Just a plain brown tabby

Just a plain brown tabby,

That's probably what most people saw looking at Sophia.

I saw the cat against which all others will be measured for the rest of my life; my most favourite little purring being. 

She was sweet, snuggly and sick.  Sophia was never 100% healthy in the almost five years we shared.  She was an older cat long before she got here.  She arrived with massive dental problems which eventually lead to the loss of almost all her teeth. 

She bossed me around every chance she got; demanded canned food multiple times per day, despite the fact that she could chew just fine!

Sophia was not a lap cat; she was a face cat.  When I first pulled her out of a cage in the shelter, she nuzzled into my neck purring her head off.  Her mission, when she was not demanding food, was to be as close to my face as she could get.  I often awoke with my nose full of cat fur and convinced I was being smothered! 

Sophia passed away in the wee hours of Friday morning; she died in her favourite spot, curled up on my shoulder with her little tabby face pressed against my cheek.  Her tiny body could no longer win its multiple battles. 

I will miss you, my little purring scarf.

The Big Kahoona

The first time I saw her she jumped up on the gate to her chain link kennel, stared me straight in the eyes and dared me to take her home!

If I had known then what that stare meant, I'd have wished her well and walked away. All I saw was big brown eyes an an underweight dog in a kennel too small for her. I loved her instantly and paid her adoption fee on the spot.

Kayleigh was the toughest dog I have ever known. Tough in every sense of the word. She was huge, tough to control, tough to confine, tough to train with a stubborn streak a mile wide. It took her a long time to realize she didn't have to defend herself here; that there would always be enough food; I would not forget to feed her and there were more tennis balls if she wrecked one.

Kayleigh pushed her limits her whole life. There were several emergency runs to the vet...she liked the taste of porcupine, she ate a box of toothpicks, her littermate who we briefly fostered tried to rip her throat out. There was never a dull moment in her younger years!

We were not the perfect home for Kayleigh. She was not meant to be a pack dog. She would not tolerate most dogs anywhere near her territory. Kayleigh had an out of control prey drive. If it was smaller than her, it was prey. She had been hungry as a puppy and she never forgot that feeling. Age mellowed her a bit, but she was always a 110 pound handful!

By the time we realized Kayleigh was not just having adjustment issues, that she had real issues that weren't going to be easy to fix, it was too late. We loved her and she had such a history of chaos that we could not have responsibly placed her in another home.

So we set out to give her the best life we could within her limits. My husband built her a pen more secure than the local jail; full of places she could dig with lots of room to stretch her legs, connected to the shop ; so she could still be an inside dog. I would sneak her out late at night in summer and take her to the quarries for a swim. She loved to swim!

Kayleigh was tough, but she was not tough to love. She was full of personality, vibrant and happy. She had a quirky sense of humor and more than a hint of mischief in her eyes. She firmly believed she was not too big to be a lap dog. She loved a good belly rub, a long cuddle and a good game of fetch.

Kayleigh turned 13 in October. Acute kidney failure stole her from us yesterday.


She taught me more in the 11 years we shared than I could have learned from 100 easier dogs. I will miss her dearly.

It wasn't a perfect life; I hope it was enough.

Kayleigh, the Big Kahoona
October 21, 1998 - November 23, 2011

How things have changed...

A year ago today, we released Sleet and Goldie from their failing bodies. 

They were both old dogs, good dogs, so different in so many ways, but such good girls. Such a huge part of this place.

Sleet was our very first Yukon dog, my first lead dog; so smart it was a little scarey and the sweetest creature I've ever met.  She was pure sugar! She was almost sixteen when she died; her spirit still strong, but her body unable to keep up anymore. 

Sleet was a creature of habit.  She hated change.  She never missed a turn on the trail, always knew the way home, but could not figure out how to go around a box in her way in the house!  I still keep her path clear at all times!

Goldie was the first shelter dog I met in the Yukon. It took me three years to get her to our home, but I knew that first day that she was meant to be here! 

Goldie was tough.  Life was not kind to her in early years.  She was abused, malnourished and unloved. Three years in the shelter would break most dogs.  Not Goldie!  She had issues, but she moved on.  She formed a deep bond with Chase; she delighted in every opportunity to stretch her short legs; she relished every meal and made it her mission to keep the Ravens away from her pen!  She was fiesty, funny and very vocal.

In the end cancer was tougher than even Goldie, but she put up one hell of a fight.  Given weeks to live when diagnosed, she stayed for 18 months and enjoyed every minute of her time. 

We knew that Sleet and Goldie were leaving that day.  What we did not know was what the next year would bring.  In the next 12 months we lost five more dogs and one of our feline crew.  Only the feline death was not horribly shocking. 

Puff was at least 20 years old.  She was not expected to live long when we got her.  She stayed for four years before leaving on her own terms to find her first owner again.  We mourned her passing, but it was not a suprise.

We did not expect to loose Founder in January; the way Bandit died will haunt us forever; euthanizing Mac & Ozzy was the single hardest thing we have ever done and a heartbreaking decision we hope to never face again.

Earle was 12, but we were expecting a couple more years with him.  We continue to struggle with the fact that the best dog ever is gone. 

The changes around here in one short year are amazing.  Some of them are terribly sad; the absence of our departed pack members is felt everyday.

At the same time some of the changes are nice.  I did not realize how much tension Mac & Ozzy caused in the pack.  I have not broken up a fight, rushed a bleeding dog to the vet, tended wounds, stitches, drains etc in months.  Since the end of February, I have not had to break up a single dog fight.  I rarely have to even yell "KNOCK THAT OFF" anymore. 

The yard is quieter, more peaceful these days . The dogs, except for Tehya, are all seniors.  They don't cause nearly as much havoc and chaos as they once did.  No one digs under the fence or leaps over it.  Getting through the gate is much easier! 

Feeding takes much less time and so much less food!  One 5 gallon bucket of meat chunks feeds the whole pack.  It used to take two of those buckets. 

One of my extremely timid dogs, Sundin, has decided it's safe to unpack his baggage now. He's still a shy little dude, but he hangs out in the main yard quite often now.  He lets me pet him with increasing regularity. 

Pacer used to have to be in his pen all the time.  The other dogs picked on him and he was seriously injured a couple times.  Now Pacer lounges on the deck, joins in group howl sessions and is able to go wherever he wants without getting beat up!

We decided some time ago that we would not be adding to pack anymore;  not filling the empty spots left by those who move on.  That has been a difficult decision to stick to sometimes, but we have new plans and new horizons to explore. 

We have enjoyed and continue to enjoy life with a big pack.  It's been quite an adventure so far!  This past year has brought many changes.  The coming years will undoubtly bring more, some heartbreaking, some delightful. 

I would change the heartbreak if I could, but not if it meant missing out on knowing, living with, loving this group of furry friends.