Steelers don’t start to lose until 4:15 today, so here is a pic to tide you over:
I’ll be back later.
by John Cole| 91 Comments
This post is in: Dog Blogging, Open Threads, Sports
Steelers don’t start to lose until 4:15 today, so here is a pic to tide you over:
I’ll be back later.
This post is in: Dog Blogging
Tammy sends along these pics of Samantha dressed up in her best Christmas gear.
Yet another open thread.
by John Cole| 37 Comments
This post is in: Cat Blogging
For something different:
Bueller and McLovin were saved by Peggy, a former grad student of my partner. She is a cat rescuer. A semi-feral colony of cats was living around a house a couple blocks from Peggy. The fellow who lived in that house was very old and ill and he put out food but did not look after the cats. He passed away and the cats were completely untended. Peggy slowly nabbed them one or two at a time (she eventually did save the colony). Naomi, my partner, and I saw pictures of the little boys and went over to look. We had lost a couple of beloved cats over the previous two years and were ready to think about new ones.
These boys, now 2, are the sweetest, most playful, funny pets I have ever had. I cannot even think of a long vacation because being away form them would hurt too much. They are delightful, beautiful companions and the best part of my day is playing our nightly “getting ready for bed” games, which include lots of hugs and scratches (of them, not me, although McLovin tends to hug back).
Bueller is laying with his back to the camera and McLovin is looking you in the eye. They are less than 1 in this photo.
Love that look.
by John Cole| 49 Comments
This post is in: Cat Blogging
The story:
He’s a ~10-year-old male tabby. This is a picture my husband took in his office with Jack in his lap. Jack likes to lie on his back, like a baby, but only for my husband. He holds him, and Jack will do that sleepy-love-double-wink cats do, then butt his big head up against my husband’s chin, and press his cheek to his chest and purrPurrPURR. It is truly adorable. If he isn’t waiting to come inside at 10pm, he comes to the sound of a bike bell rung twice. I didn’t think my husband could train Jack to do that, but he picked it up right away, and knows the difference between my ring and my husband’s ring.
He isn’t a traditional rescue. Jack never went to kitty prison. We saved him from having to go, where I don’t think he’d have survived–plain tabby, a year old, never had a vet visit, never neutered, no vaccinations in that time, so skinny, fleas, some scars from fights. When we picked Jack up from being neutered, I mentioned how sweet and talkative he was to the vet tech, she said he’d not made a sound–no meow, no growl, no purr–the entire time he’d been there. I knew then, we really had rescued Jack; he’d never have been picked in a shelter.
Six months before he became ours, before a cold front, we had bought a collar for Jack, put a note on it with our phone number, asking for a call if he had a home. The woman apparently held on to our number, because she called us to ask if we would take him, because they were moving and couldn’t, and she didn’t want to take him to the shelter. (“When are you moving?” “Tomorrow.” “Who is your vet?” “We don’t have one.” “When were his last shots?” “Whatever he had we got him.”)
Miraculously, he had no diseases despite living in an old, overgrown neighborhood full of wild and domestic critters and college students. But those bastards who owned him never brought over the food bowls and toys (note no bed was offered) like they said they would. And it took them a week to move everything out of the house–we had to go over after they left to pick up poor little limp-with-sadness Jack who just sat there in the yard staring at the driveway where their car had just been.
Jack acts like a rescue. He seemed surprised by the bounty of daily feedings, of always having dry food whenever he wanted to eat it. It took a couple of years before he figured out he could complain about an empty bowl and be given more food. If we put a foot out to block him going where he shouldn’t (not behind the server!) and he cringed and tensed the way abused dogs do. Now we just say, “Get back, Bubba” and he does. He’s getting better about not freaking out when we go away overnight.
He purrs more than other cats I’ve known, loud enough that I can hear him in my husband’s lap even with the door closed between us. He tries to follow us on walks (walking with him doesn’t quite work–we have tried), and often, he asks to come inside just to be pet then wants back out again. He loves being told he’s a good boy, and he tried to teach me how to hunt chipmunk once. (He was disappointed when it nearly ran up my shirt and all I did was scream.) Whenever he gets anything new, or we wash his bedding so it’s freshly fluffy again, he purrs and purrs and just exudes Happy. He’s really excited about his new giant bed, and he doesn’t yet know that it has a heater in it. It’s been pretty warm here the past few days, so we’re waiting for a cold night to introduce that. I bet he purrs like crazy.
You are on your own. I’m sufficiently disgusted and demoralized from the day’s events. Not enough that I would stay home in Nov 2010 or giddily repeatedly try to make a self-fulfilling prophecy by daily telling everyone how much the Democrats are demoralized, because I remember that the Republicans are nucking futs.
Besides, Firefox needs to update for the 87th time today. When did this browser turn to total shit?
Also, don’t forget Radio Kaos from reader Rus at 9 Central.
by John Cole| 32 Comments
This post is in: Dog Blogging
I like this one, because my dog lies like this a lot, too:
Night all.
by John Cole| 37 Comments
This post is in: Dog Blogging
Was going to bed and got greeted with this:
Someone was already in bed and I got the “but you stayed up too late” look. And for the Tunch fans, he is in the window making sure the possums and raccoons are kept at bay.
God, I love those two.
by John Cole| 90 Comments
This post is in: Dog Blogging
Today has sucked. I hope this makes it suck less:
We always seem to adopt dogs that have a little too much personality. Our first dog was a beautiful black dog that doted on us almost as much as we doted on her. After she was gone, it took a lot of time before we were ready to welcome another dog. But when we did, our new dog became an instant and important member of the family.
This is Sunshine or as we affectionately call her, Crazy White Dog.
Sunny was rescued from Arkansas by the Camano Island Animal Rescue north of Seattle, WA. We found her through Petfinder.com (http://www.petfinder.com/index.html) a great resource for finding pets! We thought we were adopting a golden
retriever mix but 2 weeks after adopting her the yellow part of her
coat disappeared and we got Crazy White Dog(TM)Note: Camano Island Animal Rescue found Sunny while adopting 2 other dogs from Arkansas. A trucker’s network that transports dogs for adoption gave Sunny a ride to the Pacific Northwest (where it is not quite sunny).
When you look at Sunny, people often think, “what a beautiful and
happy face”. That is how she pulls you in. Behind the good looks is a lot of crazy. There is a lovely path worn through the grass from her insistence on running in only one trail in the yard. She grumbles and complains through all her tricks. She spins like the Tasmanian devil after a bath, while throwing herself on the rugs to dry off. She sleeps in the shower after storms. She will only go to the bathroom in our yard, which is not so great for weeklong vacations.Her favorite thing to do is run full speed at the sliding door to show her great desire to come inside. She sometimes scratches at the screen door for added effect. As soon as we open the door, she sprints away. It never gets old.
But she loves every person and animal she meets. She tells you a
story when you come home. She grabs your arms and makes sure you pay attention to what she is telling you. She entertains us with crazy runs through the house. And the whole family loves every strange and wonderful part of her.
This is your open thread.