Yesterday, I visited Titus & Meghans for pet sitting. When their owners are working, I drop by twice a day to let them out, play, exercise, give fresh water, treats, tons of love and all around hang out with them. Now, just to be accurate, Meghans name is actually Maggie Mae, but to me, she's Meghans. Titus is and always was and always will be Titus. They are Aussie/Doodles, which are Standard Poodles mixed with Australian Shepherds. So, you have this black somewhat curly dog with something akin to dreadlocks if they are late for the appointment at the doggy beauty parlor, with big white crosses blazed on their chests. They have very distinct personalities, with Meghan's being a bit of a prima donna who grins incessantly, showing you her sparkly white teeth as she jumps up and down, and Titus being more of a Jamaican in attitude, with his casual, comfortable 'Don't worry, be happy', philosophy.
Titus was my very first customer when I started this business over 8 years ago. A story which I will tell another day. Today, we found it difficult to be outside for too long, it's Vermont and we are in the middle of a very cold, very snowy winter. So, we visited the areas open which were conveniently provided by the snow plow guy, grabbed some wood from the wood shed to put in the wood box and headed back into the house.
What always amazes and pleases me is how happy the pets, whether it be cats or dogs, are to see me. They welcome me like an old friend, which I am, and tell me tales of how things have been since I seen them last with their barks, meows, howls or their telltale eyes. Nice to be loved and appreciated all in one glance. Life is good, isn't it?
Sam arrived here today in a royal purple hoodie. I know because my son said so. Being somewhat color blind, I rely on others objective opinions as to what color things are. So, today, it's purple. She has arrived in green and orange as well in the past, but I knew a new hoodie was on the horizon as her current ones were arriving with more holes in it each day. You see, Sam, which is short for Samantha by the way, is a Mastador. For those not familiar with what this is, it's a Mastiff/Labrador cross. So, she's big, she's black and has a somewhat sad and saggy face. But, she also doesn't have much hair, very short coat, necessitating a cover of some sort. So, jersey hoodies complete with hood and pocket is what she arrives in each day for daycare.
Now, her companion is an upstart Husky/Malamute cross named Bohdan who has just hit his teenage years, dogwise. He doesn't come with a hoodie as he has this thick, luxurious silver and black coat complete with poofy bottle brush tail. He and Sam love to play 'cops and robbers' in the yard and Sam's glorious hoodies take a hard beating from Bohdan's teeth. Sams payback in all of this, revenge for the hoodie destruction comes in the form of Riley.
Now Riley, which is short for Wreck it Riley, is our resident dog, lives here with us, and is a young Sable female German Shepherd Dog. Just six months ago, when she and Bohdan began playing together, Bohdan being an experience wrestler had the upper hand. Now, Riley is taller, bigger, heavier, faster and having been taught by the best, an extremely proficient wrestler and even better jumper. Bohdan typically admits defeat after about a half hour of hard play, whereas Riley could go all day. And, she doesn't wear a hoodie so Bohdan has no advantage as to what he can grab onto with her. She's slick and fast and loves helping Sam get even for the clothing shredding. Seeing Bohdan flopped on his back like a turtle on his shell, somehow makes the whole thing worth it, according to Sam.
And, for those of you interested, the Wreck it part of Riley will have to wait for another day, but it's a story definitely worth telling.
Sockie is our household cat. He presence is somewhat of a mystery to me and he is of dubious age since every time I ask my husband how old he is, the answer is 17. He's been 17 years old for like three years now and I am beginning to think Socks might be the reincarnation of Joan Rivers, someone who never ages. Be that as it may, Socks is our gray striped tiger cat, whose boney frame is tell tale of his advanced age. Not to mention the fact that 95% if the time he can be found sleeping the other 5% is spent eating or using the litter box.
As of late, we have noticed Socks doesn't do much. Not that he ever did. An indoor cat, Socks has never shown any interest in going outside, prefers a sunny spot on the floor or next to the window. And, he has only caught like 3 mice in his lifetime, so obviously he wasn't kept around for his tenacious mousing skills. Those belonged to his late companion Sadie, who you will hear more about later. Socks is just our companion, though if you asked him, he is gracing us with his presence and that it is our honor to take care of him and provide him with tasty treats, a oversized poofy comforter to curl up on, a spotlessly clean litter box and food at his silent command. I say silent because seldom does any sound come out when Socks meows. It's just this open mouthed mocking that we sometimes add sound to, in a flip and playful way, which perturbs him even more.
Late the other night, my husband was somewhat awakened by a vast amount of thrashing and tossing about. The sound came from our master bathroom. Not being fully awake, the thought crossed my husbands mind that this was probably it. Socks was done for. The last death throws of his beloved kitty. He could not bring himself to get up to investigate.
Come morning, on his way to the bathroom, my husband dodged what appeared to possibly be a shadowy kitty deposit on the floor, ominously left right in his path. But, when he flipped on the light, low and behold, Socks had killed a mouse. He left it as a gift for my husband, right next to the bathroom door.
Despite advanced age, lack of skills or experience, and our obvious lack of confidence in him, Socks continues to surprise us with his ability to silently dispatch mice with all the grace of a cat half his age and twice his strength. Way to go, Sockie!
In the beginning... Yes, you read that right. This is the beginning. The beginning of a blog where I intend to regale you with all the high jinx your pets are up to when they are under my care.
The stories you are about to hear are true... though possibly biased as only they can be from my side of the tail or tale, so to speak. So, pull up a chair, sit back and brace yourself for heroic, comedic, outlandish, poignant and often heart wrenching tales of the awesome pets I call my 'Angel's with Furry Souls'.