We went to the Humane Society again this afternoon when a promising dog popped up on the list of cat-friendly dogs. We met her, a friendly golden retriever who had lived with cats before and was just perfect for us except … she has some mobility issues which we thought would be too much for our three-level house. We talked to the medical staff and they agreed, so we left empty-handed once more.
Oh that hurts, she was a lovely dog. At least the shelter is closed tomorrow so we won’t have to fall for another dog that we can’t bring home. Her name was Sam like our youngest cat, so we would have had to rename her. Whew, dodged that bullet!
We did make the mistake of going by the pod that holds the dog we missed out on this morning, goodness but she seems like a sweetheart. We consoled ourselves with the knowledge that she probably chews on knitting and eats cats for breakfast 😉
This is Papa Bear. Put out an APB for a male suspect, driving a … car of some sort, heading in the direction of, uh, you know, that place that sells chili. Suspect is hatless. Repeat, hatless.
The ever observant Police Chief Wiggum on the Simpsons
We’ve been to the Humane Society for the past several days but not come home with a dog. We put a secondary hold on one that we loved but the family with the primary hold adopted her last night, so no luck there. There was another that came available this morning that looked promising but she already has a hold as well.
Our biggest issue is that we need a dog that is cat tolerant and that reduces our options significantly, you either need to start with a puppy that will naturally learn to submit to its furry masters or an adult dog with a gentle personality that at the very least won’t chase them. We’re not looking for a puppy and at the moment that reduces the available options at the shelter to zero.
With the upcoming holiday for the New Year that makes it unlikely we’ll adopt a dog over the break, we’ll also look at rescue organizations but that is a longer process (for good reason).
Scout and Sam are going to vet in an hour for their yearly checkup (shh, don’t tell them, there are shots involved) and Emma goes this weekend. It should be easy to take Scout and Sam together given that they’ve become such snuggle bunnies …
This is our Christmas tree shortly after we first put it up (thankfully before the ornaments went on), you can see a decided tilt to the tree. The eagle-eyed observer may even be able to tell which layer Sam and Emma decided to sleep in.
The race of elk we have in the Pacific Northwest, Roosevelt elk, were named in honor of Theodore Roosevelt. I came across this bull, part of a larger herd, on a rainy morning near the Hoh Rain Forest in Olympic National Park.
While President Cleveland protected some of the forests of the Olympic Peninsula in 1897 by declaring an Olympic Forest Reserve, the protection did not extend to the elk who lived there and in a few years less than 2,000 survived. President Roosevelt (Theodore, not Franklin) established the Mount Olympus National Monument in 1909 to protect the elk but future politicians cut back the acreage to half of its original size. President Roosevelt (Franklin, not Theodore) granted National Park status in 1938 after visiting the area, the status it has retained to the current day, protecting not only the elk that bear the Roosevelt name but also the many plants and animals that are unique to the Olympic Peninsula.
After Templeton died a year ago we were trying to decide if it was too soon for Scout to add more cats to the household. We felt she would be happier with other cats around, as would we, so we adopted Sam and Emma and hoped for the best. Fast forward to today and here is Scout with her new best friend curled up on the window seat, watching the snowy scene before them. They are often curled up together on my legs when I wake up in the morning but this is the first time I’ve seen them together on the window seat.
Scout is seven years older than Sam, half a lifetime, so I’m thrilled to see them get along so. Emma willingly bears the brunt of most of Sam’s kitten energy and he’s learned that at this stage of her life Scout usually prefers snuggling to horseplay. Sometimes their little lovefests wake me up in the morning as they rub their faces all over me and each other but there are worse ways to wake.
This morning didn’t get started off on the right foot. I didn’t see Sam underfoot and accidentally kicked him as I was getting ready for work. I felt a sharp pain in my left foot and dropped to the floor, then hobbled up to find him to check him for injuries. He seemed fine but I pulled him close and gave him a thorough exam, he wasn’t too keen on being poked and prodded so I petted him enough to keep him happy. He didn’t show any signs of tenderness and seemed none the worse for wear, making one mad dash up the Christmas tree and then curling up with Scout on the window seat to watch the comings and goings on the street.
I decided to stay at home an extra hour just to make sure he didn’t have any unusual behavior due to an internal injury, with the final test being the filling of his food bowl. He came ripping down the stairs and began eating before I had even finished filling the bowls, leaving no doubts as to his mobility or his appetite. I didn’t fare quite so well, after my foot continued to hurt into the afternoon I took off my shoes for a closer look. One toe was blackened on the top although by the end of the day it has lightened a bit to a deep purple. I still don’t know exactly what happened, either my toe got bent back at just the right (and wrong) angle or my little cat has ironsides.
Or a mithril coat hidden under his fur. Perhaps we named him after the wrong hobbit.