Cayr Ariel Wulff's Blog, page 15

The Golden Essence of Dogs

I have this "thing" for yellow dogs. Have you ever noticed how artists choose the color yellow more than any other color when drawing a dog?  I noticed that phenomenon almost twenty years ago and tried to figure out the reason.

I think it's because deep in their heart of hearts, every dog is yellow. Not yellow as in cowardly…but yellow as in the color of light and joy and happiness. Those attributes define the true essence of dogs.

About half a dozen years ago, I started painting yellow dogs to celebrate those attributes and all the lovable imperfections of our best friends. The outcome was my yelodoggie character, Floyd.

Like all dogs, Floyd has his origins in Canis Lupis (the wolf), but my yelodoggie is more of a Canis Whateveris who gets himself in all sorts of jams.

Canis Pendulous

I paint when the spirit moves me.

Over the past week, I've been painting Floyd in various scenes and listing the paintings for sale in my etsy shop.  Each painting is created in watercolor and acrylic. They are postcard size and matted to a standard 8 x 10. They are extremely affordable, and the sales help me feed and clothe the five living breathing rescue dogs who currently share my home. Take a peek why don't you? I'll bet they will make you smile.

Canis Amorous

 

 

 

 

 

 

The following artists are the creators and owners of the yellow cartoon dogs shown at the top of this post:

Odie – Jim Davis\Marmaduke – Brad Anderson\Pluto – Walt Disney\Underdog – Joe Harris\Hong Kong Phooey – Hanna Barbera\Grimmy – Mike Peters\CatDog – Peter Hannan\Spike – Arlene Klasky, Gabor Csupo & Paul Germain

In the Dog House

I love my dogs. I've never thought of them in terms of ownership, but rather as sentient beings that share my life and home. "Others".

During the past week, I visited a couple of places on the Internet where people referred to pets as "furpeople". I have to confess that I find this catchphrase extremely amusing.

FURPEOPLE?  The name perplexes me. It alternately makes me think of Wegman dogs  or conjures an image in my mind of a cross between Disney characters and frat house revelers. Animals, dressed like humans, who are rowdy debaucherous partiers.

If these "Others" who share my life were people, fur or otherwise, I'd have tossed them out on their ears a long time ago. Because it's a strange breed of "people" who would find this:

 

 

and this:

 

acceptable ways to personalize their environs.

I love my dogs with a depth likening them to surrogate children, but I don't lose sight of their "otherness". They are distinctly other and it's precisely that distinction that makes them precious and delightful, and able to get away with all the insane misbehavior.

 "Through tattered clothes, small vices do appear. (Robes and) furred gowns hide all."          – William Shakespeare

Celebrate your dog's otherness – it's what makes them, them.

 

 

Dog Games: the Froot of Happiness

There aren't a lot of games that my dogs can play together.  It's true that when they go to the dog park, they all run around and play chase…but when we're home, it's not like everyone can sit down to a game of Yahtzee.

Waldo is so much bigger than the other four dogs, that they are intimidated by his size and speed. If the yellow ball is in motion, no matter who is chasing it; they defer to the Big Guy. He ends up hogging it while everybody else watches.

Games of tug are one-on-one, and Taco and Lammy Lamb aren't equipped for that. Taco's teeth are too small, and Lammy Lamb barely has any teeth left to tug with. Maria and Rocket Boy can usually get a good game going, but again, that's only two dogs, while three others sit watching.

Last night we discovered a new game that everyone can play. Froot Loop Catch. All the dogs circle around and one of us flings Froot Loops at their faces. My dogs love Froot Loops. Everybody stands in the circle and watches their buddies snatch the tiny donuts of dry cereal out of the air, and waits for their turn to try their skill. It's a true group game, because the dogs that are waiting their turn know that every throw means a potential miss, and the possibility of an extra treat landing at their feet.

When we started playing last night, only Waldo and Taco were adept at catching the flying cereal. Waldo gets so excited that he barks between throws. Maria has never been taught to catch flying treats, but it didn't take her long to catch on.  She's not very good at it yet, but she gets props for effort.  Lammy Lamb is a little slow on the snap, (slow reflexes? Aging eyesight?) but still manages to catch about half of those thrown her way.

Rocket Boy is a different story. Always a little slower to learn things (it took more than a year to housetrain him), he wants the Froot Loops but doesn't grasp the "catching" part. He doesn't even open his mouth; he just lets them hit him between the eyes, then, he picks them up off the floor. He's playing, but his game is more aptly called "Hit me in the face with some Froot Loops, please."

Poor Rocket…he's a little out of the loop.

How Much is That Doggie in the Window?

A while ago, I blogged about the dangers of offering pets for free on Craigslist. That post still gets a lot of traffic. Just yesterday, somebody commented "I think the real threat is from those animal care homes that flag free ads yet charge a fortune to rescue animals. $300-500 for a dog is absurd."

I'll come back to that in a minute.

Sometime during the past couple of weeks, I was made aware of a family member who had gotten a rescue pit. This dog was the third to join that household. The rescue person who had the pit was asking $150, but my young family member refused to pay that, citing it as ridiculous. His attitude was "if you want to find a home for that dog you can give it to me."  Apparently the rescue person was desperate, and called the young man back the next day and gave him the dog for free.

I'll come back to that in a minute, too.

When a rescue group gets an animal, a number of things happen. First, the animal has to be vetted. That means a distemper/parvo/corona vaccine, a rabies vaccine, a bordatella vaccine, and sometimes leptospirosis and lyme disease vaccines. Then the dog needs to be wormed. That usually means a fecal test and dewormer . Then there is a heartworm test, heartworm preventative if the dog is negative or heartworm treatment if the dog is positive ($500-$1,000) Then, the dog needs to be spayed or neutered at a cost determined by the size of the dog. That price increases if there are any complications.

God forbid the dog should have any other health issues: ear infection, eye problems, tapeworm, broken bones, injuries, dental problems or mange.

You can see by the table to the left, that barring complications, to get a dog ready for adoption has a base cost of $261-$316 all the way up into the thousands of dollars if the dog has other health issues. These costs are what 501(c)3 animal rescue groups are constantly raising funds for.  More funds are needed if the rescue group doesn't have their own kennel facility and needs to board an animal, if they microchip their rescue dogs, or provide obedience training or rehabilitation, or if they need fees to pull animals from kill shelters. And then of course the rescue group incurs the cost of feeding the dog for the entire time it's at their shelter.

So getting back to the comment from a reader: how absurd is an adoption fee? Even one as high as $300 (although personally, I've never heard of a fee higher than $200). Isn't it ultimately worth it to pay an adoption/rehoming fee for a dog that's already been vetted? And why shouldn't a rescue group be entitled to recoup some of the money they've spent to make an animal adoptable? Money recouped is money that can be spent to save another dog, and so on, and so on. People don't bat an eye when they pay a breeder $200, $500 or $2,500 for a dog, yet balk at a rehoming fee.

And getting back to that young man who wouldn't pay $150 for the rescue pit: he found out that 3 dogs and a baby were more overwhelming than expected, and now he and his girlfriend want to get rid of the pit.  If he had paid $150 for the dog, might he have valued it more? Tried harder to make it all work out? People tend to value what they pay for.

Quit complaining. Pay the adoption/rehoming fee so the next dog can be helped.

 

In the Name of Love

Last week I splurged and bought all the kids new name tags from pettags4less.com. They arrived today in all of their multicolored splendor. As I attached the tags to each collar, it occurred to me that each of the five dogs in our current pack have only lived in this one place with us.  The cabin has been their only residence since each of them has joined our family.

That's a weird feeling. Ten years ago when we moved to the cabin, we came with six dogs and four cats. (yes, we did have cats, too!) Over the course of the past decade, we lost each of those beloved pets. Five of them were ancient at 19 and 20 years old. As we lost some, we gained others…until we ended up with the complete pack turnover we have today.

That made me count back to figure out how many times each of our pets of the last twenty-six years had moved with us from one house to another. Tally was the most mobile, having moved nine times with me during the course of his life. Pippin had moved six times, Angee five, and Gypsy, four.

Our own statistics made me think about how many pets don't get that chance. About how many owners dump their pets when they move, citing reasons like "I can't have pets in my new place".  About the increasing incidence of people just abandoning their pets in their empty homes when they  move out. I don't know what's wrong with people. Do they think their abandoned pets can order-in pizza or turn on the faucet for water? Hundreds of pets die every week in homes where they were left  behind.

Special offer: only $8.50, free shipping.

If we couldn't take our pets where we wanted to move, then we crossed that place off and we kept looking until we found a place that would let us have our pets.

People give up too easily, and it's the pets that suffer. Your pet would live in a refrigerator box with you, no questions, no criticism. If only people would aspire to that level of love and devotion.

In honor of all of the pets I have loved and lost, here is a special offer for readers of Up on the Woof. Click the link to the left to get a copy of my book: Born Without a Tail for $8.50. FREE SHIPPING. Supply is limited, so place your order today.

Embarassing Confessions of a Dogaholic

I am a dogaholic. It's a chronic disorder characterized by dependence on and excessive obsession with dogs. Since 1987 my home has never had less than two dogs, and has sometimes had as many as six at a time. It begs the question: how many dogs are too many?  I decided long ago that as long as everybody has

me with Waldo

enough love, attention, food and vet care, the answer is: as many as my lifestyle and the square footage of my home can support. Sometimes that line gets a little bit blurred, but we manage.

Currently, there are five, and if my lifestyle and square footage would support it, there'd be about ten more. Those ten would probably be Jack Russells, because I don't think there's a funnier dog in the universe.

I love dogs. I love everything about them. Maybe even to the point of weirdness. (OK..definitely to the point of weirdness.)

You know that wet dog smell? Well, as long as the dog is clean, I kind of like that smell.

You know how some people won't let their dog on the bed? Well, I don't really feel right unless I have at least one dog on the bed with me. Preferably snuggled close. I don't even mind sharing my pillow, as long as I'm sharing it with the right end of the dog. It feels so weird not sleeping with a dog on the bed, that one night I spent at my brother's apartment, I actually asked him if I could borrow one of his dogs to sleep on my bed. I've been known to invite all five of our dogs onto my bed with me, and sleep very very soundly.

You know how some people are self-motivated to exercise? Well, I'm not. Luckily I have a big dog that forces me to walk him several times every day.  He literally will bark at me until I get my fat butt off the couch. I complain about the way he's always nagging me, but the truth is that I'm grateful for his ambition.

Me and Lammy Lamb, sharing a secret.

You know how some people get grossed out because a dog licks them? Well, one of my dogs is an obsessive foot-licker, and since that's the only foot massage I can get on any given day, it's embarrassing to admit, but I don't exactly discourage her when she's licking my feet. It actually feels kind of great.

You know all those things your mom said to you when you were little? All the "Because I said so"s and the "Children are starving in China"s?  I say doggie versions of that stuff to my dogs. "What? You're not gonna eat that? Don't you know they EAT dogs in other countries?"  In fact, I talk to my dogs all the time; probably more than I talk to my spouse.

You know how some people tell their kids "Don't kiss the dog!"?  Well, I kiss my dogs. I kiss their ears and their foreheads and their eyes and their muzzles and sometimes I even kiss their paws. It's a little embarrassing, but Rocket Boy has such a cute mouth that sometimes I kiss him on his adorable little lips. And you know what? My dogs like to be kissed.

You know how some people can't stand it when dogs bark? I don't mind it so much, unless I'm trying to talk on the phone. Sometimes when they are barking, I actually try to whip them into a little more of a frenzy to see if I can get some howling going. Howling seems like the ultimate freedom to me. Plus, I like to tease them about whether or not they can make an "O" with their lips.

Every neighborhood I've ever lived in, I've known the

Four of the five.

dogs' names before the peoples' names. And now, when I think back to different times in my life, the dog names still come to mind: Gabriel, Dundy, MacGregor, Murphy, Cotton, Bandita, Freckles, Dawg, Lucy, Hershey, Foster, Dexter…but most of the humans' names are much harder and sometimes downright impossible to excavate.

Dog-o-holism. Obsession. Addiction. Whatever you want to call it. I'm glad nobody has come up with a rehab for it.

Processing Prejudice, Even in Animal Rescue

 Yesterday, a young man "liked" my Facebook pages for my book, Born Without a Tail, and the rescue group I work with, Valley Save-a-Pet. He did so, asking that I "like" his rescue page in return. I am happy to do that. I am, in fact, happy to hear about any young person who is inspired to work in animal rescue. Apparently this young man is so inspired, he has started his own animal rescue group.  Kudos to him.

I "liked" his page and sent him a note to tell him I loved what he was doing for animals, and asking where he is located. I was thinking that if he is local, I could write an article about his rescue efforts in the Cleveland Pets Examiner, the way I did about Karlie Smick, the amazing third grader from Columbia Station.

Then I sent him a friend request (because we rescuers are crazy networkers on Facebook) and went to his private facebook page to find out more about him. This is what I found: (emphasis  is mine)

"I have 1 really true friend that is literally always there for me…….God. I have a true friend that will never leave me at school…..she always backs me up and will defend me if needed. I just love her (like a freinds ) to death. I have lots of friends that lately have turned around and backstabbed me. Those 2 true friends are ALWAYS there and will never turn their back on me. I get mad real quick. Don't mess around with my family or friends. I started an organization called The Four Paws of Hope. It's to help animals. I started it with my best friend that I was talking about at school. I love animals. I play Percussion in the band at school. I believe in absolute fairness. Even though life isn't always fair I try to make my part of it fair. I love hanging out with friends. I like doing stupid stuff with my friends. My Mom is a Phlebotomist. My Dad is a police officer. We have a wonderful family. I meant to say this earlier but I am a Christian. I love God. Jesus Christ is my Saviour. Sometimes I stray away from God so I'm not as good as a Christian As I wanna be but I am working on that. I don't like Pedophiles, Gays, child molestors, or anything of that nature. That's just nasty so you people that are like that please stay away from me. Well wanna know something? Ask!"

Well, that makes me feel like a million bucks. Gays lumped in with child molestors (sic) and Pedophiles. I got to thinking that in addition to animal issues, I often post gay rights issues on my FB wall.

I can accept that this is the way the young man feels, and he's clear with the "stay away from me"…so I sent him a follow up note that said "Hey, I just read more about  you on your FB page, and you say you don't like gays, so maybe you should just ignore my friend request, because I am gay."

Much to my surprise, he accepted my friend request today. Maybe he is trying to be a better Christian by remembering that the Bible quotes Jesus as saying "Love your neighbor as yourself", or maybe he's really serious about believing in absolute fairness. Time will tell. Maybe he'll learn some stuff he didn't know in the meantime.

It's about the animals, right? Can't we all just get along?

 

Let's all give the kid the benefit of the doubt and a little encouragement, and "like" his page.

The Lunatics are Running the Asylum

I've shared my home with dozens of animals over the years, some of them with disabilities and behavioral issues. Among them were an aggressive English Springer Spaniel who couldn't sort out from one day to the next who was friend and who was foe; a one-eyed coy-dog with a brain tumor; and a little muttley with trust issues.  But none of them were akin to the pack of mental misfits currently ensconced in my daily life.

Lammy Lamb is an OCD JRT who is a compulsive foot licker and obsessive resource guarder.  I can get her to stop the licking for a little while if I cover her paw with my  hand, but it's not exactly realistic to hold her paw all day. The resource guarding actually borders on insanity. She does not have to be the least bit interested in eating something, she will still guard it from the other dogs in the house with her last breath.  She even guards the food that we are cooking.  "Lammy Lamb! Step. Away. From. The. Dish!"

Maria is a Rat-huahua with PTSD. (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) I don't think there has ever been a traumatic stressor though, (she has never, to the best of my knowledge, been abused), so it's more like "pre-traumatic stress disorder" . She is forever walking around with her tail between her legs and her ears at a funny angle like she is waiting for the other shoe to drop. She is exceptionally paranoid and wears a perennial "who me?" expression. If you blow on her, she has a melt down and hides for two hours.

Waldo is a golden/boxer with the canine version of ADD. (Attention Deficit Disorder) He's incredibly smart, but if you are not paying attention to him, he considers that a deficit.  Play ball with me. Lift the bedcovers for me. Move Maria so I can lay there. Make Lammy Lamb get off the couch so I can watch TV in your lap. Take me out. Share your food with me. Love me. Hug me. Pet me. Talk to me. Look at me. Take me for a walk. Rinse/repeat. Constant Attention Required.

Rocket Boy is a Chihua-tzu with PDD (Pervasive Developmental Disorder). It makes him a particularly hard study when it comes to learning behaviors. It took one-and-a-half years to house-train/paper-train  him and he still has accidents at the age of three. He needs constant reminders to get things right. "Paper, Rocket, Paper!"  He has difficulty with language evidenced by his apparent belief that the words "nap" and "chewy" have the same meaning.  Like kids with echolalia, Rocket lapses into loops of loud continuous barking; directly into Taco's ear. He is also upset by minor changes, like housecleaning, or one of us getting up off the couch.

Taco is a Chihuahua with ODD (Oppositional Defiant Disorder). She's a very good dog in terms of never causing any kind of trouble, but no matter what she's asked to do, she meets the request with defiance. She responds to "Taco, come here" by walking away and hiding behind Dalene's legs. Her "Sit" response is to flatten her ears and gaze at me with a woeful expression. "Taco, get off the bed." results in her planting her butt on my pillow. And naturally, she is only defiant when it's me doing the asking.

Of course, I cater to the craziness, because they are all too cute and full of joy to actually make me angry for any length of time. The lunatics are definitely running this asylum.

ADD

ODD, PDD, OCD & PTSD

Hey, YOU!

A month ago, I posted a status update on Facebook about how in regards to animal welfare I sometimes feel like I am shouting into the wind. My friend Dixie commented that surely I am making a difference among my friends and family.  How I wish this was true.  The truth is; I've had a lot of failures.

Hey, YOU! Didn't you hear me when I told you that no matter what breed of dog you want there is one in a shelter somewhere that needs a home? Why did you still go out and buy a pit bull puppy from a breeder? Didn't you hear me say that millions of dogs are destroyed every year because there aren't enough homes? Didn't you read in my blog that pit bulls make up a large portion of the shelter population? I tried to tell you about BSL, but there you are with a pit bull puppy in a city that has very strict BSL regulations, and I don't have the confidence in you or your decision making abilities to believe that you've complied with all the regulations. I predict that pit bull's future lies at the pound.  FAIL.

Hey, YOU!  I know you didn't ask me to help you find a dog, but you were pretty specific about what you were looking for. When a dog turned up among my rescue contacts that met your criteria to the "T", I sent you his photo. But,  for whatever reason, you didn't want to take a chance on him. Four weeks later, he died when the shelter caught fire.  FAIL.

Hey, YOU!  I've known you for more than twenty years. I've talked to you until I'm blue in the face about getting your dogs spayed and neutered. But here we are decades down the road and you are still backyard breeding. Since I've known you, you've personally been responsible for bringing more than 120 puppies into the world. A world where 4 million shelter animals die every year.  FAIL.

Hey, YOU!   I've talked to you, too, about neutering your male dog, but for some reason you have his testicles confused with your own. For some reason you think that it would emasculate you to have your dog fixed.  So he continues to father litter after litter of puppies every year.  FAIL.

And Hey, YOU!  You were looking right at me when I told you a dozen times that your parents can't take care of pets, to quit asking for a puppy or a kitten. Weren't you listening? You kept asking, and they kept giving them to you, and I keep taking them off your hands when you and your parents can't take care of them.  I've had your hamster, and three of your dogs, and I've had to find homes for your rabbit, and another of your dogs, and a shelter for your two cats.  Those two cats you have now, have never been to a vet. The only reason your dog has shots and has been spayed is because I took her.  And now your dad is trying to get me to take your dog off his hands. Again. FAIL.

About six years ago, my friend Monique was looking at a project I was working on and she said to me "You ain't playin'."

Monique was right. I wasn't playing then, and I'm not playing now. Do you hear me?

I'M NOT PLAYING.

When I do something, I DO it. In spite of you, my failures, I've had other successes…

But you, you really shake a girl's confidence.

From Dog Ma to Demi God

One of my favorite books of all time is The Art of Racing in the Rain, by Garth Stein. The main character and narrator of the story is a dog named Enzo, who tells the story of his life with his person, Denny.  Enzo thinks Denny is amazing.

I think that any dog who is treated well thinks their person is amazing. Gosh, they worship us, don't they?  Not only that, but I believe that they sometimes think we are magicians and demi gods as well.

Partly it's the thumbs. Those of us who have them can open doors, and dog food cans, and throw the yellow ball. But the rest of the 'amazing" borders on magic.

I know that my dogs think that I can produce dog treats and rawhides out of thin air. Even when I show them the empty box or bag, they still look at me with bright expectant eyes. "Now make the treats appear, mom!"

They also believe that I can speak dog, and that I understand what every bark, whine, whimper and buff they utter means.

I think they must also believe that I am a contortionist. That's the only explanation for the little bit of space they expect me to sleep in after they have arranged themselves on my bed.

And I know that they think my lifemate and I can survive without eating. That's why they beg us for every morsel of food, from the time we begin preparing it, until there isn't a single crumb left.

Caillech, the godess of winter

One night this past winter I took my dogs out for their last call; it was cold outside, but dry. When we woke up in the morning, however, the ground was blanketed with 8 inches of snow that had fallen while we slept.  I'll never forget the look on my four  little dogs' faces when I took them out that morning. They stepped out onto the porch, looked at the snow (which was deeper than they were tall) and then, as one, they all turned to look at me. Their faces asked the clear question: "Why did you do this, mom?"

Thus was I elevated to Demi God.

Never underestimate your dog's estimation of you.