Today’s post comes from Ben:
I came home and said hello to the dogs. Went out another door and said “Hi” to the dogs again, and then, as one does with dogs, said “Hi Hi Hi”
As I was turning the corner after leaving the library, I saw a man walking his big dog. Only the big dog was walking up on the retaining wall along the sidewalk. He was walking very steadily on the wall, which was about 2 feet high, negotiating the corner with ease.
I slowed down and called out my car window to the man, asking if his dog likes all retaining walls or just this one. He laughed and said “all walls, but this is his favorite”. He said to have a good day and I drove off.
Tell me about your favorite circus memory!
Two weeks ago, Husband ordered some sourdough starter from King Arthur Flour. Until this point he had been a haphazard, sourdough self starter, making a starter and then discarding it when he felt like it. This time, he bought a deceptively small container with about a tablespoon of starter in it. It has held us captive ever since it arrived.
Husband followed the instructions for starter care religiously. This meant refreshing the starter ever 6-8 hours the first couple of days. This involved taking 4 ounces of the growing starter to which you add 4 ounces of flour and 4 ounces of water. You discard any starter beyond the 4 ounces, saving the discard for pancakes and waffles, or whatever else you want. There are only so many sourdough waffles, pancakes, and biscuits a person can consume every day.
Last weekend we made 10 loaves of a variety of breads. Our freezers are full. I feel trapped in my kitchen by this demanding starter. It reminds me of the man eating plant in Little Shop of Horrors. It is like having a new pet in the house. Husband says he will freeze the starter soon to bring peace and serenity to our home.
What responsibility have you taken on that you have come to regret?
I’ve told the tale of Zorro joining our household before but I’m not sure I have ever told about how smart he was. Here’s one story of his intelligence.
Zorro was a scratcher. I’ve known a lot of cats over the years (other people’s cats) and no one could scratch like Zorro. And he scratched everything: sofa, beds, tables, piano bench, speakers. Everything. I tried every technique you can think of to re-direct him. Multiple kitty scratching posts, catnip spray (to entice him to the posts), cans with pennies, squirt bottles, double-sided tape, aluminum foil, bitter apple spray. I even tried little shields that you put onto the kitty’s claws. Take it from me, don’t try this. You’ll get damaged doing it and within 24 hours, the kitty will have chewed half of them off.
I know that de-clawing a cat is an awful thing to do. I know exactly what they do and I know that many vets will not do the procedure. I had a long talk with my vet and as much as I loved Zorro, it was coming down to keeping Zorro without claws or having to find Zorro a new home. This was a terrible decision and I flip-flopped back and forth for over a month. But he was literally scratching his way through the house. The day I caught him scratching the piano leg (ignoring the kitty post that was 12” from him), I knew I had to act.
Suffice it to say that it was a rough surgery and he ended up staying at the vet two extra days so that they could keep him contained and quiet. After he got home, he limped for two weeks, breaking my heart with every step. I knew I was going straight to kitty-owner’s hell. Then one afternoon, I was standing in the kitchen and from where I was located, I could see Zorro up on the buffet in the dining room, but he didn’t see me. He jumped down and walked toward the kitchen with no limp whatsoever. As he crossed the threshold into the kitchen, he looked up and saw me; he immediately sat down and lifted up his “sore” paw. I snorted at him and told him he was busted; he must have heard my intonation or maybe he just knew the gig was up. He never limped again.
So all those folks who think cats aren’t smart because they can’t be trained like a dog, I say, you didn’t know Zorro!
Have you ever been scammed?
I came home from work yesterday at 10:00 am. Friday is my short work day. Husband asked as I came into the house “How about going to Bismarck to the zoo today”? I said yes, and off we went.
We haven’t been to the Bismarck zoo for years, not since our daughter was little. It was a fun day made really special by watching a zoo keeper train bobcats. They are trained, with raw meat treats, to follow verbal commands like sit, paws up, follow the target, and go in your crate. She also exposed them to sprays from a bottle of fly spray so they would tolerate the spraying. Raising one’s paw above one’s head allows zoo keepers to check paw pads for cracks or injuries, and underbellies for impending kittens or too much weight gain. Rufus, the bobcat male, loves being trained and is really good at all the commands. Ginger, the female, is a bit stubborn. Rufus hates the spray bottle. He very willingly went in his crate, an important skill to have if you need to go to the vet.
What a fun job! The zoo keeper paired the command and its successful completion with a loud click and a morsel of raw meat. I don’t fully approve of zoos, but I see their purpose in protecting endangered species. I would love to train bobcats! I wonder how they train the primates?
How do you feel about zoos? What are your experiences in training animals?
I’m not getting much done at work today. During the summer, every Friday is “Bring Your Dog to Work Day” and I am in dog heaven. I keep dog treats in my cube and on Fridays, I actually have a stash in my pocket throughout the day.
Today in addition to Charlie and Bernie Mac and Vegas (GoldenDoodle, Puggle, Doberman) who are here most Fridays, we have a brand new puppy. 8-week old Dave Grohl (name of somebody in some band that I don’t know about), a golden retriever. He has the wonderful puppy smell and that squishy soft puppy skin.
Rufus, Mochi, Brandon and Ash are off today but I’ve petted (and fed) a couple of others, whose names I don’t know, as they travel through the building. I’m on a main aisle and I think the dogs can smell the treats in my pocket as they’re going by so they stop by!
What perk would make your Fridays better?
The cats and I noticed something alarming in the garden this morning-a large flock of Chipping Sparrows fluttering around the pea fences. (Well, I was alarmed. The cats were merely curious.)
I usually see birds flocking around the time school starts in mid to late August. It is only mid to late July, and I certainly hope that this isn’t a portent for an early winter. Our garden is a couple of weeks behind as it is, and we will need as many frost-free days as we can get for a good harvest.
How good are you at predicting things?
We are taking in a house guest today. A wee dog is staying with us for 10 days while his people (son and dil and grandson) take a vacation to Victoria , BC.
Baxter is a West Highland White Terrier. He is 3 years old and pretty well trained (for a terrier). He went to puppy preschool and kindergarten! He has the typical Westie skin issues and gets itchy if he eats anything with gluten. He gets along with his home cat pretty well. I don’t know what our cats will think of him. I have dog proofed the house and yard. The backyard gates are all secured and terrier proof. He is too short to jump the fence. It will be fun to have a terrier in the house again.
Son is compiling a “Baxter Dossier” to assist us in caring for him. They are very attentive dog parents and I am sure the instructions will be very detailed. I like the word “dossier”. It makes Baxter sound like a spy or a diplomat.
Imagine you will be someone’s house guest. What would the dossier say about your care and feeding?
Husband and I have had a cat or two (or three) for most of the 30 years we lived in our current house. Some of the cats were mainly indoor cats who went outside occasionally, and the current two are strictly indoor cats. They both have their claws, but we are too worried they would get hurt outside. Millie, the Tortie, would love to go outside. She scratches at the door like a dog when she hears us outside. She started out life as a hobby farm kitten, but she is so clumsy and impulsive she would make some pretty bad choices and get into some dangerous situations. She has to be content with her life indoors.
I worry about cats that I see roaming. There aren’t too many in our neighborhood. The white supremacist across the street lets his small tabby roam at will. I worry about her, too, but I must credit her predatory ways with an absence of garden raiding bunnies. On the other hand, I wasn’t too happy with her when I saw her carrying a Swainson’s Thrush she had poached in our back yard. Outdoor cats and birds don’t mix well. Cat will be cats, I guess. I can’t expect them to all be like our Albert, who was an enormous tabby with a luxurious double coat who was terrified of birds and hid from them under the gooseberry bushes.
Where do you think cats belong? Tell some cat stories.
This is a picture of Nimue, trying to squeeze her way into my t-shirt drawer. She is a little too chubby for the amount of space. The photo is a little fuzzy because her tail was lashing back and forth pretty vigorously as she tried to get unstuck.
Do you have a favorite cozy space?
Trail Baboon 