blue eyes and impossibly oversized ears. She also had fleas and ear mites. Regardless, we were determined to bring this waif-like kitten home with us.

As the months passed, I grew attached to that goofy kitten that gnawed her way through the wires of my headphones at least twice. We had bunk beds that I hung my robe from that she used as a ladder to reach the top bunk. It was entertaining to see her tiny body working so hard to climb so high and when she reached the top she would curl herself into a ball and take a long nap.

Circumstances dictated that the furry nuisance that I had grown to love would be mine by that January. I had graduated by that time and moved home to live with my parents and try to find a job. The cat moved with me.

I taught her to come when she was called and to sit and lay down on command for a treat. I would fall asleep with her at the foot of my bed and wake up with her on my chest happily purring away, both of her front legs tucked under her.

But I was in my early twenties and enjoyed meeting friends for a night out dancing and drinking and often left my kitten for hours. This being left alone (although my parents were usually home) did not sit well with my kitten. I often learned of her dissatisfaction with my absence as soon as I walked into my bedroom (often in the early morning hours). She would leave me presents in the same area of my carpet every time. While I understood she was angry with me for leaving her so often, I quickly tired of her using a corner of my bedroom as a litter box and set about trying to stop the practice.

Since she seemed fond of defecating in the same area I took some plastic wrap and covered the area. Cats do not particularly like to walk on plastic, especially if it is clingy plastic. It only took a few days of this procedure to get her to stop, however, once I moved again to be with my husband she let her discomfort about the move be known in much the same way. Then she would leave her presents by the front door. Not the most welcoming thing when you want to have friends visit. She eventually adjusted again but wow those were some irritating times. Come to think of it, she was just breaking me in to deal with defiant children, right?

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