Finding Leo

We were driving down a familiar road headed home to our cottage in the country when we saw something brown running alongside of the road. As we passed by the creature, it fell to the ground and turned over, legs up toward the sky. We pulled off the road and walked back toward the little thing and it started wagging its tail.

The pads of his paws were bloodied by the distance he had traveled on the blistering hot asphalt. We could tell he was some sort of toy poodle despite the filthy, matted fur that covered his entire body. We scooped him up and headed home.

I put him in the kitchen sink and ran warm water over his body, soaping him up with shampoo. He shivered nervously as I clipped the matted clumps from his frame revealing a soft coat of white fur. His ribs were showing through the short hair when I finished. We wrapped him in a soft towel and held him until he was dry. I’ll never forget the look of gratitude in his sweet eyes as he reached up to give me a kiss before falling asleep in my arms.

The veterinarian told us that he was likely around nine years old, about ten pounds, suffering a bit of malnutrition and from the normal parasites that go along with living in the wild. We got him his shots and medication for the flea bites and abrasions that were present on his feet and body. He went back home with us, immediately taking charge of my lap like a hood ornament, staring out of the front window of the car.

We weren’t supposed to have dogs in the small place we were renting, but we convinced the landlord that he wouldn't be any trouble. With tile floors, any cleanup would be minimal, we told them, and we would be responsible for any damage. The little guy never once messed in the house.

Shortly after that, we relocated to another city where we took him with us into an apartment in a new complex with lime green shag carpet and Harvest Gold appliances. We both found new jobs and Leo stayed home during the day. It wasn’t long before the neighbors stopped us on our way inside.

“Did you know that your dog howls the entire time you’re at work?” they asked.

“Well, no.” We had no idea that he was so lonely. “I hope it doesn’t bother you.” No, they didn’t mind. They also had a dog, a beagle they named Beagle, and he barked most of the time.

Leo seemed fine for a time and then he started howling so much he began to wheeze and cough up foam. We took him to a new veterinarian who x-rayed his throat and discovered he had a torn esophagus, probably from eating sticks and rocks when he was out on his own. His jaw was also broken and not repairable, according to the doctor. We were given little choice other than to put him down.

Still in my teens as a young wife, it was my first time to make the ominous decision to end the life of a pet. I could barely live with myself for weeks afterward. The gaping hole in my heart after he made the trip to Heaven was nearly unbearable. The only consolation was that his last few months of his life he was happy and secure and well-loved. I always wondered where he came from, why he was out on his own, who might be missing this little boy.

The only remedy to the lasting heartache was to bring another dog into our household, a puppy, whose exuberance and joy was a much needed blessing after losing our rescued pup.

Feral Cats in the Country - A Poem

Living out in the country brings in a variety of stray cats looking for food and shelter. The latest visitor is a feral cat we named Tiny.

Soft paws sneaking in the wood,

New cat in the neighborhood.

Bug filled droppings in the yard,

Life so far has been real hard.

Sensed the dogs but unafraid

Came inside the fence and laid

Bravely on the garden sill

Bearing only his good will.

Needs a place to eat and sleep

Away from wolves disguised as sheep

Who live to run and love the chase

Makes the woods a scary place.

Here he'll stay and share his fleas

Unprotected against disease.

One day soon he’ll see the vet

Secure his future as a pet.

Until then he runs to hide,

Watching me eyes open wide.

A bowl of food and water, too

Sending silent thanks to you.

This is Tiny

Ode to a Klingon - A Tribute to Buddy Lee

Driving past the rest area, I spotted two dogs playing next to the highway. Without a thought, I veered into the picnic area to draw them away from the seventy mile-per-hour traffic.

Both dogs followed the truck as I pulled in and grabbed the packet of dry dog food from beneath the driver's seat.They scarfed up the kibble in seconds prompting me to search for more food in the truck.

When I turned around, the Doberman was gone. The one that looked like a wolf remained close, watching my every move. His hair was matted and dirty; his ribs visible through the thick fur. He sat quietly by the open door of the truck waiting for the question that would change both our lives:

"Do you want to go home with me, boy?"

He raised his right paw as an answer.

The first night Buddy was with us, I put him in the fenced pen that once housed our emus. He had food and water, yet he lacked the companionship he so desperately craved. 

In the morning, I took his breakfast out there and found he had dug his way out from under the chain link fence. I cried all the way to work, believing him to be lost once again.

Once I arrived at work I retrieved my voice mail messages. Buddy found his way home and into the heart of my hubby who said, "This little buddy is a keeper." And so he got his name and became part of our family, joining our twelve year old Retriever, Slick, and his new Chow companion, three year old Dolly Joe.

One Christmas, I wrote a poem when Buddy Lee displayed interest in one ornament on our tree.

Ode to a Klingon by Peg Cole

The tinny voice of Mr. Worf
Grown silent now at last. 
Has echoed from the Christmas tree
Of many seasons past.

The shuttle craft has lost its voice
The micro chip is quiet.
And yet I do not toss it out
I dare not start a riot.

Each morning when the lights went on
The Klingon's voice would call
And Buddy Lee would tilt his head
In wonderment and awe..

Not that one...the Runabout, please, push the button.

The micro chip inside the ship
Spoke deeply from the boughs
And Buddy Lee would come and look
To find the source of prose.

His head pressed firmly on his paws
He guards the silent tree
"Where is the Klingon warrior's voice?
That used to speak to me?"

We laughed at Buddy's interest 
When turning on the tree
He'd always come and take a look
The curious Buddy Lee.

The Warrior's voice is silent now
Its magic has been spent
Though Buddy Lee still stalks the tree
Amid the limbs he's bent.

The thoughts inside my canine's head
Remain a mystery
The strange attraction Buddy has
Is plain for all to see.

And now to find another craft 
On eBay do I search
The plastic shuttle Rio Grande 
Not from the planet Earth.

Bud looks at us with pleading eyes.
His Klingon mentor lacking.
Quick, purchase from the on-line store
With automated tracking.

Bizarre and disconnected from
The day of Jesus' birth.
Yet still I long for Deep Space Nine,
To celebrate with mirth.

I'll hope that it arrives in time,
Without delay or reasons.
And pray each day that Buddy stays
To celebrate more seasons.

Buddy Lee at Twelve

For he's grown old my Buddy Lee
His bright eyes now grown dim.
And Christmas wouldn't be the same
An empty day without him.


So hasten to me UPS
Your brown truck at my door.
And let me see Bud's eyes light up,
When Worf will speak once more.

Buddy Lee was with us for twelve wonderful years during which he was a valued member of our family.

There is a street near our house named Dog Drop Road. Some people take it as an invitation to leave their unwanted pets wandering about lost, wondering what they did to deserve being abandoned.

Rainbow Bridge

Saying goodbye is never easy. Today was one of those days when it was necessary to bid farewell to a good friend.

Probably tougher than it was on us, it was harder for Tony who has watched the recent decline in his constant companion.

She's been with him since the day he arrived as a nine-week old puppy who wanted nothing more than to play with and lie next to his big sister for the past five years.

His surrogate mother, nursemaid, friend, playmate and bunny- chasing pal left for Heaven today.

For a couple of weeks she's been unable to walk after a few months of needing help to get up and get outside. We've been dragging her around on a comforter to whatever room we happen to be occupying. Otherwise, she let us know with her constant barking that she was not happy to be left behind.

Over the past week, she's lost interest in food. That and her whimpering and heavy panting, gives us indication that she's not at all comfortable. As the last of the fearsome foursome - Slick, Dolly, Buddy and Cookie - it was a tough decision to let go. It's not one for the feint of heart, probably the worst phase of pet ownership, this responsibility.

Our veterinarian is a kind, compassionate man who has cared for Cookie for the past fifteen years. I do not envy his task in this part of his practice. But it is done and as we made our way back home with reddened eyes and sore noses, we did not look forward to breaking the news to Tony.

Sugar in the Morning

The good news is that Sugar, the seventeen-year old cat, survived the airplane trip from Dallas to his new home in South Carolina. He's now happily exploring and getting used to his new surroundings which include a beautiful sunny spot where he can soak up the rays.


Photo by Janet

The outside cat looking in is one of the original members of the household either Sullivan or Simon.
Sugar seems to have effectively turned his back on his peeping step brother and is down to the serious business of sunbathing.

A Roof Over My Head, La, la la...

His feline brothers are free to roam the woodsy back yard but Sugar was declawed so he can't go outdoors and face the native wildlife without protection. The other two cats are big squirrel hunters.



The Last Day of 2012 was a tough one

Some days are more memorable than others for a variety of reasons. New Year's Eve is one that stands out for many. This one stands out for me and will be remembered as one of the toughest days of the year. Today I said goodbye to a dear friend.


Fritz in 2007

Fritz came to live across the street when Aunt Louise moved in with Mom. She, Fritz and Sugar (a cat) had been living in Fort Worth until 2005, the year Aunt Helen passed. The year brought many changes for his owner, Louise, and for her younger sister, my Mom, who was about to retire at 80 years of age. Her retirement party at the school had already been  scheduled for the day after we lost Helen at 94. It was a bittersweet day.

Fritz was welcomed into the family by his step-brother Max, a 10 pound Dachshund, an only child prior to that. For the first time in his life, Fritz enjoyed the pleasures of having a fenced yard rather than being restricted to the leash. He discovered the pleasure of chasing squirrels, armadillos and even skunks that happened into his new rural setting. The neighbor's cat became a manner of getting exercise, running down the ramp to chase the trespasser off the porch. What a joy that was!




Fritz in March 2012

Fritz was adopted from an animal shelter in 1999, so his exact heritage is unknown, but from the looks of him, his ancestry included both the noble beagle and Bassett hound.

He transformed over the years from a frightened, abused cast-off who barked in fear at visitors, into a loving and joyous bundle of doggie kisses; a playful dog who lit up when his Uncle Jim would visit. He learned the source of much ear scratching and belly rubbing emanated from the man he once feared.


We will remember him, as we do our own, who have crossed over in the many years that have passed: with love and affection and a natural sense of loss balanced precariously at the moment by the memories of the joy he once brought to us all. He will be missed most by the human he knew as his Mom for 14 short years, Miss Louise Trapp, age 92.

RIP Fritz Trapp

April 21, 1998 - December 31, 2012

The Creature Under the House

Some months back a large hole appeared under the stem wall at the base of our house. The dark tunnel that led to our crawl space beneath the house got the full attention of our dogs. Midnight barking raids became the norm as they often demanded access to the back yard.

We tried putting a big bag of river rocks in the entrance to the tunnel behind the air conditioning units outside. For a short time there were no signs of the animal's return. That changed a few nights ago when the dogs went crazy clawing and sniffing at the baseboard in the den. 
 

Before opening the door to let the dogs out for their morning business, I clicked and re-clicked the deadbolt trying to scare away any unwelcome guests. That day it turned out to be a young stray cat. For the past few days this youngster has been snooping around the dog's water dish and hanging out in their fenced yard. And I had begun setting out food for the poor hungry creature. But in the country you can't set out food unless you want to attract a lot of animals that enjoy it, like the 3 armadillos I saw behind my Mom's fence just a couple of days ago.

Naturally, the dogs shot off the porch heading for the garage, where the kitty was holding its ground.  "No! No! Come here," I screamed. The dogs are ignoring me and the neighbors likely aren't. Once in alert mode, the dogs worked as a team to flank the enemy and closed in on the intruder just as I came running out wearing one shoe, the other lost coming down the steps.

For the surprise of the week, I potted four giant furry caterpillars wriggling in unison along the garage wall. I grabbed the dog's collar and pulled his nose away dragging him backwards toward the door. Who knew if they were poisonous or not? Our ever-obedient elder dog gave a few interested sniffs then ran back inside with us.

The caterpillars turned out to be the upraised tails of three baby skunks whose mother had gone out for breakfast leaving them to crawl out of their cozy nest. A few minutes later they found their way back underground, returning to safety and comfort.









Tony the Nose, our new family member...

The focus at our house since April 15th has been our new puppy, Tony. We found him at the SPCA after two unsuccessful trips to find just the right pup. We knew this would take a really special guy; after spending twelve years with our Buddy, it would be hard to find his equal.

The name given to him by the SPCA was Curtis. When we first spotted him in a pen with his sister, Connie, he was fast asleep despite the rousing round of barking that our entrance had stirred up. We asked to use the get-acquainted room to see what the little guy was like. It was love at first site.

The name Curtis just didn't fit this little bundle of joy so we gave him a new first name, Tony. The first week he spent in our home he was barraged with a succession of names until we stumbled onto the one that fit. Tony Curtis. Yep, handsomely dark, gorgeous eyes, soft cold nose.

The first night we carried all 9.2 pounds of him upstairs to the master bedroom and placed him between us on the king sized bed. After the grueling day he'd spent, meeting his new parents, traveling for an hour in the car on a human's lap and meeting his new canine sister, Cookie, he fell fast asleep. I woke up a number of times during the night, worried that he might have tried to get off or fallen off the raised mattress, a daunting task at that size. But my fears were unfounded; he remained unmoving in the exact same location until about 2am when he began whimpering. I scooped him up in one arm and staggered downstairs and out the back door. Setting him down in the yard, he took two steps and made his business. Wow, what a guy. We returned upstairs and resumed our still-warm places in bed. Amazing!

Like a new grand-mom, I'm eager to share his cute photos and videos and will begin to post these on this blog. So until next time, may all your pets be the best one yet.