Her reply:

I may have to change the name of my catblog.

“Kitty Dish.” Hmmmm.

I think the name it’s got is just fine, but having changed the name of my own blog several times, I’m not going to kick up a fuss if she wants to change the name of hers.

With Miss Lucy’s pre-August-2004 life a mystery to us, we have freely indulged in all sorts of speculation. Since she’s likely a Border Collie mix, I had wondered if she might have done any agility stuff in the past. Well, I think that’s been answered.

The Fayette County Humane Society held a fundraiser on Saturday, June 2nd, at the Peachtree City Dog Park. One of the many attractions brought in for the event was the Doggie Fun Zone, a traveling agility course specially designed so that dogs with no experience can run the course.  A typical agility course contains a number of obstacles such as jumps and tunnels scattered about an area, and the handler must direct the dog through the obstacles in a specific pattern. Doggie Fun Zone had a definite course laid out with mesh fencing, directing the dog (and handler, sort of) through a maze that contained the jumps and so forth. There was also a lure line running through the course—a white cloth on a cord that would hopefully entice the dog to chase it through the obstacles. All in all, a pretty cool setup, and some of the dogs were barreling through the course for all they were worth.

Lucy chose that particular time to act like she knew how to heel.

Baby gates were set up between the sides of each obstacle and the mesh fencing, to ensure that the dog didn’t go around an obstacle. Handlers, however, were cautioned to go back and forth over the mesh as needed rather than over the baby gates. So I was doing quite a bit of awkward swinging over the mesh, while encouraging Lucy to stay on course. (Do as I say, not as I do.) The lure was of almost zero interest to her, and she was very content to wait around until I had finished my gymnastics to find out where I wanted her to go next. But to her credit, she didn’t balk at the tunnels as some dogs might—if she could see me calling her on the other side, she would happily trot through, and then continue to stick right with me until the next obstacle.

Our not-exactly-blistering run was capped off by Miss Congeniality’s noticing a group of dogs she wanted to meet just outside the Fun Zone, and she hopped right over the mesh fencing, missing the last tunnel. Honestly, instead of a cloth, I think the very best lure for her would have been one of the other dogs running through the course at top speed!

But, we’ll be ready for ‘em next time. Lucy doesn’t have any “fetch” instinct that I can detect, but we’ve been quite successful with a game called “Get The Treat!”, where I throw a dog treat across the yard and she runs after it, then comes back to me for another round. Not “fetch” exactly, but it’s a start. Maybe I’ll start tying the treat to a white cloth or something. We’ll get this figured out—she’s a smart girl, not to mention the best doggie in the ‘verse.

My boss left a book on my desk one day, with a note saying he thought I’d enjoy reading it. The book was Marley & Me by John Grogan, about the big adorable wrecking ball of a yellow Lab that was part of his family for many years. There were plenty of warnings in the reviews on the back cover—“a funny, touching tribute...”, “tenderly follows its subject from sunrise to sunset...” I knew I’d thoroughly enjoy most of the book, even while dreading the end. And sure enough, Marley’s exploits were a pure delight. Last night I was still reading for a good while after Kevin had gone to sleep, and I had to stifle several good outbreaks of mirth. A great book. I guess it’s a trade-off that those of us who will enjoy such a book the most will also be the most saddened when the wonderful furry protagonist’s time on Earth comes to a close, in large part because it brings to mind our own experiences of losing a pet in the past, and our dread of losing the dear ones who share our lives now. Lucy benefited greatly from my finishing that book—she got invited in for hugs and treats even though she was kinda wet.

I’m going to have to recommend that book to some folks who live in our neighborhood. Their goofy yellow Lab, Sandbag, comes to visit us sometimes despite the electronic fence around his yard. (I have got to ask them one day if he got his name because someone saw him all curled up as a puppy and said “Aww, he looks just like a little sandbag!") I get the feeling they think he’s quite a handful, and I won’t disagree, but he’s also a very sweet boy—and next to Marley I bet he’s a model of canine deportment!

When Sandbag comes to visit I take him home. Someday when we get a proper fence I’ll be happy to let him romp with Lucy for awhile (she seems to think he’s an absolute rockstar—I swear last time he came by I saw her throwing a bra—and he’s not discouraging her one bit!) For now, I take him right home, and I hope his people don’t misunderstand. I tell them every time, I love him and I love his visits, I just want him to be safe. There are a couple of women who walk in our neighborhood (I don’t think they live here, so who invited ‘em anyway...) carrying big sticks. They seem to be quite irrational about dogs. One time Lucy ran up to them in her usual “Ooh, more people to love!” fashion, which if they had any grasp whatsoever of canine body language they should have realized, but one of them raised her huge stick over her head and whacked it hard on the ground in front of Lucy—fortunately not making contact, or she would have had to deal with me. OK, I can try to have some sympathy for severe dog phobia because my mom has it too, but dang it, even with the phobia Mom adores Lucy. So those women need to get a clue, and give a sweet loving dog a chance.

I’m not sure, but I’d almost bet those women were involved in a disgusting episode several years ago. The dogs next door at the time were Smokey and Cassie. Smokey’s part Chow, and he does bark (that’s all!) at what he considers potential invaders. Also, at that time, he wasn’t contained in the yard, so he might have ventured into the cul-de-sac. But somehow, the dogcatcher was called to come get him out of his own yard. And when the dogcatcher couldn’t corral Smokey, he instead picked up and hauled off poor Cassie, who was so old and arthritic she could barely walk, much less bother any pedestrians. I caught this performance, gave him a piece of my mind which he of course ignored (and then lied barefaced to me, denying it all when I confronted him about the Auschwitz-like extermination methods used at our lovely Coweta County “humane” facility...) In the end, all I could do was to track down my neighbor at work and let him know, so poor harmless Cassie could be sprung as quickly as possible. Grrrrr… Yeah, I know, I’m irrational too—but mine’s the good kind!

But anyway. Next on my critter reading list is a story I know has a happy ending (and in my brain it’s going to freeze-frame that way!)—From Baghdad, With Love, about a puppy who was adopted by some Marines in Iraq, and who has now been brought back to the States to live happily ever after with the unit’s commander.

I don’t think either of Chris’ eventually-elderly cats—Lyric and Furrari—suffered from dementia. Lyric’s eyesight was failing but her personality didn’t change much from what Chris has told me of her kitten years; other than the usual mellowing with age (which in Lyric’s case is a relative thing, at least with regard to other cats). Furrari had kidney troubles and eventually went blind, which was accompanied by some odd behaviors but for all I know that’s how a completely blind cat behaves.

Still, this suggests something to watch for as Taz, now eleven-ish, gets older. So far his personality hasn’t changed much though. His proportions of cranky to cuddly have changed slightly but that’s that mellowing-with-age thing. Plus having a cuddly young thing like Mickie slurping on him whenever she gets the chance.

As you might expect, Fred was not amused, said nuts to you fella, tore a hole in the screen door and left. Cookie did hop through the hole Fred made (this is a guess; we’re blaming him because he was apparently the most motivated!), but she hung out on the porch until Mom discovered the situation in the morning. Cookie is still a very petite kiddo, even though at two years old she’s theoretically full-grown; not being quite so squeezed, plus her easygoing nature, may account for her equanimity in the face of such an insult. But Fred has been known to make himself scarce inside the house for hours when, say, Kevin and I would come in the door with suitcases (this was early in Fred’s and our relationship; he’s completely cool with us now.) So this quite understandable disappearing act was not exactly out of character.

Mom didn’t let me know about this until Fred had been gone for a day and a half, and she was just at her wits’ end. She had gone all over the neighborhood talking to people and putting up flyers. The neighborhood children, trying to be helpful, had run around all over the place calling him (which was just about as likely to bring him out of hiding as, say, a 747 landing on their street.)

After we got off the phone, I tried to think of ways I could help. I wondered if any pet detectives worked in the area. A Google search turned up the website of Carl Washington, Pet Detective, plus a number of highly complimentary articles about him from other sources, including one that mentioned his successful search for a dog in Chattanooga.

I will admit, I was still a bit skeptical—then I saw that one of the recommendations was by none other than noted cat expert Carole Wilbourn. Ms. Wilbourn’s book Cats Prefer It This Way has been a favorite of mine for years.

So, at 10:30 at night, I called Mr. Washington. He was on his way to Miami for a search, but said if necessary he’d head to Chattanooga afterward.  Meantime, he suggested his very reasonably-priced service where he examines aerial photos, etc. and draws up a specific search plan for the owner to follow, based on his years of experience with the behavior of lost pets. Sounded good to me, so I sent the money via Western Union the next day, as requested, so he could pick it up where he was.

Immediately, even before he had a chance to prepare the custom map, he sent me the generic verbiage that goes along with it, telling what the various marks mean, and what to do at those locations. I immediately forwarded it to Mom, and the instructions were clear enough that she could implement some of the ideas even before she got the map itself. Lo and behold, Fred was enticed home that evening as a direct result of one of the suggestions. Mr. Washington, you have gained several more fans, and you have our heartfelt gratitude.

I think if you look up “wonderfully demented cat fanatic” on Wikipedia, you might just see my picture.

Now Hear This World: I have officially begun my Christmas list.