Tag Archives: animals

Naming the Animals: Everyday Magic, Day 516

Posted on March 12, 2012 | 1 Comment

The old story goes that Eve named the animals, but we know better when it

Natalie with Miyako when she was still a kitten

comes to what we call each species. As for me, I’ve helped name a parade of animals that have come through my home, for better or for worse, and some of these names caused great trouble or its opposite. Here are some of those namings:

  • Pinky Velvet, the cat, was named by Daniel (velvet because of how soft she was — hey, he was 6) and Natalie (pinky because she looked almost pink in a certain light). Bad name, and no wonder she grew up to be an idiot savant and psychopath (she would attack whoever was petting her after cuddling with them, but she could relieve herself in the toilet). Sad to say, the coyotes got her.
  • Nellie-Boy, another cat, found in a carpet store parking lot confused us gender-wise at first, and since the kids were reading Charlotte’s Web, Nellie it was (after one of Charlotte’s baby spiders). Gender-confusing names can lead to a world of trouble, as can moving to the country just when he entered cat puberty. He turned feral, and bad things happened.
  • Shelby Chocolate Pudding Dog ran away, but such is the way with anyone named after a dessert.
  • Judith A. (for Action-ia) Hunter, our cat, suffers from PTSD (because of an incident with Pinky Velvet), but she did serve on the board of a non-profit once, all in the name of giving other species more rights.
  • Mariah Lily Karumba Lassman, our labmation, is alive and well at age 14, but when the radio plays, “And they called the wind Mariah,” she tilts her head in approval.
  • Saulina Goldberg, a cat, seemed like Saul to us until we took her to a vet who declared, “This here is a pussy cat!” Saul became Saulina, and at that moment, stopped staring angrily at me from just under the sofa and became as affectionate as she was intelligent (and she was a genius). She lived to 20 years, and we miss her dearly.
  • Lou Lassman, a cat, was a big, loveable tabby who, despite attacking small children when he was younger, came to love the babies we brought home from the birthing center. He died around age 8, most likely from injuries from his secret life (he would regularly disappear for days, and return home in primo condition, which made us wonder if he had a second family).
  • Shay, our new dog, a labaraner, is named so because he got used to being called Dwayne at the Humane Society, and we needed a name that had that long a. We tried Wayne, Shane and Blaine but none fit, so Shay it became.
  • Miyako, our sweetheart cat, was named so because it’s Japanese for “beautiful night child” and is also obviously the name of a city in Japan. Her brother Hideki (a name that conjures strength) — who was velcroed to her often — didn’t live up to his name and disappeared in the wilds. Luckily, she’s replaced us for him in her affections.

So what have you named your animals, and what paths did these names lead them through?

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Leader of the Pack: Everyday Magic, Day 514

Posted on March 9, 2012 | 1 Comment

One dog, and you’re a person with a dog. Two dogs, and you’re part of the pack.

I’ve been learning this vividly since Shay moved in with us. Now I have a canine parade tailing me through the house, sitting together with mournfully expectant looks on their faces when I approach the refrigerator (which holds, on top, a box of doggie treats). When I walk toward the front door, go down the stairs, head toward the bathtub or climb into bed, I’m no longer an individual who happens to live with animals, but alpha dog in the sacred and zany pack that lives here.

Having never lived with multiple dogs, it’s a strange sensation to be surrounded by fur and followed by the click-clack staccaco of two big dogs’ nails on wooden floors. Furthermore, as leader of this pack, it falls to me to set the example. No more slipping the old dog food under the table when no one is looking (unless, by miracle, the new dog is far, far away outside for the moment). Much more asking the other members of the pack to sit, stay and come (which they do, amazing me since I could never train my kids accordingly). A lot of throwing squeaky toys and mixing up dog genders (particularly hard when you have one female and one male), cleaning up, hauling bags of dog food and turning my head when one of the dog does something completely disgusting (I’ll spare you the details).

When I leave the house, without a dog or two in tow, I’m just a person, but when I return I find myself deep in the den with the others who will follow me closely downstairs or up, inside or out, so happy to just be running, walking, knocking things over and surging forward as part of the pack. Even at night, especially at night, the pack is tight, dreaming together in our bedroom thanks to one queen-sized bed and two dog beds. They wake and come to me, staring into my sleeping face until I wake too, the reluctant, tired and happy leader of the pack.

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We Got a Dog!: Everyday Magic, Day 508

Posted on February 28, 2012 | 3 Comments

When the Chocolate Labaraner (Weimaraner + Lab) chooses you, who are you to say no? So the day after I finished traveling 39 rings of hell home, I went to the pound with Mariah, our 14-year-old Labmation, for a check-you-out date with the dog who had two weeks ago arrived at our front door. They clicked, and Mariah, who is Ms. Submissive with us, excelled at being the most excellent elder alpha dog. We also had the dog to be formerly known as Dwayne cat-checked, which meant someone paraded him through the cat room to see if he bared his teeth. He didn’t.

My name is Mariah, and I'm happy to have a young male escort

After going through over an hour of pet adoption counseling (seriously! and actually a good thing), we drove the older female Labmation and younger male Labaraner home, debating what to rename him. I was sold on Desi Arnaz, Natalie (by cell phone) wanted Peter, Forest wanted none of these names, Ken wanted Shane, and Daniel and Natalie thought Shane was *insert curseword* stupid. Since it was Ken’s 57th birthday, he got final say, and he suggested Shay, which sounds enough like Dwayne so that the dog formerly known as Dwayne responds to it.

Shay is an energetic guy, and for the first day mostly stood next to one of us, making purring sounds in between eating and drinking everything in sight. The second day, he got sick as a dog, and a visit to the vet confirmed kennel cough, an ear infection, and as we and our mop, plus multiple towels, soon discovered, a horrific stomach virus all. night. long. The benefit of being so pathetic that the cats came out of hiding to stare at him from high shelves, changing their “evil-monster-come-to-kill-us” assessment to “you-call-this-a-dog?”

My name is Shay (thank god, I'm not called Dwayne)

Whatever the cat’s opinion, I call this a dog, and a lively, handsome, smart dog at that. Within a few hours, he walked to the front door and put his mouth on the door knob when he wanted to go out, and after he figured out that obeying “Sit!” got him a treat, he started running to sit before any of us when we were eating. So I think he’s a genius, but most of all — as he sleeps on his dog bed beside me a few feet from where Mariah sleeps on hers — I know he’s our dog. He looks into our eyes as if he’s always known us, which may well be true.

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“Can We Keep Him?” or If You Give a Chocolate Lab a Bagel…..: Everyday Magic, Day 499

Posted on February 13, 2012 | 2 Comments

I know you’re not supposed to feed dogs bagels, but when the chocolate lab in our car — who showed up this snowy morning on our porch — stared mournfully over my shoulder as I ate my bagel, what could we do? Ken went back into the bagel shop to get one for the dog.

And what a dog: a beautiful teenage boy of a chocolate lab (from what we can tell). He was nose to nose with our black lab, Mariah this morning, each of them on a different side of the screen, fast friends and ready to play. We don’t know where he came from, if he was abandoned or lost, only that he loved us immediately, and when I opened the car door, he bounded in with great happiness.

We figured we’d drop him off at the Humane Society on the way to the airport (I fly to Vermont soon), but the Humane Society was closed until 9, and we needed to leave for KCI before then. So the dog gets a bagel and rides to the airport and back.

It didn’t take long, maybe a minute or so, after meeting this sweetheart puppy for us to start wondering, especially since he’s pretty thin and in need of a bath (which could mean he’s not well-loved)……..what if no one claims him? And since it seems our very old female dog already likes this very young male dog, it might be pretty wonderful to have a set of labs. So we’ll see what happens. Meanwhile, all it took was one text picture to Natalie and Forest riding with the dog and us on his way to school this morning for both of them, and me too, to ask, “Can we keep him?”

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Cat in a Book, Dog in a Hat: Everyday Magic, Day 440

Posted on November 9, 2011 | 2 Comments

It’s cold, it’s raining, and after shlepping about to and fro, all I can say is that there are times to relish animals pictures, and that time is now. So here are two — our cat Miyako in a book (she takes reading seriously), and our dog Mariah in a hat (from Peru actually, her gift for a moment from Ken’s trip). I think they both look fetching, but then again, I do live with them. What can I say? I think they both look fetching, and on a cold, wet night, animals in literature and Peruvian caps just kind of rule.

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Why You Shouldn’t Save a Skink By Its Tail or Untether a Spider From Your Rearview Window: Everyday Magic, Day 394

Posted on August 25, 2011 | 1 Comment

I was just trying to help, honest. So when the cat brought in the iridescent skink, ready to tear off its limbs while purring loudly, I managed to grab the skink by the tail to take it back outside and out of cat claw reach. The electric blue tail broke right off, and only that, but it coiled wildly in the floor for minutes, jumping and twirling. I screamed for Daniel who, as a biology major, knows what many of you know: skink’s tails just break off automatically in such situation so that big mammals can’t have their way with the little shiny lizards. Luckily, Daniel could save the skink in a greeting card and take it to safety outside.

An hour later, when I got in my car and saw the spider clutching the side-view mirror, I remembered running hours of chores with that spider hanging on for dear life to its web between the mirror and car door while I drove 55 mph. So I did what seemed kind: I tossed a little water on her so that she spun herself down, and then broke her new webbing so that she went to the ground. I saw her racing toward the woods, pissed off but less likely to get flung to a highway death. Later that night, after I told Ken how I saved the spider, he shook his head and told me she had been there for weeks and even rode to the airport and back with him. It seems she likes the wind in her hair, or whatever slightly fuzzy covering she has.

All I can say is that I tried, and trying isn’t always the right thing. On the other hand, the skink will regrow his gorgeous tail instead of drying out dead behind the armchair in the living room, and the spider is probably webbing the woods right now……or maybe she’s crept back behind that sideview mirror in her spider RV. At least this time if I see her, I’ll let her ride and maybe direct any errant flies out my window right into her web.

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In Praise of Homecoming: Everyday Magic, Day 359

Posted on July 5, 2011 | 1 Comment

Take the mail, for instance, and the irrational thrill of a big pile of envelopes, ferreting out the half of them that instantly go into recycling to find a few lovely surprises (a note from a friend, a $5 gift card for a hardware store) among the bills.

Then all that was in the car that, when ferried into the house, expands exponentially to the point that it’s hard to imagine how it fit in the car, much like looking at any of my children few years after birth and wondering how s/he ever fit in me. I find it’s best to make a mad run for unloading and unpacking everything because if I don’t do it within a few hours of arrival, those lopsided suitcases will sit around various rooms for days.

Sometime in the first 30 minutes home, the animals emerge, first the dog, carrying a shoe to present us with in honor of our homecoming, and then the skin-gangster little kitty, usually meowing furiously before flinging herself in our arms, which makes it tricky to haul boxes and bags. Eventually, the anti-social cat comes out of the shadows and is uncharacteristically affectionate for five minutes before attacking us.

Within a few hours, there’s that glorious moment of sitting down in a good chair, computer on lap, new magazines to my right, animals to my left (the herd settling by my side after escorting me room to room), with a big glass of iced water. Dinner turns out to be rice krispies because anything else is too complex. The radio tells me I’m home through its familiar voice tones. The overgrown gardens wave at me through the windows.

There will be that stretchy kind of post-vacation fatigue to come, coffee to replenish, and a few trips to the grocery store in my future, but upon arrival, I lean back into one of the sweetest moments of the vacation: when it’s all over.

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Cats Taught Us To Lie: Everyday Magic, Day 169

Posted on January 4, 2011 | 1 Comment

Liars! That’s our cats are, and most likely, so are yours. They lie so seamlessly, so naturally that it’s becoming clear to us that they must have taught humans how to lie.

I walked in the door after yoga today, and immediately Miyako, our sweet little cat, rushed to the laundry room threshold and told me that Ken wasn’t home yet, and no one had fed her dinner. “You don’t eat dinner until bedtime,” I reminded her, only to meet Judy, our big, mean PTSD cat, who backed up Miyako’s story, and said they eat when we eat. I thought of pouring them some food, but then I heard Ken rustling around in the other room, and when I went in to say hello, he said, “Just got here, and just fed the cats.”

This is what cats do: they lie their furry butts off. “I want to go out,” they tell us, but no, they really want to stand on the threshold and ponder their past life as horses. They haven’t been fed for days, weeks even when really, they just ate. They hate cheese, wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole, and they hate dogs too, but really, they love all things dairy and have been known to party with the canines on occasion.

I have no doubt that cats — “bandits in fur pants” as my friend Stephanie calls them — not only are liars but the ones who taught us to lie. And what I’m saying is the truth, honest and cross my heart.

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What I Learned In 2010: Everyday Magic, Day 168

Posted on January 2, 2011 | Comments Off

2010 is toast. Here’s what it taught me in a nutshell:

  • With a cheap, plastic sewing machine under hand, I can still sew…..and to my surprise, I can sew wabi sabi quilts.
  • I love to play a video game (who knew?) — Typer Shark — although Ken says my typing all those sharks to death could have environmental repercussions.
  • It wasn’t devastating to have my daughter leave home. And between texting, facebook-messaging, phone-calling and skype, it’s kind of like she didn’t leave.
  • It’s very cool to have sons taller than me, and in the case of Forest, much taller than me.
  • I’m blown away by the compassion and community I saw gather around one friend who lost her son, another who lost her wife, and a group of us who lost mutual friends. Death is hard (understatement), but being here for each other is what makes the unbearable bearable.
  • I can sleep easily with a purring cat on my chest for hours.
  • If need be, I can lift our 80-pound lab-mation and get her into the car and onto the table at the vet’s.
  • True but a little sad: I am MUCH healthier without wheat, dairy or sugar in my diet.
  • True and delightful: I’m most in love with the world and alive — even when not feeling my best — when doing yoga everyday.
  • “Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World” is a great movie, and I’m glad to have seen it twice.
  • There only seems to be one television show at a time that I like/love, and this time, it’s “Bones.”
  • Sky Islands are singular mountains dotted throughout the Sonoran Desert (and beyond) where the altitude changes creates complete changes in climate.
  • All estimates for most climate changes I know of were vastly understated, and although my family rolls my eyes when I say this, I don’t think much of the coasts will survive beyond my lifetime (and maybe not more than a decade or two).
  • Bluebirds in winter, Indigo Bunting in summer, and all of life is good.
  • I actually like brussel sprouts when chopped finely into stir-fry.
  • I’m better than I thought at wasting time.
  • French farce in theater, when done well, is wickedly funny.
  • Mopping can be magical.
  • Warmed up enough, I can touch my toes without bending my knees, but I still can’t meditate worth a damn.
  • Whimsy rules.
  • Cats are the ones who taught humans all about lying (as in, “No one has fed me for days” ten minutes after they got fed).
  • Minneapolis and St. Paul blur so seamlessly into each other that it’s easy to lost in the Twin Cities vortex.
  • There’s nothing that can’t be made better by playing some Laura Nyro, Leonard Cohen, Bruce Springsteen, Kelley Hunt, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Joni Mitchell, Greg Greenway or Louis Armstrong.
  • I seriously don’t want to know what or how much my kids drink at college or all manner of other things that happen late at night.
  • Without pressure, and with family I love, I actually kind of don’t always dislike Christmas so much.
  • Macaroons: the wonder food. All manner of squash too.
  • It’s always this question: “How to live?” and it’s always this answer, “With kindness.”

Best wishes to all for 2011!

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Dogs Are Better Than Us: Everyday Magic, Day 150

Posted on December 15, 2010 | 6 Comments

It’s true. They just are. It’s not the same with cats: some particular cats might be better than some particular humans, but for the most part, cats don’t care about being good. Dogs, on the other hand, are the Boddhisattvas of the animal world, come back to earth to help us even though as enlightened beings, they could go to, say, Jupiter or other dimensions. Okay, they do eat the most disgusting things in the universe, jump up on us at unsuspecting moments, bark to go out and then back in with no rhyme and reason and occasionally fight other dogs. But just because they have issues doesn’t mean they’re not way better than your typical human.

My dog is especially better, which is not to say she is the only best dog in the world, but she’s sure one of them. We found her — of course! — at the pound. She was the dog the staff kept at their desks because she was so sweet they couldn’t bear to be away from her. A lab-mation (mostly black lab with a shield-shaped spread of white and dalmation spots on her chest, she loves everyone, and after 12 years with us, particularly us.

We got Mariah Lily Karumba Lassman because my then 10-year-old son Daniel needed a friend and our house in the country needed a dog. Did I mention I was a cat person before her? Despite her eating all the Birkenstocks in the house and being sock-obsessed, she was a pool of love from the get-go. She spent a good part of her life sleeping with one child or another, kind of like an 80-pound body pillow.

When guests arrived, even ones who didn’t like dogs, Mariah walked over, put her head tenderly in their laps and looked up with great understanding. She won them over. When delivery people or other strangers came, she ran out to greet them and rolled on her back. When any of us were sick, she slept on the floor, lengthwise against our beds, ready to jump up and follow us from room to room. When critters circled the outside of the house, she circled the inside of the house, barking them away.

She is also a wizard with cats. I once found her lying down, face to face with Saulina, our cat of 20 years who was so smart that she did our taxes for us. They stared at each other for hours in that position, and I realized this was probably a daily pit stop in their lives when the humans were gone. I’m sure they were transmitting life-giving information about healing properties of the universe, each from their respective planets. Mariah was a love bunny with a series of kittens, and is now good friends with Miyako. She’s also been a staunch defender of each kitten in his/her time from Judy, the old cat, who doesn’t mean to be so bad but suffers from PTSD.

Now Mariah is old. Her eyes are glassy (but the vet said she’s not blind), she walks with a limp because of her arthritis, and she’s graying at the edges. Yesterday, she wouldn’t stop cry-barking, so I took her to the vet from hard-core steroids and painkillers. “12 is old for a lab,” people tell me, but I haven’t really faced this reality. Yet this reality is coming fast, and as I carry-pushed her into our bedroom, where she’s slept for years on the floor beside us, I nudged her onto a large pillow, covered her with a fleece blanket, and prayed for this good dog to live happy years, and least happy months more. Some beings seem too good to die.

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