So, yesterday I forgot to close the garage door…
And this morning, I noticed that Dante has disappeared from his spot outside our house…
When I heard about this project, I wanted to be in it. Compassion is a powerful, powerful thing and so beautiful it almost always brings me to tears.
Then I thought, what on earth am I going to write about? And, just like that. I knew.
I think I love seeing compassion because it’s in all of us. It has no race, no religion, only kindness and understanding.
I remember being taught as a child that animals have no compassion. I forget who said it but today, I know that person had no idea. Animals are incredibly compassionate.
Check out this cow. She’s in her glory. I actually think she’s smiling. Who knew cows liked hugs?
Monkeys like them too.
So do humans…
I saw a show on TV the other day about animals who adopted other baby animals. Turns out, this happens in nature more often than I thought.
That’s a baby owl. Not a puppy.
This one adopted ducklings.
This one is a pigeon and a baby squirrel.
The examples go on and on.
All of them are animals being compassionate.
Humans can do it too.
And when we do, it’s a beautiful thing.
Trying to sell our house, we’ve gone out of our way to make it as attractive as possible. We wanted to attract buyers. Problem is, we attracted something else instead.
There are three cats who love our house more than their own and there’s a chipmunk who’s set and determined to be the next resident. But worse than either of them, are the fruit flies.
One tiny, innocent fruit fly appeared in our kitchen one day. Apparently, he liked what he saw because the next day he brought fifty-two of his closest friends.
Gross and annoying they may be, but I don’t like to kill them. So, I searched in Google and created a trap. You use plastic wrap and cover a small container that has juice or wine or vinegar, then poke holes into the plastic. The flies smell the juice and go in through the holes. Since they’re not exactly mental giants, they forget how they got in and can’t come out.
It worked like magic and soon there were ten of the little flies buzzing away inside the container. Determined to save their insect lives, I took them outside. I thought I’d release them back into the wild (aka my backyard) where they would live happily with others of their kind. It would be a beautiful, cathartic experience that would enrich my cosmic Karma and their experience with humankind. I even heard music playing in my head as I lifted the plastic wrap…
And they flew right back into the house.
Maybe I should wonder about my own mental capacity.
We try to keep our dogs entertained. We’ve bought them everything from so-called indestructible Kong products, to rings, to ropes, to assorted soccer and basketballs, to a baby pool. So, of course, they get bored and, when they get bored they do what kids do: destroy things or each other.
Yesterday we were enjoying a post-meal relaxing cup of tea when we heard a doggie cry that didn’t stop. Being our easy-going, relaxed selves, we jumped from the couch, sending the tea flying and ran out to see what had happened to our ‘babies’.
Ocean was on the ground holding up a back paw and crying. River was hovering nearby looking incredibly guilty.
Now dog-books will tell you not to soothe a dog that’s crying because, apparently that’s sending the dog the psychological message that they should cry all the time. It’s called positively reinforcing the behaviour. But, I have to admit, I ignored all such advice and threw myself next to Ocean and petted her while I tried to see if she was okay.
My therapist-husband is incredibly calm in these situations. I, on the other hand, am an emotional mess. While he moved Ocean’s injured limb to test for injury, I ran back to the house to get the phone and call the emergency vet, told River that we still loved him and knew he ‘didn’t mean it’, and cried enough that I couldn’t see the numbers on the phone.
Ocean was fine. Two minutes later she was walking on the leg and not half an hour later she was picking a new fight with River. We were pretty shook up (well, I was). I hate seeing animals in pain. I just can’t bear it.
I’m finding I may be a bit biased. I can tolerate someone getting hurt or even get killed in a book or movie but I can’t watch if a doggie so much as gets an eyelash in their eye. Thankfully, most animal heroes make it out okay of most movies or books–otherwise, I don’t know what I would do.
Our dogs seemed to realize they had pushed us far enough for a day and they were as good as gold for the rest of the day. They’re asleep on the floor next to me right now, looking as innocent as angels. So cute…until the next time they get bored.
So Ocean is blowing her coat and we’re practically swimming in dog hair. Blowing their coat is an expression dog owners use to explain the weeks they live with constant hair thanks to their doggies. Apparently it happens twice a year. We thought this happened along with the seasons but, since we’re in the middle of winter, and Ocean is changing hers, that’s obviously not the case.
Dogs that have short hair shed all the time but in little bits. Dogs that have long hair, shed twice a year and shed enough to coat a herd of sheep. However, they only do so twice a year and that’s because if they did it more frequently, their owners would kick them out of the house for good.
While short-haired dogs have hair that’s like bristles, long-haired dogs have fine, fine hair that sticks together and creates little balls of ‘fluff’. It’s very soft and sticky and, trust me, you do not want to get it in your eye.
Ocean has been blowing her coat for roughly three weeks now. That means that for twenty one days we’ve been living surrounded by these little (or not so little) balls of fluff and we’ve had more than a few of them in our eyes, in our food, in our bed and in our clothes. They accumulate overnight and are so numerous that my husband finally had enough.
He bought an industrial-size wet-vac the size of my Jeep.
The power of this thing is such that you could use it to strip paint from walls. It sucks everything from dirt to water, to little children. The little weightless fluffs disappeared instantly….aaaand so did some earrings, my good socks, a good number of pens, change and basically anything that wasn’t nailed to the ground.
That’s when my hubby tried to vacuum the dog…Let’s just say it didn’t go well and leave it at that.
Did I mention we’re getting another akita?
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