Cosmo

Cosmo, originally uploaded by Theresa111.

The first time we saw this young chap was behind the Red Lobster Restaurant. We were in our car and he was a ball of fluff, all curled up on the grass, and not moving about. Cautiously, I crept up toward him as silently as possibly. I could see his eyes crusted closed and his tiny nose covered with congestion. The poor darling.

I got a box and a towel from the van and before he knew what was happening, I had scooped him up and into the box he went. He scrambled and scratched, trying to escape. I tried soothing him because I understood how frightened the little guy must be. He let out one pitiful mewling sound and then became quiet. It was as if he had immediately become resigned to this fate. He must not have been feeling strong.

We whisked him away to the closest vet and left him there to be tested, examined and obtain a complete diagnosis. We were back a few hours later to the tune of $135.00. He had worms, fleas, surprisingly enough no ear mites and in general a huge upper respiratory infection. Well we had our work cut out for us.

Just a week prior to this, we had taken in his brother in much the same condition and after we got him cleaned up and healthy, we returned him to be with his mother, as he was only four weeks old and we wanted him to get more nourishment from his mom. We found out later that we made a terrible decision and that by returning him, led to his crossing the road during traffic. I wept many a night over him.

I made sure we would not repeat it by keeping baby Cosmo at our home, nestled comfortably in our powder room. He was fed and watered, given worming medication, hateful fleas were entirely removed and because he stank we clipped his tiny nails then bathed him.

For someone so tiny and fluffy, I never expected him to appear like a drenched rat. His tail was long and besides not feeling well he looked pitiful. We soaped him up and rinsed him off as quickly as possible. All this was done in the bathroom sink. He was so tiny and kept trying desperately to crawl up my shirt.

Wrapped in a dry towel, I allowed the majority of the water to leave his fur.  I tenderly dried him and then turned on the hair dryer to a low setting. He crouched into the corner and we finally got him dry enough and was about to cover him up in his new little bed … but unfortunately he messed himself and we had to begin all over again. Surprisingly he likes the sound of running water even after we had to bathe him four or five times. Since then he grooms himself and he always looks debonair.

Anyway, It was July and the week John Kennedy, his wife and sister-in-law went missing and we sat around the television, praying for good news and losing hope after about 36 hours. In the meantime, Cosmo was bottle fed and recovering from his bout with infection, worms, fleas and gaining weight because he was getting good nutrition. After he drank his formula, we would take a trip to the potty, clean off with wipes and I would place him inside the top portion of my overall shorts. He would curl up in this tiny ball and lay right against my heart and rest his head upon my chest area. I could hear his quiet snores and we both fell in love.

He finally had the run of the house scampering about with Bobby, who was two and Ribbon, who was almost two, trying to keep him in check. They were his new Mommy and Daddy. He was comical because he would run away from one of the older males and slide underneath his protectors to stand under their bellies, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

Spoiled he was and still he wants to rule the roost. I used to kiddingly refer to him as King Cosmo. Now at eight and one-half, he is sometimes too arrogant and every now and again he bites the others on the neck. He actually hurts them sometimes and I have to put him in time out. All at once he cries like a kitten and complains that he is returned to the powder room.

One thing he does really well is that he learned to pull the pull string on the pull toy and then releases it to vibrate. He is good about playing with others and especially by himself. The other night he chased around an old twig from the Christmas tree.

Cosmo is such a good boy, so regal and he looks French. But he is not always a nice boy. I love him and he loves to come and lay down on my chest while I watch television. He knows he has my heart.

Belly Flop? Or Racing Dive?

Tiger Leaps in to the water! I’m going to really miss these guys ;(, originally uploaded by Nikographer [Jon].

This photograph was taken by Jon in Washington, DC, at The National Zoo, two years ago. He has captured an amazing shot and I for one really appreciate his sharing it with us on flickr.com

I would have loved watching him hit the water and swim about. I haven’t visited the zoo since the early 1980’s, with my sister and my niece in her stroller. Rachael is too grown up for strollers nowadays. We did have a good time and the reason I haven’t been back is that I do not like to see the animals in cages and I abhor the smell of the monkey area.

Sasha

Sasha, originally uploaded by Theresa111.

Sasha is a quiet and meek kitty. I particularly love this photo of her, sitting on the baby grand and holding her head as if she can hear the chords yet to be played.

We took her family in ten years ago and they were such fluffy babies. Sasha was always by her mother’s side. Chyna, Christy and Sasha remained very suspicious of our intentions. For years, in fact. Ribbon, however was always outgoing and for quite some time, they were all angry about following her lead. Getting caught and having to reside with we mere mortals.

A few years later, their grown-up brother , Monsieur, showed up on our front porch and refused to leave. Shivering, he refused to leave, until we had to grant him admittance. He is Sasha’s twin, except for the fact he resembles their father, Bentley, now deceased. He must be twice her size. Apparently he was with some family, because he came to us already neutered and with a few bad habits to boot.

What the heck, we already had their Aunt Fiona and half brothers plus cousins, Peter and Bobby. We had a house full … what was a few more? Baby Bennington, Ripley, Woody, (now all deceased) had to endure more felines and for the most part, we were one big happy family. My Mother was tolerant, to say the least, but they loved her too. She and Baby Ben used to fight over her easy chair. Ben, you see, was a Taurus. They can always be found sitting or lounging comfortably, in the most comfortable seat.

But getting back to lovely Sasha, sometimes she will allow me to pet her and it is very difficult to trim her nails, almost impossible. We have a huge tree for them to climb upon. She used to love hanging from the bottom of the limbs; and she resembled a monkey. Very funny sometimes, she will carry a tiny mouse around and cry and talk, as if she is taking care of her young. I bet she would have been a great and nurturing mother. I remember the girls nursing on Chyna until they were three! That was a sight. The well was dry but the nurturing and love lasted for years.

For the most part they are by their Mother’s side 24/7/365. Ribbon and Monsieur are independent but Christy and Sasha are right by Chyna’s side. Occasionally, you will hear Chyna’s protest as she would love some time alone and away from her kids. I’ll let her come into the studio and then I have to listen to the girls moan, cry and tap on the French doors.

Sasha is a darling girl and a sweetheart.

Change Your Thinking

Bloggers Unite

When God gave us dominion over the animals, I don’t think He meant that we were to mistreat them, in any way. I certainly think He was telling us to respect them, share our homes and lives with them, provide for them and be in accord with them.

Cloning animals wasn’t in The Book, neither was slaughtering them inhumanely, either. Dominion isn’t being a tyrant or overseer. It means we have a personal responsibility to treat them as we would want to be treated, and for God’s sake, the animals which will nourish the world, they should be treated with a great respect. They are giving their lives, so we who are not vegans, can be fed and live abundantly.

I never could understand why people chain up their dogs, leave them out in the heat and cold, throw them a bone now and then, or beat them. To subject your animal to this is something the owner should have done to them. See if they like it.

Also, humiliating animals, belittling them or jeering them is cruel and so wrong. Perhaps these people were treated this way growing up and use this example of keeping their animals “In Line.” Why do some people feel the need to over-power their animals? What is wrong with their make-up, their character? Does it make them feel powerful, lording it over their subjects? Is this the only control they can garner … from making an animal fear them? What’s wrong with you!

So, for all of the immoral slaughterer’s of animals, for all of the people who mistreat their animals, for all of those who beat, or starve or not provide fresh water for their animals, I hope that God will repay you in kind. Vengeance is His … after all. I can only pray that He will reward you the same way you reward those under your domain.

I beg that you change your ways and Stop The Abuse of Animals. “No More Abuse!”

Dear Mrs. Hall:

Thank you for contacting me about the Dog Fighting Prohibition Enforcement Act (S. 1880). It’s good to hear from you.

I am appalled by dog-fighting and any person who actively supports it. Dogs are loving and loyal companions who deserve nothing less than our care. It is cruel and inexcusable to pit dogs against one another for the sake of sport.

That is why I have always supported legislation to protect not just dogs, but all animals. For example, earlier this year I cosponsored the Animal Fighting Prohibition Enforcement Act (P.L. 110-22), which imposes fines and possible imprisonment for knowingly supporting animal fighting. This legislation became law on May 3, 2007.

As you know, the Dog Fighting Prohibition Enforcement Act (S. 1880) would make it a crime to knowingly sponsor dog-fighting or sell dogs for the purpose of dog-fighting. This bill is currently pending in the Senate Committee on Agriculture. I will certainly keep your views in mind if this legislation comes before the full Senate for consideration.

Thanks again for contacting me. I appreciate hearing of your views on this important matter. Please do not hesitate to contact me again if I can be of any assistance.

Sincerely,
Barbara A. Mikulski
United States Senator

P.S. If I can be of further assistance in the future,
please visit my website at http://mikulski.senate.gov
or call my Washington D.C. office at 202-224-4654

Bobby’s Baby Bear

Bobby’s Baby Bear, originally uploaded by Theresa111.

Bobby, our cat, wanted everyone to see his little bear. For those of you who have not met him yet, Bobby’s nickname is “Little Whanh,” because he is a kitty that does not Meow. No jokes please.

When we were small children living on Staten Island, NY, our grandparents told us over the telephone that they were sending us puppy dogs. They said it was our little secret and not to talk about it. Nannie and Papa lived in Miami, Florida and usually were not with us for the Holidays.

When we heard the news Mary and I expressed every word and gesture of utter happiness that we could muster. We could not believe our good fortune. We had wanted, begged and pleaded with our parents for over a year to let us have a dog. And now we were to have two puppies! Oh, such a huge secret to keep. Wouldn’t our parents be surprised.

When they phoned us a few days later to say the puppies were on their way, they reminded us that we were to behave properly. They expected us to take very good care of our dogs and to treat them nicely. We promised them that we would.

We tried very hard to be on our best behavior. At night while we were supposed to be asleep, we would whisper excitedly underneath the sheets. ” I wonder if they are sending a leash.” Mary wondered. I exclaimed “We must buy some pretty bowls, one for water and one for food.” “Yes.” Mary agreed. On and on we talked until weariness overtook us and we drifted to sleep.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, although it had only been five days, there came a loud knock at our front door. We looked out the window to see the postman’s truck. U.S. Mail was printed on it’s side. We excitedly ran toward our father who was on his way to answer the knock.

After daddy opened the door, the postman smiled and offered the large package. It was covered in light brown paper and tied up with heavy white string. Attached at the top was a little wodden handle, to make it easier to carry. Daddy took the parcel, thanked the postman then closed the door.

Upon seeing the closed up package we both immediately became alarmed. We started dancing with anxiety around our father and trying to touch the box.

There weren’t any holes to allow air inside! How could the puppies breath! Now we started fretting as he set down the box and we did not hear any sounds coming from within. Oh no!

Daddy didn’t seem upset at all. In fact, just the opposite. He turned to us and smiling said “I suppose you would like to open your gifts now.” “Oh yes!” we exclaimed.

He brought out the scissors and cut through first the strings and then the brown paper. By this time we could hardly contain our urgency.

Inside were two boxes wrapped with Christmas paper. We couldn’t understand why our grandparents thought they could send puppies in closed boxes. Our father handed us our gifts. Now we were frantically tearing off the paper and prying off the tops of each box. “Oh, the poor puppies!” we both cried.

Tears were streaming down our frightened faces. Noticing this our father asked “Why are you crying? You’ve just received Christmas presents from your grandparents.”

Suddenly it dawned on him why were so upset, just as we exclaimed “Daddy the puppies cannot still be alive.”

We opened the lids and to our relief there were no dead puppies. Only a stuffed animal was inside each box. Trembling, our small hands lifted the dogs out of the tissue paper and we really did try so hard to hide our disappointment. Our crestfallen faces told the tale.

The puppies were Collies, like “Lassie” on the television show, just as Nannie and Papa had promised. The course hair or fur wasn’t soft and silky as a real Collie’s would be. Instead it was rough and dry feeling. The eyes stared unseeing and the nose was very hard plastic. Both were in the same position, each lying down so they could easily be righted should they get turned over.

By this time our mother entered the kitchen and at once she took in the whole scene. She acknowledged the dashed hopes and dreams Mary and I had whispered under our bedcovers. Gathering us close she hugged us saying that grandparents should not have promised puppies and given stuffed animals in their wake.

As most mothers can, she soothed us and held our small bodies, now hot from our exhausted tears. She wiped our faces with her handkerchief and announced “Let’s get everyone into the car and go to Carvel’s for ice cream cones.” Our older sister and brother piped in with cheerful agreement.

Father, Mother, Mama, Charley, Melody, Mary and I piled into our station wagon to head toward Carvel’s, on the other side of the island. During the short ride Mary and I exchanged glances. We smiled to share what the other was feeling. We held hands until we were handed our ice cream cones.

This is a story I share because I have a great love of the plush and beautiful stuffed animals that are made today. I don’t know about Mary but it took me decades to get over this tramautic experience.

I assuaged my hidden sadness with an array of stuffed animals I’ve purchased through the years. I finally forgave Nannie and Papa for tricking us so, although I never let them think anything was amiss. I love them dearly and miss them still.

And when at night ‘neath my covers I sleep…sometimes I clutch a small, soft, plush little stuffed animal and smile. Bobby said he understands completely “Whannh.”