My Whatever World in Maine

Welcome, Maddie!

Everybody who knows me knows that I am a cat person. I love the little furballs, from their wet noses to their purrs and everything in between (well, not everything-I could live without the yakking and the litter boxes, but I digress). But over the last year or two I've been thinking-you can't take a cat on a walk with you, or camping with you, and geez, I really miss having a dog around since my mother's died a couple of years ago. But I wanted a shelter dog that was small, and most of those get scooped up very quickly. Besides, I had to convince myself I was really ready for an animal that didn't take itself to the bathroom.

Well, as of last Saturday the search ended, and I welcomed Madeleine-a 15-month-old Cairn terrier mix, shown here sitting next to my sister-in-law-into my home. (Alas, my cats have not yet forgiven me, and may not for a long, long time.) Maddie is actually a dog from Louisiana, brought up here by kind folks running a rescue organization that brings dogs from the south to be adopted by northerners. (The Animal Refuge League also takes in southern rescue dogs from time to time. Here is the notice I got with her when I went to pick her up:

We Need Your Help!

People from other areas just don't realize what a battle we, as rescuers, fight every day here in the south. Most of us are born and bred southerners...and we love almost everything about being southern...as a matter of fact we are very proud of it. But our shame is the way that dogs are treated by the majority of pet owners. They just don't "GET IT." They don't spay or neuter, dogs are tied to trees or worse, just allowed to roam loose. If one doesn't work out or gets sick, just get rid of it and get a new one. It's easy here; the dog pounds (and we don't have shelters...we have dog pounds) are full of them. Any kind, age, size, shape, breed, color. If they dont have it today, wait, they will have it tomorrow. 99% of our dogs come from a dog pound. YOUR DOG CAME FROM A DOG POUND. Where he/she would have been held for four days and then face a gas chamber if we would not have had room to foster.

The pound closest to us euthanizes approximately 500 to 800 dogs, puppies, cats and kittens EVERY WEEK!! And that is just one pound in one small town. Recently I was in a pound close to us and in one morning they took in 72 little lab puppies...SEVENTY-TWO...that's not a typo. All of them 5 to 8 weeks old. And by noon that day they all went to the gas chamber for lack of space. Dogs and cats die by the HUNDREDS every day in South Louisiana. And I think I can safely say that is the case throughout the south.

So how can you help? Tell your friends, tell your co-workers, tell your relatives. Tell anyone who is looking to make an addition to their famly. ADOPT A SOUTHERN DOG!!!! Without our northern brethren adopting southern dogs, thousands more would die. How do you find a southern dog? Look on Petfinder.com at the southern rescues and shelters. Ask your local rescue if they bring in dogs from the south. Make a conscious effort to help a dog that would die without homes such as yours.

We want to thank you from the bottom of our hearts for taking this dog into your home. You not only saved this dog, ..but the one that replaced it. Since our foster space is limited, if you would not have given this dog a home, another dog would have died in a gas chamber for lack of foster space. So you saved two lives...and it is like a chain reaction. When the next person adopts that dog is saved and the one that takes its place. So the more you tell people the more dogs get saved.

PUPPY HUGS AND WET NOSED KISSES TO YOU FOR GIVING A SOUTHERN DOG A HOME!!!

Since Maddie is the sweetest, happiest little dog I've ever seen-loves walks and pizza treats, and seems blissfully untraumatized by her harrowing experience just inches from death-I guess we're both lucky!!

Happy Memorial Day

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred

-from Charge of the Light Brigade by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Unfortunately, too many have construed the idea that because it is a soldier's job to obey the orders and carry out the policies of his or her commander-in-chief without question, it is incumbent upon the rest of us to do so.

Special thanks/remembrances this Memorial Day to the service men in my life-my grandfather (1907-1980), my dad (1929-2001), and my uncle (b. 1924).

20th Maine Company B Lives On

For all who are interested in military or Civil War history, I attended an interesting graveside funeral a couple of weeks ago (Gennie's mistress, actually, who died in February but of course we couldn't have a graveside service then). The interred over the last 15 years or so of her life had become very interested in the story of Joshua Chamberlain, and had become a minor celebrity in the central Maine area by her appearances at historical and political events in the garb of Sarah Chamberlain, mother of Joshua. This was all made possible by her participation in the Company B 20th Maine, an organization that calls itself "a living history group dedicated to preserving the memory of Maine civil War volunteers."  Joshua Chamberlain and the 20th Maine were, of course, immortalized by the battle of Gettysburg and the 1993 epic of the same name.

My sister-in-law grabbed some photos of the company in full garb that they were kind enough to pose for after the funeral:

 

You can view the funeral photos and other albums of events posted by the 20th Maine Co. B here.

Vote for Hillary!

...the horse, that is.

The Portland Press Herald is holding a Pet Idol contest, and my sister-in-law's beautiful chestnut horse Hillary has made it to the second round! The contest is for more than bragging rights-the winner will receive a $500 prize and the proceeds will go to benefit the Newspapers in Education fund, which helps provide local classrooms with the most up-to-date textbooks available.

While there are separate categories for the ubiquitous cars and dogs, Hillary is running in the "other" category, along with a turtle, a bird, a sheep, and other less common pets.

Look at Hillary, folks! Isn't she gorgeous? Who better deserves to be the Pet Idol? Pick up a copy of today's MST, and vote early and often!

Waldo, ?-2008

RIP, my friend. As lousy as your mother feels today, she has to know that she gave you the best last few years a cat ever had.

You can read Waldo's story here. It's pretty remarkable. He was a great cat, and he'll be missed. 

The Christmas Tree Man

Got back from visiting my friends Marianne and Bill over the New Year the other day. With two five-year-olds and lots of family around, the holidays are a big deal at their house in Penfield, outside Rochester. In fact, such a big deal that Bill has not one or two but five Christmas trees decorating their home! They're all quite beautiful. Don't believe me? Here's proof!

This is the only real tree, in the formal living room:

This one is in the family room, where the TV is:

The red ribbon tree, in the dining room:

The little one that's in the kids' room:

...and finally, my personal favorite, the Disney tree. Every ornament has a Disney theme to it. This is actually in the same family room as the other tree, just on the other side of it:

Remarkable, isn't it? Really, it reminds me of a song. So without further ado, and with apologies to Phoebe Snow... 

So once again
Its time to put up trees
And so recall the Christmas time
You decorate home now
With many trees in your great big house
To please your wife

Let's put up some more
Cover each with fake snow
Youre the Christmas Tree Man
You make things all green!

Happy Birthday, Dad

...and happy Winter Solstice as well. Mom and the rest of us didn't get to mark it with any strawberry shortcake this year, not yet anyway. Maybe we'll make some when Doug and Lori come down Christmas Eve (yes, with real whipped cream, not any of that spray garbage...)

We miss you. Hope you're taking good care of all our animals 'til we get there! Say hello to Jessica and Hillary for me...

Winnie

My cyber friend Melissa wrote a fun post about her neurotic pet, Mattie-a little dweeb of a cat who requires much patience and whom a lesser person would have conscribed to the shelter a long time ago.

Well, I can't let that one go by without a "Ha! You think your cat is neurotic? That's nothing!" First, though, I need to introduce everyone here to Winnie. Even my own family:

She's two and a half now, and yes, she's absolutely beautiful. If you've read any of my other posts, you know I occasionally foster strays for the Animal Refuge League in Westbrook, and that's how I met her-a four-month-old stray, terrified of everything. They had named her Winter at the shelter, which I eventually shortened to Winnie. I was supposed to try and socialize her so she would be more adoptable. Yeah, right. Everytime I came near her, she ran and hid-my ex used to call her "the squirrel" because that's what she looked like, a tiny grey streak racing from whatever room she was in. She had a terrible upper respiratory infection when I got her as well, so just imagine the fun of giving a pill twice a day to a paranoid kitten who was certain you were trying to poison her and didn't mind using her claws and teeth to make her disapproval known.

Back then, I had two old lady cats, Jessica and Hillary, (both of whom have since passed on to the Rainbow Bridge) and one younger male cat, Nick, who is still above ground with us. I had gotten Nick from the Friends of Feral Felines as a kitten about six years earlier, and as anyone who has dealt with ferals knows, they LOVE other cats in a household. Poor Nick especially loved Hillary, who made her disdain of him known time and time again with a well-placed smack right across the nose. Poor thing still has scars from the claw marks. Jessica also didn't have any use for him, so he lived his first years ostracized from what he loved most-other cats.

It became clear pretty early on that Winnie was never going to be a cuddly, friendly pet for anybody, so while I was trying to decide what to tell the shelter about her I noticed that she was very friendly with Nick-she would play with him, and sleep with him, and he seemed to really enjoy the cat company. So, I thought-this kitten has no chance if I don't give her one, and she makes Nick's life better. So I called the shelter and the next day, she was mine. For better or worse.

More than two years have passed since then, and my Winnie remains a never-ending source of entertainment and amusement for me, if not companionship. The last time I took her to the vet's, she nearly scaled the wall trying to get out, prompting the tech to say in wonder, "I don't think i've ever seen a cat do that before." But she really would like to be a nicer cat than she is-she'll come and sit in the room I'm in, nearby but safely out of reach, ready to bolt if I get up; she likes toy mice; once in a while at night she'll jump up on the bed and let me pet her, purring her foolish little head off but take off like a streak if I make a move to get up; she'll take treats from my hand but only after batting at it for a while to get me to drop it (the picture above shows her enjoying a group treatfest with Nick and her new cat sister, Midi, the black one).

If heaven does exist, and we are judged on our treatment of creatures that do not necessarily deserve to be treated well, then Winnie is my ticket to get in. Why do I keep her and love her if she's such a miserable little ingrate? Because she deserves to be allowed to exist and cared for just as she is, and because my world is a far more interesting place because of her.

Besides, anyone can love a sweet cat!   

Update on the New Kittens

My sister's vagabonds made their way to the vets' office yesterday. Poor babies! From what she was told, it's a good thing they found a benefactor...

Oh boy...All have upper respiratory congestion and malnutrition; Happy Jack has an ear infection; the cut on Fiona's paw was infected. We have antibiotics (all); eye ointment -- Fi & Spike, and boy, do they love having goop squirted into their eyes!; ear drops (Happy); and disinfectant swab (helps ALOT. The paw looks much better already. She is wearing a silly-looking collar to keep her from licking it.). Also, they are at least six months old, based on their teeth. And Fifi is only three pounds! we can't talk about spaying yet, until all this other stuff is resolved, but she doesn't appear to be pregnant. Still, they were declared essentially healthy, all the leukemia tests came back negative. As soon as the respiratory yuk is over (and the goopy eyes) they can meet their new brothers!

yeah, I'm sure their new brothers are just thrilled about that!

The Day After

A quiet day after the foodfest. Man, isn't Thanksgiving the best holiday ever? Mark Felger on FSNE last night summed it up nicely: "It's the best holiday because I don't have to buy presents for anybody, there's no religion, none of that crap. I get to eat and hang out and watch football."

At the risk of sounding a tad hypocritical, amen, my friend. Now on to Christmas. I would personally like to thank our culture for secularizing the holiday to the point where it is now completely unrecognizable to any solemn, practicing Christian (except for the occasion outraged evangelical holding up a sign that says'"Merry CHRISTmas-NOT Happy Holidays!") It makes it much easier for those of us who think the whole savior-born-in-a-manger story is utter nonsense to enjoy the presents and the week off.

This past holiday was especially thankful for three little kittens, disposed of under a dumpster in the old Cony High School area late last week and rescued by a kind couple (my sister and brother-in-law) who are still grieving the loss of the twnety-year-old feline matron of the home a few weeks earlier. It seems only fitting that they'd be found by this couple only when they were willing to accept them.

In no apparent order, here they are, the newest members of the family...

Fiona, the only girl. Look at the paws!

Spike...

and Happy Jack, so named because of his penchant for purring!

It's a good thing my sister has a big house, because not only do the kittens now take up permanent residence there but there's also William and Waldo (this is William, I don't have any pictures of Waldo. Suffice it to say Waldo is the skinnier one of the two)...

...and then there are the reptiles, Big and Red. I'm not sure which one this is.

All in all, a lot to be grateful for, wouldn't you say?