Furry Fun Room

The following post is brought to you by Doggy Bathroom. We’re very paw-ticular about our partners and only feature those we think are top dog.

Currently on Kickstarter after a much anticipated reveal at SuperZoo Expo 2018 in Las Vegas, the Doggy Bathroom is the only indoor potty solution designed specifically for small dogs that offers both horizontal and vertical pee pads. What does that mean? Whether your little pup squats or lifts their leg to go, the Doggy Bathroom is there to help them take care of business. While obviously not a substitute for daily walks, there are many reasons a small dog may need access to an indoor potty, including senior dogs, dogs with mobility issues or illnesses, small dogs who need frequent breaks, or even extremes in weather!

Created by Canadian designer Alain Courchesne with the help of his 3-year-old Italian Greyhound, Sterling (@sterling514 on the ‘gram), the pair came up with a solution that not only solves the problem of males dogs who lift their leg but also creates independence between parents and their fur babies. Although the Doggy Bathroom was designed with leg-lifting males in mind, female doggies can call the Doggy Bathroom their own, too!

The Doggy Bathroom is a stylish rectangular enclosure made entirely of 100% antibacterial plastic that holds pee pads horizontally and vertically so that a small dog (20lb. or less) can fully extend their leg (or squat!) to pee and/or eliminate solid waste. It also comes with a super-absorbent, washable, micro-fiber “welcome mat” to help protect your floors while your dog enters and exits! Designed to be indoors, the Doggy Bathroom can also be placed outdoors in a protected, covered area.

The Doggy Bathroom can be used as a potty training device, a seasonal solution for small breeds who cannot withstand cold winters or scorching summers, or as a permanent solution for senior dogs who need to eliminate frequently. It’s also a great option to have while traveling or bringing your dog to work! Doggy Bathroom’s custom-designed biodegradable pee pads are outfitted with a special adhesive strip that secures them vertically while an additional pad lines the bottom. The closed environment is designed with your dog’s comfort in mind, helping them feel safe and secure, all while offering visual privacy for you as well!

The patent-pending Doggy Bathroom and its accessories are available for pre-order on Kickstarter now through March 14, 2019. They will also be offering subscription packages to have their custom-fitted biodegradable pee pads delivered right to your door on a monthly basis. Fetch one for your little pup with special backer-only pricing now on Kickstarter!

It’s a good thing “our” beach is almost always empty when we go visit, because upon arrival, this is what happens.  It’s total chaos.  And it’s like a 15 minute walk to the beach from where we park, so you’d think they have become at least somewhat blase by the time we get there!  It’s no wonder we’re social pariahs.

Usually the water looks like this – one long swimmable length of water.

But the other day there was, like, no water.  I don’t know what happened to it.  It’s not actually a beach on the ocean, it’s really just a sandy stretch along a slough.  It’s nowhere near an ocean.  So I don’t think it’s affected by tides … so where did the water go?

It’s possible that 125lbs of Alfie gallumping along its shores terrified the water into a hasty retreat.  He sounds like a herd of buffalo when he gets it into his head to cavort with his sister Betty.  It doesn’t happen often, but it’s pretty hilarious when it does!

Betty has taken to flirting wildly with Dexter lately, which is mystifying to me, as she was never much interested in interacting with him when she basically lived with me last year.  If it’s a mystery to me, it’s 12 times as mysterious to Dexter who, like an immature 12 year old boy, really doesn’t understand female flirtations.  Mostly what he does is stare at me whilst she wiggles under his chin, leaps up to smooch his eyeballs and then does somersaults under his legs trying to get his attention.  He is completely affable but unaware while she gyrates at him.

But all her clowny shenanigans does have the affect of getting Alfie excited, and he usually comes thundering over to play … and if Dexter remains oblivious to the 25lbs of butterball roiling around underfoot, he is NOT oblivious to the extra 100lbs running in his direction and he usually takes some offense.  This annoys and confuses Alfie and in the resulting melee, Betty slips away.  And I think she’s laughing.  She is one sly, wicked little shit-disturber!

Perhaps the pre-receded water had caught wind that these two devils were coming to terrorize its shores.

I miss the terrier-teeth-play of these two, it doesn’t happen often enough, maybe because they’re both getting older.   Or maybe because when they try to play like this, someone (*coughMAISIEcough*) gets involved and despite the multitude of sharp and pointies between them available to drive off intruders, they don’t really like other dogs to get in the middle of their fun and they’re kinda emo about it.

Although occasionally they do gang up on her to teach her the meaning of the word “fear.”

Very once in a while, they will temporarily allow TWooie to cavort with them.  It never lasts very long, but that’s 100% okay with him, because he’s old and he doesn’t really have the stamina for that sort of foolishness for long anyway.  It is, however, 100% adorable.  After all these years, it still tickles me pink to see TWooie happy to play with another dog(s).

His brother rarely plays at all, with anyone, these days.  Sometimes I can get him to play a bit of fetch, or a short game of “I’m Gonna Get The Wootie Stick!” but it never lasts long either.  He doesn’t seem overly tired, or depressed, he just is more interested in snuffling around for possible dropped foodstuffs, or things to pee on.  I guess simple pleasures get more pleasurable as one ages.  However, I did buy him a new “Fifa”(tm) on the way home from the beach to see if I can’t rekindle some of our old joys together … provided Maisie doesn’t get involved, as she’s a “PLAY WITH ALL THE THINGS” kinda dog.

(Clearly he’s thrilled at the prospect)

(his tail still looks a little (okay a lot) sad, but notice it does have some wispy growth on it.  It’s gonna be a marathon growing session to the finish, I think)

Crazy Miss Maisie remains resolutely entrenched in my home and won’t go away because everyone who wants her so far hasn’t really been ideal.  I don’t think getting one’s sport dog from rescue is the cool thing to do anymore, so she remains unwanted

I decided after some thought that she is probably a Springer Spaniel mix.  I got a lot of sideways looks for that when I started saying it … you know, the “Food Lady’s making up whacky theories again” look.  You’re probably even doing that right now as you read this!

Then I asked a friend of mine to come over and evaluate her for some kind of sniffer dog job, because I personally think she’d be pretty awesome at it.  I placed quite a few of those kinds of dogs from the shelter (the sniffing-for-a-living kind, not the Springer Spaniel mix kind) and got a pretty good sense of what the handlers/trainers were looking for, and Maisie ticks off all their boxes.  So I asked my friend Teresa to come over and tell me what she thought.  First thing she said whens he met her was “Is she a Springer mix?”

Now, I think Teresa would know, since she owns and trained Angus the famous “C. Difficile” Springer Spaniel who makes his living sniffing out that nastiness in hospitals!

Anyway, Maisie ticked off all her boxes too, and apparently she thinks she’d make an awesome sniffer dog.  I find nosework stuff with dogs super fascinating *in theory* – I think it’s amazing what they can do with odour and how much they enjoy it.  In practice, I find it mind numbingly boring to watch – it was somewhat more interesting when it was “my” dog figuring it out, but not interesting enough for me to to want to do it myself with any of my dogs.  I think I’ve just been generally spoiled by sports like agility which have a lot of more instant and high octane gratification for my squirrel-like attention span.  Anyway, there’s been some interest in her for the sniffing thing, so maybe she’ll be famous one day too!

And speaking of agility, I have really super good intentions of going back to the sport, usually while I am laying in bed thinking about playing.  In practice, I can’t seem to muster up the energy to actually go train, despite living right next door to a big ass facility dedicated to the sport.  I do have a handful of dogs I could be playing with – Spring’s getting up there, but hey, Tweed won Regionals when he was 12, so it’s not like she’s OLD.  Fae is delightful to play with.  In my head, Addy would be great (in reality, Addy is a trainwreck.  Ha.)  And I suppose there’s Peetie.  Pesty, stares-at-my-cookie-hands-all-the-time Peetie.

I still want to try dock diving with Peetie.  I think she could be pretty good at it.  Cuz of all the leaping.

And I really do wish I had that sort of tenacious-trainer spirit to train Addy.  She is actually awesome at all the equipment, as she fears nothing and she’ll do it all (except weaves, we haven’t gone there yet at all) but her attention span is even shorter than mine.  We might simultaneously implode trying!

But she remains the cutest little thing that ever cuted or thinged.

In my facebook “memories” thing not too long ago, a memory of Dexter’s first trial came up in my feed, when he did a 15 obstacle Jumpers course in 15 seconds.  Oh how I miss *that* Dexter; before he started going deaf, he was such an awesome dog to play agilities with.  But I love the Dexter I have now too.  Often he rides along in the front seat when my van is full (seat-belted in, of course, airbag turned off) and I have inadvertently trained him stare deeply into my eyes and place a somber paw gravely on my arm, for which he is rewarded with cookies.  Now I can’t drive anywhere without his paw resting on my arm while he tries to mind-meld me.  I can only imagine what people think at stop lights.

Anyhoo.

I know I don’t take as many photos of my own dogs / blog as much as I used to, but the more I photograph for other people and/or events, the less time I have for photographing and editing photos of my own four legged furries.  There just aren’t enough hours in the day.  I’m going to try harder!  I do run outside to try and get sunset photos whenever the conditions are favourable.

Also, for those of you not on Facebook, I’m going to be putting out a 2019 calendar soon for sale.  This is the cover:

As soon as my print lab has the 2019 template ready, I’ll make one and video it for everyone, and then take orders.  It was a fun project, looking through so many old photos of my fuzzy family, those still here and the ones that aren’t.  I miss my old dogs.  I am so glad I have all these photos to look back on

This month, we celebrated and honored exceptional people, organizations and animals who have showed continued dedication and commitment to the improvement of animal welfare at our annual Humane Awards Luncheon.

One of the awards given annually is the ASPCA Tommy P. Monahan Kid of the Year Award, an award that is named after and dedicated to a nine-year-old Staten Island boy who sadly perished in a 2007 house fire while trying to save his beloved pet. This award celebrates a deep commitment to animal safety and welfare by children and teens who work year-round to find new ways to help the animals in their communities. This year, we proudly honored seven-year-old Roman McConn for his compassion for vulnerable animals and his commitment to advocating for them well beyond his years.

Left: Roman poses with his award. Right: Roman and his parents, Jennifer and Jeffrey McConn. 

Roman’s love for animals spans throughout most of his young life. For his fourth birthday, he asked friends and family to make donations to a Texas-based animal rescue instead of giving him gifts. 

Now, Roman makes heartfelt and compelling videos with homeless dogs in his community to help them get adopted. These videos have gone viral, elevating Roman’s presence and his impact. When not producing videos, Roman can also be found volunteering with Project Freedom Ride, a relocation network community founded by his mother, Jennifer McConn, which assists in helping relocate vulnerable homeless dogs and cats to areas where their chances of adoption are improved.

Roman accepting his award at the luncheon. 

For dedicating his time, energy, and himself to helping at-risk animals find safe and loving homes, and for helping to defeat life-threatening stereotypes about shelter animals, Roman McConn is beyond deserving of this year’s ASPCA Kid of the Year award. Congratulations to Roman! We hope that his dedication to animals in need continues and his work inspires more youth to get involved.

ASPCA President and CEO, Matt Bershadker, poses with the 2018 HAL award winners.

Los cachorros de perro son muy tiernos y dulces, pero también son una gran responsabilidad en todo lo que tiene que ver con cuidados. Son mucho más débiles que un perro de edad adulta, y por eso los cuidados en cuanto a alimentación, temperatura y comportamientos deben ser atendidos con mayor atención. Si bien el perro necesita atención y cuidados en toda su vida, hoy nos detendremos en los consejos más importantes para atender a sus necesidades en la infancia, para que a tu cachorrito no le falte nada.

Visitas al veterinario

Para proteger correctamente la salud de nuestro perrito, es fundamental visitar al veterinario y así abrir su cartilla médica y organizar las visitas adecuadas para ir controlando su desarrollo. No importa si ya está desparasitado y vacunado, la visita es obligatoria y debemos realizarla para que el médico nos indique todo lo relacionado con la correcta salud de nuestro nuevo y pequeño integrante de la familia.

Alimentación adecuada

Los cachorros necesitan una ingesta energética diaria específica, por eso es importante conocer el tipo de metabolismo de nuestro perro y seguir de manera correcta las indicaciones del veterinario sobre la alimentación del cachorro. De esta forma sus músculos, articulaciones y órganos se desarrollarán de manera sana y evitaremos problemas en la edad adulta.

Masticación

Los cachorros siempre están buscando algo que llevarse a la boca. Los primeros dientes que salen en la boca de un perro tienden a ser los más puntiagudos, así que es recomendable tener juguetes y objetos específicos que sirvan para la correcta evolución de su dentadura. En las tiendas de mascotas hay una amplia variedad de mordedores que sirven para ayudar al desarrollo de una masticación saludable en cada tipo de cachorro.

Amor y ternura

Para que un cachorro crezca sano y feliz, es muy importante criarlo con amor y ternura. El calor que le brindan los humanos y otras mascotas dentro del hogar, así como la atención y el juego ayudan a que se desarrolle una personalidad amigable y feliz. Los cachorros entienden el cariño como una forma de protección, se sienten más tranquilos, amados y cuidados. De todas formas, también es importante la paciencia porque los cachorros pueden romper cosas y tardar en aprender algunos comportamientos, pero con amor y paciencia todo va a terminar saliendo bien.

Cuidar un cachorrito es una de las experiencias más bellas, junto a la amistad y el compañerismo que nos dan estos amigos de cuatro patas, y sin importar la edad de los humanos, siempre hay algo que aprender de nuestra relación con los perritos.

By Andrea Powell

Tigers are magnificent animals that captivate us with their giant paws and unique strips. It is no wonder they are often the inspiration for school mascots. However, one university has taken it a step too far by having a tiger living on campus as their live mascot.

At Louisiana State University (LSU) they have had a live tiger living on campus as their mascot. The current tiger, Mike VII is the seventh tiger to live in the small enclosure alone. LSU claims that the tiger gets the best care and the enclosure was recently remodeled to include more activities and increase the size. However, it pales in comparison to a big cat sanctuary.

A typical day for the tiger involves spending twelve hours in his yard and then brought into his night house after 8PM, according to LSU. While his area includes large logs to sunbath on and a waterfall with a pond for swimming, he is all alone. At a sanctuary he would spend all his time in a massive area with other tigers. He would live a more natural lifestyle and possibly be reintroduced to the wild.

Photos: Twitter/Mike VII

Mike VII was rescued at 11-months-old and brought to LSU to live. He is a hit with all the students and even has his own social media pages. Even though he appears friendly and content, he would be happiest with other cats to socialize with.

Photos: Twitter/Mike VII

A petition was started to get Mike VII transferred to a sanctuary and to end the practice of keeping a live mascot on LSU campus. Over 13,000 people have already signed the petition in hopes that Mike will be in a sanctuary soon.

Tiger Cub Found Unconscious In Duffel Bag At US-Mexico Border: Click “Next” below!

Prologue

Every time I take on a rescue-cat I always get to a point where I realize this cat or kitten came into my life for a reason. Maybe I’m just looking to make sense of it, to connect random events, or maybe there’s something cosmic going on that I’m responding to. I’ll probably never know for certain why, all I know is that it’s starting to add up with our latest rescues.

It’s been over a month [guess what…it’s been 6 months now] since I wrote what follows. A lot has happened, not all of it bright or cheery, but the puzzle pieces are fitting together. I know that these kittens needed to be here. If they had been given away, it’s very unlikely they would have gotten the care they needed. It’s not to say those people are unkind, just not as experienced caring for kittens. As often is the case, what seemed to be a straightforward rescue has turned into a complicated, expensive journey to get two kittens on the right track.

January

A text message appeared on my iPhone. “Help needed for a kitten…can you take it?” I get these requests for cats of all ages, all the time. Dozens a day. I refer some, hope-for-the-best for others, network a few, take on ones that will fit into my foster home network when funds allow. It happens so often it becomes a blur of endless anxiety, frustration, and heartbreak for me.

“I’m really tired. I’m on a break…first time in 7 years. Was going to take the winter off from fostering.” was my reply.

This is where I thought the story would end. My soul felt empty from the ravages of years of acute stress without the chance to have a day off, to feel peace again. My cat Spencer has lymphoma. I need to focus my attention on him, not another kitten who needs de-worming and 100 trips to the vet…who might have a contagious virus that will sicken my cats.

Karen, a lady I’ve known for years, works with the place where I get my old car fixed. We’ve talked cats many times. Her husband owns a business where there’s lots of heavy machinery and concrete forms. They have a small feral cat colony and from time to time they rescue the cats and find them homes. This time they couldn’t find a place for the kitten they just found and wanted me to take it.

She sent me a photo. The kitten was black and white, dirty, probably feral, probably full of fleas and mites and worms. I explained I just couldn’t do it. Later that day she told me she found a home for the kitten, but if I wanted to stop by the next morning, I could see him. She said she was already eating solid food and had eaten 3 cans she was so hungry.

First glimpse of the little kitten. I was so tired (probably had compassion fatigue) that I didn't even notice how cute it was.

I felt like she could have told me anything about this kitten and I wouldn’t have cared. I don’t know why I agreed to stop by. I guess I felt guilty. I worried that if the kitten wasn’t going to a rescue, that at least I should make sure it gets de-wormed and make sure it was in good enough shape to go to a home. Why I put a cat carrier in my car before I left the house is beyond me. I just had a feeling I better do it in case there was more going on than I was lead to understand.

I heard the kitten before I saw her. She was crying, backed into the corner of a small dog crate that was placed on the floor in Karen’s office. Karen explained they had bathed her a few times, but you could still smell the odor from burnt engine oil coming off her. Her fur was caked and spikey. She was hunkered down, terrified. That’s when I learned she was found under the hood of a big truck, on the block heater of a diesel engine. Too scared to move, one of the employees grabbed the kitten. It had been so cold outside that the only source of warmth anywhere was under the hoods of the trucks since they were plugged in when not in use to keep the engine fluids warm so they’d start each morning.

I asked her to take the kitten out of the crate. She really stank. Her belly was so big I could barely see her legs. She shuffled over to a stack of papers and pressed herself against some file folders. Her pupils were huge. She was definitely feral and I said as much to Karen.

©2018 Robin AF Olson. Filthy, stinky, adorable.

She was skin and bones under all that swelling. She might have other health issues. Her eyes were watering, then she sneezed. I asked about the person who was going to adopt the kitten and was told they had a cat and dog, but that was about it. I asked if they were going to make sure the kitten got spayed and I didn’t get a firm answer.

I looked at the pitiful fur-blob and told Karen that I thought I should take the kitten. My inner voice was yelling at me at the time, but my heart won out. I knew what this kitten needed would be too much for someone who doesn’t work with kittens to deal with. That the kitten would probably turn into one of those kittens who always hides under the sofa because it didn’t get socialized properly. I worried that it wouldn’t get the vet care it needed. As a rescuer, it was against everything I do to leave this kitten’s future up to fate.

©2018 Robin AF Olson. Oh yes, I AM the cutest kitten, ever.

I carefully inserted a syringe of de-worming medicine into the kitten’s mouth, then quickly turned her upside down and looked between her back legs. She was a HE. Karen was sure it was a girl, probably because the kitten has a very girlie looking face, if that makes any sense. I saw little nubs, no question in my book of it being a "him", but the next question was…

Oh shit. Now what do I do? Karen agreed it made sense for me to take the kitten and perhaps he could be adopted later by this lady once the vetting was all done.

I called my vet. They could see us right away. I packed up the kitten into my oh-so-conveniently-ready-cat-carrier. As I placed the carrier onto the front seat of my car I said to the kitten; “You don’t know this, but we’re going to be good friends one day. I promise I will take good care of you. Don’t worry.” The kitten replied by crying all the way to the vet.

I had ten minutes to come up with a name for the kitten. He has a little black moustache just under his nose so I named him Pistachio.

©2018 Robin AF Olson. A very filthy boy.

A winter storm was due later that day and I had planned to go to the store and grab some supplies, instead of rescue a kitten. My vet had to examine Pistachio between other appointments so I went to the store while they took care of him.

The store was crowded and it took a long time to get everything on my list. So long that I’d forgotten about the kitten when my phone rang. It was Dr. Mary.

She told me the exam went well, but Pistachio looked like he was coming down with an upper respiratory tract infection. They were going to give me antibiotics, but I wasn’t sure I was going to give them to the kitten because they estimated he was about six to eight weeks old and weighed just 1 lb, 9 oz. I knew some of that was fluid build-up from parasites and I didn’t want to harm his immune system right away. As I was thinking about what sorts of digestive support I could give him, Dr. Mary’s normally cheerful tone, dropped a bit.

©2018 Robin AF Olson. After the bath, a forlorn Pistachio.

“It looks like Mr. Pistachio is positive for FIV.”

My heart sank, but then Dr. Mary reminded me that due to his age, it could be a false positive and that we’d re-test in a few weeks. Although I knew it would make finding this kitten a home a lot harder, I also knew FIV wasn’t contagious as long as he didn’t end up being aggressive with the other cats.

“One day at a time. One step at a time.” I thought to myself.

I couldn’t freak out now. I had a long way to go with this kitten. Next thing was to get him home. Get him clean and get him a place to live. I hadn’t worked with a feral kitten for years. I’m not exactly the most patient person. Ugh…what have I done? What if I make it worse and I fail at socializing him?

------------

I got Pistachio home and set up a medium-sized dog crate where he’d be staying until I felt he was socialized enough to let him have free reign of the infamous blue bathroom, the smaller of my two foster rooms.

I was lucky. Even though he’d never been handled much before I got him, Pistachio was willing to put up with my awkward attentions. I did a few things wrong, like cover his crate. I should have put his crate in the living room so he’d get used to the sights and sounds of us and the other cats, but I was worried about spreading illness and stressing him out. Thing is, that’s what would have worked better to start.

©2018 Robin AF Olson. Sizing me up.

I remembered using a baby spoon at the end of a long stick. 1. Put chicken baby food on the spoon (warmed up food of course), 2. offer it to scared kitten, 3. encourage kitten to come forward after a taste of food, 4. repeat as necessary.

OR

Do what I did which was get frustrated, then just pick the kitten up, stick him on a towel in my lap with a plate of food, and have him eat while sitting on my lap. He was not too happy about it, but he wasn’t hissing or growling at all. He was just scared.

I kept him hungry and only fed him off my fingers or in my lap. He had a very bad load of roundworms come out of him (both ends) and it caused his rectum to bleed and get swollen. We went back and forth to the vet about 5 times that first week.

©2018 Robin AF Olson. Roundworms. Lots of them.

I bathed him over and over again, trying to do it quickly, but also trying to get at the deeply embedded grease that was on his chest and back. He was a good sport, but still looked like Tribble; all fluff and no shape. He was a sorry mess.

The tip of his tail was hairless and frostbitten. It later fell off (Dr. Mary said it was OK and we didn't have to do anything since it was a clean break).

But then I found the thing, the one thing he loved more than food, he loved to be brushed.

©2018 Robin AF Olson. Sam brushes 'stache into a blissful state.

A few days after taking him on I got a purr as I brushed his winter-thickened fur. I knew then we’d be okay. I encouraged him to play and that helped him forget to be afraid. It only took a little over a week to get him where I felt it was all right to put the crate away and let him have some freedom. The poor kitten was alone, though, so I made myself a nest of blankets alongside the washer and dryer. It was the only place I could stretch out other than inside the bathtub. Each night I stayed with Pistachio and we watched Netflix on my old iPad after I fed him and played with him. I tried to sleep but I had no chance of success. I was terrified of crushing him in my sleep or if I did fall asleep he would stick his wet nose into my ear, startling me awake. He’d pounce on my face if the nose-in-the-ear thing didn’t work.

©2018 Robin AF Olson. Our first week together.

My new schedule was to join him around 11 PM, then stay ‘til about 3 or 4 AM. It was difficult to get in and out of the tiny space with the blankets in the way. My back was so stiff I could barely stand to fold up the blankets so I could open the door to get out and to get into my real bed. I was worried Pistachio would have behavior problems being alone so much, so I stayed with him as often as I could.

Meanwhile I’d been hearing there were possibly two other kittens related to Pistachio who were on the property that needed to be trapped. In for a dime, in for a dollar…except that I don’t trap, nor do I have a trap.

I asked on social media for help and I lucked out when one of my best buddies said she’d come help. Katherine runs Animals in Distress. We help each other out from time to time and she is a terrific trapper. I told her I’d get all our snacks and cat food for trapping if she brought the traps. She squawked: “This isn’t brunch. We have work to do!”

Hey, if I’m going to freeze my ass off waiting to trap a kitten or two, I might as well have some good snacks and tea so I ignored Katherine, as usual, and loaded up on treats.

It was about 20° F that bright Sunday morning. I had the key to the gate so we could enter the property where the cats had been seen. We set traps, drizzled stinky food all over the lot, but it was so cold the food froze in a few minutes.

©2018 Robin AF Olson. Find the feral kittens here! Good luck with that.

Katherine stood by one of the trucks where Pistachio had been found and began to meow. It was so realistic a cat replied to her! There WAS a cat under the hood of the truck. The problem was…how to get it out? How to get it into a trap? The hood opened towards us, not away. It was about 8 feet high and no way to reach the hood to open it anyway. Katherine continued to meow, but the cat wouldn’t come out.

We had to keep going back into my car to thaw out after only a few minutes it was so bitter cold. I kept thinking about the kittens trying to live in this environment. All over the lot were huge concrete forms. There was no way they’d stay warm inside any of them. We didn’t see any signs of life. It was so different from my experience just the year before in Waterbury where everywhere you looked there were cats.

©2018 Robin AF Olson. Inside the engine where Pistachio was found.

I didn’t want to think that failure was an option, but we had to give up. We were there for six hours. Katherine was great, offering to come back the next weekend when it was supposed to be warmer. In my heart, I wished we didn’t have to wait that long, but we needed the lot to be quiet and reduce the danger of trucks coming in and out of the lot. I’d also made contact with the caretaker of a second feral colony nearby. She’d given me a lot of information that made me wonder if our kittens were even on the lot at all, but somewhere else.

A Week Later

This time I got fried chicken as a trap bait. I’d heard that Kentucky Fried Chicken was the best, but it was too early in the morning and they weren’t open yet. I opted to hit Stew Leonard’s, a huge local grocery chain, on the way to the trapping location and got fried chicken there. Okay, I got mini-chocolate croissants, too (for us).

The temps were in the 40's and there was freshly fallen snow on the ground. Katherine and I scanned the lot, looking for paw prints and found quite a few. We made a plan to drop bits of chicken near the tracks, hoping we’d stir up some activity. Crows saw the food and started cawing loudly. I put out some dry food to encourage them to come closer. I figured if they put out the call there was food, the kittens would hear it, too.

Katherine and I sat in my car once again, thankfully not shivering as we stuffed mini croissants into our mouths and gulped down hot tea as we waited. An hour or so ticked by, then, in the distance I saw her. It was an adult cat, followed by a tiny kitten!

We were about 50 feet away, too far to see detail, but there was Pistachio’s sibling. I hoped to see a third kitten, but we didn’t see one. They were not near any of the traps. They were just eating the morsels we’d left on the ground. Katherine said that mom was probably trap savvy, which meant the odds just took a nose dive that we’d get any kittens.

©2018 Robin AF Olson. Poppy and her little kitten, soon to be our Catshew.

The cats vanished soon after we saw them, but their image burned into my soul. I couldn’t just sit there and know they needed us and no do anything. We decided to move the traps further into the lot, closer to where the second colony was located.

As we crossed the lot, I saw the kitten again. I called to Katherine, but I didn’t want to yell. She couldn’t hear me clearly and started crabbing at me (as we always do to each other). I was trying to get her to head left towards a small concrete form. I was on the right. We could have cornered the kitten.

I walked as fast as I could, pointing and motioning to Katherine but she was carrying a trap and didn’t know what I was doing. I got within a few feet of the kitten but there was a huge mound of snow covered dirt in my way. I clambered up the side and the kitten dashed left, but before she did she, she waited a beat and looked me straight in the eyes, daring me to make a move. She turned quickly, then vanished. I was so upset I started to cry. I was ready to pounce on this kitten, get bitten or scratched, just to get her into my coat and off to safe harbor but she was gone. Then I saw her mom run across the street. I called out to her not to go and silently prayed she wouldn’t get hit by a car. Thankfully the road isn’t a busy one and she made it safely across.

I told Katherine what happened. We were both bummed out. We decided to set the traps where we were because to me some of the area looked like good hiding spots for the cats. There were more concrete forms but grasses had grown around them and it looked like a good cubby hole was along the base of one form. There was nothing more we could do other than go back and sit in the car and wait.

We’d waited a few hours, checked the traps, then decided to go meet the caretaker of the other colony since she was coming to feed her guys soon. We thought we might get some good intel on what was going on, but I didn’t expect what I saw next.

©2018 Robin AF Olson. Listen carefully!

Turns out our guys were also part of her colony. She had named every cat. When she called out to them most of them showed up. There were half a dozen cats or so. I gave them some of the chicken and some of the other food I had. The cats were either black or black and white, similar to Pistachio but short haired. The caretaker told us that the kitten’s mom was named Poppy and that she’d had Poppy spayed a month ago and had to quickly return her because the vet said she was still nursing. I don’t know how she managed that or how the kittens survived without their mom for a time, but they did. As the caretaker talked about Poppy, a delicate little tuxedo ran over to the feeding station. It was Poppy. I wondered if mom was here, maybe the kittens were nearby, too. The caretaker said that mom would bring her the kittens when she was ready and she’d never seen any kitten this winter. Poppy ate, then took off. We decided to go check the traps and head home, thinking we’d have to come back again as soon as we could, but also grateful to know that most of the cats had been TNR’d already and had a loving caretaker looking out for them.

I drove us across the lot and parked behind a small hill in case the kittens were nearby. We got out of my car and walked over to the traps and then I saw one of the saddest things I’ve ever seen.

There was a kitten inside one of the traps, frantically trying to get out. A few feet away, sitting on a concrete block, was Poppy. She was sitting very still, statuelike, while her kitten cried out for her as she banged her tiny body into the wire bands of the trap. I called to Katherine that we’d gotten a kitten and we both ran over to the trap feeling a mixture of elation and misery. I called out to Poppy as she turned away and ran back towards the colony across the street. I told her I was sorry. Katherine said the same thing to the fleeing cat. I called out to Poppy saying we’d take care of her baby. I said I was so so sorry again and again. I didn’t want to break up this little family. The image of the little kitten flashed in my memory, her tail curled up high, chasing fearlessly after her mama just a few hours ago and now that was over, forever. How could I do that to this poor creature?

©2018 Robin AF Olson. Heartbreak and joy and wrapped up in a big knot of guilt. Our first look at Cassie.

It was twilight so I turned my iPhone light onto the trap. The kitten’s nose was bloody from struggling to get free. She was quite small and short-haired. I took off my coat and put it over the trap. I made her the same promise I made her brother. She’d be ok one day and one day I hoped we’d be friends, but for the moment a familiar thought came to mind: what the Hell am I doing? What mess have I gotten myself into now?

Katherine and I hugged, finally feeling like we got the job done. We’d heard there might not have been a third kitten, but everyone knew to contact us if there was. In the weeks since we did the trapping no other kittens have been seen. I fear that the others just didn’t make it, but I’m glad, at least, we got these two. Now Pistachio will have company once his sister was socialized enough to be reunited with him.

IF she gets socialized…

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Girls! Why are they so difficult? It seems male kittens usually socialize fairly fast if they’re young, but the girls, fuggetaboutit! I named the kitten Catshew (Cassie). She didn’t have her brother’s big wormy-filled belly. She wasn’t covered in grease. She was petite, had her brother’s silly ‘stache markings (though she only has a half-stache), but none of his long fur. Her tail was very crooked at the tip like a waded up ball of paper. I thought perhaps it was from a birth defect but later found out it was broken and already set. She wasn’t in pain so it was okay to leave it be.

©2018 Robin AF Olson. We love you even if you hate us.

She hated my guts; hissing and withdrawing any time I got near her. At least she wasn’t striking me. Clearly she was fearful, but I didn’t think she was going to bite me. Once again I did the wrong thing, putting her in the foster room with Mia. Her crate was partially covered, I thought to help her de-stress, but I found out later I should have kept the cover off.

I approached Cassie slowly, tried a few tricks like baby food on a long-handled spoon, but she wouldn’t go for it. I knew if I kept her hungry she’d have to come to me sooner or later and lick food off my fingers if nothing else. It was very slow going.

Someone suggested I wrap her in a towel and hold her on my lap for at least 30 minutes, petting her and touching her gently so she’d get used to me so I did that. She froze up, whined, shivered. I felt terrible and lost about what to do.

Then Pam came to visit.

Pam’s cat, Frida, was the reason for me deciding to help Pistachio and his sister. I’d learned about Frida on Instagram. She was a tattered, dirty, freshly-trapped, rescued and quickly adopted. She looked like Hell, but was also completely captivating. I fell in love with her sweet demeanor and gentle nature as I watched all her videos and waited for her next photo to appear on Pam's page. Frida had been living a rough life on the streets. She had an injury to her face. She needed a lot of TLC. Pam had seen her photo and offered to adopt her right away, not concerned that Frida might have a lot of health issues or behavior issues. She just wanted to give Frida the life she deserved.

Pam was doing everything she could to help her recover, but in barely two weeks after her rescue, it was discovered that Frida’s swollen cheek was not due to an abscess (infection), but to cancer that had ravaged her jaw and was going into her brain. There was nothing that could be done other than to humanely euthanize the sweet girl.

I never met Frida, but there was something about her that made my heart break when I learned she died. It was the day I was asked to help Pistachio. The next morning I decided to funnel my grief into helping this kitten, to honor Frida. I had no idea my simple gesture would turn into something much bigger.

You see, I contacted Pam and told her about Pistachio and how sorry I was about Frida, that she would live on by another life saved. Then she posted about what I did and the news took off. I was contacted by another gal who said she adopted a cat because of what I did, to honor Frida, too. Then more people stepped up, either naming a newly rescued cat Frida or rescuing more cats in honor of this special girl.

Pam got so fired up she decided to use social media, as I have done for over a decade, to help cats get out of kill shelters and get rescued. She started a new IG page TeamFridaFries and has been highlighting the tough to rescue cats who need a helping paw. In just a few weeks Pam has already started saving lives all over the country, to honor the cat she loved so dearly.

…And Pam had a crush on Pistachio, so I invited her to come and meet him.

©2018 Robin AF Olson. Pistachio, meet Pam. Pam, meet Pistachio!

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What I often notice is when someone comes over to adopt a cat that the cat has a say, too, and some times it’s clear the cat doesn’t want that person to adopt them. That was the case with Pam and Pistachio. He just didn’t want her to hold him or pet him. It was so odd. I felt terrible because perhaps I’d been with him too much and I needed to have other people visit with him. Pam was a good sport about it and frankly it was way too early for anyone to adopt Pistachio anyway. I asked Pam if she would like to meet Cassie and of course she said yes.

©2018 Robin AF Olson. Pam + Catshew = 4Ever.

That’s when I saw a love-match. Pam didn’t hesitate to purrito Cassie, then hold and kiss her, while she Cassie whined and fussed. The little kitten was confused about what this human was doing to her. Pam lit up. Her energy changed. Cassie settled down and all I could think was “PLEASE TAKE CASSIE!”

©2018 Robin AF Olson. Kitten purrito.

Pam offered to foster Cassie and I said YES right away, but I had to get Cassie to the vet and get her vaccination done before it was safe for her to be near any of Pam’s other cats. Unfortunately, the timing wasn’t great and Cassie never got to visit Aunt Pam, but just seeing her with Cassie gave me the inspiration to keep trying to socialize her.

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I kept at it. I got some good advice from a few rescue friends. They said to put Cassie’s crate into the living room with no cover on it. Get her desensitized to life around humans. The second I did that she perked up, happy to see other cats. She still growled and whined every time I went near her, but she would allow me to pet her, always keeping one or both ears flattened down, not sure she trusted me yet.

Meanwhile I was going back and forth to the vet with Pistachio. His rear end was in bad shape from the parasite load. Then he tested positive for coccidia, too. I worried my cats would get it, but I read that they can become immune to it as adults. The last thing I needed was 10 cats to have diarrhea!

©2018 Robin AF Olson. Poor Pistachio. You've just got to get better!

Pistachio was becoming aggressive with me since he had no outlet to interact with other cats. I knew he needed, what I call, Kitten Bootcamp. He needed to be with other cats who would let him know he was biting too hard or being too rough, and that meant he had to be vetted enough so that it was safe to put him into the big foster room with Mia. If Cassie would turn around I could put her into the room, too, but it seemed like it was going to take months for her to be stable enough to move.

When the time came to give it a try, I realized Pistachio and Cassie had been apart for too long. Cassie was very aggressive the few moments she’d seen her brother. I decided to do site swapping so they could learn each other’s scent, while staying safe. I let them have time together, but only while I was in the room because Pistachio was so rough with his sister. It took a few weeks, but I finally got Cassie to purr and I finally felt that it was safe for both kittens to move into the foster room together.

©2018 Robin AF Olson. Reunion.

What I couldn’t know was that I was going to be moving into the big foster room, too. Sam and I had not been getting along for months and things finally came to a head during the time I trapped Cassie. We stopped talking, eating together, being anywhere near each other. We figured out how to do this horrible passive-aggressive “dance” while we shared the same living space.

If I was in the kitchen, Sam would wait a few feet away until I left before he’d enter the room. At first I was so angry and fed up I didn’t care, but as the days wore on with no changes, I got hit with a depression that was one of the worst of my life. I tried to make a home for myself within the four walls of the foster room, but living with hyperactive kittens running around, who were fighting half the night, trying to sleep on an old hard mattress with a lone spring that poked my hip when I tried to sleep, was robbing me from getting any peace, any rest, any relief.

Things go from better to worse...will Pistachio EVER get BETTER? ...oh, then Catshew gets sick, too. Find out the good, the bad and the ugly next...

Puppies are cute, cuddly, rolly-polly bundles of joy … until they’re not.  That’s especially true when you start to see resource guarding and aggression.

For new dog owners, resource guarding in puppies can be really discouraging. It helps to know that often all it takes is a little time and work to get things back on track.

I received this letter a little while back that made me think it was time to cover this topic. 

Dear Jean,

I just got a new nine-week-old Rottie puppy. He’s stunning, smart and generally friendly but growls and snaps if I go near him while he’s eating. He also does this to my adult Rotties. I’ve never seen this in a puppy so young.

Is he some sort of lemon? Is he a dominant dog? Is there anything I can do? Help!

Resource Guarding In Puppies

It’s indeed alarming for most people to see frank aggression in puppies. In the case of resource guarding – food, bone, bed etc. possessiveness – there’s good news and bad news. The good news is you can start addressing it in a young, hopefully plastic, spongy puppy with weak jaws.

The bad news is some trainers think that aggression in puppies is an insidious sign of a problem. That it has deep genetic roots and is therefore fruitless to tackle. I don’t agree.

I recently had a similar case in my own foster puppy. Buffy, a stray six-week-old Chow, had resource guarding against people and dogs. And not just food, objects as well.

I elected to not touch the dog-dog issues, which is a relatively common approach. Her socialization and play skills were coming along nicely. She was developing good acquired bite inhibition as well. The guarding against people, however, needed to be actively resolved.

The following is a summary of Buffy’s food guarding exercise regime. Incidentally, Buffy also presented with socialization deficits and severe body handling problems. I addressed these too along with her object guarding. For me, the answer was clear: slow step-by-step modification.

The key to good hierarchy design is small, incremental steps. You want it so that at no point do you see the original guarding problem. In the case of a puppy, there may actually be more aggressive increment jumps. I did a few other things in the can’t-hurt-might-help category. These included impulse control (stay, off and wait) and extra soft-mouth training.

If you’re dealing with resource guarding in your own puppy, here are the steps I took to iron out the problem.

A Step-By-Step Solution

Baseline And Heirarchy

When approached while eating from her dish, Buffy would freeze. If the approach continued, she’d growl briefly and then lunge and snap. If touched while eating, she would growl simultaneous to whirling and biting. I had to solve the independent body-handling problem first (before any food exercises). Buffy did not guard an empty dish.

Step 1 (day 1): Installment Feeding Of Food

I sat on the floor next to Buffy’s dish and spooned in one mouthful. Once she swallowed, I spooned the next mouthful into her dish. By the end of the second meal, she was happy to see my spoon hand after each swallow.

Step 2 (day 1-2): Overlap

This was essentially the same as Step 1. The only difference was that I added the next spoonful to her dish while she was still consuming. Of course this is always a much dicier proposition. We did this for three meals without evidence of guarding seen.

Step 3 (day 2-3): Approach Overlap

I was now standing. I spooned larger amount into her bowl then withdrew two paces. Then I reapproached and added the next spoonful while Buffy was still eating. So, this combined approach with the overlap exercise.

We stuck with this for three meals. By the end of the three meals Buffy wagged and looked up on approach. This was a clear Conditioned Emotional Response (CER). We then repeated the exercise for one more day (5 small meals). I increased withdrawal distances and intervals.

Step 4 (day 4): Trumping

At this point I spooned her entire puppy-sized ration into her bowl and withdrew five paces. I waited 15 seconds then approached and added a (hidden) marble-sized dollop of goat cheese. I had pre-auditioned the goat cheese out of context and ascertained it to be in Buffy’s Top Five All-Time Foods. I withdrew to six paces and waited for Buffy to continue to consume – this was not immediate – then repeated.

On the third trial I got a clear CER– withdrawal from bowl on approach, orientation to me and tail wag. Clever little thing.

Step 5 (day 4-6): Covering High-Value Base

To up the ante, I tried some approaches while she was eating a top food, rather than normal meal ration level food. I trumped it with higher value stuff (gorgonzola). In two trials, I once again saw her happy anticipatory CER, a very rapid curve indeed.

Step 6 (day 4 onward): Cold Trials

To better simulate real life, I initiated random trumping. At least once per meal, from a random direction, at a random time and with a top food, I approached and added the bonus. More than 80% of the time, I got an evident “yippee” CER. At no point did she guard.

Step 7 (day 8 onward): Generalization

I recruited my husband, colleagues in my office and a neighbor to do some random trumps. I watched carefully for any evidence of regression. This included the absence of “yippee” CERs to their approach.

If this had been an adult dog, the steps would have been recommenced at the beginning with each new recruit. The hope would be to see an accelerated progress rate for each successive person.

Step 8 (day 15 onward): Body Handling

It was only here that I commenced patting, grabbing or pushing her around while she was eating. In most cases this would come earlier (before cold trails). However, with Buffy it took me this long to get the independent body-handling problem up to speed. Handling during eating consisted of the body touch, followed by a trumping addition. Later the body touch became body handling. This was repeated until the body touch/handling elicited the “yippee” CER.

Buffy’s CER consisted of a wag as well as orientation to my hand. If I stored the bonus in my other hand behind my back and reached with a blank hand, she would wag and orient to my face. Buffy is now on maintenance with a cold trumping or body handling trial. I usually do it once per meal and use other people whenever an opportunity presents itself. I ended up adopting her.

You can even throw in bowl removals if you like. The principles are the same.

Resource guarding in puppies can be both intimidating and discouraging. But don’t lose hope. There are ways to get the behavior in check. It just takes a little extra time and effort. But, as with any type of training, the end result is well worth it. Good luck!