Cat Fights Vol. 1, Looking in

Louie & The Loaf, lying in my lap.

This was Meatloaf of the day that we found her. 
 There she is, a tiny sick, weird-looking kitten snatched out from under an old trailer. No sign of mom or siblings in sight. Gross snotty face and icky ears. She was an instant favorite.

This is Louie lying in my lap as I sit on the floor.
 He would not leave Meatloaf's side the first two weeks we had her. It took full time monitoring to get her to dry out at all. Louie wanted to clean that gross little kitty. She would purr and purr and eagerly allow it. Then of course, Meatloaf thought she could nurse from her new mommy. I watched the scrawny kitten wriggle her way under Louie. I could see Louie's eyebrows move inquisitively up and down. Then, suddenly. Eyebrows up! and up Louie jumps as fast as he can. I guess Meatloaf found that what she wanted, she wasn't going find there at all.

Imminent death is upon us.

This is Halford sitting on the front porch.

  A cat that has had the run of our family homes for over three years. A cat that is smart, comes when he's called, asks to be let out to use the bathroom, and basically acts like a dog. He is glaring through the window that lines the side of the front door.
   I sit on the floor in the living room. Meatloaf and Louie in my lap. I feel calm and happy. Louie has finally settled down and stopped trying to lick the kitten. Everyone is comfortable. I take a photo, it's just that cute of a moment. I look up and at little to my right with a slight smile on my face.

 Five feet away, we lock eyes.

Halford.

Sitting on the front porch,

glaring through the window that lines the side of the front door.

For just one split second, I was very afraid. This was a death glare. A wild animal. Halford was ready to kill, stalking prey, in the moment. He wanted that rodent out of his house and now. Halford, the only cat that got Louie attention was, Halford. and that was that. Luci didn't want anything to do with him and Louie came to terms with that. They left each other alone. I can only imagine Halford wondered why we were coddling a mouse, when in fact he brought us them dead and left them at the back door all the time.

Happy Halloween, From Halford

Goodbye Old Friend

Louie and his Uncle Poncho, 2009

I've mentioned Poncho before in Other Stories I've written. I just barely touched on his death in a more recent entry. This is going to be a more difficult story to write, but it is part of our story. Life grows on.

18 year old me, Poncho reluctantly accepts my hug.

I give Poncho big credit for helping me with Louie in so many ways.
First off, you could call Poncho my 'practice dog', and that would be terrible. I'm very lucky to have such a wonderful family who will help pick up the slack during my life's little learning experiences.

I got Poncho when I was 18 and not yet a responsible adult. (Still working on that one, by the way.) I learned from Poncho that if you want an amazing dog, you have to put a ton of work into them. They need MUCH more than food, water, shelter. They need exercise, entertainment and training. They will chew your stuff up, poo on the floor, tear up books and get into the trash if you don't work with them, supervise them and give them enough stimulation.

I thank my dad for helping me raise Poncho. Poncho's amazing obedience was because of my dad. I was working a lot, I didn't have good roommates. I just wasn't really in a position to train a puppy. My dad dog-sat Poncho for me during the day while I was at work for the first year and a half before he just became full time dad's dog. Poncho loved my dad more than anyone, or anything else. They went everywhere together. I would steal Poncho when I went on a camping or hiking trip, but other than that, he stayed by my dad's side from them on.

Time Flies! 
The years went by quickly. A zillion amazing moments. Poncho grew up, I got older. I got a new job, moved a couple of times and got a puppy. Poncho helped show Louie the ropes. There was a lot of running and playing going on and it usually ended with tongues hanging out the sides of dog mouths. I loved it. They loved it. I took Poncho and Louie to the off-leash dog park and let them socialize.The fun never ended.

Poncho went on hunting trips with my dad and brother (appropriately named Hunter) that dogs usually weren't allowed on. They went into the mountains on horseback and camped out for weeks in several feet of snow and Poncho trotted along by their side. He would go to any lengths for his people, and he loved every second of it. A very loyal dog.

Poncho was in seemingly good health.
He was ten years old, so he didn't exactly get around as well as he used to but considering his age he did very well. He had a nice gray beard and was calm and relaxed. That really showed his age, no more hyper puppy that I remember from when he was my dog. He was mature.

He had a check up with the vet and everything seemed up to par. Sometimes we talked about him being an old man, and joked about how he was too old to do stuff, but he still went everywhere with my dad. Everywhere. Either he was by his side off leash or in the truck.

The Day That Came Too Soon.
I was at work and it was about 3:00 on a chilly but sunny February afternoon. My cell phone rang, it was my dad's number. He never called me during the day because he knew I was at work, so I answered the phone felling like something wasn't right. All I heard him say was something like 'Poor Poncho died, I need help.' I don't remember much after that. I drove straight to where my dad was. He was at a job site, a rental house he was working on. I found him on the side of the house, my brother Hunter had just got there too. Poncho was laying on his side in the grass. My dad was kneeling down and bending over him, hugging him and crying. I'd never seen my ultra manly dad cry like that.

I asked my dad what happened? He said they'd just got there, Poncho jumped out of the truck when he got out and went around the side of the house. My dad heard a little yelp and Poncho just fell over. When my dad got to him, he was dead. Heart attack? Most likely. How could this happen so suddenly without some kind of dramatic accident? No blood or gore, no poison or sickness? No warning at all!? Animals can just be fine one second, then fall over and die the next? This couldn't be right. I knew it was, but just didn't seem real. Just like when I'd lost other loved ones. They can't be dead, I just saw them this morning...

It's So Hard to Say Goodbye, to Yesterday.
I made my dad take Louie home with him so he wouldn't be alone and Hunter and I carried Poncho, putting him in the back seat of the car. We drove to my vets office and asked for cremation. I know we did this but it's hard to remember. I was in such shock. I couldn't believe this was actually happening.

We drove back to my dad's and stayed with him until my mom could get home. We had just lost a beloved family member of the last ten years. Someone who was there everyday with us. Someone my dad talked to constantly. It hurt me more then anything to think how big of a hole my dad now had in his life. This was going to take a lot to get over.

That was February 2012.
It didn't take long for my husband Paul and I to decide to move and be closer with my parents. My mother stays with my 90 something year old grandmother during the work week about an hour away. My dad was just out there all alone without Poncho. He was very lack-luster and talked about Poncho all the time 'Five more good years, we should have had at least that.' We moved into the house next door by mid July.

Seven Months Later
My dad is finally seeming like himself again, he now has our two dogs he helps with everyday. Plus the cats, pigs, chickens and oh yeah, us! It's never easy losing a pet. We all know that the odds are against them for outliving us. I use this to remind me how lucky every moment I have with my loved ones. I will appreciate what I have while I have it. I will love every dirty paw print, chewed up stuffed animal, and accidental inside diarrhea I clean up. I will love every awful deviled egg fart Louie rips in the car before putting his nose out the window. These moments make me laugh (and gag) and I love it. We are lucky. Tell your loved ones you care.

Snorp!

Snorp, Early 2007

Whoopy Snorp

The Snorp story begins long before I knew him. He was born in November the same year as Louie, 2006. His mother gave birth to him in a closet that Paul and his friend Neil dissected tapes and recorded sounds in. Snorp came into this world surrounded by cassette tapes, recording devices, wires and cords. Snorp's dog-mom didn't live there at Paul's house, she was just a pregnant dog that happen to go into labor while visiting a friends house and found the weirdest closet in history to give birth in. The puppies and their mother went home the twenty mile drive soon after. About eight weeks later, Paul went out to the old farm house to pick out a puppy. As for the choice of name? I think it's a reference to Paul's favorite band, if you want more details you'll have to ask him.

Meeting New Friends

The story of how Louie and I met Snorp I know a lot better than the story of the Snorp puppy. It was 2009, Paul and I had only gone on a couple of dates. I invited him over to bring his dog and play in our big yard. I had heard a lot about Snorp, but hadn't had the pleasure of meeting him yet. Paul pulled in to my driveway in a dusty old pickup with wood siding on the back, classy. The first thing I saw in the passenger seat what a pair of big old black ears sticking straight up. Louie started barking as soon as he heard the tires hit the gravel driveway.

I had butterfly's in my stomach.

So far, Paul and I had really hit it off. We had tons of stuff in common, he seemed responsible and he didn't scare me when he was driving. Paul appeared to be a very gentle and kind man, but more importantly, he was a big silly weirdo nerd (which was mandatory for me in considering a mate.) I knew that meeting his dog could change everything I had thought about him up until that point.

You can tell a lot about a person from the way they interact with their dog. Is the dog scared of the owner, does the owner yell at or hit the dog? Is the dog cowering and unable to socialize? Does the owner yell commands constantly with no response from the dog? Many things will help show the true colors of an individual, when we raise a puppy into a dog, they are a reflection of us as a person.

Snorp jumped out of the truck smiling, his tail wagging like crazy. After Snorp thoroughly marked his new territory careful not to miss anything, Louie and Snorp did the circle and sniff routine. Snorp quickly accepting Louie as a underling and Louie not minding at all to play that part.

Old man Poncho however, did not get along as well with Snorp. This was Poncho's house and Poncho's blind dog friend! (oh, yes. Poncho was there. Did I mention this was my parents house and yard? I had to move back in with them just a few months before? Did I leave that out earlier? hm.) Snorp found a stick and loved how easy it was to keep it away from Louie. Louie chased behind him bouncing and barking happily. Paul kept a close eye on Snorp, but let him play and be a dog. Even when there was a little grumpy stuff going on between Poncho and Snorp, we let them work it out and slowed them down if it started getting out of control. They all played in the yard until their tongues were hanging out of the sides of their mouths.

Social Butterfly

Louie loves to play with other dogs, sadly very often other dogs don't like to play with Louie. Dogs look to each others eyes to determine where they fit in, where they rank in this pack. Dogs seem to think Louie is staring them down at first, when in all reality he may not even know they're there. He's been attacked more than a couple of times in the past. I've seen dogs get low to the ground and slowly sneak up on him like wolves. Poncho was very protective of him, and Snorp was respectful to Poncho.

Snorp and Louie 2012

I will say, that I wasn't totally sold on this whole 'Paul's my boyfriend' deal until I met his dog. Whoopy Snorp stole my heart, and Paul and Snorp came as a package deal.

Cohabitation

I've been living with Snorp for about three years now and it has been great. We've all grown together as a family. Snorp is much more snuggley then he was when I first met him. He trusts me to lean on him and hug him now. Something I take for granted with Louie is how tolerant he is. He knows no such thing of personal space, or staying out of someones personal bubble. This bothered Snorp at first but he slowly got over Louie constantly bumping into him. Snorp just learned to get out of the way. It didn't take long for him to realize there was a lot more going on with Louie than just being a dog.

Paul and I married in August of 2011 making Snorp officially my step-pup and Louie, Paul's. More importantly, Louie and Snorp were now step dog-brothers. Over time Snorp has learned how to help Louie, he intercepts other dogs if they're sneak attacking Louie and always watches his back. Well, and front too I suppose. He has also learned how to take advantage of Lou. He knows he can quietly sneak up when Louie is 'looking' for his ball and gently take the ball from just inches away from Louie without being detected. Yeah, I know. What a jerk, right? He makes up for it when Louie is crying to lay down on whatever dog bed Snorp is in. Snorp will usually let Louie have it and go sleep on the floor like the real dog that he is.

Snorp sadly admits the obvious. Yes, he was digging in the yard.

We always say that we have one 'real dog' and one 'pet' in our family.

Snorp chews on sticks, watches the squirrels out the window, chases cats that he spots a mile away, and digs holes to bury bones. That's 'real dog' stuff. Like a cartoon dog or something. Getting into mischief, chasing cats, eating out of the garbage when no one is looking, being sneaky in a harmless and mischievous way.

Then there is the 'pet' Louie. He moves around slowly. Follows you everywhere you go. He sleeps a ton, and somehow seems to weigh a ton when he sleeps. Usually sleeping for him means touching someone, be that a cat, dog, person, or other warm living thing he knows. He wants to be pet, to sit in your lap (but I wouldn't suggest it, he weighs over 100lbs) sleep under the covers on your bed with his head on your pillow nose to nose with you. I love it. The best of both worlds. Add a couple of cats and a kitten, a few chickens and two cute little piggies and a couple of hilarious humans and I call that heaven.

I love my family.

Getting to Know You

Louie August 2006

A big ol' yawn from my new little pup pup. Showing off his lack of molars. Seven weeks old, Louie seems like a normal puppy. Tons of energy followed by unplanned bouts of heavy sleep. Clumsy as all get out! I've never seen a dog run into so many things and not even care, he just keeps going.

I let him go outside to tinkle. I peer of my porch, watching him find a spot. He squats to poo. The weight of his heavy head too big to hold, he slowly starts to tilt forward as the crap falls out the back end. He does a face plant mid-shit. Cutest damn thing I've ever seen. Always so overly careful not to step in his freshly laid turd.

Everyday we have play time in our tiny front lawn. First just getting him to follow me as I run back and forth. Then with a leash attached and, when that seemed to go unnoticed, the leash in hand. Stop together, start together, repeat. He likes follow the leader and it's easy for me to lead. One of my strides is a long way to go for Louie, bounding along all goofy.

His carefree and positive attitude is contagious. When I'm playing with him, we are learning together without ever being aware. We are learning each others language, we are figuring out how to communicate. Where do we stand and how do we get along with one another? Where are the rules and boundary's? They are there but they come about organically and without force. Learning the meaning of 'sit' is as simple as me holding my hand above the top of his head and moving it toward his back end until his back legs fall out from under him. "Sit." I say softly and then we wrestle and frolic. Yes, I said frolic. There was no one else around okay. Louie was not concerned with my coolness or reputation as a tough guy. Soon enough all I had to say was "Sit" and his butt hit the ground, tail wagging.