Introducing Puff...

Because I am apparently a glutton for punishment, I brought another senior kitty home a few days ago. Meet Puff:

Doesn't she look freakin' thrilled to be here?

Actually she is doing better than she was in the shelter. She's eating and using the litter box, grooming, all that stuff that stressed out kitties just don't do! She's very sweet with people. She's gonna knock herself out giving headbonks! Not so sweet with the dogs. She reminds me of Kasha when she sees a dog. No canines are allowed direct eye contact and she is not adverse to splitting a nose or two open! For an old girl she's pretty quick with the claws. She tolerates the other cats, but I wouldn't say they are buddies yet!

Puff ended up at the shelter when her owner had to go into a nursing home. A good reminder for all of us with pets to make some kind of plan for their care in case we can't take care of them. (Bud, they are all yours! heee, heee) Her shelter papers say she's 10 but I suspect she's a few years older. She's very scrawny and her coat is in lousy shape. She just acts like more like a 13 year old kitty. Glacier, my very first kitty, is 9 next month and he acts nothing like Puff. Glacier still acts like a kitten pretty frequently.

Under that ratty coat is a gorgeous smoke grey furball. Hopefully a few weeks of good food and less stress will get her into better shape.

A birthday and breakthough...

Finally a happy post!

I'm not sure where the time went, but today is Earle's 8th Birthday.

Earle was my first husky. Muskwa was around first, but he wasn't then and never will be my dog. Earle is mine. He lulled me into a false sense of security. If all Huskies were as easy to contain, train and manage as Earle is, there would be no need for seven foot fences, locks on gate latches, dig proof fence bottoms, leashes, and there would never be an emergency trip to the vet resulting from a dog fight. Earle does none of those things. He likes every other dog on the planet; he likes every person he's ever met; he is incapable of fighting; he shares his treats and toys; he even likes the cats! Life would be much simplier if they were all like Earle! Happy Birthday sweet-pea! And to your brother too. I wish he was still here to grow old with you. And that's the only even kinda sad thing I'm typing tonight...

Sundin decided to tonight would be a good day for a little breakthough. Sundin has lived here for 19 months. In that time, not once has he approached me and of his own accord let me pet him. Chained up or cornered or in harness, Sundin is quite approachable. Untethered, he's a spooky, shy, timid little dog who wants next to nothing to do with humans. He was never abused, much of his behavior is genetic and wasn't compensated for when he was a wee one. He's seven years old now and progress is slow!

Tonight, Sundin trotted up to me, let me pet his ears and for a solid minute acted like he was enjoying it even! Those of you with normal, well adjusted dogs will think this is minor, but it almost brought me to happy tears. Then Ozzy stole Sundin's bone and he had to go get it back!

Another goodbye...

It's starting to feel like all I've done is cry lately.

I took Beau to the vet this morning. He hadn't told me off for days. He was a cranky old bugger and liked to tell me off at the slightest provocation. He also wasn't eating well and had lost some weight. He had precious little to loose in the first place. He had ridiculously long whiskers. In his prime, he must have been huge. But by the time he got to me, age had taken it's toll and he was a skinny, little slip of a cat. Beau arrived here almost exactly a year ago, already elderly, battling kidney failure and hyperthyroidism. We had a mere 53 weeks together. I had hoped to borrow some more time with him.

Beau was an independant soul. He did nothing if it wasn't entirely his idea. I wish he had waited for me. I would have liked to hold his paw, but he decided to take this last journey on his own. Beau had a seizure while at the clinic and could not be saved. His frail body could no longer fight the ravages of age.

I hope your last year was a good one, Beau. Maybe it made up for some of the comforts you missed as a younger kitty. I enjoyed spoiling you. I will miss your demanding yowls, cries for Fancy Feast at 3am, your bossy swats and that big purr. Godspeed, my tabby boy. I didn't know you long, but I will love you forever.

Godspeed, Richard...

The saying that the good die young held true this weekend with the sudden death of Richard Rodger. Richard was one of the first people I met when we moved up here. He gave my hubby his first Yukon job as a guide for Bonnet Plume Outfitters. He quickly became a treasured friend.

You couldn't help but like Richard. He was happy, outgoing and just an all round nice guy. He had a special ability to make whoever he was talking to feel like they were the only person in the room and that he truly cared about you were saying--even when you were so drunk you weren't making any damn sense! His positive attitude was contagious. No matter what life threw at him, Richard never showed any anger or bitterness. He just kept going with his silly little smile and that goofy giggle.

What I'd give to hear that giggle on my voice mail one more time demanding I bake him more cookies. The man loved his cookies and I enjoyed baking them for him. I even bought a special cookbook of nothing but cookie recipes just so Richard would have more options than plain ol' chocolate chip. I may never bake cookies without tears again.

At some point there will be comfort in the fact that Richard died doing what he loved best, flying, and where he loved to be. Right now there is only a deep sense of loss and pain. I'm glad I got to know you, Richard. I'm sorry there aren't going to be many more years of silly stories, cookies and late night bonfires. Godspeed, my friend. You'll be missed.