10 Reasons Why My Corgis Are Strange

For the record, there are more than 10 reasons the corgis are strange; it's just that I haven't mentioned these particular reasons here, in much detail anyway, before now.

10 Reasons Why My Corgis Are Strange

1. Jon Farleigh: Carries a "pacifier" (e.g., Kong, bone, rope, dirty, half-destroyed plush toy, empty plastic bottle, etc.) everywhere he goes. If it's not in his mouth (because his mouth is otherwise occupied or he's asleep), it's within reach.

His pacifier du jour.

2. Dewi: When on car rides, sits with his entire head, snout first, shoved into the crease between the back seat and the door. 

3. Jon Farleigh: Charges any cat who attempts to escape his ever-watchful eye. And by charge, I mean he springs to his feet, while violently shaking his "pacifier"-toting head. Note: No animals have ever been injured during this process (in fact, the cats mostly roll their eyes); however, some (humans included) have been jarred awake from sound sleep.

4. Dewi: Humps Jon Farleigh every time he (Jon Farleigh) charges a cat leaving the room. (Recap: Cat leaves room => JF charges cat => Dewi humps JF. Repeat, as necessary.)

5. Jon Farleigh: Growls whenever he's enjoying a particularly good back scratch.

6. Dewi: Screams in fear whenever he thinks he's going to get his nails trimmed* (as in, I am holding his paw in one hand and the clippers in the other). And by scream, I mean scream (not whine, not yelp, not bark - scream). Like this baboon scream:

Like this, except not a yawn. And substitute clippers for the dremel.

Like the last time we went to the vet for his annual physical, and they needed some blood for his heartworm check...

Me to vet assistant: He might scream. He screams when I handle his paws and he sees the nail clippers.

Assistant: That's okay, a lot of dogs do. Just hug him, like so, while we get a little blood from his wrist.

Me: [hugs Dewi]

Dewi: SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM!!!!!!

Dead people: [wake up]

Me: [soothingly to Dewi] It's okay, buddy, it's all over! What a good boy!

Vet tech: All we did was swab the site with alcohol; keep hugging him! We need to get the vessel on the first try.

Me: [to myself] Good lord, it was just a swab?!?!

1/2 dozen or so bystanders staring through the examining room door: [wonder whether to call 911]

Me: [To myself] I told them he'd scream. [to Dewi] It's okay, buddy, just a little bit longer! Good boy! Good boy! [to the Heavens] Please, God, please let that needle go in the vein on the first try.

Dewi: [quiet]

Vet tech: All done! Good job, Dewi! [Straight-up lies, while wiping beads of sweat off her brow.]

The vet'll be by in a few minutes to read the test.

7 minutes later...

Vet: [smiling] I understand this guy got a little upset getting his blood drawn.

Dewi: [wiggles and beats tail out of sheer joy]

Me: [trying not to giggle] Yeah, but he's okay now. It was just his feet. He'll be perfectly unfazed by the rest of the exam, including his shots. Really.

Vet: OK, but I've got something here that'll keep him busy--just in case--while I give him the shots. [produces jar of ground chicken baby food; proceeds to spoon half of it into a paper bowl, and place it in front of Dewi]

Me: [to myself, as Dewi scarfs down the food] Boy, does that dog know how to work a room. 

Addendum: I forgot to mention that--when he doesn't perceive me to have the clippers--Dewi loves to have his paws handled. In fact, he voluntarily "hands" them to me for all-over, between-the-pad massages. I love those stubby white feet!

OK, back to the list...

7. Jon Farleigh: Yaps and "pecks" (bonks) Maddox with his nose whenever Maddox walks into the kitchen. Conversely, is afraid to get within 5 feet of Maddox everywhere else in the house.

Like this, except not five feet away, in the kitchen, and with lotst more bonks. 

8. Dewi: Is afraid of inflated balloons.

9. Jon Farleigh: Hates so badly when the cats play with string, that he steals the string, shakes it until it's "dead," and then sits on it for safe keeping. 

10. Jon Farleigh and Dewi: Have no fear of loud noises, including (knock wood) thunder. Probably because those loud noises--compared to their loud protests against string and nail clippers, for example--pale in comparison. 

* Dewi has not always screamed (at me) while getting nail trims, nor has he ever experienced a nail injury. However, the screaming and stress is why I (mostly) take him to the groomer for nail trims now, because, for some reason, he does not scream at her.

What strange things do your dogs (or cats, if you don't have dogs) do?

Ho Ho Ho, Fleas and Ticks Don't Die in Snow! (and Here's Where They Go) #12Bravecto

When I was in kindergarten, my class sang "Up on the Housetop" in the school Christmas program. I had to memorize the words and to this day, I remember many of them: ♪♫ "Ho ho ho, who wouldn't go? Ho ho ho, who wouldn't go-oh, up on the housetop, click click click; down through the chimney with good St. Nick?" ♫♪

Can someone tell me what the heck that means? I mean, who would go down the chimney with Santa, and more importantly, WHY would anyone be on the roof with Santa to begin with? And why does Nell get a doll in her stocking, but Will gets a hammer, tacks, whistle, ball and whip? I, frankly, don't even like the Santa in this song; he's creepy!

Clearly, I am the only one with a problem.

But I digress. You see, that story has nothing to do with anything I need to tell you in this post about fleas and ticks NOT dying in snow (or frigid cold), except that it's what inspired the title. #theMoreYouKnow

FLEAS AND TICKS MIGHT NOT SURVIVE THE APOCALYPSE, BUT THEY WILL SURVIVE SNOW AND COLD

So, who's ever wondered whether fleas and ticks die when the temperatures dip below freezing and/or there's snow on the ground? (If not, what exactly was it about the title of this post that hooked you? [wink])

I certainly have! I've googled it at least once, but to tell you the truth, until I got into planning this post, I might as well have known NOTHING about the subject. If you thought fleas and ticks were genetically built for survival (aka, alien mutants from hell) before, wait until you find out how they outwit winter weather (and us, if we're not careful)!

This post is sponsored by BRAVECTO® and the BlogPaws® Pet Influencer Network™. I am being compensated to help share information about BRAVECTO.  But we only share information we feel is relevant to our readers. Neither Intervet Inc., nor Merck & Co Inc., are responsible for the content of this article and have not written, reviewed, or edited it in any fashion. For more information about BRAVECTO, please click here.

Off-topic side note: I don't believe I've ever mentioned before that when I need to research health-related things about my pets online, one of my trusted, go-to sources has always been the Merck Veterinary Manual. Seriously. It's not a substitute for an actual vet, but if one needs the straight facts, from experts in the field, it is one excellent resource. And this is a huge reason why I signed on as an ambassador for, and give my own dogs**, BRAVECTO® (Fluralaner), a chewable flea and tick preventative (that lasts up to 12 weeks* in ONE dose)!

* BRAVECTO kills fleas, prevents flea infestations, and kills ticks (black-legged tick, American dog tick, and brown dog tick) for 12 weeks. BRAVECTO also kills lone star ticks for 8 weeks.
** BRAVECTO is approved for use in dogs only. Ask your veterinarian about appropriate flea and tick prevention for your cat. 

THERE ARE PLENTY OF WARM PLACES IN AND AROUND YOUR YARD FOR FLEAS AND TICKS TO HIDE (OR RIDE)

Cold out? Snow on the ground? No problem, said the fleas and ticks in your yard! Here's where they're hiding (some in plain sight):

• In warm pockets on the ground, carved out by grass and leaves. And, when that first snow falls, it serves as a blanket, keeping bugs extra toasty. For real, they can survive all winter tucked in these warm spots!
• In your garage, covered patio, wood pile, shed or basement. Essentially ANYWHERE that there is shelter from the cold. They're tiny, y'all, and can crawl right in (and lay their disgusting eggs) undetected. 
• On the warm bodies of wild (and tame) animals. That's right; think the squirrel gets a break from fleas? Probably not. And if your pet comes in contact with one of these flea/tick-ridden animals, they can get infested too. Unless, of course, they were infested already. 
• In your home. Now, this is their FAVORITE place to hide during winter: on your pet where they can breed and lay eggs all over your home! (Click here to read about the time MY home was infested with fleas.)

Jedi wisdom. 

FLEA- AND TICK-BORNE ILLNESSES ARE DIAGNOSED IN WINTER

Even in places where winters are long and hard. In fact, ticks will start looking for a blood meal when the temperature rises to only 39 ℉; that's COLD to me!

GIVE YOUR DOG THE GIFT OF A FLEA- AND TICK-FREE HOLIDAY...ALL YEAR!

See your vet for BRAVECTO to not only ensure a pest-free home for the holidays (and a comfy, itch-free dog), but year-round. It can be done in less than five doses a calendar year!

HAVE YOU EVER DEALT WITH FLEAS AND/OR TICKS BITING IN COLD WEATHER? HAVE YOU EVER HAD TO FORGO HAVING COMPANY OVER, OR TRAVELLING WITH YOUR DOG, BECAUSE HE HAD FLEAS?

BRAVECTO is FDA approved and available only from a veterinarian or clinic. Ask your dog's veterinarian about it today. (Locate a veterinarian or clinic that carries BRAVECTO. P.S. It's accurate; I've used it myself!)

Money-saving tip: Register at My Pet Rewards for deals, such as cash rebates!

For the latest news and promotions, follow BRAVECTO on social: Facebook | Twitter

Every effort has been made to ensure the accuracy of the information published. However, it remains the responsibility of the readers to familiarize themselves with the product information contained on the USA product label or package. More product information is available here: https://intervetus.naccvp.com/product/view/1047512?e=d97b22ed63e734e84c1a5910a9c8f531z1688

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Six years ago on December 29, I published the following picture on this blog. It was my very first post. How far we've come, and at the same time, how little we've changed! Thanks for sticking with us! 

Stay toasty and insect-free! Happy holidays, y'all!

Love, 

Elizabeth, Jon Farleigh, Dewi, Lele, Maddox, Tigger, Bobby Flay, Bertie, Lulabelle and Frances

Why You Should Give Your Dog Flea Protection, Not Underwear, for Christmas* #12Bravecto

* My family celebrates Christmas. If you don't, feel free to substitute any wintertime gifting occasion you like.

From the time I was about 7, until I was old enough to drive, my grandmother gave me underwear for Christmas. Sometimes I'd get some cherry cordials, too, but mostly, it was a professionally wrapped gift box full of high-end briefs (translated: granny panties). High-end, in that they were thicker, more adorned and softer than my standard issue Sears undies, and were purchased at Montaldo's, the local boutique department store that my family couldn't afford.

In memory of my underwear. R.I.P.

My two sisters got underwear, too, so none of us felt like we were grandmother's less favored, going on to suffer irreversible emotional damage or anything. It was just a fact of life: grandmother gave us fancy (if not two sizes too big) underwear for Christmas. And each year, on Christmas Day, we girls would sneak a glance at each other after unwrapping our Montaldo's boxes, snicker a little, and then go on about our day. I have no memory of whether I ever wore any of that underwear. 

UNDERWEAR IS EASY TO GIVE, AND NECESSARY TO WEAR

Maybe it's the fear that one's offspring will get in a car accident (not major enough to be seriously injured, but bad enough that one needs to be placed on a stretcher and have one's bottoms cut off) and be caught by emergency personnel wearing nasty underwear that drives mothers and grandmothers to do it. Or maybe it's because it fits neatly in a stocking. All I know for sure is that when my kids got old enough to wear underwear (vs. a diaper) and read (in that order), I went and got them underwear for Christmas, too. Just like it had been done unto me. Except I got theirs at Target, and they wore it (because I threw their raggedy old underwear in the trash).

Please note that I won't be buying any future grandchildren of mine underwear for Christmas (because they might think I'm crazy), but I fully expect my daughters will carry on the tradition.

HOW GIVING UNDERWEAR FOR CHRISTMAS IS LIKE GIVING ONE'S DOG THE GIFT OF YEAR-ROUND FLEA AND TICK PROTECTION

But first, a shout to my sponsor, without whom, I might never have told this story! They, and their product, which I give to all my dogs, rock!

This post is sponsored by BRAVECTO® and the BlogPaws® Pet Influencer Network™. I am being compensated to help share information about BRAVECTO.  But we only share information we feel is relevant to our readers. Neither Intervet Inc., nor Merck & Co Inc., are responsible for the content of this article and have not written, reviewed, or edited it in any fashion. For more information about BRAVECTO please click here.

Answer this question: How do you feel about the idea of your dog running through a flea- and/or tick-infested field/yard/park/trail/whatever and being caught without any flea and tick preventative?

Or maybe he has preventative, but it doesn't protect from the type of tick that causes Lyme disease? Or you forgot to give him his next dose, that was due over a week ago?

And let's say a few fleas jump on him like brown on chocolate,

Would You Rather Be Bitten by Dracula or a Deadly, Plague-Infected Flea? #12Bravecto

Before you answer that impossible question, did you even know fleas carry PLAGUE? The disease* that wiped out millions of people in the Middle Ages, up to 60% of Europe's entire population, and remains the world's worst pandemic ever?

Y'all! My family came out to Arizona after BlogPaws this summer and we visited the Grand Canyon. As we approached the most visited overlook on the South Rim, THIS warning sign met us (five seconds AFTER I had already seen a tame squirrel on the path). I had not seen the word plague used in an actual present-day warning in my entire life. I didn't even know the plague was still a disease that people got! And to be honest, I wasn't convinced the National Park Service wasn't spreading tall tales just to scare the daylights out of people who ignore "do not feed the wild animals" signs! Until I googled "grand canyon squirrel fleas plague" on my iPhone...

And that the disease remains alive and spreadable in the world, including the United States? And the fleas that carry it can jump off their hosts (frequently rock squirrels) and bite pets and people? And if it's not diagnosed and treated with antibiotics early...well, you know. [insert funeral music 💀]

* The bubonic plague, to be exact. The disease--caused by the bacteria Yersinia pestis--led to gangrene (dead, rotting tissue) in human extremities, and was referred to as Black Death.  (source: CDC)

But back to my question...What's it gonna be? Dracula or the flea? (Go ahead and take 10 seconds to think about it...)

This post is sponsored by BRAVECTO® and the BlogPaws® Pet Influencer Network™. I am being compensated to help share information about BRAVECTO.  But we only share information we feel is relevant to our readers. Neither Intervet Inc., nor Merck & Co Inc., are responsible for the content of this article and have not written, reviewed, or edited it in any fashion. For more information about BRAVECTO please click here.

The one on the right is a fiend!

EW, look at the flea in that picture! Talk about a blood-sucking monster! SO nasty! The thought of those jumping all over my poor dogs (and/or cats) makes me feel sick to my stomach! (But not as sick as when I looked at this other, much worse, blood- and plague bacteria-filled flea photo from the CDC while researching this post. [retch!])

Where was I? Oh yeah! The "would you rather" question!

But whoops. I might have swayed you with those scary images. So, you know what? Scrub them from your retinas! Check out this comparison chart I made and then answer the question!

How to Inject Humor Into Removing an Embedded Tick From Your Pet #12Bravecto

Hi, there. I assume that if you're here, you've found a live tick on your pet, need to get it the heck off, and don't have a lot of time to shoot the breeze. So with respect to you, I'll keep this intro short. I appreciate your choosing to spend the next few simultaneously gross and good-humored minutes with me and my pets (as I realize you had pages of other choices in your "how to remove a tick from my pet" search results).

P.S. If you don't need to get a tick off your pet today, that's wonderful. You are welcome to remain; however, please be courteous to those who are on the verge of a full-on, spider-phobic breakdown and hold to the rear of the viewing area. Also, while humor is encouraged, please refrain from laughing AT other, more nervous participants.

I really really really really hate pulling ticks off my pets. And I really really really really hate that the grass in the field next to our yard is taller than all of them. 

And, he's in!

This post is sponsored by BRAVECTO® and the BlogPaws® Pet Influencer Network™. I am being compensated to help share information about BRAVECTO.  But we only share information we feel is relevant to our readers. Neither Intervet Inc., nor Merck & Co Inc., are responsible for the content of this article and have not written, reviewed, or edited it in any fashion. For more information about BRAVECTO please click here.

HOW TO REMOVE A LIVE, EMBEDDED TICK FROM YOUR PET (with humor)

Before you start:

• I am not a vet; however, I do have experience with successfully removing live ticks myself (vs. watching my husband do it), during the summer of 2013*. And by success, I mean they came off still alive, in one piece, did not jump on me, or bite me in the process, and I did not sustain mental or emotional trauma. If you have health-related questions beyond the scope of this blog post, please consult your pet's veterinarian. 
• Get a latex glove (or a plastic grocery/sandwich/storage bag, if you don't have a glove) to keep from having to touch the nasty bug while you're removing it. Get some tweezers or one of those tick removing tools (I don't have one, but my vet sells them), and if you plan on saving the tick for your vet, a small jar filled with alcohol and a lid. If you don't plan on saving the tick, you can still kill it in the alcohol (after you get it off your pet). If you don't want to kill the tick with alcohol, alternately, you can wrap it up in some scotch tape (ew), or my favorite, flush it down the toilet. 
• Take your pet into a well-lit, small room, like the bathroom, and close the door. You need to be able to contain your pet and easily see the tick you are removing. It's also a good idea not to remove a tick over carpet (in case you drop it, which you won't). OH, and having a toilet nearby is a plus. In case you need to throw up flush the tick (as I mentioned previously) afterward. 
• Remember, removing a tick the correct way, in tact, is NOT physically painful (for the pet, probably the tick, nor you). You will not hurt your pet! (I have no idea whether ticks feel pain, but even if they do, you still have to do this.)
• Engorged ticks look (and feel) like giant skin tags or moles shaped like whole corn kernels**. Do not squeeze them! The germs (disease causing bacteria) they transmit can be forced into your pet, or, if the tick is already off your pet, all over YOU.
  
  
  

* 2013 was the year I (literally) drove up on baby Bobby Flay O'Fish (my ginger tabby cat, though, a nameless waif at the time) in the middle of a busy intersection. After miraculously capturing him in a Shoney's parking lot and getting him home, several days later (when he allowed me to handle him), I discovered several (3-5) engorged ticks on his tiny orange body. My husband was at work. What other option did I have but to free him of those vampires? The directions on Google worked like a charm! I did it for Bobby!
** Not responsible for future corn aversions.

Veterinarians Can't* Read Minds: Things to Ask About Flea and Tick Prevention #12Bravecto

* I'm just saying mind-reading is not something one learns in vet school, so for the love of your pet's health, don't expect your vet to be a mind-reader. IF, on the off chance your vet says or does something in response to the thing you were thinking, but never said out loud, and it seems freaky to you, it is still 99.9999999999....9999999% NOT mind-reading; that is called a coincidence**.

This post is sponsored by BRAVECTO® and the BlogPaws® Pet Influencer Network™. I am being compensated to help share information about BRAVECTO.  But we only share information we feel is relevant to our readers. Neither Intervet Inc., nor Merck & Co Inc., are responsible for the content of this article and have not written, reviewed, or edited it in any fashion. For more information about BRAVECTO please click here. 

** There was a freaky coincidence with Lele's (my foster chihuahua) shelter vet and her flea/tick preventative. I'll tell you about it in a bit.

I'VE USED A FLEABAG-LOAD OF COMMERCIAL FLEA AND TICK PREVENTION PRODUCTS ON MY PETS, BUT RARELY HAVE I ASKED MY VET ENOUGH (OR ANY) QUESTIONS ABOUT THEM FIRST.

The vet's exam room, waiting...

I can't even say why, for sure. But in reflection, perhaps it was a mix of 1) not wanting to sound dumb, 2) accepting that whatever product the vet suggests first is best, or (in most cases, at least in the last few years, as FDA restrictions have loosened) 3) I'd already purchased a product at the store, over the counter or online (and I didn't even bring up flea/tick prevention during routine checkups).

There have been consequences:

10 (Previously Published) Reasons My Dogs Are Strange + One 'Scary-Spice' New One

Note: This post has nothing to do with Mel B.

A few days ago, after posting on Facebook about how the dogs had been particularly barky that morning, a reader brought up in comments how her beloved dog, Nugget, had a few quirky barking habits of his own. One of those habits, she went on to say, even necessitates a psych ritual (as in she has to psych herself up for the impending bark fest) every time she uses the hair dryer. (yikes!)

Post by The Chronicles of Cardigan.

And so, I told her about how I can't open my spice drawer, without Jon Farleigh going ballistic and trying to "kill" all the spice jars with his nose.

We agreed that we both needed to get the spectacles on video.

Today, I have upheld my end of the "bargain." For your viewing pleasure:

Jon Farleigh, Trying to Save Us All From a Dried Parsley Attack

And now, I have a few questions for you:

1. Has anyone else's dog - now or ever, in the collective generations of all your family trees - attacked a spice bottle?
2. Do you think Jon Farleigh needs an intervention, or some seasoning-directed-anger management counseling? Before he actually does "kill" all the spices?
3. Can anyone recommend a dog counselor with those credentials?
4. Does anyone else think Jon Farleigh's still cute, even when he's acting like an angry, canine alien?

By the way, I answered "yes" to that last question, because I'm a crazy dog lady. ☺

So, who wants to revisit 10 other ways my dogs (BOTH of them) are strange? (I swear, I couldn't make this stuff up, even if it came to me in a dream. Also, this is not an exhaustive list.)

OK, YAY! Here you go!

Originally posted on November 4, 2013...

10 (Previously Unpublished) Reasons Why My Dogs Are Strange

Sometimes I go through the better part of a day just scratching my head in wonderment. Is it possible that they are alien, dog impostors?

10 Reasons Why My Dogs Are Strange

1. Jon Farleigh: Carries a "pacifier/binky" (e.g., Kong, bone, sock, stuffie, bottle) everywhere he goes. If it's not in his mouth (like when he's eating/sleeping), it's within easy grasp.

His pacifier du jour.

2. Dewi: When on car rides, prefers to travel with his whole snout shoved into the corner of the backseat.

3. Jon Farleigh: Whenever a cat leaves the room in which he's occupying, charges after the animal, while violently shaking his "pacifier"-toting head. Note: No animals have ever been injured during this process (in fact, the cats mostly roll their eyes); however, some (humans included) have been jarred awake from sound sleep.

4. Dewi: Humps Jon Farleigh every time he (Jon Farleigh) charges a cat leaving the room. (Recap: Cat leaves room; JF charges cat; Dewi humps JF. Repeat, as necessary.)

5. Jon Farleigh: Growls whenever he's enjoying a particularly good back scratch.

6. Dewi: Screams in fear whenever he thinks he's going to get his nails trimmed* (as in, I am holding his paw in one hand and the clippers in the other). And by scream, I mean scream (not whine, not yelp, not bark - scream). Like this baboon scream:

Like this, except not fake. And with clippers.

Like the last time we went to the vet for his annual physical, and they needed some blood for his heartworm check*...

Me to vet assistant: He might scream. He screams when I handle his paws and he sees the nail clippers.

Assistant: That's okay, a lot of dogs do. Just hug him, like so, while we get a little blood from his wrist.

Me: [hugs Dewi]

Dewi: SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM!!!!!!

Dead people: [wake up]

Me: [soothingly to Dewi] It's okay, buddy, it's all over! What a good boy! 

Vet tech: All we did was swab the site with alcohol; keep hugging him! We need to get the vessel on the first try.

Me: [to myself] Good lord, it was just a swab?!?!

1/2 dozen or so bystanders staring through the examining room door: [wonder whether to call 911] 

Me: [To myself] I told them he'd scream. [to Dewi] It's okay, buddy, just a little bit longer! Good boy! Good boy! [to the Heavens] Please, God, please let that needle go in the vein on the first try.

Dewi: [quiet]

Vet tech: All done! Good job, Dewi! [Straight-up lies, while wiping beads of sweat off her brow.]

The vet'll be by in a few minutes to read the test.

7 minutes later...

Vet: [smiling] I understand this guy got a little upset getting his blood drawn. 

Dewi: [wiggles and beats tail out of sheer joy]

Me: [trying not to giggle] Yeah, but he's okay now. It was just his feet. He'll be perfectly unfazed by the rest of the exam, including his shots. Really.

Vet: OK, but I've got something here that'll keep him busy - just in case - while I give him the shots. [produces jar of ground chicken baby food; proceeds to spoon half of it into a paper bowl, and place it in front of Dewi]

Me: [to myself, as Dewi scarfs down the food] Boy, does that dog know how to work a room. :-/

Addendum: I forgot to mention that - when he doesn't perceive me to have the clippers - Dewi loves to have his paws handled. In fact, he voluntarily "hands" them to me for all-over, between-the-pad massages. And because his feet smell deliciously of Fritos, I happily oblige! How's that for strange?!

* Update 2014: At his last well-check, the vet tech took blood from Dewi's jugular vein (vs. his wrist). It was blissfully drama-free (and, per the vet tech, a completely routine place from which to get blood from a dog). 

...OK, back to the list...

7. Jon Farleigh: Yaps and "pecks" (bonks) Maddox with his nose whenever Maddox walks into the kitchen. Conversely, is afraid to get within 5 feet of Maddox everywhere else in the house.

Like this, except in the kitchen and with a lot more bonks. 

8. Dewi: Is afraid of inflated balloons.

9. Jon Farleigh: Hates so badly when the cats play with string, that he steals the string, shakes it until it's "dead," and then sits on it for safe keeping. 

10. Jon Farleigh and Dewi: Have no fear of loud noises, including (knock knock) thunder. Probably because those loud noises - compared to their loud protests against string and nail clippers, for example - pale in comparison. 

* Dewi has not always screamed (at me) while getting nail trims, nor has he ever experienced a nail injury. However, the screaming and stress is why I (mostly) take him to the groomer for nail trims now, because, for some reason, he does not scream at her.

(And, in case you're wondering, I like my dogs strange. My cats, too. I mean really, like I'm the picture of normalcy!)

So, tell me, what strange things do your dogs (or cats, if you don't have dogs) do?

To Be Honest, My Childhood Dreams Involved Being a Vet, not Getting Adopted in My 40s

Well, who dreams of that (getting adopted in their 40s)?! Not me.

No, when I was a kid - like plenty of other little animal-loving people - when I wasn't staging elaborate drama productions with my pet Siamese cat and 376 (named) stuffed animals - I hunted for toads...and wanted to grow up to be a veterinarian.

Hey, Mom said we get to do blood and gore today!

We look like we beat up a jar of grape jelly, you fur-brain. 

Or a zoo keeper.

Or (briefly) Hayley Mills in the (1965) Disney movie That Darn Cat!.

Of course, I also wanted to have 12 kids and live on a farm. And on that farm, I'd have every kind of farm animal imaginable.

As pets.

moo.*

bleat.
(Rare Welsh Longwool Butt-Head Ram)

And all 14 of us (humans) would greet each day with bated breath, frolicking with the animals in the fields, milking cows and making homemade ice cream and apple pies. ;)

But, back to that vet thing. Yeah, so I had lofty aspirations, but then I got distracted, and fell in a hole...left my homework on the kitchen table...joined the YMCA...threw my shoulder out...burned dinner (to the 10th power)...saw some Corgis running in a field...had a joyous out-of-body experience...drove the wrong way down a one-way street...used explicit language...with my kids in the car...

And, well, you know, I never became a vet.

Thass kewl.

But, a few years ago (after many years of waiting for the right time), I got two Corgis - I believe you know their names. Thankfully, they got along (mostly) with my herd of rescue cats.

Then, a few months later (because I was desperate to to share them with the world), I logged into Blogger and created The Chronicles of Cardigan.

'Member when we looked like this???
(snapshot via Wayback Machine)

And then, while still a struggling new pet blog author, I found myself at a blogging conference (called BlogPaws), from which I gained a few (cherished) blogging friends, had loads of fun with the dogs, and (notably, among several pet brands represented) exchanged cards with Jane, a producer for Petfinder.com ("...the searchable database for hundreds of thousands of adoptable pets from more than 14,000 adoption groups from across the U.S., Canada and Mexico...").

I might have mentioned them (Petfinder) in a few of my blog posts in the years since that day. OK, so I've mentioned them (along with a few homeless pets available for adoption) in like 19 separate blog posts (before today). (All because of that simple card swap with Jane at BlogPaws in 2011, which got me on a partner list, and afforded me advance notice of Petfinder programs.) I consider it (helping Petfinder help animals find forever homes [and they have helped more than 20,000 of them since 1996]) a privilege. Especially since I'm free to "help" in such a delightfully (offbeat and sometimes odd) creative way!

We went.

So, a couple months ago, when Petfinder announced they were looking for 10 bloggers (with a demonstrated dedication to helping animals in need) to "adopt" (read: honor with a $200 Visa gift card [to offset conference costs], a private lunch with Petfinder's editorial and PR team, a sneak peak at Petfinder's upcoming Summer campaign, and some cool new Petfinder branded goodies) during this year's BlogPaws, I nearly broke my good typing hand filling out the contest application!

And when I learned that I was selected to be one of the 10 bloggers "adopted" at BlogPaws?? It was, well, like a dream. And yet, I couldn't have dreamed it in my wildest childhood dreams (as those - along with being a vet - mostly involved Pop Rocks and Shaun Cassidy).

Funny, how dreams work like that. ;-)



Hmm, you know, the only thing missing from that blog bling up there is a Tiffany-blue box.
Petfinder probably doesn't have those, though. Nope.
But, you know what they do have, that's even better??
Well, I'll tell you:

This gorgeous senior Siamese girl named Tiffany, in front of a Tiffany-blue background!

Precious Tiffany is an adoptable cat in Germantown, MD.

Did you know that you can search for pets (among other ways) by name at Petfinder? Yep, and as of this moment, there are 118 (cats and dogs) named Tiffany waiting to find their forever homes!

*****

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some toads to hunt (love those warty buggers), elaborate animal productions to stage (how do you think I come up with half of the stuff I write?), mouths to feed and pies to bake (not).

Click here to read the official "Adopted Blogger" article - including a complete list of winning blogs and a group photo - at Petfinder.com. 

* Prop product placement credit: Dewi's cow catbell was generously donated to me (at BlogPaws 2013) by the talented Debbie G., aka Glogirly, owner of both the award-winning cat blog of the same name, and Glogirly Design, where, if you hire her, she will pimp your blog (or business cards, logo, etc.) like nobody's bizness. (And by pimp, I mean customize with class, yo.)

Coming up next...Lots more photos and captions from Jon Farleigh and Dewi's (plus select cats') "veterinary infirmary" and "farm animal" photo shoots!



Note: Petfinder did not, nor will they ever, compensate me for mentioning them on this blog. I do it for the animals, and because it's so FLIPPING FUN!

10 (or so) Reasons Why Maddox Believes He Is the Luckiest Pet in America

Oh, hai. It's me, Maddox. Hold on a sec...

Okay, that's better! The view was a little obstructed up there. Besides, orange isn't really my color.

So anyway, I've been thinking...

...been thinking about how out of all the lucky, formerly out-on-the-street (so to speak) shelter pets, I (Maddox) am without-a-doubt the luckiest*. 

In fact, even though I'm what they call a "rescue," I'm certain that I'm the luckiest pet in America.

Perhaps you will indulge me long enough to explain?
(because sometimes you've just gotta say it out loud)

Okay, YAY! Here goes...

Why I (Maddox) Am the Luckiest Pet in America

1. I can speak English and have a part-time typist who takes my dictation for important blog posts, such as this. (Editor's translation: Maddox is lucky that I can't stop blabbing about him on the interwebs.)


2. Waayyy back in early March of 2010 (or sooner, I didn't look at the calendar that day), instead of releasing me into the wild city streets to fend for myself, my person (for reasons I have not yet determined) loaded my extra-large tabby self into his (and/or her) car and drove me over to Richmond Animal Care and Control (aka the city pound).


3. The nice people at the pound orphanage, instead of saying to my person, "sorry, but we have no vacancy for your extra-large kitty," said "OK, we are sorry that you have to say goodbye, but we will take your kitty and try to find his extra-large self a new home and some new peeps."


4. On March 17, 2010, because they needed to make room for some other in-between-homes city cats, and to help facilitate my finding a new perfect home (because I was worth it), the nice people loaded me into a different car and drove me a short way over to a bigger pet "orphanage" called the Richmond SPCA.
   
   


5. Now, there are about 16,241 reasons why I got lucky when I went to stay at the Richmond SPCA, but neither of us have time to go through all that, right? So I'll just touch on the big ones, starting with: The kind people at the RSPCA (after calling me "precious" and naming me Maddox) said I could stay there, without missing a meal, and with toys and a warm bed, for as long as I needed. I didn't even have to sweep or do dishes or laundry!
   
   


6. But then, guess what? About a week after my arrival, most likely because I didn't realize how lucky I was at the time, and was a worry wart, I got a bad cold - with snot bubbles and everything. But did they toss me out on my ear? Nope! That's because the Richmond SPCA has a whole section of the building called the Clinic for Compassionate Care, where the veterinarians and other people-who-are-trained-to-fix-sick-pets work. So yeah, they gave me some icky medicine until I felt loads and loads better...


7. ...until this: Because it was taking longer than anticipated for my new perfect person to find me in the orphanage, I turned into a worry wart again, but this time (warning: gross-out ahead), crystal rock formations started to grow in my pee. And well, OUCH!!!!! They call this unfortunate condition Feline Lower Urinary Tract Disease (FLUTD), by the way. I have no idea what flutes have to do with it. But anyway, the vets and staff at the RSPCA took care of me then, too. And after I started eating a special mushy food with gravy on top, my pee was all good again.
   
   


8. (fast forward TWENTY months of me just hanging out in my RSPCA kitty condo, watching the world go by, getting considerably grumpy in my advanced 9-year-old age, occasionally dreaming about blue skies and small, flitting creatures that beg me chase)
   
   Wait for it...
   
   My future new person (despite her nearsightedness and my lazy eye) locked eyes on me from across the room during her RSPCA volunteer cat handling class!
   
   Now, this wouldn't be nearly as noteworthy had I not been a dead-ringer for her (dearly departed and perfect) shelter cat, Buster. In fact, I kid you not, I think Buster's face might have even materialized over mine (just like Jacob Marley's did to Scrooge, on the lion's head door-knocker, except not nearly as creepy) and sent a telepathic message to my new mom to bust me out or else he'd send the spirit of "future" Maddox! Aghhh!
   
   

   

   Spirit of "Future" Maddox (aka really old me with a mustache and spectacles)

   
   
9. So that night, after my future mom person had the "spiritual" experience over me, right in the middle of learning how to properly dispose of poop from the kitty townhouses, she sped home and Googled my name, only to find out, after some detective work, that I'd been an RSPCA resident as far back as 2010. And then, because she was fresh off of fostering a litter of three kittens, decided that she'd inquire about fostering me - to give me a break from my condo.
   
   And so the very next day she found out that yes, I was a great candidate for fostering, and that she could come and pick me up the next week. So she said "with pleasure," as long as I wasn't "terrified of dogs," which as it turns out I wasn't. In fact, at my last foster home, I might have even scared the living daylights out of the resident 70-lb. lab. Also, I swiped at people to get my point across. But this news did not deter my future foster mom, uh-uh. No, she insisted, "Oh, that's not a problem; my dogs and I are no strangers to temperamental cats (and by cats she meant my bear-cat sister Eva)!" So the next week she came to pick me up (in the carrier she brought with her), loaded me into her car and drove me home.
   
   On the 19th day of my 28-day foster period, she adopted me.
   

   

   Me napping beside my adoption papers



10. It's been six months since I got my new home, and I could give you another 49,309 (+/-) reasons why I'm most lucky, such as, FREE ROAM of the house, window views, contented naps where I'm all sprawled out, sighing loudly as I dream about my younger days, frolicking about with careless kitten abandon. And then there's the fellow feline companionship...LOTS of it (something I longed for, but couldn't have in my shelter arrangement, due to my special anti-pee-crystal, gravy-covered food).
    
    But mostly, I'm lucky because my mom person has more lives than a cat. If she didn't, because she told me so, her heart would have burst a long time ago on account of it overflowing with love and affection for me. 
    
    Perhaps I should try not to be so endearing. :)

The Maddox Mitten-Hug: Guaranteed to make one's heart swell with affection 

*****

* lucky = blessed, gifted, thriving

Editor's Note: Clearly, Maddox is a "lucky" pet, but then again, so are the thousands of others out there, who might have started out on a desperate path, but with the help of the hundreds of local rescue organizations in America, including Richmond Animal Care and Control and the Richmond SPCA, got the care and shelter they needed, and ended up in loving (and even cushy ;)) permanent homes.

This blog post is dedicated to them: the people behind the rescues, who make "lucky" possible.

Thank you!

Have another minute to spare?

Click HERE to help Maddox win Petfinder's Luckiest Pet of 2013 Contest and $5,000 in cash for the Richmond SPCA!

P.S. (I can't believe I forgot this.) "Maddox" is a Welsh surname, meaning "fortunate."
:-)

HELLO, WORLD! I LOVE MY PETSsssss!

Sometimes one just has to shout it off the rooftop. :)

Getting up there (on the roof) is a real bletch though, especially when one is struggling to keep one's eyes open on account of the "marked drowsiness" one is experiencing from the Benadryl one is taking to quell the raging, ferociously itchy stress-related dermatitis (aka rash) all over one's knees.

Now, see that (rash comment up there)? That's what some Social Media folks might call "oversharing." Yep.  [insert frantic knee scratching]

So anyway, I've been feeling particularly sentimental about my furry companions lately and decided rather than to disturb the peace outside, I'd just shout it out all over the internet. Yay!

Oh, and I took some photos today...

Yes, that's my eye.

I have no idea what we're looking at up there.

Hey, you know how some dogs get excited by a human lying face-up on the ground, and will rush in and lick the helpless human's every inch of exposed skin? 

Yes, well my dogs don't do that.  :-p

This was the best shot I could get of Dewi and me (while gripping the camera and him at the same time) . He was just too doggone busy!

So, I call this next one (below) the Cardi-cat "Hug" (or what Maddox does to show affection). He's an arm hugger. I'm not even making this up. 

Those big mitts of his make me all warm and gooey inside. :)

Sadly, I was too drowsy to take any other photos. [nods off while thinking about scratching itchy knee]

Just a heads up that Wednesday is a big V (veterinarian) day for some of us: Bertie's "donating" his balls, Jon Farleigh's getting groomed while his poop is scrutinized, and Dewi's getting a full-on once-over (with needles and butt probes), PLUS he's getting his feet and nails done.

Thank you for thinking of them in their brief time of suffering. [yawns] Terribly sorry. 

Goodnight, moon friends. :)