Ted walked up to the mesh of the pen, letting Tyson sniff what he was about to eat. I have never seen this before in my life, but Tyson's tongue reached out of his mouth and I swear, nearly 4 inches (maybe more) of pink fleshy salivating muscle reached out for that morsel of goodness. Holy Toledo! The boy continues to make me laugh with every new antic I discover about him. But, no matter how much I wanted the attention from Tyson today, it was Ted whom he sought for affection. Tyson hasn't seen Ted in a few weeks due to circumstances beyond Ted's control, and all Tyson wanted to do was jump inside Ted's skin and cuddle in for a nap.
Once Ted was inside the pen, it was all Tyson could do to contain his joy. Tyson followed Ted everywhere looking to touch him with his paw, nuzzle in close and really get some loves from just Ted--I was invisible. No matter, though. Tyson's happiness, not mine, is most important, so I just took a walk and let the two of them have their time.
Down at the barn, a black and white cat was meowing for some attention behind some wooden slats. She seemed too intimidated by the llama, two sheep, one rooster and hen mucking about to crawl out from behind them, but that didn't prevent her from using her voice to let me know she was there.
I had never seen sheep up close before. What interesting faces they have. Kinda square, full, forward looking visages--as if eagerness, curiosity and intrigue could be molded into what a face might look like. It was definitely a sheep's face. Big eyes were filled with wonderment at who this new, strange person might be... Pam said they could be bullies and really push and shove to get what they want, so that explains why their faces look like blocks of hardened wood. The rooster and his hen seemed perfectly happy to cluck about with no worry for my presence. How nice that must be. Yet the llama held back and stood intent on making sure I was good and proper, like I might be assailed if I do something wrong...and likely I misunderstand it all because that really was the first time I had been that close to any of those critters before. How strange, right? You can live your life, grow up around the countryside, but never once meet a sheep or a rooster close enough to touch... However, I have met an owl, a deer, a turtle, a horse, a cow, a bear, a tiger, a mini goat, snakes and fish, but no sheep. And until this past year, I hadn't met a pig either, but they really are the friendliest little (big, really) critters.
Well, it was a short little moment with Tyson. I wish we could stay and visit eternally with the boy, but as of late, I hadn't seen much of my husband either, and sometimes you have to sacrifice time in many directions. Ted and I have been visiting Tyson now for many months, and since it was our intention to adopt him, it's increasingly sad seeing him then leaving him behind. It's emotional torture and I am not sure how my heart really feels about it all anymore. Wanting what you can't have is heartbreaking no matter the scenario. I really envy the person who gets to care for Tyson 24/7. Really envy them. He'll be a delightful addition to any home. He'll be a constant companion and friend. He'll be a delightful addition when at play and during moments of relaxation. He will be a warm snuggle bunny on any sofa or carpet. The boy is truly a treat.
And so he deserves one after a long absence, doesn't he? As always we left one right on his bed, which he sniffed out in pleasure. Until next time, sweet boy.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
it's a 1000 miles until next time...
When I leave my pets with a sitter, I call them every day and night to check on them. I like emails and updates after each visit, and really concern myself with the welfare of my pets--and my home. I don't think it is unusual to be concerned about that which you invest such great time and interest.
As such, I am learning that Tyson, too, has reached that pinnacle for me. I want to call and check on him, but I know he's fine. I want to spend more than the time I have to do so, but I know he's got other people looking after him. I suppose it is one of the ideas that in my heart, he is part of my family, and as such, I feel like I want to check on him like I would the critters in my home. But here's the thing. I am his pet sitter. That's a tough one to grasp especially since we so desperately wanted him in our home.
I think I now know how Adele felt every time she came to our little Seattle apartment to visit Claude. She gave him shots twice a day for his diabetes, took him to the doctor when he had an issue, and even brought him Christmas gifts. So, when Claude had to be put down, Adele was saddened as much as we were. Claude had become her ward and as such deserved the full value of grieving his loss as much as we did.
Now, I see this little paw sticker on the back of cars around town and it reads, "who rescued who?" I suppose it takes the best kind of love to know that you can't find where the circle begins. And right now, I have a home filled with pets who are all asleep, taking the preferred cushions and beds or heating pads for their rest and I know that with each rescue my life has grown more full.
It's funny. Almost 8 months ago I thought I was going to bring this beautiful blind Boxer into my home to live with me and my husband and our 2 cats. Still, these some months later, I still get just as excited to see him as I did those first few months. And this last time on Valentines Day, I got a little scared like I wasn't going to have much more time with him. In that, I mean someone is going to find him and fall in love just as much as we did not that long ago. It's bittersweet, really.
That you can learn to love an animal so much that you would do anything for them, and yet their fate is not in your hands; That you are just the pet sitter, the care giver from time to time, but that your affection and love is only intermittent; That you are stalwart and attentive, but your overall place in that pet's life is limited to the babysitter...It makes you feel like there is a missing piece to your puzzle. But and yet, how great the gift is in the interim. I suppose, then, what Tyson has taught me this week is that no matter how much or how little you have to spend with anyone, that it is appreciated if full heart is intended. No time small or great is unappreciated.
Life is about the little variables and the complexities of time. Use them wisely and they will fill you in the times of void. That I don't get to see my husband but that one day a week does not make our relationship weak, especially if I spend the next 6 missing him and waiting to see him again. And if all I had was an inundation of time with him, I wouldn't fully understand his importance in my life. Tyson, like any thing we love deeply, has carved a trench in me, leaving nothing but room for those sought after moments spent in waiting for "the next time."
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
Give him a chance. He'll give you his heart
Tyson deserves a warm and loving home. (Whomever cast him off should be flogged.) He is smartest critter I have ever met. He is compellingly adorable. He is delightfully friendly. He is honest and sincere. I told myself I would be part of his life until he found someone to be part of his and I never thought it would take so long for someone to find him. I am not complaining, I am just curious why others don't see in him what I do.
Are they afraid of his blindness? He really is so well adapted that most people wouldn't know he's blind. He just needs help with the layout of a house and he's perfect.
Do they fear his muscle and size? He's really a lapdog. Tyson doesn't know he is as big as he is, and as long as you are smart about your situations, he's fine. Don't put him in a place that would be harmful to him, and difficult for you to get out of. For instance, if you want to walk him down steep stairs, walk one human in front, and have one hold his leash. Make noises for stairs and obstacles. His blindness just means you half to talk about all the things you would normally just recognize. For me, I am already chatty, and this just adds to my day of talking;)
Is it training? He is practically there. Just, with so many things to distract him, he is pretty poor at listening when he is in his house at Pasado's. We get him to our back yard and the pooch is a peach to manage. He's polite. He's a good listener. He's well-behaved. Tyson is sweet and attentive, doesn't wander and likes to sit by your feet (or in your lap). If he could crawl in your skin to be closer to you, he would.
Ugh. I haven't seen him in a week and a half and I miss him so much. Give him a chance. He'll give you his heart.
Are they afraid of his blindness? He really is so well adapted that most people wouldn't know he's blind. He just needs help with the layout of a house and he's perfect.
Do they fear his muscle and size? He's really a lapdog. Tyson doesn't know he is as big as he is, and as long as you are smart about your situations, he's fine. Don't put him in a place that would be harmful to him, and difficult for you to get out of. For instance, if you want to walk him down steep stairs, walk one human in front, and have one hold his leash. Make noises for stairs and obstacles. His blindness just means you half to talk about all the things you would normally just recognize. For me, I am already chatty, and this just adds to my day of talking;)
Is it training? He is practically there. Just, with so many things to distract him, he is pretty poor at listening when he is in his house at Pasado's. We get him to our back yard and the pooch is a peach to manage. He's polite. He's a good listener. He's well-behaved. Tyson is sweet and attentive, doesn't wander and likes to sit by your feet (or in your lap). If he could crawl in your skin to be closer to you, he would.
Ugh. I haven't seen him in a week and a half and I miss him so much. Give him a chance. He'll give you his heart.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Irresponsible Pet Owners
My neighborhood is no Madison Park, but we are happy in our colorful little neck of the woods with neighbors from all over the world within earshot. Dogs and children run amok. Little "orange kitty" visits me every day at my back patio looking for some ear scratches. "Black and white" stays clear. "Bobtail" is elusive. Raccoon eat the eggs I set out for them, squirrels wait at the deck for nuts, and our feeders are filled with so many birds that its like a Disney movie in my back yard. I even have a band-tailed pigeon which visits from time to time. We love all the critters that hang out here.
Little Capone is the neighborhood's "always getting loose" dog. He's gorgeous--kind of that velvety blue/gray that some pits exude. And he's the smallest pit I have ever seen, but he's a stocky mass of muscle with short, shiny fur. Fat, thick and heart-shaped head. Rough and tough exterior, but sweet and wags his tail like a well-behaved gentleman. There's just one issue. Not only is his house constantly filled with the unseemly type, but it reverberates a bass that would injure even my ears if I had to listen to it that often. I understand why he always wants to escape. As such, I feel he could have more caring owners. Ones who turn the music to a reasonable level, and ones that socialize him with other dogs. Once, I asked how he was with other dogs, and one person said, "He's fine as long as nothin' happens." What could that mean??
I have taken Capone back to his house a number of times since we have lived here, and I probably will continue to do so. He doesn't seem unhappy or unfed. He doesn't appear beaten or abused. He talks to me when it's dark, because it's scary having a stranger come up to you, but he still wags his tail. He likes me. He loves his ears scratched and body massaged. He's a good boy for the most part. He doesn't even chase cats in the neighborhood, but is definitely curious about them.
So, while out on a walk with the little ones recently, Capone came a-running up, and it scared me. So much so that I wouldn't let him near my puppies. Was this wrong? Did I over-react? He seemed curious and interested, but those words came back to me, "He's fine as long as nuthin' happens." It was 20 minutes before I got the boys back to the yard. And another 20 minutes to get Capone home after my kids were safe and behind a gate. And another 20 minutes for me to realize that I hurt my wrist when I was corralling the boys beneath me. I know I scared the heck out of the puppies, but and yet, I also realized that my protective mother mode kicked in.
Capone, while great with humans, could injure my boys badly...if sumthin' happened. And I know it's cruel to judge an already stereotyped dog like that, but it's not Capone I am judging, I am judging the poor care of his owners. That they don't socialize him. That they don't have control of him. That they can't find him 3 out of 7 days a week. Therein lies potential for harm.
Not only that, Ted and I want to bring Tyson over to meet the boys and get him accustomed to other dogs. What if I had Tyson on a walk, who already has aggression with dogs, and Capone came just trotting along? With Ted, we have the security of two humans, one for each dog, but alone, I am no match for those two. I know I would do something stupid like try to get them apart. What is the best thing to do in this case? The worst part of this could be that my dog may start the problem, but Capone would get the bad rap because of his breed. What a rotten situation for both guys. Ugh how frustrating for really great animals to be mistreated or abused or poorly socialized to the point where our faults get them in trouble. It's not the little, cuddly, furry puppy that hopes to grow up angry, but the fault of the owners who help that aggression right along by not caring for strong and potentially aggressive breeds. Let's face it, neither of those dogs is a happy go lucky golden retriever...
I think it is probably better to anticipate potential, than to arrive at all of this carefree. I'll take my chances that I am wrong, and save everyone heartache in the end. The safety of all critters in question is far more important than proving a point to society. They deserve to be protected even if that protection means avoidance.
The worst part of all of this is I missed my day with Tyson. My adrenaline had kicked in so much I just plopped down on my sofa afterward and passed out. Sorry, Tyson. I miss you, boy.
Little Capone is the neighborhood's "always getting loose" dog. He's gorgeous--kind of that velvety blue/gray that some pits exude. And he's the smallest pit I have ever seen, but he's a stocky mass of muscle with short, shiny fur. Fat, thick and heart-shaped head. Rough and tough exterior, but sweet and wags his tail like a well-behaved gentleman. There's just one issue. Not only is his house constantly filled with the unseemly type, but it reverberates a bass that would injure even my ears if I had to listen to it that often. I understand why he always wants to escape. As such, I feel he could have more caring owners. Ones who turn the music to a reasonable level, and ones that socialize him with other dogs. Once, I asked how he was with other dogs, and one person said, "He's fine as long as nothin' happens." What could that mean??
I have taken Capone back to his house a number of times since we have lived here, and I probably will continue to do so. He doesn't seem unhappy or unfed. He doesn't appear beaten or abused. He talks to me when it's dark, because it's scary having a stranger come up to you, but he still wags his tail. He likes me. He loves his ears scratched and body massaged. He's a good boy for the most part. He doesn't even chase cats in the neighborhood, but is definitely curious about them.
So, while out on a walk with the little ones recently, Capone came a-running up, and it scared me. So much so that I wouldn't let him near my puppies. Was this wrong? Did I over-react? He seemed curious and interested, but those words came back to me, "He's fine as long as nuthin' happens." It was 20 minutes before I got the boys back to the yard. And another 20 minutes to get Capone home after my kids were safe and behind a gate. And another 20 minutes for me to realize that I hurt my wrist when I was corralling the boys beneath me. I know I scared the heck out of the puppies, but and yet, I also realized that my protective mother mode kicked in.
Capone, while great with humans, could injure my boys badly...if sumthin' happened. And I know it's cruel to judge an already stereotyped dog like that, but it's not Capone I am judging, I am judging the poor care of his owners. That they don't socialize him. That they don't have control of him. That they can't find him 3 out of 7 days a week. Therein lies potential for harm.
Not only that, Ted and I want to bring Tyson over to meet the boys and get him accustomed to other dogs. What if I had Tyson on a walk, who already has aggression with dogs, and Capone came just trotting along? With Ted, we have the security of two humans, one for each dog, but alone, I am no match for those two. I know I would do something stupid like try to get them apart. What is the best thing to do in this case? The worst part of this could be that my dog may start the problem, but Capone would get the bad rap because of his breed. What a rotten situation for both guys. Ugh how frustrating for really great animals to be mistreated or abused or poorly socialized to the point where our faults get them in trouble. It's not the little, cuddly, furry puppy that hopes to grow up angry, but the fault of the owners who help that aggression right along by not caring for strong and potentially aggressive breeds. Let's face it, neither of those dogs is a happy go lucky golden retriever...
I think it is probably better to anticipate potential, than to arrive at all of this carefree. I'll take my chances that I am wrong, and save everyone heartache in the end. The safety of all critters in question is far more important than proving a point to society. They deserve to be protected even if that protection means avoidance.
The worst part of all of this is I missed my day with Tyson. My adrenaline had kicked in so much I just plopped down on my sofa afterward and passed out. Sorry, Tyson. I miss you, boy.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Starting Date Fall 2012
I realize I could start school this Spring Quarter and get back into the swing right now, but the start date for School is not going to come along any earlier as a result. Now, what to do with all of my time? This means I still get to be with my Tyson on Mondays, practice Yoga, compete in two 1/2 marathons this summer, and tackle that sky high pile of books calling me from the office --to include some science review/preview on Khan Academy.
Life is good.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Sweet boy.
Tyson loves that little white spot on his nose rubbed...his ears are so, so soft, and if you massage his gigantic Boxer muscles, he breathes slowly and heavily.
He loves it.
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