Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘pets’

Meet Rameses

I am not a dog person.

Confession time:  I have never understood my children’s obsession with animals.  While I enjoyed the occasional zoo trip as a child, animals in general did not occupy much of my thoughts.

But I can fall in love with animals on an individual basis.

And here is my new love.

Rameses 4.jpg

About two years ago, Lorelei started begging for a dog.  I said no.  Never again.

Like I said, I am not generally a fan of dogs.  They smell, they bark, they demand lots of attention, we have four cats already, and to top it all off John is allergic to them.  Our first dog was very old school.  He was an outdoor dog who loved the outdoors and was perfectly content with his dog house and the garage in cold weather.  But we adopted him around 2003, before the internet told me that my dog needs to be in the house with us.  While I still think Balthazar was perfectly happy, I would now feel plagued with guilt to have a mostly outdoor dog.

Lorelei wrote a manifesto explaining exactly why she needed a dog of her own.  It was in a folder and there were several pages to it, and while I can’t remember now exactly what it said, I do remember that its logic and emotional appeal were unassailable and all of us who read it were forced to concede.

So we said she could get a new dog eventually, but she would have to find one that was as hypoallergenic as possible and that could get along with cats.  And that she would have to prove she was responsible enough to care for it, because I have enough to do.

She pored over the internet and dog rescue sites and changed her mind several times before she decided on a greyhound.  In the meantime, she took on the litterbox duty and feeding of the cats to prove responsibility.  She earned money to buy everything the dog needed and learned all the internet could tell her about greyhounds.

We went to the local meet-and-greet sponsored by the Greyhound Rescue folks, eventually started the approval process (which was nerve-wracking but ultimately not as bad as I’d feared), and about a month ago welcomed Deco Cannon Fire (rechristened Rameses, because greyhounds hail originally from Egypt) into our home.

Rameses 6

In his former life, five-year-old Rameses was a racing greyhound.  You can see him in action here.  That was a treat for me to see because we have never seen him run.  At the most, at the dog park, he trots around the perimeter sniffing the fence.

Rameses 2.jpgLorelei could not have picked a better breed.  In a month, Rameses has barked maybe five times? He doesn’t have a smell (seriously, if you sniff your hand after stroking him there is no dog aroma).  He hardly notices the cats, who are beginning to learn that there is no need to run out of the room automatically when they see him.

Rameses 3.jpg

He likes attention, but doesn’t demand constant petting.  He’s like a cat in that respect, which is probably why I like him so much.  He spends most of his time sleeping.

Rameses 1.jpg

Lorelei keeps his crate in her room, and she handles all of his feeding and outdoors time and cleaning up after him.  Emily and I do help with the walking when she’s at school, but I leave the clean up for her.  We have a new park less than half a mile away with an enormous dog area, and we’ve been taking him there at least once a week.  He barely notices the other dogs, and we can’t get him to run, but he does enjoy exploring and sniffing!

Anyway, we all love him, even John who really doesn’t care for dogs, having been made sick by them for as long as he can remember.   We aren’t sure if he’s allergic to Rameses, because he’s had two colds since the dog arrived and the seasonal allergies are terrible here right now but at this point I don’t think he’d care.

Rameses 8Rameses 5Rameses 7I would never in a million years have thought of getting a greyhound.  I don’t think I’d ever even seen one in person before that first meet-and-greet.  But I couldn’t be happier with Lorelei’s choice.

Read Full Post »

I’ve done it, you’ve done it–go ahead, admit it–forwarded a meme or an email that was so perfect, such a reflection of and corroboration of personal views, only to find out later it was a pack of lies.  It’s human nature to crave affirmation, and when such a beloved and respected person as Pope Francis is doing the affirming, that’s REALLY affirming.

But let’s remember the famous words of Abraham Lincoln, y’all:

As Francis Fever sweeps the nation, Francis memes, old and new, are flooding the internet.  Two extremely popular ones which I’ve made efforts to combat before are back again and stronger than ever, being forwarded by normally trusted sources including Catholics who really should know better.

pope francis pets

Now, I hope as much as anyone that my dogs are in heaven, but that doesn’t change the fact that this meme is not true.

The above meme comes in many forms, and springs from a longer and more complicated story that made the rounds awhile back and also included the gift of a goat and the blessing of guide dogs.  I was suspicious of the story when I first read it, even though as you can see it was being reported by the mainstream press.  It took me about an hour of clicking back and doing research on the Vatican website to realize that the original article in the Italian press had conflated several events and was being misquoted to boot.  Anyone could have done this research but apparently they did not bother.

Y’all, come on.  I cannot BELIEVE that Catholics are circulating this.  I’ve heard plenty of people saying this, but not Pope Francis.  He didn’t say it or anything like it.

Pope Francis has said a lot of wonderful things.  He has also said a lot of challenging things.  Many are uncomfortable with some of his verifiable statements regarding homosexuals, capitalism, and climate change, to name just a few.

But what he has never done, as he very recently reminded reporters, is say anything that falls outside of Church teaching:

I’m sure that I haven’t said anything more than what’s written in the social doctrine of the Church . . . a colleague asked me . . .  “But is the Church going to follow you?” I told him, “I’m the one following the Church.” . . . Things can be explained, possibly an explanation gave an impression of being a little “to the left”, but it would be an error of explanation . . .  And it if necessary, I’ll recite the creed. I am available to do that, eh.

Yes, y’all, you read that right:  all that awesome stuff Pope Francis says is stuff the Church has been teaching all along! It’s all right there in the Catechism and encyclicals, and even most Catholics never read it, and it’s beautiful.  Pope Francis somehow is able to put these teachings into word and action in a way that resonates with people today.  People are listening to him and hearing the doctrine.  Because many cannot reconcile his words with their perception of the Church, they try to frame him as progressive or liberal or as someone who has come to change the Church, and I believe that is what gives rise to these memes that clearly do not reflect Church doctrine.

Pope Francis follows the Church

I’m linking this up to Worth Revisit, the weekly Wednesday linkup hosted by Reconciled to You and Theology is a Verb.  You can join in or read the other contributions by clicking the picture below!

Picture

Read Full Post »

Today I had the honor to stand by the deathbed of a dear and loyal friend.  Today I had the privilege of being with him to ease him out of this life.  And today I also had the responsibility of deciding that it was time for that life to end.

Today we put our dog to sleep. Over 20 years of pet owning, two dogs and eight (at least) cats, and I’ve never had to do this before.  We’ve lost cats, but they’ve had a way of just disappearing.  By the time we realized they were never coming back, we had grown at least somewhat used to their absence.  We’ve never known in advance that today would be the day we would say good-bye forever. Anyone can tell you that I’m no animal lover.  But I loved OUR dog.

Balthazar

We got Balthazar from the pound almost 12 years ago, when he was about eight months old, because Jake begged for a dog.  We named him for the first Sholly to come to the New World.  We thought he was part German Shepherd, part Shiba Inu, maybe part Collie.

It was a good mix, whatever it was.  He was strong and gentle, smart and stubborn, protective and loyal. Once I had him tied up on the porch while some men were cutting trees in his yard.  When they were done I heard them knocking on the side of the house, because he was so threatening that they were afraid to come to the door so I could pay them.  Half an hour later, I heard him whimpering.  I came out to find this vicious beast crying as he patiently allowed our three-year-old to pull on his ears.

He loved to run away so much that we designed an “airlock” on our fence to prevent it, but he always came back.  He loved chicken so deeply that he jumped a three-foot-high baby gate to steal some once. But last night he lay in front of an open door and would not get up to go out.  And this morning he turned his head away from the piece of rotisserie chicken I offered him.

We always said that we never wanted our dogs to suffer, that we would never put them through anything just to keep them alive because we would miss them, that we would let them go when it was time. It was time. They could try to stabilize him, the doctor said.  They could try a transfusion.  But after it was over he told us he was so glad we didn’t try to save him, that we had done the right thing.

Lorelei and William came with me.  John is out of town, Emily was working, Jake was too upset.  They were brave.  We hugged him and petted him, and William patted me.  Lorelei told him he was going to a better place. It was peaceful.  It was easy.  It was quick.  His suffering was over as ours was beginning.  Lorelei sobbed all the way home.

Dogs are naturally good, Lorelei said later.  They must go to some kind of Heaven, maybe not the same one we go to.  I’ve never been one to assert that all dogs go to Heaven, but now I find my theology is uncertain where MY dog is concerned.

RIP Balthazar

TheocentricThursdaysButton

Creative K Kids

Read Full Post »

Cat People

This morning, the first thing on the agenda is to take Mace to the vet for his first set of shots.  Mace is one of three now half-grown kittens who adopted us when we moved here.

Jake holding the first kitten to appear

We didn’t start off being cat people.  John never had a cat growing up.  In fact, he SAID he didn’t like cats.  Certainly, he was allergic to them (dogs, too).  My family had one cat when I was growing up–only because my little sister begged.  Celeste was a part of the family for 17 years, but we felt like she was an exception.  She was not like the other cats.

We never made a decision to own a cat, either.  Cat ownership was thrust upon us when Rosemary appeared on our deck, homeless and expecting kittens, when Teddy was a baby.  She stayed 15 years.  Mima urged us to keep her.  Children should have pets, she said.  She’d pay for all of it, she said.  She did, and we did.  Rosemary was a sweet, undemanding, affectionate cat.  For a time, we had a companion for her, another stray–a fat furry black and white creature named Tosco–but they never got along well and when he wandered off one day and did not return no one missed him much.

Rosemary disappeared one day shortly before we moved to the house that burned down.  She’d been gone for a few days before, but this time she didn’t come back.  I still miss her.

Lorelei and William decided they each wanted a kitten of their own.  I did not consent to this.  John and Emily between them brought home two kittens from Emily’s roommate’s cat.  Both were supposed to be girls; both turned out to be boys.  Carrying on a theme, we named them Pepper and Parsley.

Watching those two grow up was a joy.  They had so much fun playing together.  We had five acres of woods behind the house and it was a wonderful playground for them.  Wildlife abounded, and Parsley was a merciless hunter, killing something just about every day.

Those cats were spoiled rotten.  They ruled the house.  Rosemary was rarely inside.  Those two had windows open so they could come and go as they pleased.  They slept right in the bed with us.  I posted so many pictures of them on Facebook I embarrassed myself.

Lorelei in my bed with her kitten, Pepper.

Under the tree

Spoiled Rotten

Brotherly Love

After the fire, we never saw Pepper and Parsley again.  Pepper hadn’t been seen that day.  Parsley was in the house when the boys left at 4 p.m.  By ten, the house was in flames.  There was a window open for Parsley, of course.  We hope the fire scared them, that they ran into the woods, that when they came back to a foul-smelling blackened shell and we weren’t there, they found someone else to love them and take care of them.  That’s what we hope.

Lorelei and William didn’t care about the house.  They didn’t care about their toys.  All the cried about was their kittens.

So it seemed like God had a hand in sending those three little kittens to our porch only a few days after we moved in:  Cicely for Lorelei, Mace for William, and Mr. Kimutis (after his religion teacher) for Jake.  They will never replace Pepper and Parsley, but they are sweet and loving and have helped us heal.

First night

Eating us out of house and home

It's a bed if we say it's a bed

Saying her prayers

Drying off after getting caught in the rain

Just pitiful

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: