I found Molly, the calico kitty, in a foreclosed home in the West Grove. The neighbors say that she was left behind by her previous owners—she was in pretty bad shape when I found her. It’s been about two months that I’ve had her now and she’s been spayed and given all of her boosters. My vet thinks that she is about six months old now. She is in perfect health and has an amazing personality, it’s just that I’m totally overloaded with my own cats and I just don’t have the space for her in my apartment. Molly has a very loving personality and would make a great addition to any pet lover’s life. Please forward to your list. If anyone wants to meet Molly I live on S. Bayshore Dr. in Coconut Grove. Call 305-903-5515 or e-mail Nella@NellaShap.com
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A Poem For the Dog I Miss So Much
It's been five days now since my sweet Gracie took her last breath in my arms, and some kind people have sent poems to comfort me. There's a surprising amount of poetry for this sad event - way more than I imagined - but I have to say that for me, the most touching and poignant is the following, by Robinson Jeffers, whose long narrative poems I discovered as a moody teenager, and read endlessly.
This is called The House Dog's Grave, and it brings tears to my eyes every time I read it. I share it with one of the last pictures taken of my Gracie.
The House Dog's Grave (Haig, an English bulldog)
I've changed my ways a little; I cannot now
Run with you in the evenings along the shore,
Except in a kind of dream; and you, if you dream a moment, You see me there.
So leave awhile the paw-marks on the front door
Where I used to scratch to go out or in,
And you'd soon open; leave on the kitchen floor
The marks of my drinking-pan.
I cannot lie by your fire as I used to do
On the warm stone,
Nor at the foot of your bed; no, all the night through
I lie alone.
But your kind thought has laid me less than six feet
Outside your window where firelight so often plays,
And where you sit to read--and I fear often grieving for me--
Every night your lamplight lies on my place.
You, man and woman, live so long, it is hard
To think of you ever dying
A little dog would get tired, living so long.
I hope than when you are lying
Under the ground like me your lives will appear
As good and joyful as mine.
No, dear, that's too much hope: you are not so well cared for
As I have been.
And never have known the passionate undivided
Fidelities that I knew.
Your minds are perhaps too active, too many-sided. . . .
But to me you were true.
You were never masters, but friends. I was your friend.
I loved you well, and was loved. Deep love endures
To the end and far past the end. If this is my end,
I am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am still yours.
Robinson Jeffers, 1941
Goodnight, Gracie
Her name was Gracie, and she got it from another great female comic: Gracie Allen. If you're of a certain age, you'll recall the Burns and Allen show, which always ended with George Burns saying, "Say goodnight, Gracie,'' and Allen - in all her over-the-top ditsiness - would chirp, "Goodnight Gracie!''
Well, when this wonderful little dog came into my life nearly 15 years ago as a puppy no bigger than my size 5 1/2 shoe, she was already a vaudeville act. Irrepressible, attitudinal, fearless. I'll never forget her marching in the front door to my house, where three big dogs were already living, looking at them, me, the whole world with a look that said, "Do NOT mess with me. I WILL kick your butt!'' And then, if I recall, she took a running leap at a 65-pound Dalmatian's tail and grabbed it with her little puppy teeth.
That she lived to a ripe old age is, in part, testament to that wisdom and patience of that amazing Dal, Mickey, now long gone.
When it was time for the household to turn out the lights and go to sleep, Gracie was still looking for trouble. So we took to saying, Good NIGHT, puppy, which soon became, Good NIGHT, Gracie. It was perfect.
She was probably part Lab, part hound - mostly black, with a white streak on her chest, white feet, and a freckly nose. In old age, she was white in the face, on the legs, even in the inside of her ears - which became like a talisman to me. You remember your "blue blankee'' from childhood, or whatever it was that was soft and velvety and that you rubbed until it was in shreds? That's what Gracie's ears were to me: perfect little triangular blue blankies that fortunately, could not be worn to shreds.
As she grew to her full weight of 50-55 pounds, she found new worlds to conquer. No trash can was safe - especially if it contained used tissues or dental floss. And no style of can deterred her; she could flip any lid, or if that failed, dump the whole thing over.
She feared no dog. When my stepdog Harley - 130 pounds of wolf hybrid - came into her life six years ago, she "talked'' to him as she did to the other dogs and humans in her life: in a distinctive growl/squeak that contained no anger, but clearly said: I will be obeyed!
She was a nibbler of textiles, other dogs, and the occasional human body part. When she wanted me up in the morning, she come to the edge of the bed, bark in my face, and nibble on whatever limb was available. And she would not stop until I was vertical.
Her favorite place was the bed, so when she stopped jumping up into it earlier this year, I figured old age was catching up with her and got a fleecy dog bed for my bedroom floor. Then her back end began wobbling, which I figured was arthritis.
But it wasn't arthritis; it was bone cancer in her right hind leg. She also had age-related spinal deterioration that made her left leg unstable - and amputation of the right leg impossible. Chemo for a 15-year-old dog was out of the question.
With heavy-duty painkillers, we bought her some time, knowing what lay ahead. She began to lose control in every way, pinwheeling into things that fell on her or got her tangled up. With a breaking heart, I had to face the inevitable - as I've done with other dogs in each of the past three years.
The moment came this past weekend, after a breakfast of grilled sirloin and the absolutely verboten chocolate chunk ice cream - amid a flood of tears from me and her stepdad, Jake, and via the gentle, caring touch of Dr. Ron Tapper at Emerald Hills Animal Hospital in Hollywood. It was Ron who administered her first puppy shots so many years ago, and took such wonderful care of her in all the years between, and his kindness is a great comfort to me.
I also want to thank Dr. Michael Aronsohn of Animal Medical Center in Cooper City, who gave me an honest and realistic second opinion.
I have had nearly 20 dogs - also assorted birds and rodents - and I have loved them all. But a few have been The Great Dogs of My Life. Add Gracie to that list.
Goodnight, Gracie, my sweet, funny little girl. I will miss you forever.
This is from our: Humans Are Scum Department
Elephant cured of drug addiction | |
An Asian elephant that became addicted to heroin after being fed bananas spiked with the drug is to return home after undergoing a detox programme. The four-year-old animal, called Xiguang, received methadone injections for a year at five times the human dosage, state media said. It was illegally captured by traders in 2005 in south-west China. When police arrested the traders and freed the elephant, it was found to be suffering from withdrawal symptoms. The elephant's eyes kept streaming and he made continuous trumpeting noises, the Beijing News newspaper's website reported. It is thought that the traders fed the elephant bananas laced with heroin to capture and control it. Xiguang was sent to a wild animal protection centre on Hainan island in south-west China for rehab, the official Xinhua new agency said He is expected to arrive at a wildlife park in Kunming, capital of Yunnan province, on Saturday. The Asian elephant is an endangered species, with only 25,600-32,750 left in the wild, according to the WWF conservation group. | |
