Posts tagged ‘Dizzy’
Pets on Prozac
Yes, I know, cats are inherently evil, (Angie sent me this link as proof: http://www.catswhothrowupgrass.com/kill.php) so short of smothering sleeping infants there’s hardly anything a cat can do that would surprise anyone. Maybe that’s why they try so hard.
"Actually, evil comes quite easily to me"
Our cats, specifically the three males (someone from the Greek chorus shouts “Why do you have three male cats to begin with?”) vent their anger, frustration or sheer meanness by what is euphemistically termed “spraying”. But you know what that really means, which is why, anytime you see a cat back up to draperies, furniture or the clothes you left laying on the floor, you go all Rambo and heave the closest heavy object in reach directly at said cat’s noggin.
Just in case you need the diagram (from www.sprayalert.com)
Or you purchase large quantities of scat mats, which has been a chosen approach since neither of us has a decent aim.
Scat Mat (from www.smarthomeusa.com)
According to the product description, a scat mat produces “startling, unpleasant static” and “memorable deterrence”, which, having mistakenly stepped on them numerous times in bare feet, I can attest to as being an accurate statement. Cats being cats, you can even buy ”faux” scat mats, which look like the real ones but minus the battery apparatus, they cost a bit less. Don’t bother with these, because, cats being cats, they quickly figure out the ruse (Greek chorus in unison: “You expected less?”) and will spray defiantly on the bogus mat, leaving fragrant pools of cat urine for the man of the house to clean up.
Did I mention that cats are evil?
It wasn’t always thus. Harmony reigned until Dodger showed up. Maybe the other cats don’t like the color orange?
The Artful Dodge
Whatever the reason, soonafter Dodger’s debut, the problems began. And persisted. Being the new kid on the block, Dodger was blamed and the CE laid down the law: “If he pees, he leaves”.
Here are the things you do when you have a cat that sprays:
1. Spend a fortune ordering “cat attract” litter and a black light (http://tallyville.com/litterboxhelp.html) that helps you identify where the cat is spraying so you can remove as much of the offending stain and odor as possible to deter the cat from returning to “his” spot.
Cat Attract litter, available from amazon.com and many other vendors
2. Take your cat to the vet and spend another small fortune running tests to determine if he has a urinary problem
3. Skip steps one and two because (at least in our experience) they were a waste of time and money, and ask the vet for a Prozac prescription (for the cat, not yourself), as it has inexplicably been known to curb spraying behavior in cats. (Here is a good web site on the subject: http://tallyville.com/litterboxhelp.html)
Then, be patient. It takes awhile. Months. But amazingly, Dodger now greets me every morning and obediently jumps up on the counter so I can jam his Prozac pill down his throat.
Good boy!
This has worked so well with Dodger that as of this week, Dizzy and Cody have their own Prozac prescriptions. I’m choosing to ignore the Greek Chorus comments about just how dysfunctional my life must be if my cats are on anti-depressants and I am not. Perhaps it should be the other way around, but hey, I get the occasional jolt of electro-shock therapy from the scat mats, which keeps me sane enough to not bring home any new kittens…
"Proof of a world gone mad: they're giving ME the Prozac"
Happy Halloween!
No big plans for us gimps this year, but the CE and PG did decide something must be done as a nod to the holiday. Thus, we have here what I guess you could refer to as a Pumpkin Tart:
Am I cute?
Another view, just to make sure you get the full impact
No costume for Chloe, as I don’t believe they make Plus Plus sizes. Good news, though – we think she seems just a bit friskier since beginning thyroid medication last week. When she weighed in at a whopping 113 pounds after being on a restricted diet for several months, we decided to have her thyroid tested and, sure enough, it came back lower than low. We’re keeping our fingers crossed that she’ll shed some pounds and feel better as time goes on.
Will there be less of her to love?
I found something appropriately Halloween creepy in the coop the other day – a shell-less egg:
Creepy, but common
I’ve read about shell-less eggs many times, but this was the first one I’ve seen. It was laid by Hope, along with a normal egg. When chickens consistently lay eggs without shells, it can mean they are calcium deficient. Not the case for Hope – I make sure the girls have access to calcium-rich oyster shell at all times. I’ve been assured by other chicken-keepers that the occasional shell-less egg is just a glitch and nothing to worry about.
Halloween? We were thinking of going as -- chickens!
Who needs a costume when you look like this?
Have a great and ghoulish weekend!
The Circus of Life
Seems it’s just a vale of tears for the pets these days. Hope is feeling much better and thanks you for all your inquiries and encouragement on her behalf, but the glass is most definitely on the half empty side for a few of the other pets this week.
"Seriously? Don't I even get a phone call to my lawyer?"
While I was languishing in the dentist’s chair (AGAIN!) Victoria and the CE piled a gaggle of highly offended cats and dogs into the car for a trip to the vet yesterday morning. Seems that summer (if you could call it that – the temps are hovering in the high 50′s at the moment) means dog days even for the cats.
"Are we waiting to board the ark?"
Soho and Rosie were due for vaccines. Cody, if you can imagine, is allergic to his own plentiful fur and developed an asthmatic reaction to it, (as Alexandra observed, “So Cody is allergic to cats?) so he has to have the occasional steroid injection. Dizzy has a dermatological condition that embarrasses him, so a steroid injection was indicated for him, too. And there was even a moment of sickness for the CE at the end – when he saw the bill! Yikes!
"Are you really, truly squishing my head? Don't you people know who I am?"
"If you need me, I'll be in my man cave, sulking."
Oxymoron: domesticated cat
"Let's not do that again anytime soon."
But life is not all bad. The dogs are getting walked, the she-bird is having baths, and when we aren’t medicating animals, we occasionally slip out for some fun of our own.
Chloe says, "But Alexandra, it's so early!"
As close as Birdie will ever get to the rain forest
What could possibly be better than a dogs-included beer tasting? A veritable Oktoberfest with pets! Leave it to friends Katherine and Dan to come up with such a sophisticated and pet-friendly occasion!
Such a hoppy time! Katherine, Dan and Bernadette. Prost!
There was even Bowser Beer for the dogs - Chloe got so relaxed she made herself at home on the couch.
I don’t know about you, but in general, the glass seems more than half-full, and when there’s beer in it, all the better. Cheers, everyone!
I wouldn't have believed it either, but it really exists. Petco carries it. Non-alcoholic, of course.
Such a Pain.
There was a close call, chicken-wise, last week. I invited a friend to lunch, and suggested that she bring her dog along to play with “Cloho”, as Chadd once dubbed Soho and Chloe. Victoria made an amazing lunch for us, and even baked an impossibly yummy type of French bread called gougeres, which reminds me why I want to plan a trip to France. Soon.
They looked kind of like this
After lunch, we visited the chickens, purposefully leaving Bella, the visiting pup, to cool her fluffy heels on the other side of the property. I have read time and time again of good dogs gone bad around chickens, and wasn’t going to take any chances.
Unfortunately, I failed to notify everyone else at the house that day, and someone opened a fateful door while my friend and I were viewing Hope and Autumn on the nest in the coop.
Next time, leave the dog at home!
Bella shot through the door and into the coop, laser-locked on Amelia, who was unsuspectingly loitering on the ground, hoping for treats. Since we’d kept the door to the pen closed for security, Amelia was trapped INSIDE and Bella was seconds away from a chicken dinner.
from www.nataliedee.com
Most readers are familiar with my health limitations and know that on the very long list of things I cannot do, leaping and running would be at the very top. Yet I leaped and I ran, because I knew we had very little time before Amelia was toast, or at least chicken a la king ON toast…
Please don't think of me as lunch
Luckily, Alexandra was there and reached the pen before I did. She grabbed Bella in just the nick of time and all was well again in the Land of Chickens. But not in the land of sacrums and vertebrae. By the time I saw my physical therapist after the Memorial Day holiday, my pain levels had escalated up into “8″ territory. Chronic pain sufferers learn to live by a 1-10 scale that is as close to objective as one can be about something as subjective as pain. On a good day, I’m at a 5 or 6, and I’m grateful for those days, which allow me to rise above the constant burning, throbbing knife-twists that slice through my lower back and hip. But on a bad day, the pain soars, almost always due to a rotated sacrum or lumbar vertebrae.
A sample chronic pain scale
The ligaments that hold my upper and lower body together are damaged, and rotation can result from something as simple as bending or reaching. The consequence of leaping and running left me, in my pt’s words, “whacked”. And, unfortunately, he just left on a week-long vacation, which leaves me in a week-long pickle. If I go radio silent for the next several days, you’ll all know why. And, while I’m feeling very sorry for myself, I can report that Amelia is doing just fine. Bella, by the way, went home and had chicken treats for dinner – sans those pesky feathers…
On a more cheerful note, the CE brought home this pillow for Victoria so she can have her beloved Dizzy with her at all times. Spitting image!
Animals behaving badly.
There are moments of clarity, rare, but icily lucid, where things come into focus and I realize I am living like a crazy person. The week in review:
I look out my office window and this is what I see. No wonder I have not yet written the great American novel. Or, for that matter, a post it...
We install a lovely fountain...so Chloe can wash her tennis balls?
Someone call the Health Department...
We invite people to dinner so Birdie can stalk them. (Thanks for being understanding, Julia.)
Chloe thinks she's a lap dog! (Thanks for being understanding, Grant)
And after you've cooked dinner and sit down to eat, Dizzy takes up most of your chair. (Thanks you for being understanding, Victoria)
Okay, well, sometimes they are just adorable, right?
But other times...Dizzy, GET OFF THE KITCHEN TABLE!!!!
They ask impertinent questions. Like, "why do you have your head up your...whatever?"
Or theywalk around doing their headless chicken impression
"It's all part of my diabolical plan. Eventually I will have them all committed and it will be mine, all mine!"
Well, at least the week wasn’t a total loss. That gaping hole in the lawn is gone.
Just wait - my money is on the raccoons rolling this up during the night
How was your week?
The blur that is life.
Did someone speed up the planet of late? What the hey is going on with not enough hours in the day? I am beginning to be grateful for my accelerating memory loss, as it helps me forget all that I am forgetting to do. This past week has been a busy one. How do we maintain a life AND manage keep up with slimebag Jesse James, slimebag Tiger Woods, healthcare, AND outlaw chickens in Elkhart, Indiana.
Home, sweet home
You’ve all heard of Elkhart, right? Our prez has made it the poster child of the recession via repeated visits. I’m guessing he doesn’t stick around to enjoy the great weather and burgeoning cultural opportunities. Let’s just say that the 18% unemployment rate is not the only thing wrong with the place – I know, because I lived there. And now, just to add salt to the wounds, Elkhart’s finest are rounding up chickens.
Chickens unlucky enough to live in Elkhart
My father, who, inexplicably, has found reasons to love Elkhart for the past 87 years, sent me an article from The Elkhart Truth detailing the chicken “arrests”. Police were apparently called due to “an aggressive rooster” and twenty chickens were taken to the Humane Society of Elkhart County. Let’s hope at least that it’s a no-kill shelter.
In happier news, last weekend was my annual lunch date with young friend Chadd, who recently turned eleven. Chadd has life pretty well figured out. He knows that he wants a dog (hint, hint!) that he has the world’s best mom, that he would like to go to M.I.T, play in the NBA and that he’s going to really miss his brother when Bryson heads off to college in the fall.
Chadd came over to visit the chickens
Then we went out for pizza - he saved the crust for his mom:-)
In other news, the CE kept busy this week by building playground equipment for the chickens. (Only in my world would a sentence like that make sense!)
Chloe oversaw the project
And the chickens came over to inspect the progress
Voila! A chicken jungle jim!
Most importantly, this past week was the long goodbye to Taylor, who is heading off to Washington, D.C. on Monday to start his professional life. Julia stopped by with cookies for him and to schmooze with the pets.
We miss Julia!
Alexandra stopped by, too.
And since T will be wearing a suit and tie to work every day, we spent one day this week updating his wardrobe:
"We love to shop!"
Is he really that handsome or do I just think so because I'm his mom?
In case you were wondering, he has a 32" waist!
We arrived home to find the animals running amok! Dodger was stalking the chickens:
Scary jungle cat!
Then Cody got into the act:
"Let me show you how it's done"
But then, suddenly, the tables were turned:
No one told the chickens they're supposed to be afraid
Cody hightails it into the bushes, hoping no one sees him.
"I could have gotten them if I wanted to...I just didn't want to"
Last night, we made Taylor’s favorite spaghetti dinner for him. Jessica and Granny joined us. Victoria ate four meatballs! And Taylor loved his going-away gifts.
Luggage love
Victoria, Taylor and Jessica
"If you leave, I'm going with you!"
Dizzy doesn’t want him to leave. And neither do I. But off he goes – good luck sweetie, and Godspeed…don’t forget to call your mother!
Remember when he looked like this?
Blog, blog, blog…
Many thanks to all of you who have phoned, emailed, weighed in and commented in support of the blog. Much appreciated. I’ve given more thought to this in the past few days than it probably deserves. I’ve been feeling a definite “dropped by the network” bond with Conan – maybe we can team up!
After all, he does look a bit like a chicken...
I’ve had the luxury of living a fairly sheltered life. Maybe that’s why I don’t really share the fear that there’s a bogeyman in the shadows waiting to pounce. In my experience, the blindsiding generally comes from much closer to home. For the record, I have never used last names or addresses. My humble opinion is that you are safer on this blog than on Facebook, where millions of people make it surprisingly easy to connect the dots.
Privacy violation? Try sharing a litter box!
However, I need to respect the concerns of others. For the few of you who have raised concern to me or through someone else, I will do my best to minimize or eliminate future reference to you on the blog. I believe I can also delete specific photos and posts, so let me know if you would like me to do that.
As of today, the blog moves to a weekend format
There are (as amazing as that may seem!) a few people who really count on the blog, which makes me reluctant to shut it down completely. Therefore, my proposed compromise is to shift the blog to a “weekend edition” in hopes that condensing a week’s worth of events and trivia will dilute exposure but still provide an opportunity for those who would like to be updated on the general goings-on around here.
Thanks to all for your interest in the blog. Selfishly, I’m disappointed to “clip its wings”. Since I experience a considerable amount of physical pain on a daily basis and my lifestyle is thus limited, the blog has been a great exercise in cheerfulness for me – taking the time and effort to find something mildly amusing, something interesting, or something to be grateful for every day and then sharing it with you has been a lot of fun and very therapeutic for me. However, it’s not fair to do so at the expense of others, so, hopefully, “downsizing” the blog is a workable solution for everyone.
Un-named dog shepherds un-named chickens after the rain.
See you next weekend!
In the Kingdom of Chickens
Polla Amiga and Kirk stopped by this afternoon to pick up an egg and drop off a birthday present fit for a Chicken Emperor – a basket overflowing with snacks to be enjoyed in the company of chickens. We all – all meaning the humans, the chickens and assorted pets – sat out on the new deck for a bit and agreed there was no better place to enjoy a late November afternoon.
Amelia decided to get a bit closer to the action and she and Pamela shared a few crackers:
Of course, once Dizzy realized we were there, he had to come over and check everyone’s passports:
I love how shiny the chickens look in the late afternoon light:
Hope your Saturday was as pleasant as ours!
Guess who’s coming to dinner
All this talk about gizzards, you’d think I’d have lost my appetite. No such luck. With all my twiddling-thumbs post-dental downtime, I’ve allowed my mind to wander (let’s put that thing on a leash and maybe we could get something done around here!) and one of the places it has traveled is the dining room. Specifically, to conjure up the perfect dinner party guest list. Not the kind where you should be looking for your invitation in the mail, which is lucky for you, since at our table, Dizzy generally claims a seat and not everyone is down with that.
Dizzy "save a seat for me at the dinner table" on chunnel duty
No, the dinner party I pondered was the kind you (or maybe only I) imagine, the virtual gathering that allows you to assemble personages who interest you from afar. Sometimes so far afar that you would have to bring them back from the grave to attend. Here is my most recent list, in no particular rank:
Tori Amos (I would be honored to sit next to the woman who composed the songs “Winter” and “Silent After All These Years”
Warren Buffett (I could use the stock tips, and I like MidWesterners, plus I would really like to understand his affection for Hillary Clinton, which, alas, I do not share)
Willa Cather (two words: My Antonia, and, another Nebraskan to make Warren comfortable)
Johnny Depp (do you even have to ask why?)
Audrey Hepburn (what table would not be improved by her presence?)
Hugh Laurie (ever so clever and self-effacing and oh, that accent. My plan would be to detain him for after-dinner drinks. Hey, the CE has Jennifer Garner on his dinner party list, so I can have Hugh)
Back away, girls, he is MINE
Cesar Millan (because he is, quite simply, the MAN. And he might be able to shoo Dizzy off the table.)
Joni Mitchell (some people listened to The Beatles; I listened to Joni and have no regrets. Plus, I think she and Tori could have a nice chat if there wasn’t too much competition for Top Diva)
Joni Mitchell
Susan Orlean (the writer who has an article on chickens in the Sept 28 issue of The New Yorker, which I have not yet received and am DYING to read. She wrote the book The Orchid Thief on which Charlie Kaufman’s film, Adaptation, a fave of mine, was based. Come to think of it, Charlie Kaufman would be a potential guest, but I believe he’s not the most comfortable guy in social situations, so he would probably appreciate the non-invite)
St. Paul (so many questions for him! What was it like that moment on the road to Damascus? What was the thorn in your side? Maybe I could actually ask him to come a bit early and counsel me on faith, since I would be busy after dinner with Hugh).
This group makes a pretty full table, but I would also like to invite the team from DARPA (Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency) who ACTUALLY invented the Internet. It seems a bit murky as to whom, exactly, gets credit for the best/worst invention of the 20th century, but apparently Joseph Licklider and Lawrence Roberts were the lead guys. I’m guessing they might dress funny, so they could sit at their own table. Maybe Charlie Kaufman could come, after all, and sit with them. )
Joseph Licklider
Lawrence Roberts
I haven’t decided on the menu yet, so that is yet to come. Suffice it to say, chicken gizzards will NOT be on it.
Who would you invite to dinner? Send me your list and we’ll compare…
Cash for Cluckers
I’ve actually heard quite a bit of clucking from longtime chicken keepers when they hear talk of baby chicks being sold for as much as $3 or $5 a piece. Our four girls – although they’re worth a king’s ransom to me – cost $2 a piece. Between you, me and the lamp post, I would happily spend $100 for a guaranteed Silkie or Mille Fleur D’Uccle hen. Since those are bantam breeds, you have no sex guarantee (who in this world has ever had a guarantee around sex?!) and you don’t know for weeks if you have a rooster. As much as I want one of those chickens, I also know how hard it would be to consign a bird I’ve raised to someone’s stew pot.
Only $3 each, but what if you get a rooster?
Aside from the hobbyist like myself, there are many serious poultry exhibitors who meticulously work to develop a chosen breed to its standard perfection. In fact, the 2009 American Poultry Association Annual Meet is coming right up September 12-13 at the Boone County Fairgrounds in Belvedere, Illinois. Road trip, anyone?
I just added a book to my Amazon.com basket entitled “The Fairest Fowl: Portraits of Championship Chickens”. According to authors Ira Glass and Tamara Staples, “Chickens this amazing don’t just happen”. Quite honestly, the photographs in this book make my girls look like mutts. I will have to read it somewhere other than in the chicken yard.
The first time we paid for a pet was ten years ago when we acquired the Souper himself, the alpha cat of alphas, the grand puddster, Dizzy. Best $200 we ever spent, but the Chicken Emperor, his regard for Dizzy aside, remains convinced that people should pay US to take a cat, not the other way around.
I'm worth more than you can imagine
I may finally have an illustration that the CE will find more suspect than outlaying cash for cats. According to my online bible of chicken wisdom, www.backyardchickens.com, someone paid as much as $4,501 for a pair of Coronation Sussex chickens this past spring. The breed was originally developed in 1940 to honor of the coronation of England’s King George VI. Pigeon blue markings , the blue center of each feather totally surrounded by a white margin, is apparently the key to perfection with this bird.
From www.rarechooks.com.au, this cockrel bears the prized pigeon blue markings of the Coronation Sussex breed
I don’t think a Coronation Sussex is in my future, but I have to admit that when I read about Lavender Orpingtons and Black Copper Marans, $200 a bird doesn’t seem out of line. Just don’t tell Dizzy.
Lavender Orpingtons from www.chirpychicks.com
