One of Zelda's favorite positions is sitting right between my feet, with her chin resting on my knee. She usually looks forward, while I scratch her head and her face—running my fingers as if skiers on a slope down that expanse of velvety black right between her eyes. Occasionally, she'll lift her head and look up at me with the sweetest, heart-melting expression of sublime tranquility.
I have read that rescued animals shelter are forever grateful for it. I don't know if that's true, if animals have the capacity for gratitude, but sometimes it sure does seem like it.
Greyhound tails generally do not look like that. They tend to be shorter and thin and curled. Like this! Dudley's tail is so long and thick and straight it stretches right out of the shot.
That's better.
The end of Dudley's impossibly long tail twitches while he sits like a good boy outside the kitchen, waiting for his breakfast. And then it's chow time!
[Content Note: This post contains a description of a minor injury with some blood loss.]
"Oops, I did it again."
Dudley, who cannot go a single day of his life without injuring himself, came back into the house from his midday romp in the yard yesterday with his front right foot bleeding mightily. He wasn't limping, but his white paw was stained red, and he left red pawprints on the wood floor, on the white rug, on the couch as he bounded excitedly around the living room, because he hadn't seen it in at least 15 minutes.
I called him over to investigate whatever it was he'd done this time and discovered he'd broken his dew claw right up against his leg. The claw was still there, bent backwards and clinging on like a baby tooth, the quick exposed and bleeding. A bit nasty, but I was relieved it wasn't something worse.
While Dudley happily splattered blood around the room, I went to the kitchen to get the nail clippers and assorted cleaning stuff. The trick was then to separate Dudz and Zelly into separate rooms, because they get very anxious when the other's in distress, and I didn't need her sticking her nose into the surgery.
I gave Dudz a High Value TreatTM, and he went racing down the hall to the office, then gave one to Zelly, who plopped down in the middle of the living room floor to have at it. I zipped down the hall and managed to close the office door just before Zelly got there. Dudley looked at me suspiciously from his pillow. "Come here and let me look at that paw," I said.
Happy 2012! Before the world comes to an end, which is for sure definitely going to happen this year, please enjoy some pictures of doggehs running around the backyard during our unseasonably warm winter holiday! [Content Note: Some images show dogs play-fighting.]
"Why hello there."
"Why hello to you, too, my old nemesis."
"I will keel you now!"
"You will have to catch me first!"
Dudley can totally catch Zelly in like two seconds, but he lets her run around the yard a zillion times first, because otherwise THERE IS LESS CHASEY-CHASEY FUN TO BE HAD!
Below the fold (on most browsers) are some more images of elaborate play-bowing, dramatic play-fighting, and zoomacious chasing.
When I got home from work yesterday, I noticed something interesting in the mailbox. It was a USPS priority flat rate envelope that was holding something a bit larger than documents. And, it was addressed to Alfie.
I asked Alfie if it was ok that I open it on his behalf, to which he responded with a fart (I took that as a "yes"). Upon opening, I saw that Alfie got a lovely new toy from his Aunt Liss and Uncle Iain!! It's not just any old dog toy... It's a Chanukah bear with his own yarmulke (aka kippah aka skullcap):
I was very pleased to see his Lordship take to the toy with reckless abandon, working on it much longer than his favorite hedgehog. Eventually, he decided it was break time, and Space Cowgirl thought that a picture was necessary with his new treasure. Looking regal as usual, Lord Alfred managed to pose magnificently for posterity:
And with that, everyone at Chez Cowboy would like to wish all Shakers a marvelous holiday season. :)
Owing to the below thread, here is an extra heaping dose of cute for anyone who needs it—and for anyone who doesn't, too! Because there is no such thing as too much cute, obviously.
First, dueling videos of Zelda and Matilda, who, because of their tendency to sit one on either side of me every night, are collectively known as Mazelda. They're like the Brangelina of Shakes Manor.
Video Description: Zelda sits on the couch in a stream of sunlight, snapping at particles of dust thrown into the air during weekend cleaning. Then she yawns dramatically, showing off her beautiful blue-mottled tongue.
Video Description: Matilda scoops up water from the dogs' bowl with her fuzzy wee paws, then licks it off, because she's too much of a lady to stick her face in there. In the process, she drips water all over the place.
Next, still images of all the fuzzy residents of Shakes Manor, in alphabetical order...
Another milestone for Zelda this week: When she first came to us, she would never, ever, let me scratch her chin. Her head was always down, very submissive, and if I tried to scratch her chin to lift her head, to communicate to her you can be confident here, she would stick her nose under my hand and nudge it upwards, back to the top of her bowed head.
This week, she let me scratch her chin. She closed her eyes in blissful contentment, and her head rolled backwards until her nose pointed clear to the ceiling. "Good girl," I told her, and scratched and scratched until she collapsed against my side with the great heaving sigh of a satisfied dog.
Bonus Cute: Dudley standing in the middle of a grass bush, rubbing his eyes, because he's allergic to it. He does this pretty much every time he goes outside, because he is a hilarious dildobrain.
Video Description: Dudley and Zelda and I play Catch in the backyard, this morning. At Shakes Manor, Catch is a cooperative sport. And it's not really Catch—or Fetch, for that matter. It's more like chase the ball and maybe pick it up, run around with it in your mouth, bump everyone else with it, drop it, run around some more, look cute, and get scratches, then wait until someone else brings the ball back, or Two-Legs goes and retrieves it. Yay! Set to the Peanuts' Lucy and Linus Theme.
At the end is a little bit of Dudley's new favorite game, Bump, where all 75 pounds of him flops into me over and over, while he points his wee nosehead up at me, grinning like a goofball.
For those who can't view the video but can view images, here's a photo of Dudley chasing Zelly around the garden:
[Please note that Dudley and Zelda bare their teeth at each other in this video. They're just playing, but if seeing dogs bare their teeth is triggering or otherwise problematic for you, you should skip this video.]
Dudley and Zelda lie on the floor facing each other, their paws crossed, squeaking a plush snake toy between them. They stop and look at me. "Get it," I tell them. "Get it, puppies!" They sniff at it, sniff each other, look back at me. "Where's the snake? Where is it?" I ask. They look at me. "Where's the snake?" They look at me. "Dudley, get it. Get it!" I whisper. "Zelly Belly, get that snake!" I reach down for it. "What is this?" I hold it up and they take it back for more squeaking. Zelly throws me a quick "Thanks, Two-Legs!" look. Squeak squeak squeak.
Suddenly Zelda hops backwards and sits up with her back against the settee. (This is her cue for: "It's time for the Bitey Game!") "Oh my goodness!" I exclaim to Dudley. "What was that?!" He looks at me. "Oh my goodness!" He squeaks the snake while Zelly waits patiently, then finally catches on. He stands up and sniffs the camera, then goes and offers his neck to Zelda. They snort and huff and play-bite each other. Zelda bats him with her paw. He play-bites her leg. She punches him. "You tell him, Zelly," I tell her. "You tell him."
Dudley sits down beside her, then lowers himself so now Zelly is the taller one. More biteyness. Zelly punches him with both front paws, then falls over. I laugh. Bitey bitey bitey. Iain makes a noise in the loft; the dogs stop and look up, a pair of ridiculous cuteness. Fin.
Zelda may well be the snuggliest, cuddliest, petmepetmepetme dog of all time. She loves getting attention from anyone and everyone; when someone walks in the door, she immediately has to run to the toybox to get a squeaky toy and squeak it with uncontrollable excitement.
And I'm pretty sure she begs to go out in the rain just so she can come back in and get dried off with a fluffy towel.
A stunned Annette Swoffer thought she must have been hallucinating when she found [a young baby fur-seal pup] hanging out with her cats in her kitchen on Sunday night. The seal had made its way from the Welcome Bay waterfront, through the suburb's residential area, across busy Welcome Bay Rd, up a slip road, along Ms Swoffer's long driveway, under a gate, through the cat door and up some stairs before he was found in the kitchen about 9.30pm [and later] made himself at home on the couch. [Link; photo from the New Zealand Department of Conservation]
I can't recall what was going on when I snapped this picture. Matilda was either rebuffing an attempt to tame with a grooming brush the furry bedlam that is her coat, or giving Zelda the stink-eye for trying to get up on couch in the queen's presence.
If you, like me, love bats and wanted to be "the world'th foremotht bat exthpert" when you were a child with a lisp, then you will love the stuffing out of this video. If, on the other hand, you do not find bats adorable and even their fine mosquito-devouring qualities cannot endear them to you, give this one a pass.
Text Onscreen: Lil' Drac—An orphaned short-tailed fruit bat. Lil' Drac's mother was rescued after a zoo closure. The stress of the transfer caused her to abandon her baby. This is not uncommon for mothers who feel unsure of their own safety. Lil' Drac was found shortly after he was abandoned and hand-raised by Bat World Sanctuary volunteers. [Piano music. Video of Lil' Drac, a tiny wee bat whose head is smaller than a fingernail, being held in white hands, being gently rubbed and wrapped in gauze as if it's a blanket.] Lil' Drac was examined for injuries, warmed, and comforted before being fed. [Video of Lil' Drac being gently stroked with the tip of a cotton swab.] A warm, damp cotton swab feels a bit like a mother's tongue. [Video of a small piece of foam being held up to Lil' Drac's mouth and milk formula being dropped into it; he slowly begins to nurse.] A tiny foam tip is used so he can nurse his milk formula. It takes him awhile, but he finally gets the hang of it. [Video of Lil' Drac being stroked with a cloth and fingertips while he nurses on the foam, then hanging upside down a finger.] As the days passed he became stronger as his personality emerged… [He stretches his wing, scratches himself with his foot, and then begins to gently sway while hanging from the finger.] …and we discovered that he likes to rock himself after being fed. [Adorbs little bat rocks to pretty piano music, aaaaaand this is where I begin to blub. The person begins to gently brush him with a tiny brush.] He needs to be gently brushed to encourage self-grooming. [Lil' Drac clings to fingers, still sucking on foam. Scratches himself. Falls asleep on fingers.] Lil' Drac grows bigger and stronger every day… [Video of Lil' Drac rocking some more.] …and he rocks. [Major blub.] For more information about bats and how they make the world a better place, please visit www.batworld.org. Music: White Horse by Brian Crain. www.briancrain.com Thank you Brian for allowing us to use your beautiful music!
Zelda has been with us just over four months now, and she's doing really well. She's so settled in as part of our family, I can't believe it's only been four months.
As she's gotten more comfortable, it's become clear she's more anxious than I originally thought. That might seem counter-intuitive, but she's not as shut down as she was when we first brought her home from the pound, and allowing herself to express her emotions has revealed her insecurity, too. She wants constant reassurance that she's doing the right thing and is safe and valued, and I'm forever navigating that thin line of validating her place in our family without encouraging anxiety.
She's much more independent now, and many of her other anxieties are falling away. We can touch her paws, and hold and stroke them, although we're still not quite able to trim her nails yet. She's great in the bath. She's increasingly playful with us, even though Dudley is still her favorite playpal. And I think he always will be, which is just fine with us.
Her new favorite game with me is to follow me into the kitchen, prompting me to turn around and chase her out with a finger pointed to the door. She scurries out, then comes in halfway; I chase her out again. She pokes her head in, grinning. I run out after her: "I'm going to get you, Bad Dog!" She flops on the carpet, belly up, tail wagging, and awaits her ticklish fate.
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