I had a wonderful birthday weekend in Madison, Wisconsin. We brought our dog, Rudy, who seemed to enjoy all of the new places to sniff out. We’ve traveled with him before, to our go-to place, Galena, Illinois, where we stay in a rental house. This time was different because we stayed at an actual hotel — dog-friendly, of course. But being in such close proximity to other people had me anxious because Rudy barks a lot. It was kind of stressful. We’re on the road now, and I’m looking forward to being home.
I am a dog owner (or like I think of it, a dog mom). I pick up after my dog when he poops. It’s understood that I’m going to pick up after my dog. Yes, it’s gross, but only about a tad more gross than scooping a litter box, which I’ve also done.
But that’s not the point; the point is dogs. More specifically, their owners. Certainly not all owners are guilty of not picking up their dog’s poop, but there are so many people who commit this act, that other people have actually made up signs, shaming them. And more power to the signs!
If it can get even one person who didn’t used to, now pick up after their dog’s poop, hallelujah! The sign worked!
How hard can it be to clean up? It isn’t rocket science, and just leaving it there goes against basic human decency. I honestly can’t understand why people don’t do this.
Do you know anyone who does NOT pick up after their dog? Do you know why they don’t (aside from being lazy)?
My cat, Hee Seop (HE-sop), passed away in October 2018. His legs suddenly became paralyzed one afternoon, and he had trouble walking. We took him to the emergency vet immediately, where they told us his prognosis was bad and that he was in a lot of pain. (You can read about it here.) We knew what the right decision was, but it was difficult to make. He passed away that evening.
Hee Seop was formerly a feral cat, which means he was probably the offspring of domesticated cats who were abandoned (strays). They are hard, if not impossible to tame. Although these cats are wild, they aren’t considered wildlife. They are afraid of humans.
We first met Hee Seop after my husband threw out the results of a failed recipe. He set the bags outside the back door to take them to the dumpster later. That evening, my husband saw Hee Seop on our back porch for the first time, foraging for food in our trash. My husband called me, and when we peeked out the window, Hee Seop ran. It was February. This happened many times in the next few months.
I left food and water on the porch for him, and occasionally I spied him eating or drinking. By April or May, he was on the back porch every afternoon at 4:30, screaming to be fed! This was something he would continue to do in the future. You see, I had started giving him wet food once a day, in addition to his kibble. Eventually, he let me sit on the porch near him while he ate his wet food, as long as I didn’t watch. Whenever he saw me watching, he took off.
He was named after Hee Seop Choi, a former first baseman for the Chicago Cubs baseball team, who was supposed to be a huge big deal, but was basically a dud. Before that, I called him Portia the Porch Cat because I thought he was female. Then one day, while the Cubs were on TV, I peeked out the window. Hee Seop went down the stairs and I could see that he had “wee sops.” Hehe. So I took him in to get neutered.
I borrowed a humane trap from a shelter and TNR’d (Trap Neuter Return) him. I took him to the vet to get neutered, and then released him back to the wilds of the urban jungle. Feral cats, who form communities, would rather live outside.
We already had 3 cats, so my aim was to bring him to a local cat shelter who had a room dedicated to non-socialized cats. I was hoping they would give him food and shelter for the rest of his life (because that’s what that particular shelter did), but when I called them, I was told that the socialization room was full. So, it looked like we were getting a 4th cat as soon as I could get him inside.
That didn’t happen for another 4 months, when the landlord decided to tear down and reconstruct the back porches, with only a 2-week notice. It was sooner than I had planned to get Hee Seop indoors, and the porch was where we first connected. Now it was being torn down.
I had 2 days left to get him inside. I locked our 3 cats in the bedroom, and made sure the cat carrier was wide open. I set out a bowl of tuna, and took my place on the porch, on the steps leading to the floor above. When I saw him, I threw a jacket over him, hoping to scoop him up with it. FAIL!!!!
I was devastated, but I still had one day, and finally, the next day I “captured” him! I was unable to pick him up with my jacket and he was running loose in the apartment. I panicked because I thought he escaped. I looked everywhere. Finally, I checked the cat carrier, and there he was hiding inside it! We took him to the vet for a check-up.
I hadn’t planned on having a 4th cat. He was about a year old when we adopted him, and lived with us for the next 16 years. He was 17 when he passed. RIP Hee Seop ❤️
My first husband and I were divorcing. Between us we had 4 cats, all of whom we adopted together, all of whom would stay with me. After a few months of caring for them, returning to college full-time, and working part-time, it became quickly apparent that I couldn’t take care of them because I had very little money with which to feed them and take them to the vet.
So one day, my ex-husband and I met in the yard of the building in which I lived. We were standing outside, and it was time for me to make a very difficult decision: which 2 cats I was going to keep, and which 2 would go with him. I loved them all equally. Having to decide which 2 to “give away,” was utterly gut-wrenching. I finally decided on Valentine, who was deaf with all white fur, and Phoebe, who was a little, gray tabby. That left Hopper and Basil, a tuxedo cat and a Siamese, both of whom lived to be 17, with me.
I have no doubt that Valentine and Phoebe have crossed the Rainbow Bridge by now. This all happened over 20 years ago. I thought about them from time to time; I still do. Maybe all 4 of them have been reunited and are playing together once again. I’d like to think so.
So for the past couple of months, our dog Rudy has been following me down the hall from the living room to the kitchen. Every. Time. He’s always expecting a treat, and sucker that I am, I always give in. It’s so hard to say no! Look at those eyes!!
The trainer said we should switch things up so Rudy won’t recognize that he’s about to get a “cookie.” I’m afraid the opposite has happened because he now knows that any time I get up and head down the hall, it means that treats are coming! NOM!!
If I go into the bedroom to shower, Rudy will jump on the bed and wait until I’m absolutely finished getting ready. He never does that! As we go out the door, he turns left towards the kitchen, while I turn right to go to the living room. And halfway there, I turn around and meet him in the kitchen for treats.
Rudy and I had a special bond from the moment he came home with us. I got sick (depressed) for about a year and couldn’t take care of him. During that time my husband looked after him and does so to this day. Now I’ve been trying to “buy” his love back with treats. Haha! Slowly but surely, he’ll come around!
