A dog walk of rhubarb and cat-astrophes

Most of the time I love village life.  Quiet(ish) roads. Fabulous scenery.  Lots of open space.  Pleasant dog walks and plenty of poo bins! Chatty neighbours and a sense of calm and chance to unwind at the end of a hectic day.

Our village playing field

On other days it can really irritate me.  People who don’t cut their hedges back – making it impossible for me and the hounds to walk on the pavement, without emerging with scratches.  Roaming village dogs – with a tendency to poop wherever they like.  The looney drivers who seem to think the 30 miles speed limit doesn’t apply to them.

Tonight though, I was reminded why village life is great.  At the moment, I’m walking the hounds in two shifts.  Since Mina’s had her toe amputated, and the dressing has only just come off, I’m building up the duration of her walks.  It doesn’t seem fair to take her to the playing field where Stevie and Jasper can run off lead and where she’d have to watch from the side lines.

Shift one of the dog walk duties (Stevie and Jasper) had been completed and Mina and I embarked on shift two.  I thought we’d have a quiet walk – just the two of us – with Mina stopping and sniffing all the pee-mails she’s missed over the last eight weeks…however, I was mistaken, as Tula, our cat, decided to join us!

We’d only just managed to cross the road when I heard the tinkling of Tula’s bell and saw her crossing the road to join us.  I picked her up and crossed the road again and put her in our front garden and then re-crossed the road to start our walk.

Tula takes root in the garden

Who was I kidding?  In a few seconds I heard the unmistakable sound of Tula’s bell coupled with the sound of oncoming traffic.  I tried to call her to me but she was having none of it and was sitting very serenely in the middle of the road, with no intention of moving.  Cue for me to step out into the oncoming traffic in the style of a demented Traffic Cop/Lollipop Lady and put my left hand out to stop the traffic.  My right hand was holding onto Mina’s lead very tightly and once the traffic had stopped, my left hand managed to scoop up Tula.  Heaven knows what it must have looked like to the approaching drivers – a greyhound and cat nose to nose, with a mad woman picking up the cat.

After this escapade Tula was put back in the house and the cat flap locked, so she could not follow us again.  Mina and I set off again to complete the walk, with Mina stopping every 10 steps or so to catch up on the important and aforementioned pee-mails.

Mid-way into our walk we passed Arthur’s house.  Arthur reminds me of my much loved and dearly departed Granddad - he’s in his 80s, lives by himself, grows his own veg and always has time for a chat when we pass by.

Tonight was no exception.  On our way back, Mina and I stopped and had a quick chat (well I chatted, Mina looked up adoringly for a fuss) and before I knew it my spare hand was carrying a bag full of home-grown rhubarb.  All in exchange for a chat and the promise of a small rhubarb crumble as way of thanks.


If only Mina was called Roobarb and Tula was known as Custard – it would have been a real life version of one of my favourite children’s cartoons.

Mina does her best Roobarb impression

Tula - The Cat That Twitter Named

Since I lost Tazzie in November, the house has felt empty without a cat. It even appeared that the hounds missed Tazzie and couldn't understand where the black and white ball of fluff had gone.

So, in late November we went along to The Lincolnshire Trust for Cats to find a cat that would be confident living in a house full of sight hounds. There were so many lovely kittens and cats to choose from, all deserving good homes, but in the end we decided to take a peek in the 'Weight Watchers' section. (There was a sign on the door that said Weight Watchers - honest!) This was where some of the cats who had been at the Trust for a while, and who had eaten a little too much, were being kept. They were being fed a lighter diet and had more space and activity areas to burn off those extra pounds!

The "feline fatty's" first day

Who'd have thought that a 'feline fatty' (shhhh, don't tell her I said that) would steal our hearts. The not so little bundle of fluff was called Tess and is about 18 months old. She was introduced to Jasper while we were at the cattery and both cat and hound reacted well and Tess' fate was sealed.

As her name was too similar to Tazz, we decided to rename her, but as we couldn't agree on a suitable name ourselves, we turned to Twitter and Facebook. We had over 25 suggestions and in the end chose Tula, which was suggested by the lovely Kim, who tweets as @m3kx

It's been a month since Tula joined us and she's really settled in, enjoying her first Christmas with us. Today has been the first day that she's used the cat flap too and seemed liked a good day to introduce her on the blog. She's slowly losing the extra pounds and is now firm friends with the hounds.

Here's looking at you!

Finding a name for Tula did make me wonder, how we arrive at the names for our pets...

Both Mina and Stevie have kept their original names, as their recall was so good. Jasper, on the other hand, was originally called Magic. I renamed him after the Jasper in Twilight, as my Jasper has very fang-like teeth but more importantly has a real calming effect on those around him. Chivers was named after the marmalade brand and Tazzie after the Tasmanian Devil!

I'd love to know how you came up with the name for your pet, so please share, if you dare!

The Final Farewell

Today I found myself making a decision I dreaded, and one which I had hoped not to make until the New Year.  My well loved and aged Taz cat (affectionately known as Tazzie) had to be put to sleep.

It hardly seems just over a year ago that I was in the same situation with my first cat, Chivers. I had always thought that Chivers would outlive Tazzie, but it wasn't to be.

I adopted Tazzie in 1992 from the appropriately named, Cat Orphanage in Billingham.  Her loud purr and sandpaper-like licks won my heart from the first moment I cuddled her. Tazzie was only about 8 months old when I adopted her, but like many poor un-neutered cats she had already had a litter of kittens and had endured a pretty tough start to life.

Tazzie, the food & drink cat burglar

 
Tazzie was the original cat burglar - especially where food was concerned. Despite always being well fed by me, she couldn't get rid of the instincts that I suspect were ingrained into her every fibre when she was a stray.

I will always remember Tazzie at a family barbecue, with her perfectly manicured talon swiping a sausage from under my Dad's nose. To this day, I don't know who looked the more surprised - my Dad for losing a sausage or Tazzie for her tasty foodie victory.

It wasn't all plain sailing with Tazzie though.  In her first year with me, I lost count of the number of times she urinated on the carpet: a change of cat litter (away from those hard dissolvable pellets) and ceramic tiles instead of carpet soon sorted that, along with the realisation that having a cat flap on the litter box prevented her from using it. There was also one time when me and my first husband had been away overnight and we came home to find that Tazzie had peed & pooped in the middle of our bed (and somehow managed to turn the radio on too - must have been one hell of a party).

I'm sure that these mishaps may have put off other owners, but not me. I persevered, read as much as I could about cats and their behaviour and learnt lots from both Tazzie and Chivers.

Stevie & Tazzie sharing a snooze

When Tazzie was around 13 years old, she was introduced to Mina.  She coped very well and took living with Stevie and Jasper in her stride.
 
Fast forward over 18 years and my beloved Tazzie was an OAP with failing health. She had become deaf in the last few years and seemed to live in her own little bubble. I was always very careful when approaching her bed and used to tap my fingers on the floor, to wake her up gently and not startle her.

Her quality of life had diminished and her world had shrunk to the size of the utility room. She could no longer groom herself and despite my regular sessions of brushing her coat, she still had matted fur that she just couldn't reach.  In the last few days her health had declined even further, leaving me with the heartbreaking decision that took me to the veterinary surgery today.

It's fair to say I have been in floods of tears and am still sobbing as I write this.  I wanted to be with Tazzie in her final moments and, as hard as it is to see your pet and companion slip away, I felt I owed it to her to soothe her passing with quiet words and cuddles.

Some people may question why I'm crying and grieving, after all she was 'only' a cat.  However Tazzie (and like Chivers before her) was not just a cat, she was my cat and companion.

Over the last 18 years she has provided me with companionship, cuddles, laughter, unconditional love and has been a constant presence during life's ups and downs.  Through deaths, divorce, redundancy, life changes, marriage, house moves and ill health Tazzie has been there with a loud purr, an emery board tongue and unlimited supplies of affection.

Our pets provide us with so much and their time with us is fleeting. I will miss Tazzie tremendously and I'm sure that the hounds too will wonder what has happened to the black and white ball of fluff that used to follow them around.
RIP Tazzie
1992 - 16 November 2010 

The hardest decision of all

I can't believe that I started this blog over two weeks ago and haven't posted since.  The last two weeks have been very difficult as I had to face the agonising decision that all pet-owners dread..

Chivers, my beloved cat and faithful companion for the last 17 years, had  to be put to sleep on 29 September. Chivers has been with me through all life's ups and downs. Divorce, house moves, illness, job changes - he was always there and a very special cat.  He used to follow me like a dog, often meaning I'd have to pick him up, put him back in the house & lock the cat flap so I could go out without him following & risk being run over! He'd also raise his front two paws to let me  know he wanted to be picked up and cuddled.

Although I thought I'd prepared for the moment and spent the whole Sunday with him, nothing could have prepared me for the range of emotions I felt on the Monday when the inevitable became reality.

Thankfully my husband drove me to and from the vets. I really wasn't in a fit state to drive. I wanted Chivers last minutes to be peaceful and I definitely didn't want him to die alone. I couldn't hold back the tears in the waiting room, and as they know me so well at the vets, I was ushered into a separate area (I'm sure I was off putting to the other clients).

Unfortunately, Chivers last moments weren't as peaceful as I'd hoped - or as quick. His left leg was shaved and the lethal injection started, then his vein blew. The vet tried his right leg and the same happened. In the end he had to be injected in his kidney. I cradled him the whole time until he passed away. I left the vets in streams of tears and also covered in Chivers' blood.

I know it was the right decision - he'd stopped eating, lost a fifth of his bodyweight, wasn't able to enjoy his usual activities and was suffering with chronic arthritis, renal disease and thyroid problems - but it didn't make it any easier.

I decided to have Chivers cremated and picked up his ashes this week.  I've a keep-sake box which contains his collar, some locks of his fur plus some of his ashes and I've ordered a grave marker so he can be buried in his favourite sunbathing spot in the garden.

I dearly miss Chivers, he will always have a special place in my heart and his spirit will live on.  Each day gets easier and I still have Tazzie and the hounds to consider.

 Chivers & Mina snuggled up

Introductions

If you'd asked me back in early 2005 whether I would ever own a dog, the answer would have been "A dog?" "Are you quite mad?"

I've always been a cat person.  Mum liked cats, sister liked cats, Dad tolerated cats and it just followed that I would own cats. In fact, Chivers and Tazzie are my two, now aged, moggies who've been with me through thick and thin and life's ups and downs since 1992.

However, in 2005 this self confessed feline fanatic, found herself becoming a canine convert, with the addition of a lurcher - Mina.

Four years on and the canines outnumber the humans and felines! Stevie - a retired racing greyhound - joined us in April 2008 and in May 2009 we were joined by Jasper, another retired racing greyhound.

I'm now a complete canine convert and have a soft spot for all greyhounds and gazehound breeds - so much so that I now support and spend my free time helping the Lincolnshire Greyhound Trust - http://www.lincolnshiregreyhoundtrust.com/