tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23451219885203602452024-03-12T21:10:21.497-04:00Sharon SpaceSharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.comBlogger169125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-6916839741191230612019-03-06T14:13:00.000-05:002019-03-06T14:13:44.849-05:00Five-second Rule<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I recently
attended a cat show in Brentwood, NY (Long Island), a show I’ve gone to twice
before. This year, weather permitting, I wanted to try the Mapquest
recommended route of taking the ferry from nearby New London, CT across the
Long Island Sound to Orient Point and driving another 90 minutes to the show. Driving the entire route was listed as 3 hours, 30 minutes, assuming there was no traffic on a Friday afternoon going toward New York City, over the Throgs Neck Bridge and on the Long Island Expressway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Since it was
cool outside, I opted to leave the two cats I was showing in their crate in the
car during the ferry ride, figuring it would be easier than trying to lug two
carriers through the ferry. Clair, the Selkirk Rex Longhair and Trixie, the
Maine Coon kitten, would remain in the large crate together in my back seat, their
litter box readily accessible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ-zuTirbfmoqp3dqJTLFyrp36RADYbhp3DA8EvwEnrj91xItySMaNbeVMs6Ws9vqKKbEldnUllABHQTbJpB3MiKl7zyyCJ3RFt0TTDKLSJTBCfIkQ9ur2qLn-wudFdL8VbK9Vu8IcMso/s1600/20190303_095145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ-zuTirbfmoqp3dqJTLFyrp36RADYbhp3DA8EvwEnrj91xItySMaNbeVMs6Ws9vqKKbEldnUllABHQTbJpB3MiKl7zyyCJ3RFt0TTDKLSJTBCfIkQ9ur2qLn-wudFdL8VbK9Vu8IcMso/s320/20190303_095145.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clair and Trixie</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">This worked
out really well. The car stayed at a comfortable temperature for the cats. For
$57, I avoided the city traffic, bridges and tolls, had an hour and 20 minute
ferry ride then drove from the northern tip of Long Island to the show hotel. I
never knew there was so much rural land and vineyards on Long Island. I
definitely wanted to take the ferry back home now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After I left
the show early on Sunday to avoid the expected snow storm, I again took the
ferry route. I called the ferry people ahead of time to see if I could show up
4 hours earlier than my reservation. I could. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Cats safely
snuggled in together in the car, I went upstairs to appreciate the view from
the front of the boat. As all the tables along the front window were taken, I
sat in one of the theater-style seats about 15 feet back from the front tables.
My view was of the tables and beyond that, Long Island Sound as the ferry
sailed toward New London. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The table
directly in front of me had a young family seated at it, with two adorable little
girls between the approximate ages of three and five years. The girls were being
kept busy with activity books and video games. Each girl had a pacifier in her mouth.
When the girls spoke, the pacifier stayed in, waggling like Groucho Marx’s cigar
as they said words I couldn’t understand. Their parents obviously understood Paci-ese,
answering questions or denying requests. If the girls ate any of the snacks in
front of them, the pacifier came out, the food went in and they plugged their mouths
back up with the pacifiers almost immediately. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Cringing as
I was at the speech impediments allowed in their daughters’ mouths at such
formidable ages, I noted that the parents seemed to be educated and attentive
to their children. The youngest had a tendency to speak loudly (even with the
pacifier) and her parents hushed her each time she did so, making her keep her
voice down to a normal level. I wondered if the kids were the kind who would
act out if their mouths weren’t plugged up all the time, but they seemed well-behaved
for their ages. There was no crying, tantrums or whining. Most babies need to
suckle something, but these children were beyond the toddler stage, potty
trained and very verbal. The oldest was probably in a pre-school program. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">At one
point, the mother took the oldest girl over to where a service dog was seated
with its owner. The black lab had the brightly colored harness on, but the
owner was open to letting children pet her dog. After a few minutes, the child thought
it would be fun to pretend to be a dog herself and got down on her hands and
knees, barking. Mom immediately told her daughter to get off the dirty floor.
As the child stood up, her pacifier fell out of her mouth mid-bark, hitting the
floor. The little girl quickly squatted down and put it back in her mouth. Her mother was
offended about the dirty pacifier going into her daughter’s mouth, pulled it
out of her child’s and “cleaned it off” by, you guessed it, putting it into her
own mouth. After "cleaning" the pacifier, the mother popped it back in her daughter’s mouth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ew! I’ve
never understood this practice, but have seen it before. Some mothers have told
me they’re “flavoring” the pacifier. I’ve raised two children, have utilized
the “five-second rule” in controlled situations (fairgrounds, no; my kitchen
floor, yes), and sit my bare butt on public toilets if the need arises. I am not a germaphobe, but I just don’t get the paci-mouth-cleaning thing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Not too
surprisingly, pediatricians discourage this practice, because, guess what, mother's mouths
are full of harmful bacteria, germs and swear words. Among the objects listed
as cleaner than a human mouth are a public toilet, subway railings, and urine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I was amazed
to find through my extensive 3-minute Google research that there is one theory
that actually supports parents who mouth-clean their child’s pacifier, arguing
the practice may be boosting the child’s immune system. If that’s the belief, why
not just forego cleaning the pacifier at all and let the kid lick the floor? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-26619095007042578522018-07-08T10:49:00.000-04:002018-07-08T11:07:22.679-04:00Flying the CoopSince my recent blog, <a href="http://dracoonfly.blogspot.com/2018/07/feathering-nest.html" target="_blank">Feathering the Nest</a>, was written about acquiring our six new chicks, we have already had an adventure. <br />
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I wanted to raise the new chicks in our old chicken coop. It's predator proof and surrounded by an 8-foot wire fence. Until the chicks get too big to fit through the holes in the wire, they would be kept in the coop. At night, the solid wood doors are locked tight and I set up a heat lamp to keep the temperature around 90 degrees. During the day it's warm enough (especially lately) for the lamp to be turned off, doors opened and a screen put across the front to keep the chicks contained safely in the coop but allow ventilation and some sun to get in. This was how we raised our chicks for the <a href="http://dracoonfly.blogspot.com/2017/09/new-chicks.html" target="_blank">past two years</a>, although then we had the advantage of two broody bantam hens who gladly assumed the role of mother and heat source. Boy, are we missing Beaker and Rihanna now.<br />
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The screen barrier I put in front of the coop is about thigh high, taller than the brooder the chicks' breeder kept them in. It doesn't reach all the way to the top of the door opening, leaving about four inches of uncovered space. <br />
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The second day after I'd moved the chicks into their new housing was a busy one. I'd invited our neighbors over for a barbeque supper, figuring I had a litter of Maine Coon kittens due the next day so Saturday should be better. However, the expectant mother, River, had other plans and started active labor Saturday morning. I had been suspicious as River had started meowing excessively and doing the nervous purring of early labor the evening before. Therefore, I'd put up the baby monitor and gotten up twice during the night to check on her. This was how my day started, tired, but happy that the kittens were on the way. <br />
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Three hours later, around noon, my knees were spent from kneeling into the kitten birthing area, but we had four healthy kittens. I went to check on the chicks outside; they seemed fine. All the babies secure, I left to pick up groceries for our planned barbeque. <br />
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I just needed a few items, but ran into someone who recognized me. You know when you realize you should know someone, but can't remember how? I stared at this woman while she talked, thinking, "Maybe she's a kitten buyer or maybe I know her from Ledyard school system." Finally, the woman mentioned her daughter's name and I realized her daughter and mine were good friends. In my defense, the last time I saw her was two years ago, but who am I kidding? I'm horrible at remembering names and faces. 45-minutes of catching up in Stop-n-Shop and now I was feeling rushed to get home and start food preparations. <br />
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Jay was home from his morning fishing excursion when I got home. I complained about losing time in the grocery store because I've never been good at getting out of conversations. We both went outside to shuck the corn into the compost pile. It was one of those sweltering heat wave days, somewhere around 95 degrees, 90 percent humidity. I wanted to shuck the corn quickly and get back in the house before I got too hot. I was already wearing what I planned on wearing when our guests got there, a pink sleeveless top and white capris pants and didn't want to ruin it by sweating. <br />
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While outside, I checked on the chicks. Of the six, three were missing! I was only gone about 2 hours. I crawled into the coop, trying to keep my knees off the ground to protect my pants and feeling under the space at the bottom...nothing but spiders. No signs of violence; no feathers, no blood. It's impossible for a large predator to get in. Jay started speculating that a large snake could have gotten in over the barrier. Snakes don't leave blood and body parts around since they swallow their food whole, something I appreciate when it comes to the mice in our shed. <br />
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My mind racing, I had already taken inventory of which chicks were missing; the two Cream Legbars, Punnett and Square, and one of the Blue Leghorns, either Bindy or Mindy. Then we realized, it's afternoon. Snakes are mostly nocturnal and it was unlikely more than one chick would have been taken. Somehow, the chicks got out and the only way out was for them to fly with their little wings over the 3-foot barrier and go through the fence. Placing the remaining three chicks in a smaller cage for safety, we started looking around. There is a large woodpile of about 5 cords behind the coop. Behind the woodpile is the woods which surround our property, woods in which lurk foxes, coyotes, owls, hawks, raccoons...all of which would enjoy the occasional chicken nugget.<br />
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Then, about twenty feet away, we heard peeping! The chicks were together under a large boulder at the edge of the woods. Good for us, chicks peep when they're distraught. Bad for the chicks if we were predators. I was so relieved, but then we had to catch them. They scampered like mice under the cave the boulder created, through a hole to the other side. One ran under the pallets that supported the wood pile back to the coop. In the end, it took about an hour of Jay and I crawling on our hands and knees in the poison ivy and sticks, putting our hands into creepy spaces, carrying another chick around so she'd peep and inspire someone to answer, our dog giving us a scare when she lunged for a chick, utilizing a kid's butterfly net and a fishing net, all before we finally caught all three escapees. Did I mention it was hot? Indentations on my knees from the kneeling in the brush, sweat pouring, capris pants white no more, but we had six chicks once again, exhausted but safe.<br />
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Taking no more chances, the chicks are now caged in the guest room until they are bigger and wiser. <br />
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<br />Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-1293833453731756712018-07-04T10:17:00.001-04:002018-07-08T10:48:26.834-04:00Feathering the NestWe have 13 backyard chickens, three of whom are roosters. All but three of the ten hens have gone "henopausal," meaning they are done laying eggs and are living out their lives in guaranteed retirement with us. Our youngest hens are two-years-old, the oldest is nine. In other words, we have a bunch of free-loaders. <br />
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Tired of begging, lecturing and threatening the hens, I ordered some new female chicks, a.k.a. pullets, from The Hatching House in Canterbury. As it so happened, my good friend Jo-Ann was visiting for a couple of days and went with me to pick up my new babies. The breeder was very knowledgable, so I enjoyed picking her brain about color and breed genetics while Jo-Ann channeled my daughter, "Oooh! Look at that one! It's so pretty! Get that one! They're so cute! Can we get this one?" <br />
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I ended up getting the four pullets I ordered, two Cream Legbars and two 55 Flowery Hens as those two breeds are auto-sexing, meaning the genders can be easily be visually identified by colors or markings at birth. Thus, the breeder could be certain of selling me females. I also purchased two Blue Leghorns (yes, of Warner Brothers' Foghorn fame), who may or may not be both female. This because Jo-Ann liked the spots on their heads and also, because I had been so desperate for eggs lately, I had considered getting a breed that is known for exceptional egg production. The Leghorn chicken (commonly seen in white) is used by most factory farms for egg and meat production. The breeder promised that if any of the Leghorns turned out to be roosters, she'd take them back and has a 75% success rate of rehoming roos. That's what I needed to hear. Three roosters is already too many. <br />
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On the drive home in a torrential downpour, Jo-Ann sat with the chicks in their cage in her lap and helped me name them. I typically try to name chickens of the same breed "twin names" or ones that go together, i.e. Righty and Tighty, Ann Landers and Dear Abby, Crabby and Patty, Addy and Subtracty, etc. The Cream Legbars are a breed developed in part by geneticist Reginal C. Punnett in order to sex the chicks easily at birth. I frequently use Punnett's Square method to try to determine what color combinations I may get from my Maine Coons, so I was really attracted to this breed. Therefore, the Legbar chicks are named "Punnett" and "Square," in honor of their creator. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two Views of the Cream Legbars<br />
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The two 55 Flowery girls, also gender determined by color, should grow up to be multi-colored. Their names are Pansy and Petunia. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">55 Flowery Chicks - Note the multiple colors on the face</td></tr>
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The Leghorns are named Bindi and Mindi. Jo-Ann came up with this as she knew Bindi is the name of the dot worn on the foreheads of Hindu women. Otherwise, they would have been called something more common like "Spot" and "Dot." Feathers crossed that Bindi and Mindi will never crow.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxiBUQTmmcDvRBGpLAm34OD-Zh2mO9BMtn-9j0Lf3Z7J0Tt6HcGNICOzEKfP_2Xuc4tLnwwyCOHDqDbtG9wuZjY_M2knwcI8YJQhbsM0lBN-DMNgTi_XfSk1e7PfHg0cFDUdhHLHxElT4/s1600/Chicks-Blue+Leghorn+in+hand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxiBUQTmmcDvRBGpLAm34OD-Zh2mO9BMtn-9j0Lf3Z7J0Tt6HcGNICOzEKfP_2Xuc4tLnwwyCOHDqDbtG9wuZjY_M2knwcI8YJQhbsM0lBN-DMNgTi_XfSk1e7PfHg0cFDUdhHLHxElT4/s320/Chicks-Blue+Leghorn+in+hand.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOFgfSUb5MA9_Tkt8uoDCP6Q6L4mMSKnG2gXLhX34a6JeQF1W-ZGxRFJwp3Eo_EM1ZifA-TopyNNPNbB-QiV3ZagN-QhC7W7a_j2-5Gs0LyLcfBS_5EgtjMFqXJa3Cv6bivzVIqWcGPfA/s1600/Chicks-Blue+Leghorn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOFgfSUb5MA9_Tkt8uoDCP6Q6L4mMSKnG2gXLhX34a6JeQF1W-ZGxRFJwp3Eo_EM1ZifA-TopyNNPNbB-QiV3ZagN-QhC7W7a_j2-5Gs0LyLcfBS_5EgtjMFqXJa3Cv6bivzVIqWcGPfA/s320/Chicks-Blue+Leghorn.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue Leghorns <br />
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For Part 2 about the newest additions, read <a href="http://dracoonfly.blogspot.com/2018/07/flying-coop.html" target="_blank">Flying the Coop</a>.</div>
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Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-36648063050040894792018-03-08T14:55:00.001-05:002018-03-12T11:47:06.683-04:00Finding a Maine Coon Breeder - Abbreviated<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">So you’ve
decided you want take the plunge and get a purebred, registered, bona fide
Maine Coon from a good breeder…awesome! Here are some suggestions on how and
where to look.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Do your research on the breed by
visiting MCBFA, TICA, CFA & CFF.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Search for breeders by visiting cat
shows and online with <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Pet Professor,
KittySites, Breedlist.com, Maine Coon Cat Nation or Google</b>. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Cat show calendars for shows near you
can be found on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">TICA.org</b> & <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CFA.org</b> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Be persistent and patient. Maine Coon
cats are extremely popular and breeders are usually swamped with inquiries. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Basic
Criteria for a Responsible Breeder:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Registered cattery with a major cat
registry such as TICA, CFA or CFF.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Screen breeding cats for heart
disease (HCM) utilizing ultrasound, not DNA only. Proof of cardiac screening of
the kitten’s parents should be available. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Kitten/cat should be registered. You
may be required to provide proof of spay/neuter as a prerequisite.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Kittens not allowed to leave the
breeder until at least 12 weeks of age and two sets of vaccination received. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Expect to be screened as a suitable
home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Expect to sign a contract for the
purchase of the kitten/cat which offers a health guarantee, prohibits declawing, letting your cat outside
and breeding without permission.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The area where the kittens and cats
live should be clean and the cats appear healthy and friendly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Expect to be able to meet your kitten’s
littermates and parents (unless an outside stud was used). Be wary of being
asked to sit in one location while your kitten is brought out of another room to
you. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">No responsible breeder will sell
their kittens at a pet store or through a third party. We like to know where
our kittens are going!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">For more detailed
information, read these blogs at </span></span><a href="http://dracoonfly.blogspot.com/2014/04/how-to-be-good-kitten-buyer.html"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1; font-family: "calibri";">http://dracoonfly.blogspot.com/2014/04/how-to-be-good-kitten-buyer.html</span></span></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> and </span></span><a href="http://dracoonfly.blogspot.com/2010/11/cat-peeves.html"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1; font-family: "calibri";">http://dracoonfly.blogspot.com/2010/11/cat-peeves.html</span></span></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span></span> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio74NlTEWMZpXxFO5rkqq8F6QyH2txfDi4vFRojWiBtlQLc2XFfZHzUsfe3FGaSt0QMX0voCC96cVqYb9uBQLAUpV42gFSzEYu9CMh53yuFF3oFgDA8-DmuUYpl-r59zF8-YOrFL-DFx0/s1600/Elite8-10-weeks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="402" data-original-width="600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio74NlTEWMZpXxFO5rkqq8F6QyH2txfDi4vFRojWiBtlQLc2XFfZHzUsfe3FGaSt0QMX0voCC96cVqYb9uBQLAUpV42gFSzEYu9CMh53yuFF3oFgDA8-DmuUYpl-r59zF8-YOrFL-DFx0/s320/Elite8-10-weeks.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span></span> </div>
Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-79931015328350492462017-12-19T09:15:00.000-05:002017-12-19T09:16:39.441-05:00New Chicks Continued<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Since my </span><a href="http://dracoonfly.blogspot.com/2017/09/new-chicks.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">last blog</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> in September about our home-hatched chicks, we've had a few changes to our backyard flock. None of these are really good changes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">A few weeks ago, Rihanna, foster mom who hatched and raised the chicks, died. I'm not sure why, especially considering she'd finally regrown her feathers and was looking a lot more healthy and less like a turkey vulture. I've learned over the years that even though we protect them from predators and try to keep their environment healthy, chickens are still vulnerable to unknown illnesses. If I notice a chicken has slowed down, I prepare myself for losing her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Then just this week, Beeker died. I was not surprised as Beeker was now one of our oldest hens at 7 years. Although she willingly helped Rihanna raise the chicks, Beeker did not lay any eggs in the past year, a sign that her body was post-henapausal. Still, Beeker's adorable little pure-white Silkie presence will be missed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZLwvOyAdpp6LIWHAt3Ix7lEcDJMVEm0HlrBoTEYAZPZe15lIMlZRh7leg9xLty5NMxR0A0Vp5o_otAyFNLSOUQnsFJqcT2evrTjbIscaxI50XupYMz5dFH3VvySkH9wox4_bnZPXs_QY/s1600/Chicks+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZLwvOyAdpp6LIWHAt3Ix7lEcDJMVEm0HlrBoTEYAZPZe15lIMlZRh7leg9xLty5NMxR0A0Vp5o_otAyFNLSOUQnsFJqcT2evrTjbIscaxI50XupYMz5dFH3VvySkH9wox4_bnZPXs_QY/s320/Chicks+%25284%2529.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Beeker and Rihanna in happier days </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">It's hard to mix the bantam (miniature) breeds of chickens with the standard sized ones as the smaller ones get picked on. Our rooster, Ed Sheeran, is technically a bantam also being half Silkie and half Frizzle, but as a male, he's larger and dominates. So in essence, I have to worry less now about making sure the little ones get their fair share of food and roosting space.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">In addition to the deaths of our remaining bantam hens, we have gradually come to accept that our two Frizzle/Welsummer chicks are the wrong gender for egg laying; we have two cockerels. I'm not often wrong (just ask my husband and kids...not), but I was way off on these chicks. Or call it believing what you want to be true. Originally named Charlotte and Cindy, I now just call the little rascals Frick and Frack.</span> <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWyAEBY-T0HmDM2Y9xagUs-7rT9g0lnX7nkVT2PPbuqsPamA6NJoPVMZhcLE-oQZUgQAEtaT42Mc0jYRaPcon2K5X0hvvbq9eByKMnWf599vpcXVZoy8GwKdUtRqsOIfmXzFXEjHgLPfM/s1600/FricknFrack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="402" data-original-width="600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWyAEBY-T0HmDM2Y9xagUs-7rT9g0lnX7nkVT2PPbuqsPamA6NJoPVMZhcLE-oQZUgQAEtaT42Mc0jYRaPcon2K5X0hvvbq9eByKMnWf599vpcXVZoy8GwKdUtRqsOIfmXzFXEjHgLPfM/s320/FricknFrack.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frick (middle) and Frack (left)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-82514803306494854442017-09-20T20:37:00.000-04:002018-07-06T17:03:17.959-04:00New Chicks!<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">My husband
and I have a backyard chicken flock of varying ages and now we have new
home-hatched chicks.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">We tend to
add a few new chicks almost every year, partly because if we see a breed that
looks interesting we want it and partly because the egg production slows down
dramatically in hens after the age of two years. Many of the older chickens
have died off. The average life span of a chicken, assuming no predation, is
4-5 years. The last hen from our very first chicks, an Americauna named Flo,
died during the summer at the age of eight years. Since our chickens have a
guaranteed retirement here with us and we try hard to protect them from all the
creatures of land and air, our oldest hens are now seven-years-old and our
youngest turned a year old in May. Sixteen chickens, ten or so different
breeds, one of which is a rooster.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Last May we
got two Frizzle-Silkie cross chicks and two Welsummer chicks. One of the
Frizzles is a red rooster we named Ed Sheeran, after the singer with similar
hair (red with a comb-forward to cover your receding hairline). He’s a handsome
roo with his wild feathers that look like they were caught in a tornado. </span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLcZU0j2aWNqCL3798ra2RiTlyi0sSibTjN8bKfclMHapVykBOiFxjIzHDqh1iO-NzN5Rr2YGoSELnl-90ZmolUL6ylbmOjDjhLXWcWVREKnkUNcP5J0GCV44T99D820cBdZ76AdQpWTM/s1600/Chicks+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLcZU0j2aWNqCL3798ra2RiTlyi0sSibTjN8bKfclMHapVykBOiFxjIzHDqh1iO-NzN5Rr2YGoSELnl-90ZmolUL6ylbmOjDjhLXWcWVREKnkUNcP5J0GCV44T99D820cBdZ76AdQpWTM/s320/Chicks+%25283%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ed Sheeran, red Frizzle rooster<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Our other
Frizzle is named Rihanna, also after the singer. Our Rihanna, however, is
probably the ugliest chicken we’ve ever had. She is tiny, black, about one
pound, smaller than our other female Bantam (miniature) breed Silkie hen, Beaker.
Rihanna has been hen and rooster pecked so that she is missing a lot of her
curly feathers, her head and neck almost completely bald giving her the
appearance of a turkey vulture. Bantam hens are slower to mature, often not
starting to lay eggs until they are 8 months old. Rihanna didn’t start laying
until she was about a year old. I often said Rihanna was a sorry excuse for a
chicken; not attractive, very poor layer and skittish. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">When Rihanna
became broody in August, I ignored it at first. Being half Silkie, her breed is
known for going broody, which means they will just sit on a nest for three
weeks or so, whether or not there are eggs under her. During the broody time, a
hen will not lay eggs, getting off the nest only a few times a day for short
periods to eat, drink and poop. This characteristic has been bred out of most
other breeds of chickens, but not the Silkie. Therefore, Silkie hens are infamous
for hatching and raising chicks the old fashioned way. We have used <a href="http://dracoonfly.blogspot.com/2014/02/counting-chickens-before-they-hatch.html" target="_blank">Beaker</a>, our
white Silkie, a few times to hatch the eggs of others and raise chicks. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">A couple of
weeks into her broodiness, Rihanna remained steadfast on her nest, and I
decided we should go for a few new chicks. With our only rooster being a
Frizzle, any chicks that hatched would have a fifty percent chance of having
the curly feathers of a Frizzle, yet the size and coloration of the mother. Rihanna
and her foster mother, Beaker, were moved into our old coop with six eggs; two
cream, one green, two chocolate brown and one with dark spots. I wanted Beaker
there for moral support and as a back-up in case Rihanna’s hormones suddenly
changed her broodiness mid-gestation. I hoped that Beaker would take over if
necessary. I put in more eggs than we actually wanted because our luck has only
hatched one live chick out of every four eggs any time we’ve tried to hatch
eggs in the past. Plus, with Ed being a smaller breed of rooster than the rest
of the flock, I didn’t know how many of the hens he’d successfully bred. Some
of the girls had no trouble out running Ed. </span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghrtzwNjUHDFytAISra9w2ZIRwL8jMFGmQMdpo-XcPfqWVo3WEUK5U1TKDTmcZXaM2IkbjuVUiTiJuOmXt3s7y6xkePNgdiC8EYX5hwswN9HvHpzHOt2w1deSJfarB_KMmZBJ7SB0TuNE/s1600/Welsummer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghrtzwNjUHDFytAISra9w2ZIRwL8jMFGmQMdpo-XcPfqWVo3WEUK5U1TKDTmcZXaM2IkbjuVUiTiJuOmXt3s7y6xkePNgdiC8EYX5hwswN9HvHpzHOt2w1deSJfarB_KMmZBJ7SB0TuNE/s320/Welsummer.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Biological Mom - Welsummer Hen - Either Dear Abby or Ann Landers (they're twins)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">On Day 21,
the first egg hatched! It was from one of the dark brown Welsummer eggs, either
Ann Landers’ or Dear Abby’s. The next day, another egg hatched! Also a
Welsummer. The other eggs either weren’t fertile or didn’t survive. So we have
two new chicks, and by the coloration, both appear to be little pullets (young
hens). One has the curly Frizzle feathers. Daughter Kelsey has named them
Charlotte and Cindy. </span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZdu5eV1YnWSy3Psr9JjIJjumtRIZ4cC4ZXMd-hQ-RqwWiwMxN2p3qh0aCSdQrsCfiUxGruJ-mXve32B4zWlMWYpvXog0h_pSj5zfzqJpGQZl0ZR6ujecNCGiqTw3kzwHgruGbABcMI-M/s1600/Chicks+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZdu5eV1YnWSy3Psr9JjIJjumtRIZ4cC4ZXMd-hQ-RqwWiwMxN2p3qh0aCSdQrsCfiUxGruJ-mXve32B4zWlMWYpvXog0h_pSj5zfzqJpGQZl0ZR6ujecNCGiqTw3kzwHgruGbABcMI-M/s320/Chicks+%25284%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma Beaker with Foster Mom, Rihanna, and chick</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Cute chicks,
being raised by a not-so-cute yet very attentive mother. It is fun to watch how
Rihanna scratches the dirt and clucks to her babies or how she lets them
snuggle under her if they are cold. Grandma Beaker seems to enjoy being around
to help out yet she doesn’t try to steal the chicks away from Rihanna. And so,
the miracle of life in the world of backyard chickens continues. </span></span> </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDeGSlMr3V8qzeVe4Dmtbrfu4d9ih1QZ5ZFdFPbbGVBvtZMhWLT32WPaAsY4MxpdDYebgEGxEfCUSWS-a6wFbXy8m5uEbwB6YhucmT_3VbPquELaE_n9yuVOTGY_zm39D5HQaFMXmgW0o/s1600/Chicks+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDeGSlMr3V8qzeVe4Dmtbrfu4d9ih1QZ5ZFdFPbbGVBvtZMhWLT32WPaAsY4MxpdDYebgEGxEfCUSWS-a6wFbXy8m5uEbwB6YhucmT_3VbPquELaE_n9yuVOTGY_zm39D5HQaFMXmgW0o/s320/Chicks+%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rihanna with her brood</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span></span> </div>
Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-55523038341016574072016-08-17T13:06:00.000-04:002016-08-17T13:14:32.829-04:00Mice Beware!<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">I </span>am a breeder and
owner of the Maine Coon cat. It is a large breed, sought after originally
because of its usefulness as a hearty barn cat who could survive the harsh
winters in Maine and keep the rodent population under control. Throughout
history, a cat’s main job for humankind has been that of mouse exterminator. Since
its acceptance as a breed in the 70’s and growing popularity as a pet and show
cat, many have speculated that the Maine Coon’s killer instincts have been bred
out of it. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0NVwI7eFydjushiAPDKLx-iptcZ01MFaKG3mk17c7WbvCfRFREY1hCiXHvAUQotTu_Xn1zLQAIu-Y5lf1QIhS9v8pnMt5-_HRzL1OfXnZD_IVb2cyLbOTwnLHo2pFLtuw-bb5RlnnUVY/s1600/River+and+Tina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0NVwI7eFydjushiAPDKLx-iptcZ01MFaKG3mk17c7WbvCfRFREY1hCiXHvAUQotTu_Xn1zLQAIu-Y5lf1QIhS9v8pnMt5-_HRzL1OfXnZD_IVb2cyLbOTwnLHo2pFLtuw-bb5RlnnUVY/s320/River+and+Tina.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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River snuggles with Tina</div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">When I noticed that two of our younger female Maine Coons
were focused on whatever was under our upright piano, I assumed a toy or
perhaps a bug was under there. When I later heard our dog, Coraline, sniffing
loudly around the base of the piano, I became suspicious and pulled the piano
out away from the wall. An adorable little field mouse looked back at me. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Getting a live mouse out of the house when one has several
predators around is a daunting task. I have witnessed our dogs brutally killing
mice and song birds with one bite. I rolled the piano back in place to protect the
mouse, put Cory in her crate and called my husband for assistance. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I was and am not concerned about finding a den of rodents as
I’m pretty sure I know how it got in. We have an enclosed outdoor cat run
connected to the house. The cats have access to the run via a cat door
installed in the basement window. I occasionally find a rodent victim (vole or
mouse) dead in the cat run. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While it is
very unlikely a mouse could push the door open to gain entry, it could be
carried inside via the mouth of a cat. A live mouse makes for some major feline
entertainment. Before the cat and mouse games could get too far, the mouse
likely escaped. All was well and good for the mouse until it realized it had
fallen into mouse hell…a whole city of Maine Coon cats. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Back to the piano mouse. After my repeated calling, Jay
showed up and I explained our dilemma. Once I reminded him that we were NOT to
kill it, he suggested I get a towel to throw over the mouse when he moved the piano
back. I got ready with my towel. From the other side of the piano, Jay moved it
away from the wall. Simultaneously, one of my pottery vases fell from the top
of the piano as I tossed the towel. The vase broke into a million pieces and
the mouse jumped over the towel, running into the kitchen. Many expletives
followed, including the declaration that I do not make a good exterminator. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">It was determined that Mr. Mouse had crawled under the stove
after I pulled the bottom drawer out and saw him back there. Now he had many
opportunities to go behind the cabinets and hide indefinitely. This could take
a while if he didn’t venture out. However, I wasn’t too worried as Tina, River,
Valentine and Boom Boom were standing guard. I reminded Jay that if we heard a
commotion in the middle of the night we had to get up so we could try to save
the mouse before my feline forum did too much damage. Major eye roll from my
husband.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Hey, if I said, ‘let’s set traps and kill the mouse’, you’d
suddenly wonder who you’d married,” I retorted. I am also the person who puts
the errant moth and spider outside unharmed, so of course mice deserve the same
protection in my animal-loving mind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Luckily, we didn’t have to wait long. After watching the
Olympics for a while, Jay went to the bathroom and I came into the kitchen to
put my wine glass in the dishwasher. All the cats were gathered around the step
stool in the kitchen. River, our 10-month-old brown tabby lay on the floor,
casually watching as Valentine, Tina and Boom Boom crouched attentively beside
the stool. Hmmm. Wonder what you guys are up to. I called repeatedly for Jay,
but Lord knows he can’t hear me in an emergency.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I grabbed a large plastic cup and carefully lifted one side
of the stool. Sure enough, Mr. Mouse ran out but right into River’s arms. She
surprised me by not jumping up, but instead she welcomed the little guy as her
new playmate, letting him hide between her front legs. With my cup positioned
on the floor, I let the mouse choose between me or a bunch of cats. He ran into
the cup and I had him. Fortunately for the mouse, he seemed unharmed. Before I
let Mr. Mouse outside, I took a picture and warned him about not going too
close to the chickens’ yard. Our chickens are major rodent killers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-35933004033735934082016-07-21T09:44:00.001-04:002016-09-27T09:03:02.710-04:00Still Cute<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">I realize that my siblings and I are not the first people
to experience the decline of a parent, but lately the reality of how life ends is
forced in front of me. The geographic distance between all of us makes the
logistics of care difficult. North Carolina is where our mother resides with
our step-father, but we, her three children, live in Connecticut, Minnesota and
Arizona. Our step-father is not capable of providing the kind of continuous
care his wife needs now. We want to honor her wish to die at home. Not knowing
how to plan and for how long is inconvenient, but shouldn't be my main concern.
Now that Mom is under hospice care, I have taken on the role of primary
caregiver. Thank goodness my sister can arrange her work schedule so we can
take turns.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">With all this, I try to take heart with a few positives: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="EN" style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Mom isn’t in pain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Her dementia has kept her
from worrying as much about her liver cancer as a more cognizant sufferer might.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">She still knows who we are and accepts our
care without embarrassment or resistance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">She has flashes of humor, reminding us that
she’s beautiful inside and out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Mom is so weak, she
requires assistance to stand, to turn over, to move her legs out of the bed. She
barely eats and drinks only when the offer is in front of her. She has no bowel
control or awareness of having gone. She’s so emaciated, her bare torso shows
every rib. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Her norm over the past few weeks has become communication
with a look, a nod or shake of the head, especially when she’s sleepy. Sleep is
her life right now. When she does speak, it startles me. When she spoke in full
sentences to a former colleague who called her the other day, I was amazed.
Then she became tired and I had to take the phone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Our mother took care of herself throughout her 77 years,
making her cancer seem that much more unfair. She was active, never
over-weight, regular doctor visits, no smoking or drinking, brushed and flossed…all
those things you’re supposed to do. She always been a positive person and looked
amazing for her age; never even had to color her hair. At this late stage, she
has gray roots for the first time. Her signature heavy eyebrows and dark lashes
are barely visible with their light color, making her look dramatically
different. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">So we focus on moments and try to freeze those in our
memories. I was on the phone with her hospice case manager, a wonderful woman
named Joy who had called to check on her before the weekend started. As I spoke
to Joy, I walked into Mom’s bedroom where she lay and she opened her eyes,
wondering who I was talking to about her. I told her, “Joy wants to know how
you’re doing, Mom.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Tell her I’m cute.”</span><br />
<span style="color: #1d2129;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #1d2129;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #1d2129;">Post Note: My mother passed away peacefully on August 2, 2016.</span><br />
<span style="color: #1d2129;"></span><br />
</div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-21342704898163248932016-03-28T12:50:00.000-04:002016-04-07T16:14:47.165-04:00Fifteen Golden Years<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Fifteen years ago today, a litter of Golden Retrievers was
born. Seven weeks later we chose a blond female from that litter and brought
her home to join our family. Chardonnay is my first pedigreed dog and our
oldest pet. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9DrmacMbfmGbdIsv52IK2Oexlpy3oXvZ-SA7jnNDRe5oV5fgyoi6U0Xv_bv9OOHUuIjHwvgvcTpOdQQj-fIhYfZM-H4Ap81qfQcVAI3HhBSVbSkIwZzBjPXIfOE0A4K6q7x59InEMVGo/s1600/Chardonnay+2+mos+cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9DrmacMbfmGbdIsv52IK2Oexlpy3oXvZ-SA7jnNDRe5oV5fgyoi6U0Xv_bv9OOHUuIjHwvgvcTpOdQQj-fIhYfZM-H4Ap81qfQcVAI3HhBSVbSkIwZzBjPXIfOE0A4K6q7x59InEMVGo/s320/Chardonnay+2+mos+cropped.jpg" width="217" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2-month-old cuteness</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I blogged about our dog Chardonnay on her <a href="http://dracoonfly.blogspot.com/2011_03_01_archive.html" target="_blank">tenth</a> and
<a href="http://dracoonfly.blogspot.com/2015/03/birthday-girl.html" target="_blank">fourteenth </a>birthdays and realize how fortunate we are to still have her in our
lives on her fifteenth. Cancer is very prevalent in Golden Retrievers, so much
so that Chardonnay participated in a study being done on her breed and cancer.
It is hoped that her blood contribution from a non-cancer patient will help
scientists figure what she has that the other Goldens do not. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">However, this past year has been even more challenging for
the old girl; mostly because her hind legs are so stiff they barely bend. Falling
down is common and getting up takes time and effort. We started having laser
therapy done on her a couple of months ago to make her feel better and that has
helped her mobility some. The walks in the woods are less frequent, but she
enjoys them at her own pace. Her hearing is almost gone, she has cataracts and
seems to have dementia as well. She has had three seizures although they are
spaced over a couple of years and not our major concern right now. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The one sense that still works with incredible accuracy is
her sense of smell. Chardonnay still trolls for chicken droppings and poop left
behind by herself or our other dog, Cory. Cory chooses to poop in the woods,
however Chardonnay manages to sniff it out, even if she didn’t witness where
Cory went in the midst of all the leaves on the ground. So the <a href="http://dracoonfly.blogspot.com/2010/01/another-installment-on-waste-management.html" target="_blank">coprophagia</a>
instinct is still alive and well with her. Great. Chardonnay’s nicknames are
Chardy, The Golden Goof, Blondie and Shithead.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Yesterday we had both kids, Tyler and Kelsey, and their significant others over
for Easter dinner so we took advantage of the family gathering to celebrate
Chardonnay’s birthday. I went a little bit over the top. When you realize you’re
on borrowed time, you have an excuse to make the most of it. Last year, I took
Chardonnay shopping at Pet Supplies Plus for her fourteenth. This year, I had
picked up a small cake (about 6 inches in diameter) at Stop n’ Shop and had
them write “Happy Birthday Chardonnay” with matching icing on it. I got
numbered candles. And to honor Chardonnay’s true dining habits, I arranged
three Tootsie Rolls in the shape of her favorite food on top. And before anyone criticizes me for feeding my dog junk food or chocolate, I'll defend myself; it takes an exorbitant amount of chocolate to hurt a dog, Tootsie Rolls have very little actual cocoa in them, and at her age Chardonnay has earned the right to eat cake. She eats crap, for Pete's sake. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuNcewvGb0EUVTkGP0Rz0RDJpCDSsVoQChp0eeRJWDFToA1vKMN4cOAy3Ybc4QGX-qhLbalwsyCwFAFtRcmVmigHAaah9aD8cwVwmMNHV1dkqvr281v29InNGj1Fs72oYFlTUTWMbEL50/s1600/Chardonnay%2527s+cake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuNcewvGb0EUVTkGP0Rz0RDJpCDSsVoQChp0eeRJWDFToA1vKMN4cOAy3Ybc4QGX-qhLbalwsyCwFAFtRcmVmigHAaah9aD8cwVwmMNHV1dkqvr281v29InNGj1Fs72oYFlTUTWMbEL50/s320/Chardonnay%2527s+cake.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her very special cake, complete with Tootsie Roll turds</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">We all sang and presented Chardonnay with her very own birthday
cake, candles unlit. I expected her to try to wolf the entire cake down, but
she surprised us by licking the icing, unamused at the fake turds. Sorry, Old
Girl, real ones were not an option. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4cIvBetCflo-ew5MPk1Ozr6m3dWS8kPhiBxrkSFqEXHT2OjOFEpD9N7O3ZzoK_wS8cfJHO5At1DC2OmV-usfHF9qnUak4Oa9p-ztJ5ExT1D5iEZzR5u2X30o22DP0hWSiu7_9X_-D9jM/s1600/Chardonnay%2527s+15th.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4cIvBetCflo-ew5MPk1Ozr6m3dWS8kPhiBxrkSFqEXHT2OjOFEpD9N7O3ZzoK_wS8cfJHO5At1DC2OmV-usfHF9qnUak4Oa9p-ztJ5ExT1D5iEZzR5u2X30o22DP0hWSiu7_9X_-D9jM/s320/Chardonnay%2527s+15th.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chardonnay enjoys her birthday cake</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-50975676538943688922016-02-15T16:59:00.000-05:002016-02-15T17:00:32.047-05:00Fat Cat Saga - After One Week<em>This is Part Two of a continuing series on Boom Boom's weight-loss journey. Click<a href="http://dracoonfly.blogspot.com/2016/02/fat-cat-starting-diet.html#comment-form" target="_blank"> here</a> to read Part One first. </em><br />
<br />
Yesterday, February 14th, marked one week. Boom Boom has been living in our bedroom, eating half a 5.5 ounce can of Merrick canned food twice daily. When I serve it to her, it has about a teaspoon of Miralax powder mixed into it. Jay normally does the breakfast feeding and I'm pretty sure he "forgets" to add the extra fiber. <br />
<br />
Since she stopped taking the Amitriptyline, Boom Boom is more affectionate and energetic; not surprising since it's an antihistamine. Unfortunately, she's also been scratching more, but not terribly so. Perhaps Boom Boom's allergies are seasonal. <br />
<br />
After her second day on the new diet, Boom Boom had lost six ounces. The goal is seven ounces in one week, so I figured we were going too fast. Rapid weight loss in cats can cause fatty liver disease so I adjusted her rations. I also started giving her a handful of dry food in her dish twice daily, just enough to cover the bottom of the bowl. I've been keeping a full bowl of dry food in the bath tub for the other, more mobile cats who need the extra calories. Until today, Boom Boom lacked the motivation to heft her body over and into the tub to help herself to more crunchies. Now that I've witnessed her chowing down in the tub, I need to find a better way to keep the extra food out of her reach. <br />
<br />
I weigh the big girl every two days on the baby scale and document it on the spreadsheet I have on my dresser. I weigh myself then too, but so far the cat is more successful than I have been at losing weight. I'm blaming Valentine's and those damn addicting conversation hearts and chocolate. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_1WUYmAnW14Qp_p-wwkTDGwt69sPbslVJpMeZd5I42BF6Bd6KT5zIXubkaSbeX0zZKcY8xaKMIqCnQ6yahPKunrQPmkJUqn7_9rxIwYCBK_JN4Aab3ZMdGXtmjiFoNUuKIqZ5ECcq6mA/s1600/BB+spreadsheet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_1WUYmAnW14Qp_p-wwkTDGwt69sPbslVJpMeZd5I42BF6Bd6KT5zIXubkaSbeX0zZKcY8xaKMIqCnQ6yahPKunrQPmkJUqn7_9rxIwYCBK_JN4Aab3ZMdGXtmjiFoNUuKIqZ5ECcq6mA/s320/BB+spreadsheet.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So at the end of one week, Boom Boom has lost six ounces, one ounce short of her goal. The exact recipe is still in the works as you can tell by the spreadsheet. If you go by what I weighed her at yesterday, Boom Boom had lost one pound, 4.5 ounces. That seemed a bit drastic considering the day before, she was four ounces away from her goal. This morning, she was back to a more logical 22 pounds and one ounce so we'll go with that and rack up yesterday's weight loss to technical error. Boom Boom doesn't always enjoy standing on the scale and tends to wobble a bit. <br />
<br />
Since I began this, I received a note from one of my kitten buyers, Christine, who relayed her experience with trying to get her previous cat to lose weight. I haven't tried her technique yet, but it seems like a good idea. It's also a reminder that the so-called "diet foods" are ineffective. The fiber in canned pumpkin is good for treating diarrhea and constipation in cats, plus most cats like it.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><em>Hi Sharon!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just
read your blog and wanted to share what worked for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I adopted a cat about 11 years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was 2 yrs old and almost 24 pounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The vet beat me up every time and wanted me
to buy the expensive vet diet food, which Oscar hated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I moved and went to a new vet and got the
best advice ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oscar is now 13
pounds, which is right for his size.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
advice was canned pumpkin!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said to
start cutting it into the canned food until it was about half pumpkin and half
canned food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oscar felt full, but since
it's veggie, it passed through him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just
be careful and don't buy pumpkin pie filling!<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<br />
To be continued...<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisbFbIiNyoV31Hk3bDui25xF-7hPC25sYPGBHWGHDP4FL8KRCb6Cr1y_Iz6PSpvQCLE9K0_9IeIe08LNzVFGxNepGCoGELNF0TQYngZ0GYsmsxk2O9Gw6-NILslKqwpHnWni5R3vinFJ8/s1600/Boom+Boom+from+above.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisbFbIiNyoV31Hk3bDui25xF-7hPC25sYPGBHWGHDP4FL8KRCb6Cr1y_Iz6PSpvQCLE9K0_9IeIe08LNzVFGxNepGCoGELNF0TQYngZ0GYsmsxk2O9Gw6-NILslKqwpHnWni5R3vinFJ8/s320/Boom+Boom+from+above.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Top view of Boom Boom</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-56583999956952905612016-02-08T13:38:00.001-05:002016-02-09T08:56:31.553-05:00Fat Cat - Starting a DietFor the first time, I have an obese cat. Yes, being a Maine Coon breeder, we have large cats. We have pregnant cats. We have had the occasional "beefy" spayed or neutered cat. Now having an obese cat bothers me because I have preached to my kitten buyers to keep their cats at a healthy weight. Just because you have a Maine Coon doesn't mean you should have a 30-pound cat. <br />
<br />
I am not a feline nutritionist, but I've learned a bit over the years of being a breeder. I advise my kitten buyers that if their cat starts to become too chubby, cut back on the dry food and increase the canned. <strong>Always</strong> <strong>feed canned food</strong>, no matter how inconvenient it is for you, because cats need the extra water in their diets. Drinking water is not enough. Canned food is more meat whereas dry food is closer to cat cereal and has way more carbohydrates. Male cats in particular need the extra water content that canned food provides to prevent urinary tract blockages. <br />
<br />
I won't get into the raw diet because I have chosen not to feed raw. I have a fear of too much familiarity with the original food source and salmonella to go there. I refuse to even strip the Thanksgiving turkey to salvage the meat; that's what husbands are for. Even though I don't feed raw, I recommend that all cat owners read Dr. Lisa Pierson's site, <a href="http://www.catinfo.org/" target="_blank">Cat Info.org</a> on feline diets. She offers ways to feed your cat a healthy diet, raw or not. <br />
<br />
My readers may remember my blog last August about <a href="http://dracoonfly.blogspot.com/2015/08/another-one-comes-home.html" target="_blank">Dracoonfly Cosseboom "Boom Boom"</a> and how I had to reclaim her from my mother whose own health is failing. When I brought Boom Boom back, she was on the thin side at 15-plus pounds, covered in flea bites, missing hair from all the scratching, and needed dental work. Her diet was changed (no more Meow Mix), she had many teeth pulled, and she was put on Amitriptyline to help with her allergies and anxiety. Once her mouth healed, Boom Boom starting eating with a vengeance. She stopped scratching and her coat grew back.<br />
<br />
Even though Boom Boom was born in my house, had a very successful show career and made some beautiful babies for her first five years, at the age of 11 she is not thrilled living with a bunch of cats and two dogs. She growls defensively at any cat she deems a threat. Hence, I hoped the Amitriptyline would have the added benefit of helping her to deal with the chaos. However, Boom Boom seemed happiest to live with Bear, one of my two breeding males, in my son's old bedroom. It seemed to be a perfect arrangement. However, Boom Boom, went from thin-ish to fat. When I weighed her about a month ago on my baby scale, it confirmed what my eyes saw; she was now 20 pounds. With her large frame, Boom Boom's ideal weight is about 17 pounds. <br />
<br />
At 20 pounds, Boom Boom was the heaviest cat in the house. As I mentioned, I have large cats, not fat ones. Most of my cats eat canned food together twice daily and free feed on dry food. Instead of feeding her separately, my first plan of action to get her weight down was to force Boom Boom out of her Bear cave and to travel the stairs to eat. She wasn't happy with having to deal with other cats, but Boom Boom hung out mostly on our kitchen counter, arguing with Bugger occasionally over who owns that space. But rather than losing, she actually looked like she was putting on more weight. <br />
<br />
Out came my scale again. Yikes! About a month after my tough-love-get-out-and-use-the-stairs-diet plan, Boom Boom was now 22 pounds, a two-pound gain. I guess it goes to show you how important a scale can be to keep things in perspective. <br />
<br />
Time to get serious. Time to try out the advice I frequently gave my kitten buyers if their cat starts to get fat; cut out the dry food and increase the canned. I refreshed my memory on feline weight loss with the Cat Info.org site and put Boom Boom on a canned food only diet. I add about a teaspoon of powdered Metamucil to her food. Cats that lose weight too quickly can develop life-threatening Hepatic Lipidosis (fatty liver disease) so it's important to monitor weight loss accurately. The recommendation is have the cat lose no more than 2% of her body weight per week. At 22 pounds, that would be 7 ounces, adjusting the goal as her weight declines. I put the scale in my bathroom and made a spreadsheet to track Boom Boom's weight and remind me to weigh her every 2-3 days. <br />
<br />
Since I do currently have two other cats who like to sleep in our room with us, I put their dry food in the bath tub. Boom Boom currently doesn't have the mobility or motivation to jump into the tub for food. She's also lost the ability to jump onto our bed. <br />
<br />
On a hunch, I Googled side effects of Amitriptyline. Sure enough, weight gain is a side effect. I'll have to get with my vet for something else to tackle the skin allergies as the meds stop today. Amitriptyline probably isn't the sole cause of creating an obese cat in 6 months, but there must be a correlation. <br />
<br />
So stayed tuned for the continuing saga of my big girl. If your own cat is on the plump side, take a look at his or her diet and follow along.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh84ugoSCrlJUyLjxXLm5C035C3k6awhcsss9n84uvb-gEoVBavLbGUcfIt3LJnlDbGOiU8ojTRy1IeN6YbijgSW8Mk6UKte-VTPon6O3968hfWImpqYVluHu2GP5Vl_LENBUE6FO1pDW4/s1600/BB+in+the+sink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh84ugoSCrlJUyLjxXLm5C035C3k6awhcsss9n84uvb-gEoVBavLbGUcfIt3LJnlDbGOiU8ojTRy1IeN6YbijgSW8Mk6UKte-VTPon6O3968hfWImpqYVluHu2GP5Vl_LENBUE6FO1pDW4/s320/BB+in+the+sink.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I'm not fat. I can still fit in the kitchen sink."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-64063589994511301132015-11-01T16:04:00.001-05:002015-11-01T16:06:48.275-05:00Crazy Cat Lady...Not!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I type this with an overly affectionate large brown tabby
and white Maine Coon called Bonnie who is feeling pregnant and hormonal,
perched on my left arm and shoulder, burying her head into my hair and nibbling
on my neck. Bonnie’s great-grandsire, Bugger, lies nearby, supervising all of
my laptop usage.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN2jITgKKgQnMW_fVnWYmlEXq_xSVHFWloLgJNE0Uj-OLQgag-B6kwFLxPzNAwyzy-A6Lo9mcnGkjKT3aeVvXGSdzsDutMrOjUwyBa9F-aiIwhITf3KyLg08tWL-z9afOYvslsaJlU3i8/s1600/Bugger-takes-over-the-lapto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN2jITgKKgQnMW_fVnWYmlEXq_xSVHFWloLgJNE0Uj-OLQgag-B6kwFLxPzNAwyzy-A6Lo9mcnGkjKT3aeVvXGSdzsDutMrOjUwyBa9F-aiIwhITf3KyLg08tWL-z9afOYvslsaJlU3i8/s320/Bugger-takes-over-the-lapto.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As a breeder of the magnificent Maine Coon Cat, I wonder if
others see me as a crazy cat lady. Other cat breeders, probably not. They
understand that in order to produce kittens, one needs to have more than two
cats. Okay, technically you just need an intact male and female which makes
two, but in order to have a breeding program, there needs to be a plan beyond
your first litter. You keep a kitten to carry on, but who do you breed that one
to if all you have is the kitten’s mom and dad? This ain’t West Virginia folks.
We study things like inbreeding coefficients to steer away from too much of a
good thing with shared DNA. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But to others; the “normal” people who regard more than two
cats as too many, am I a crazy cat lady to them? For those without any pets,
your opinion doesn’t count. That would be like a non-parent criticizing someone
else’s children. You know who I’m talking about. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The words Crazy Cat Lady do not project a positive image.
It’s intended to be an insult even though I know cat fanciers who embrace the
term proudly. Frumpy, unmarried, overweight, talks obsessively about her cats
as if they are children who talk back. Maybe she’s a hoarder, the ultimate
image of a crazy cat lady gone over the top. They do exist; I see them at cat
shows along with all the other “regular” cat exhibitors, but they are the
minority. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfwqRG8j75IO7-O2Nsi4_dHUz7ueW9Azu-EPBfFVSyL7WvH2eFH1dEy-FXvw659vPhlk8VYunuxH-3Jf14EQ-0IA5GOt_0Tqynq0gaojMZsQVXIvESwY_LCOIuCgrmgY03Zylc7U91IzY/s1600/Simpsons+Crazy+Cat+Lady.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfwqRG8j75IO7-O2Nsi4_dHUz7ueW9Azu-EPBfFVSyL7WvH2eFH1dEy-FXvw659vPhlk8VYunuxH-3Jf14EQ-0IA5GOt_0Tqynq0gaojMZsQVXIvESwY_LCOIuCgrmgY03Zylc7U91IzY/s1600/Simpsons+Crazy+Cat+Lady.png" /></a></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">An equestrian, jogger, college graduate, human resources
manager, a wife, a sister and daughter, a mother of two grown kids with Celiac
Disease; is that who I am or who I was? Well, I’m still a wife, daughter and
sister and I’ll always be a mother. In my mind, I am 20 pounds lighter and not
hampered by exercise-induced asthma. I can still ride a horse, but seldom get
the opportunity these days. Perhaps I’m a novice paralegal, supporting her
husband’s new solo law practice, but not having enough to do yet. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Certainly we identify people by their jobs more than
anything else which is why I sometimes feel like I need a better label than cat
breeder. I cringe when I’m introduced as a Maine Coon breeder to those outside
the cat fancy. The first question that follows is, “How many cats do you have?”
to which there is no good answer for the average person. Then I feel compelled
to explain that I also show my cats, I’m a responsible breeder and the kittens
are so popular that I’ll never have enough to meet the demand (and yet I’ll
barely break even after all is said and done for them). </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At the local cat shows, I often meet followers, my “stalkers”
as I affectionately call them. These are the people who light up when they recognize
my name or my cattery on the show cage sign, then they tell me how they’ve watched
my website for years, read my blog, and/or follow my cattery on Facebook. That’s
pretty cool, I admit. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Career-wise, I’ve been little more than a
homemaker/stay-at-home Mom/housewife the past several years. That’s another
label I never thought would apply to me; homemaker. I was going to have a
career AND a family. However, reality, divorce, remarriage, a recession and
children who needed me took over. Life happened and my plans were put on hold
for so long I no longer have the desire to figure out what they are anymore. The
one plan I had some control over was breeding Maine Coons. </span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0gGbTFeWB6aYu66ErnbcLObIj7_GRPzkxn4vRhBirPpHioS0W1NSpgMDYsdL-G0wgGPR6KbsVQs3jD4x7cRfVrCnU1Bnj3AbKmCfk4LFg-e7aTaqhl9PZxq8zltN19wdiUjYysl80wPE/s1600/cat-lady-pic5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0gGbTFeWB6aYu66ErnbcLObIj7_GRPzkxn4vRhBirPpHioS0W1NSpgMDYsdL-G0wgGPR6KbsVQs3jD4x7cRfVrCnU1Bnj3AbKmCfk4LFg-e7aTaqhl9PZxq8zltN19wdiUjYysl80wPE/s320/cat-lady-pic5.jpg" width="320" /></a></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Maybe it’s the sum of what we do that matters more than the
labels given us. I do still fit in my jeans, but not the way I’d like to. I do
pottery, but I’m not a ceramics artist. I am very sarcastic, but I’m not a
comedian. I do sing pretty well, but not at Karaoke. I do take back and rehome any cats or kittens I sell if the owner can no longer keep them, but I don't take in strays simply because I have to keep my numbers down. I do enjoy cooking these days, but I am not a chef. I do write a blog,
but I haven’t written a book (yet). I do try to stay in my children’s lives and
consider myself a good mom. I do break out into song at any cue, but not as
annoyingly so as my siblings. I do enjoy travelling to foreign lands for
vacation or just for the weekend at a cat show, but I love coming home and
hanging with the hubby. I do continue to be a passionate animal lover, but recognize
my pets are not “like my children”. I do have a wonderful following of cat
lovers and kitten buyers who appreciate me and my cats. I do breed and show
Maine Coons, but I am not a crazy cat lady.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-ZCUQjqXh4Dgvr8Xt9Q1e3EToA3mvJhIrzhyphenhyphenerwNcZjzuZLz4Dr7m5jDOjStQeyBz1Ykqf0-0DJTdMQ2o_VIvAJg6cvRZmypOe6CdWmdz92OUixD9-pU-4W5LgONVlL1DFGBO-6QsbI/s1600/Crazy+Cat+lady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-ZCUQjqXh4Dgvr8Xt9Q1e3EToA3mvJhIrzhyphenhyphenerwNcZjzuZLz4Dr7m5jDOjStQeyBz1Ykqf0-0DJTdMQ2o_VIvAJg6cvRZmypOe6CdWmdz92OUixD9-pU-4W5LgONVlL1DFGBO-6QsbI/s320/Crazy+Cat+lady.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-58802974835512581812015-08-07T10:37:00.000-04:002015-08-07T10:37:31.182-04:00Another One Comes Home
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In my effort to be a responsible Maine Coon cat breeder, I
have vowed to be ultimately responsible for the kittens I sell. This means that
even though I sell them to screened, loving homes where they are intended to
live long lives as part of a family for the duration of their feline lives, I
will take them back if things don’t work out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Not often, but once in a great while, my kittens have come
back. It’s usually as adults, for various reasons; home foreclosure due to job
loss, upheaval caused by divorce, severe allergies of a new family member and death
of the owner. In virtually all the cases, the owners are distraught about
giving their pet back, but realize I can find them a new home more easily than
they can. It’s also in most breeders’ contracts to have first right of refusal
if the original owner can no longer keep the animal. I would always take the
cats back rather than risk them being put in less desirable situations, like an
animal shelter. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Almost all of the cats that come back to me are on the
younger side and are easily sold to new homes after a short adjustment period
where I can have them vetted and assess them. It has always worked out well; a
family gets a Maine Coon and a cat gets properly spoiled in a new home. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Recently, I’ve taken older cats back that I felt were too
old to re-home. One cat I took back was <a href="http://dracoonfly.blogspot.com/2015/02/back-to-fold_13.html" target="_blank">Ray</a>, a nine-year-old red tabby who I
blogged about in February. Ray’s owner had died and Ray himself had been
recently diagnosed with cancer. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
enjoyed Ray’s company for about four months before my vet helped him leave us
to escape his cancer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Last week, I brought Ray’s mother, Boom Boom, home. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took the 11-year-old cat back from my
mother, with whom she’d lived for the past seven years in North Carolina since
she retired from breeding (the cat, not my Mom). Some of my readers may
remember <a href="http://dracoonfly.com/bb1.html" target="_blank">Dracoonfly Cosseboom</a>, one of the largest female Maine Coons I ever had
the pleasure of showing. Even with her tell-tale torbie and white coloring that’s
normally assigned only to females, Boom Boom was large enough that a couple of
judges felt the need to verify her gender. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sixteen pounds on a one-year-old Maine Coon is
big, even for the boys. Boom Boom earned the titles of CFA Grand Champion and
TICA Supreme Grand Champion. In 2008, she became a TICA Outstanding Dam which
means five of her offspring also became Grand Champions.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had not wanted to bring Boom Boom back like this. Unfortunately,
between my mother’s liver cancer, her increasing memory loss and my step-father's limited mobility, Boom Boom has
not been receiving the attention she needs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother would complain about how much the
cat vomited and scratched herself, yet neither she nor my step-dad, John,
seemed to be able to take preventive steps. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I spent quite a bit of time and effort over the years, trying to educate Mom
and John on the need to avoid feeding Boom Boom cat food with corn meal in the
ingredients because of her skin sensitivities. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cats are obligate carnivores and many pet food
manufacturers use corn meal as a cheap source of protein. Cats are not designed
to digest corn. Thus, corn meal is a primary reason for cats vomiting after
eating. However, Mom and John kept going back to Meow Mix; it was easier to buy
at the grocery store than go to a pet specialty store and invest in the better
brands I recommended. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In addition to food allergies, Boom Boom also had fleas. Fleas are more
difficult to deal with in the South as they hitch rides indoors on people. Keeping a cat indoors is not an absolute guarantee to avoid fleas. Having
Revolution applied monthly on the back of her neck to prevent fleas never
became a habit for poor Boom Boom. Instead, when Boom Boom scratched, the
knee-jerk reaction was to put a Hartz flea collar on her. This was not only ineffective, but irritating to the cat’s sensitive skin. Thanks goodness
they never tried <a href="http://www.consumeraffairs.com/pets/hartz.html" target="_blank">Hartz Spot-on</a> as that product (which is still out there for
some reason) has been known to cause seizures and death in cats and dogs. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">No surprise then that Boom Boom has bald spots and scabs on
her. I know I should have taken her back sooner, but when your mother always
talks about how much she enjoys the cat every time you talk on the phone and
the last doctor’s report indicates her time is getting shorter, you rationalize
leaving the cat as a therapy pet for a few more months. My sister and I
increased our visits to Mom after we saw the situation last December, when Boom
Boom was badly infested with fleas and she’d lost weight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother actually had not noticed because the
scratching had become normal for Boom Boom. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We used <a href="http://www.revolution4cats.com/overview.html" target="_blank">Revolution</a> to get rid of the fleas and
got her weight stabilized. We bought the better dry cat food, but would just
return a month later to find Meow Mix again, because “Boom Boom didn’t like the
new food”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My family is just too spread
out to make visits more frequently; Mom is in North Carolina, I’m in Connecticut,
my sister lives in Minnesota and my brother in Arizona. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So last week my husband and I drove to North Carolina to visit Mom and prepared
to return with a cat. We packed the large, collapsible dog crate I use to transport
the cats to cat shows. It’s big enough for a litter box and a couple of Maine
Coons. We had already checked Boom Boom for fleas and found none, but just in
case, the last day Boom Boom was at Mom and John’s house, I gave her a Capstar
pill and a bath. Capstar will kill any remaining fleas within 30 minutes and I
wasn’t taking any chances of bringing the little blood-suckers in my house. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom asked if we wanted to take Boom Boom’s cat
tree for her, but we didn’t want to take a chance on unhatched eggs either. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have several cats, two dogs and no fleas. I
want to keep it that way. The seven-foot cat tree went to the dump.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was very nervous about the prospect of taking my mother’s
cat away from her. I had a vision of Mom bursting into tears and begging me not
to take Boom Boom. To offset this, I had bought Mom one of those
realistic-looking stuffed cats that lies curled up and breathes with the help
of a D battery as a substitute to sit on her recliner with her. I also enlisted
my step-father’s support as I knew he was tired of taking care of the cat. If
Mom forgot why Boom Boom was gone, I needed John to be able to give her gentle
reminders. Mom just can’t do it anymore and although John likes Boom Boom, he
has enough on his plate with his wife and his own limitations. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>John agreed that this would be best and backed
me up. We told Mom that Boom Boom needed to come back home with me where I
could take care of her. Mom was in agreement; she even thanked me several times
for taking care of Boom Boom during the week we were down there. Mom tends to
repeat herself, but I was happy she remembered what I was intending to do. Still,
when the time came for us to leave, Mom burst into tears. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Why does this have to be so hard? Aging parents. Cancer. Dementia.
Aging, neglected cats. In the end, we’re trying to make the best of a bad
situation. Mom calmed down quickly, saying she hadn’t intended to cry. Something
would be wrong with her if she weren’t upset. I know how much she loves this
cat. I reminded Mom that seven years ago I had cried when she took Boom Boom
away to live with her in North Carolina. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now that Boom Boom has been back a week, she seems very
happy. My mother still thanks me for taking care of the cat, and is getting
used to being cat-less. Boom Boom doesn’t appreciate our other cats yet, but
she clearly remembered our house, jumping immediately into our master bathroom
window. Right now, she’s enjoying an itch-free lifestyle, learning to like new
foods, and meeting the other cats one by one while she lives in our bedroom.
When Boom Boom is ready, she’ll come downstairs on her own terms and take on the
rest of the household. I’m relieved the transition is working out well and we’re
happy to have Boom Boom back in the family. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZIb3SSgBIyB81wXbj7eaTc6f21wEQDR6EdBr1FGmIw03R72ZH0ZF-cthwsoe0_7wftwqoisHFpTDBU5RxhQY0VJNWpTnRuR7Qi1UZBEQQVvSQg0k4aVe8oUv5M3aDUz3c-tgo_wHp6MY/s1600/Boom+Boom+11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZIb3SSgBIyB81wXbj7eaTc6f21wEQDR6EdBr1FGmIw03R72ZH0ZF-cthwsoe0_7wftwqoisHFpTDBU5RxhQY0VJNWpTnRuR7Qi1UZBEQQVvSQg0k4aVe8oUv5M3aDUz3c-tgo_wHp6MY/s320/Boom+Boom+11.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-62734565126525293312015-07-03T10:12:00.001-04:002015-07-03T10:33:10.666-04:00Bobbing for BeetlesIt's summer time, the living is easy and my chickens are loving it. It's also time for gardening and dealing with the pests that come along with it. One reason I wanted chickens was to have a natural means to take care of the ticks and other bugs. One of the most infamous garden pests is the Japanese Beetle. <br />
<br />
I read an idea in my <a href="http://www.backyardpoultrymag.com/" target="_blank">Backyard Poultry Magazine</a> (I know, you probably thought I read Cosmo) that I decided to modify and try to not only rid our yard from Japanese Beetles, but to also provide extra nutrition for our 18 hens and one roo. <br />
<br />
From our friendly neighborhood <a href="https://www.holdridgegarden.com/" target="_blank">Holdridge Home and Garden</a>, I bought a beetle trap which works by suspending a pheromone attractor over a bag. Plastic supports hold the magic aphrodisiac in place, also keeping the bag open and wing inserts prevent the buggers from crawling back out. There's a zipper at the bottom of the bag for easy emptying. It's a clever invention in theory, but I wondered as I looked for a place to hang my beetle trap if it would really work. Doubts were quickly dispersed as Japanese Beetles started bombing me; I was blocking their flight paths toward their hearts' desire.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsGtdd3-uYXd-ANqlD8BTmRmLER1PLe_GgS4K1K_SVdRbkd5HNCEbcgz-Fb9rEuLWga3tfVMS4iuYQYKtppozh27KgrT7iQ3P_F99MEGKVQfiVjbCKrsKAjNPUMwlKC0JROpNrseeyD9A/s1600/2015-07-03+08.29.47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsGtdd3-uYXd-ANqlD8BTmRmLER1PLe_GgS4K1K_SVdRbkd5HNCEbcgz-Fb9rEuLWga3tfVMS4iuYQYKtppozh27KgrT7iQ3P_F99MEGKVQfiVjbCKrsKAjNPUMwlKC0JROpNrseeyD9A/s320/2015-07-03+08.29.47.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div>
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The magazine article suggested not allowing the bugs to collect in the bag as they become disgusting pretty fast in the summer sun and you want to feed live, healthy critters to your chickens. The author suspends his beetle trap over a ten gallon bucket, both hung over a hook. The beetles fly to the trap and fall through the open bag to the water below which effectly holds them hostage. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTnzDlzQK4VjkqdPpWkoU-KLYhB3XJFIGgbtKIjbppjEsglgBOd_e6NLBipJRnM74B21GxI3VpLSe5HUNHL3NCZyZRjfhHumMgrdQeJhW_WlVRRZlwj6shRu6SC4ZCxd0M9sPffdeyb0/s1600/2015-07-03+08.30.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTnzDlzQK4VjkqdPpWkoU-KLYhB3XJFIGgbtKIjbppjEsglgBOd_e6NLBipJRnM74B21GxI3VpLSe5HUNHL3NCZyZRjfhHumMgrdQeJhW_WlVRRZlwj6shRu6SC4ZCxd0M9sPffdeyb0/s320/2015-07-03+08.30.43.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trapped Beetles Await Their Fate in the Bag</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Not having a hook already set up on our yard and too lazy to do anything about it, I came up with an alterative. Since the goal is to provide extra treats for the chickens, I had to have a way to serve the beetles without allowing them to fly away and escape the eager beaks. The beetles are very fast flyers and if they are just dumped out on the ground in front of the chickens, most will escape. I know, I tried it. So every day or so, I unzip the bottom of the beetle bag and let the day's catch drop into a waiting bowl of water. Beetles are not good swimmers so they cling to one another, forming little beetle rafts which also keeps them from getting away easily. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTqhOH_JABwn5_RSHUf4XdfofKiBifMq-phnErWWWj4wytLADAJTokZiBsfJBLBh-6hlMdEZmoB2GhUJ1-CJXaKTGp5FTLjbuxSMWXywYLrWFIx7nCtzpZnbjvJ3wJoD__Bv0HbU-3q00/s320/2015-07-03+08.30.34.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Water Bowl Waiting to Receive the Beetle Bounty from Above</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjavM55Mb0RYaKNiFmWMpVM7KGh1ZIo4-DzyiYK86g-wKkY8ZCDfuw9SFWpLKet7vyIxIcpomP1M_TNiezLU-gjmAGlsYB9VeB5xEqgdtD7PPeq-RpfA8sB4URZeMI2uNca0sBuhQuwfIw/s1600/2015-07-03+08.31.55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjavM55Mb0RYaKNiFmWMpVM7KGh1ZIo4-DzyiYK86g-wKkY8ZCDfuw9SFWpLKet7vyIxIcpomP1M_TNiezLU-gjmAGlsYB9VeB5xEqgdtD7PPeq-RpfA8sB4URZeMI2uNca0sBuhQuwfIw/s320/2015-07-03+08.31.55.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I then take my water bowl of beetles and serve it to the waiting flock who devour them in about 30 seconds. Bobbing for beetles has now become part of our routine.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx-fDieY9yuPWqIUUms3FDRqWiFCtFIjlFEQE5AMsPb8l5Zz2hiy0TqxJgAuweY_-wmNO_oFEoXgYtvnwwFcOQoyrl8cwRS3in-7h2PjaHooNcIgzctvE5sJQVPIGAJVwgOPXPfZI5fCA/s1600/2015-07-03+08.32.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx-fDieY9yuPWqIUUms3FDRqWiFCtFIjlFEQE5AMsPb8l5Zz2hiy0TqxJgAuweY_-wmNO_oFEoXgYtvnwwFcOQoyrl8cwRS3in-7h2PjaHooNcIgzctvE5sJQVPIGAJVwgOPXPfZI5fCA/s320/2015-07-03+08.32.23.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-85464687155695888062015-06-21T08:54:00.001-04:002015-06-21T08:56:15.320-04:00Things My Daddy Taught Me<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As I did for my mom on Mother's Day, for Father's Day I have written down the things my dear Papa has taught me. Whether my dad intentionally set out to teach us these things or not, I find myself doing or referring to "Dadisms" quite frequently throughout my adult life.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5OO7dE1yxZ8X2cwe-TArnvjIPNDty7KR86GUq6BWjkb7vCZpSPlEfKX11yKT7WDitTi7ow9K1M1eCJKcZIuzyB8vKHj9hNoC_D4OL57WkfZ65_iL7HntQF66BHSjfHcIs92WSIYaFV9I/s1600/Dad2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5OO7dE1yxZ8X2cwe-TArnvjIPNDty7KR86GUq6BWjkb7vCZpSPlEfKX11yKT7WDitTi7ow9K1M1eCJKcZIuzyB8vKHj9hNoC_D4OL57WkfZ65_iL7HntQF66BHSjfHcIs92WSIYaFV9I/s320/Dad2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Do stretching exercises at rest stops when traveling,
ostensibly to keep the blood flowing, but mostly to embarrass your children and
grandchildren. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Know how to check your car’s oil yourself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Women should expect men to treat them with respect.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s “chimney” not “chimley”.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Real men cry.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When watching TV, conduct the theme music.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Be politically correct. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A change of key is called modulation; Barry Manilow was
notorious for modulating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Exhale deeply and loudly when stretching to get everyone’s
attention and/or make people wonder if you’re okay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Flatulence in an enclosed space can be deadly and will be talked about for
years to come.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When the accelerator cable on your 1972 VW Beetle breaks,
take your screwdriver out of the glove compartment and adjust the timing on the
engine so it idles fast enough to putt-putt at 20 MPH to the nearest service
station. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For all major endeavors, have a Plan A, B <u>and</u> C.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When your teenager confides what she’s been up to, don’t
freak out but instead tell her you’re glad she came to you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Precede your instructions with “May I suggest, “ so others
won’t<u> </u>think you’re too controlling.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Don’t describe people simply by the color of their skin.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you’re uncomfortable and someone can do something about
it, speak up rather than put up. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Don’t put a spoon into a blender full of potatoes until the
blades have completely stopped. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Stay in good physical shape so you can claim that you weigh
the same as you did in college. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">E-nun-ci-ate, ar-ti-cu-late and be correct in all things
grammar.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sing frequently and often around the house in full voice. My
favorite? “She has freckles on her butt….she’s nice”.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You may over-communicate until others’ eyes roll out of
their heads, but they can never claim they didn’t know or that you’re
unorganized.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Never hesitate to tell your family that you love them and
are proud.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even though you don’t really understand it, support your young
daughter’s obsession with animals, especially her desire to have a pony. Later,
warn her husband that she also always wanted a Jersey cow.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When napping on the couch, don’t react to anything going on around you, like when your young daughters apply make-up to your face or your 3-year-old grandson licks your glasses.</span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6shroYoXdfgXEiE_nppDpj_nRRaKpIVewK4Vjr1fzgvJAh4aB8IpEj7lpVoASgHf6WSEl5VV3eIBgt49fG6RWtkUhZaDBVu6KcYFX969dXd6pFY_Gi-LnoEfgySSkzpcT1093a-c0IZk/s1600/Dad+made+up+cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6shroYoXdfgXEiE_nppDpj_nRRaKpIVewK4Vjr1fzgvJAh4aB8IpEj7lpVoASgHf6WSEl5VV3eIBgt49fG6RWtkUhZaDBVu6KcYFX969dXd6pFY_Gi-LnoEfgySSkzpcT1093a-c0IZk/s320/Dad+made+up+cropped.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you’re really angry at something your child did, warn her
that you’re about to lose your temper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sorry, that always made me giggle (silently). </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Embrace technology and learning new things. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Don’t attempt to do basic maintenance on newer cars; what
you think are spark plugs are not.</span><br />
<br />
<!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Men can be feminists too.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Keep the “I<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Heart
</span>Dad” socks your daughter gave you for Father’s Day forever, always
wearing them when you see her, even thirty-plus years later.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Happy Father's Day, Daddy!</div>
</div>
Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-76370553343901104332015-04-10T09:16:00.001-04:002015-04-10T09:16:23.464-04:00Shopping for Spring Chicks
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Spring will come, I promise. I know this not because of
the weather conditions, but because the local feed stores are starting to get
in baby chicks to sell. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">For those who may be newer to the chicken fancy, there’s
a multitude of information that can be found online. I still find
<a href="http://www.backyardchickens.com/" target="_blank">Backyardchickens.com</a> to be an invaluable resource for everything from preferred
breeds to healthcare to coop designs.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Since I began keeping backyard chickens almost 6 years
ago, I have acquired new chicks every year, one way or another. My original
flock of nine has grown to 20. I have expanded in part because I like so many
different breeds that I had to have at least one (or two) of each kind. My
flock of 20 is represented by 10 different breeds of chickens. I like the variety
I get with the different colors of eggs and having chickens that I can easily
tell apart. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I have found that as my older girls decrease their egg
laying production, it helps to have new pullets to continue to supply my family
with eggs. Although hens are clearly most productive during their first two
years, they will continue to lay as an older hen, just not as often. We have a
hard rule to not cull our chickens as these are our pets. The older, and by
older I mean three years and up, lay primarily during the longer days of spring
and summer, then take a sabbatical starting in the fall. I look at it as the
younger girls paying into the social security fund of the menopausal ones. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I have obtained chicks utilizing different methods; by
ordering them online from a hatchery in the mid-west, feed stores, hatching my
own eggs, mail-order from a breeder and directly from breeders at poultry
shows. I have yet to attend a chicken swap meet, but that’s an idea too. I
would prefer to get them all directly from the breeder as those chicks are
generally most likely to fit the standard for the breed. I was amazed when I
saw the Buff Orpingtons at my first poultry show as they were easily twice as
large as our online-ordered Buffy. I also trust the health more from breeders
as opposed to mid-west hatcheries, although I have no personal experience to
support that. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I have, however, encountered a few issues when shopping
for chicks at a poultry show. The breed I want may not be available or even at
the show I choose to attend. I have had the best luck purchasing young adult
chickens at poultry shows. I suggest Googling “Poultry Shows” to find show and
swap meet dates in your area. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Most chicks purchased from a feed store originate from the
big hatcheries in the mid-west. The feed stores are merely the middle man. They
are already sexed to be all female unless straight run is indicated. Feed
stores usually carry four to six of the more popular breeds. In Connecticut, Massachusetts,
New York and other states, the law requires that buyers must purchase at least
six chicks at one time. I was told this was to limit frivolous single Easter
chick purchases and protect the chicks from those who are not likely to know
what they are doing. Chickens are flock animals so a single chick is not going
to be happy or healthy. I have been able to get around the six-chick rule with
a couple of feed stores after I explained that I already had a backyard flock, it
was after Easter already and I didn’t have room for more than three new chicks.
Although you can have the immediate satisfaction of selecting your chicks at a
feed store and taking it home that day along with all the supplies, the variety
of breeds are limited. If you want a Polish Crested with its crazy Cruella
Deville hair, a cute Silkie or a Marans hen that lays chocolate brown eggs,
don’t look at Tractor Supply. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My very first chicks arrived from Meyer Hatchery in Polk,
Ohio. The reason I initially chose Meyer was that it was the only online
hatchery I could find that would ship as few as three chicks. Most hatcheries
require a 15-25 minimum order, depending upon the time of year. With an online
hatchery, your choices are much greater. I found it easy to pick and choose
which breed and color I wanted, easy because the websites include descriptions
of the chickens (personalities, cold/heat tolerance, egg color), hatch dates,
and whether I wanted all female, male or straight run (mix of both genders). </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">If you do encounter a problem with a minimum chick number
requirement, one can often find fellow chicken keepers to split the order.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My chicks arrived when they were two days old at my local
post office. They had nesting material and heating packs in their special live
chick box. Because newly-hatched chicks still have a yolk sack on their
abdomens which provides them with 72 hours worth of continued nutrition, the
best age to mail chicks is the day they emerge from their shells. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I have had limited success with hatching my own eggs. I
don’t have an incubator, but the one thing a Silkie hen is good for besides
looking cute, is sitting on eggs, no matter what the source. I have used my
Silkies to hatch a friend’s pheasant eggs and eggs from other hens. The problems
I experienced were infertile eggs (read rotten), a low hatch rate (only one out
of four eggs ended up as a live chick) and not getting girl chicks. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Along with many of the chicken fanciers of the world, I
only want female chicks or <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>pullets
(young hens under the age of one year). Roosters are not necessary to get a hen
to lay eggs, plus they have a reputation for becoming aggressive toward humans.
Many towns have ordinances which will allow chickens to be kept in backyards as
long as none of them ever crow. Crowing is not just a morning activity, but one
that begins around 4 am and continues throughout the day. I have come to regard
a rooster’s crow as nature’s music, but if we lived in the burbs, I wouldn’t
want to subject my next door neighbors to the music blasting from my backyard. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Statistically, half of all eggs hatched will result in
male chicks. It is a major disadvantage to be a boy in the chicken world. Realistically,
people don’t need half of their chickens to be male. Hens not only lay the
eggs, but they are quieter, gentler, and, if one is so inclined, better to eat.
If the chicken reproduction world were as advanced as the dairy industry, the
gender could be pre-determined. Dairy farmers also only need female calves, but
they are now able to artificially inseminate their cows with semen that is
already divided to produce only girls. My wish would be that scientists could
come up with a way to ensure only female hatchlings and avoid a lot of the
chicken gendercide.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There are those who proclaim the hatcheries to be the
enemy because they end up killing the unwanted male chicks. The animal rights
activists push the vegan agenda with their hatchery abuse videos. However, the
video I’ve seen represents the factory farmers who raise chickens for the big
companies like Purdue. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While I would
agree that factory farming methods are disturbing and inhumane, not all
hatcheries should fall under the same label. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The hatcheries that cater to the local farmers and
backyard breeders seem to be a lot more humane in that they’re selling pets and
heritage breeds. These hatcheries try to place as many boys as they can by
having local sales. Some hatcheries use the male chicks as extra packing warmth
with other chick orders. In the latter case, this means that if I ordered six
Silver-laced Wyandotte pullets, I may also receive an equal number of little
cockerels in whatever breed that wouldn’t sell. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">On the other hand, your local chicken breeder will also
end up culling unwanted roosters, just at an older age. I’ve been to poultry
shows where the breeders were trying hard to sell us roosters because otherwise
they’ll end up slaughtering whatever cockerels they didn’t sell when they got
back to the farm.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Some suggest that when ordering online to only order a
straight run of chicks which is supposed to be an even mix of genders so as not to
discriminate against the boys. Realistically, with so many people ordering
pullets only, those who order a straight run may receive more than 50% male
chicks. Until the day arrives where the only male chicks that hatch are those
that are wanted, I try to be practical. It is much easier for me personally,
since I don’t eat my chickens, to only bring in pullets to begin with. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As surely as the snow will melt and the mud will dry,
little peeps will be arriving regularly. They may come to the post office, the
feed store, the poultry show or with your neighbor. With so much cuteness and
promise of the best eggs ever, it’s time to start shopping. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-66120176307612013032015-04-05T20:55:00.000-04:002015-04-05T20:55:09.446-04:00Bahamas vs. Connecticut
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My husband, Jay, is an avid fly-fisherman. Ties his own
flies, Vice-President of the fishing club, and can tell you what kind of fish
you’ll catch on what type of fly during a particular season. In short, Jay
lives for fishing. Once a year he travels to Canada with his friend Curt to
spend a lot of money trying to catch the elusive salmon. The weather stinks,
the people are great, and he may catch one or two salmon if he’s lucky after
standing in a frigid river for 8 hours. He has a great time and comes home
telling me how he wants to take me there sometime. Freezing weather in the
middle of nowhere, no matter how beautiful, is not my thing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can fly fish, but it’s not something I want
to spend hours doing, every day. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This year Jay was invited to go fishing with Curt and join a
mutual friend of theirs, Steve, who rents a house for 3 months a year. That’s
great. I have no desire to hang out with these codgers. Both men are older than
Jay, one is a hypochondriac and the other has no regard for his personal
hygiene. However, Steve’s rental home is in the Bahamas, on a small island near
Eleuthra which can only be accessed by water taxi. Steve also has a boat there.
Much less costly, and ever so much more desirable a place to hang out doing
nothing, especially since our snow is taking forever to melt this year. Still,
I really didn’t want to go, not with that group. Plus I’ve been to the Bahamas
before, twice (in my life before Jay) and it wasn’t in a one-bedroom cabin
shared with three others. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">However, saying I’m here in cold Connecticut while my
husband is bonefishing in the Bahamas generally garners some sympathy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jay was actually feeling guilty about leaving
me weeks before he left. Mind you, he still obsessed about the trip, packing a
week in advance, buying a new fly rod, tying more flies than he would ever need,
flies that only the mighty bonefish will take because the fish eat differently
there. He was excited about going, yet definitely feeling <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>guilt not normally expressed before the Canada
trips. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After Jay arrived at his fishing destination, he called
every night to report in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found that I
could counter every wonderful experience he was having in the Bahamas with one
of equally opposite appeal back home.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDXr3WdbRWCFCQhPHtrQMTTfNbWHCvIbTgvg3DpuoWXEqWSw0b9Gi3-DHFsOuwcyt-oRG3uMqeoIPKdZoC-t3IXZuXre-tgrKDaZrhXHgHGcL1phWHLRIyiKFxFmvK-aQeQB5pAdh27c/s1600/Bahamas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDXr3WdbRWCFCQhPHtrQMTTfNbWHCvIbTgvg3DpuoWXEqWSw0b9Gi3-DHFsOuwcyt-oRG3uMqeoIPKdZoC-t3IXZuXre-tgrKDaZrhXHgHGcL1phWHLRIyiKFxFmvK-aQeQB5pAdh27c/s1600/Bahamas.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">First night’s report: “It’s beautiful here! The water is so
blue.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I responded with, “The snow is beautiful here too.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“It snowed again? Are you serious?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I took a picture of our newest winter wonderland and sent it
as proof. “Yep. About three inches.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jay: “I’m tired from walking on the beach all day.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Me: “I understand. I’m tired from shoveling snow.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Next day. Jay: “I caught a barracuda!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“That’s nice Dear. I caught a cold.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Day Three: “We saw sea turtles and lots of sting rays.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“That’s nice. I took the old, sick Hamburg hen to the vet to
be euthanized today. She was suffering and I couldn’t watch her like that
anymore. “</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Day Four: “I’ve been doing a lot of the cooking. The other
two aren’t very good in the kitchen. Steve almost set the grill on fire.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Me: “Me too. And I’m not doing the wood stove anymore
because I end up smelling like a camper.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Day Five: “We ate out tonight. They serve a lot of conch
soup here. The people are so friendly. We’ve been drinking a lot of rum drinks.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Me: “That’s nice, Dear. My nose is sore and red so I’m making
chicken soup. Later I’ll have orange juice mixed with cran-mango juice…plus
vodka.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I’ll take a Benadryl before
bed to combat my cold.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Day Six: “I had a bonefish on the line but it broke off.
Man, do they fight! It was so exciting; it ran my reel all the way out.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I bought new rain boots to walk in the mud to the barn because
my old ones leaked so badly. ”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Day Seven: “Well, Honey, we’re on our way home.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Lovely. I’m going to a cat show in Canada next weekend.
Would you like to come with me? Oh, never mind, you’d miss Opening Day for trout
season.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jay: “Are you kidding? I’d love to spend the weekend at a
cat show with you instead of fishing.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Me: “Thought so.”</span></div>
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Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-83503922997523914882015-03-28T19:13:00.001-04:002015-03-29T08:09:39.528-04:00Birthday GirlI note the birthdays of all my Maine Coon litters on my Facebook page. I tell my cats "Happy Birthday!" when it's their big day, but that's as far as the recognition goes. However, when the oldest pet in the house turned 14 today, I felt the need to put forth more effort. No, not the party hat and cake; she wouldn't understand and may even find it humiliating. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVAn9_ifWR5HbRbiRFQowMe2-tW3sKUp1lK40nKUsxUlBy8pu3lMQKJaEp8rj75LwFux_ILuky_MqwhiLDr1jnzMdOh60nvXkCCZIBgqLtt4TxDcFLlOPqyvMa8LDeDL1HtAggBEG-GYg/s1600/Chardonnay+2+mos+cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVAn9_ifWR5HbRbiRFQowMe2-tW3sKUp1lK40nKUsxUlBy8pu3lMQKJaEp8rj75LwFux_ILuky_MqwhiLDr1jnzMdOh60nvXkCCZIBgqLtt4TxDcFLlOPqyvMa8LDeDL1HtAggBEG-GYg/s1600/Chardonnay+2+mos+cropped.jpg" height="320" width="217" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">14 years ago - this photo is still on our fridge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
For the past couple of years, I've felt we were on borrowed time with Chardonnay, our Golden Retriever. She's had a tumor removed. She's had one seizure, possibly linked to a brain tumor according to our vet, but that was over a year ago. Her knees are bad and her hips have atrophied; she's on medication and supplements to help her. She hesitates before getting up and navigating the steps. Her hearing is almost shot and her eyes are foggy. Her skin has several gross-feeling cysts the size of an engorged tick. I blogged about Chardonnay on her<a href="http://dracoonfly.blogspot.com/2011/03/how-much-is-that-doggie-in-window.html" target="_blank"> tenth</a> birthday in part because I wasn't sure how much longer she'd be with us. <br />
<br />
But once up, Chardonnay trots along happily. She still practices caprophagia with tremendous passion whenever the opportunity to eat poop arises. She can't hear us tell her to be quiet, but she can always hear Coraline barking at imagined intruders and joins in. She turned grey a decade ago, but has maintained her girlish figure of 83 pounds all these years. <br />
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I've never had a dog live this long before. I've never even had a purebred dog before Chardonnay. I know of many who have had retrievers (Lab or Golden) who didn't make it past 10 years old. Once in a while, I'll hear of one who lives to 16, but that's rare for a large breed. For me, Chardonnay's birthday is sentimental and an accomplishment. <br />
<br />
So today, on Chardonnay's 14th birthday, I thought I'd take her on a shopping trip to Pet Supplies Plus. It's a perfect day for her breed; cold, fresh snow and freezing rain, adding to the snow that will never melt after our never-ending winter. Snow is Chardonnay's favorite element. If it were nicer weather for humans, I'd take her for a hike in the woods. <br />
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I brushed her, getting a couple of puppies worth of fur off. Gave her a mani-pedi while the others watched. <br />
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Next, I lifted her into the back of my car and off we went. Chardonnay loves car rides and meeting new people. Once at our destination, I helped the old girl out and we trotted into the store. When I announced to the sales associate that we were here to shop for Chardonnay's birthday, she proclaimed that meant she got a free cookie. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzr_H2scYi7DfP7-HCiNCqBktdVZRNlRrlfl1WpsssT3Jouj5oMRSB9zUvmV2AM2N-LEPWvVYrlYrPktuZg7_CunxCca_QU24ItNyZrZaDR_IbChQoUatzv6T03aPSAZAV3OqVFTrOjXQ/s1600/Chardonnays+14th+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzr_H2scYi7DfP7-HCiNCqBktdVZRNlRrlfl1WpsssT3Jouj5oMRSB9zUvmV2AM2N-LEPWvVYrlYrPktuZg7_CunxCca_QU24ItNyZrZaDR_IbChQoUatzv6T03aPSAZAV3OqVFTrOjXQ/s1600/Chardonnays+14th+(2).jpg" height="320" width="181" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting her treat at Pet Supplies Plus</td></tr>
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Everyone in the store petted her, and I'm sure Chardonnay assumed they all came to see her. She gets a bit miffed when kitten buyers come over and spend more time looking at kittens than they do her. We walked down the aisles, stopping to sniff all the food bags, treats and toys. I offered Chardonnay several toys; the stuffed chicken, the tug toy, a ball perhaps? Nope, just food thank you. She enjoys eating and napping the most these days. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicllEhChDr68GWBZUdlhmr5R1reiwSx3V8w6AkRVP7KB9XwVoqLp_lh_960QqS_ubln18872KSazkpkJOKzFuiQ2STPOdk7ecMThc-C1XYkMkkg8PgjCFKTEN7H7t5PvClrHOr_YG0le4/s1600/Chardonnays+14th+(3).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicllEhChDr68GWBZUdlhmr5R1reiwSx3V8w6AkRVP7KB9XwVoqLp_lh_960QqS_ubln18872KSazkpkJOKzFuiQ2STPOdk7ecMThc-C1XYkMkkg8PgjCFKTEN7H7t5PvClrHOr_YG0le4/s1600/Chardonnays+14th+(3).jpg" height="320" width="181" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Window shopping</td></tr>
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We filled up our cart with the other items we needed, picked up a few more dog treats and checked out. Chardonnay got to eat another big cookie in the car, happily munching away while I drove home. Happy birthday puppy girl!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7YUiJTrJyOrDiZSU5ah9OU8o01W_7-goOYqL1vgCjrbxVvMDERIeoCk9IE5_ZbCdqlcjF1Qfc3nPVmf2b4HFf_hutGEvC2scTa1OqrH9OeBkn5xEMzimLDflmK3Kf6eS3spys469LAfI/s1600/Chardonnays+14th+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7YUiJTrJyOrDiZSU5ah9OU8o01W_7-goOYqL1vgCjrbxVvMDERIeoCk9IE5_ZbCdqlcjF1Qfc3nPVmf2b4HFf_hutGEvC2scTa1OqrH9OeBkn5xEMzimLDflmK3Kf6eS3spys469LAfI/s1600/Chardonnays+14th+(1).jpg" height="320" width="181" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Girl!</td></tr>
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<br />Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-10478865235916388602015-02-13T09:58:00.000-05:002015-02-13T09:58:44.546-05:00Back to the Fold
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Responsible breeders of purebred animals have an unwritten
code of ethics to be available for the entire life of the creatures born in
their home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many of us have contractual
agreements with our clients to be notified in the event that they can no longer
keep their pet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over the years, I’ve taken
my Maine Coon kittens back as adults because of financial hardship/loss of home, divorce,
major health issues in the family, and death of the owner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In all of these cases, I was able to find a
new home for the cat so they only had to live with us a couple of months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Until now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Part of the musical litter named Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La and
Ti, Ray (Re) was kept and shown as a neutered male. He had mitral valve
dysplasia pretty severely as a kitten so I wasn’t sure initially how long he
would live. As Ray developed, his heart did too, and although he kept his heart
murmur, his cardiologist no longer considered it life-threatening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dracoonfly Renegade Ray was shown to the
title of CFA Grand Premier and TICA Supreme Grand Champion Alter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Six years later, I decided Ray would be happier if he could
be a spoiled only child. He had become increasingly unhappy with some of the
other cats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I placed him with Ella, a
widow who lived in a lovely elder apartment community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ella’s daughter, Linda, had been looking for
an adult cat to provide companionship for her aging mother and Ray was a
perfect fit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I even went to visit Ray
about six months after he joined Ella to check in on him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ray and Ella had bonded beautifully.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Last week, Linda informed me that her mother had passed. Linda
couldn’t keep cats in her own apartment so would I take Ray back? She was
overwhelmed with the death of her mother and needed to have one less worry. Of
course, I’d love to see Ray again, I told her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Just one thing, Ray isn’t well. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just a couple of weeks before, she noticed
he’d lost weight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her vet ran several <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>tests and an abdominal mass around Ray’s gall
bladder was discovered last month. His prognosis was not good. Ray would be
coming home to die. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Linda had her
husband drop Ray off the next day, with all his toys, brushes, scratching post,
food and litter. She included a thank you card with money to help with his
medical expenses. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So now I have him, my big red “Ray Ray”, my “Rainman”; “Superman”
to my granddaughter. He was gone for three years, but clearly remembered his
old buddies Bugger, Bubba and Chardonnay. The rest of the clan isn’t too sure
what to think of the intruder (he’ll be an intruder until he smells more like
my house), but they’re getting used to it. He still looks like the 20-pound cat
that left me, but feeling through his heavy coat to his body tells a different
story. Ray has lost four pounds and he feels very bony underneath all that
hair. Once we get all the mats out, his weight loss will probably be even more
apparent. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ray’s vet has transferred his records to mine and she’s in
agreement that with his age, weight loss, the elevated white blood count and
the mass, Ray probably has cancer. Gall bladder disease is extremely rare in
cats so it’s not as simple as removing the organ. The only way to know for sure
would be to do exploratory surgery and I don’t want to put him through that. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As a breeder, I track the health of my kittens, just in case
a genetic problem presents itself. However, Ray is considered an older cat at
nine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His sire, dam and six littermates
are all doing well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes, shit
happens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ray still seems happy; he eats well and loves to have his
head rubbed, but I know he’s stressed with all the changes in the past
week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His purr should reassure me that
he feels okay, but I know that purring is also a cat’s way of managing pain so
I can’t use that as a barometer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
to watch his appetite, his litter box, his activity level and track his weight.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s had diarrhea so that’s worrisome. So
now I’m in charge of Ray’s quality of life, a job I’ve unfortunately learned
over the years. I’m not one for heroics, nor do I ever want prolong the
inevitable for my own selfish reasons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In situations like these, I watch the cat closely and try to put myself
in their place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ray’s time with us may
be short this go around, but he’s still my Ray Ray.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpgNI3JHI5cU3JPGjeLz6r98AJGDfU6b2AYtKzBkDn7T5nvZBHjUni3B8lcfXysFhyER0V6PwZsUYGrL1ETykak_VZsYBrQSpcMa0cm98FnjgmSggH4tFTfdV3Th4ItH2IxGnlbD1tvBI/s1600/Ray-2-years.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpgNI3JHI5cU3JPGjeLz6r98AJGDfU6b2AYtKzBkDn7T5nvZBHjUni3B8lcfXysFhyER0V6PwZsUYGrL1ETykak_VZsYBrQSpcMa0cm98FnjgmSggH4tFTfdV3Th4ItH2IxGnlbD1tvBI/s1600/Ray-2-years.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-19437297883859380662015-01-26T13:55:00.002-05:002015-01-28T16:42:02.693-05:00Out of My Way Already!<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The blizzard of 2015 is coming, a "Nor' Beaster" they say. The supposedly historic
storm that will wallop the northeast, particularly the coast, has gotten
everyone in a tizzy. Normally, being closer to the coast has the benefit of
giving us six to twelve inches less snow than our neighbors will receive one
hour west. My husband the boy scout has made his preparedness list: firewood
inside for the woodstove, water jugs filled, batteries, bird feeders filled, chicken
coop prepared. And of course, bread and milk. Don’t know why the last one; we’re
mostly gluten free and lactose intolerant. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This morning, while the snow was still whispering of the
threat to come, Jay and I cleaned out the chicken coop and put down lime, diatomaceous
earth and fresh shavings. The dogs came out with us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our geriatric Golden Retriever, Chardonnay, lives
for this kind of weather. Snow is heaven for a Golden. For Coraline, the
short-haired Shar-pei mix, not so much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She wears her pink jacket when it’s cold and has a low tolerance of the whole
precipitation thing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The chickens’ water and food dispensers were filled. The
water and its heater were brought inside so when the storm hits, the girls and
the new rooster, Sam, can stay closed up comfortably inside. They
have a heater in their coop to keep the worst of the chill off, as long as we
have power. As we worked, the chickens were everywhere we didn’t want them to
be; in the way of the rake and shovel, clucking ahead of me while I focused on
my tasks at hand. I finally asked Jay to offer them scratch outside to try to
give me some room to work. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqII3wSPwBiUYJWS8jcM5fnaNFC1zJlZrN7aZ1IJ4SXn9ZCmfDbOrpwa0PD0of1HRYsSeew2VLO6U_hzqCtPx692yN3x2AQKTPC248Exdr2nLPS_nv4L_gfUav9MQnb9C5rf9A-ysa5bY/s1600/DSC_1699.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqII3wSPwBiUYJWS8jcM5fnaNFC1zJlZrN7aZ1IJ4SXn9ZCmfDbOrpwa0PD0of1HRYsSeew2VLO6U_hzqCtPx692yN3x2AQKTPC248Exdr2nLPS_nv4L_gfUav9MQnb9C5rf9A-ysa5bY/s1600/DSC_1699.JPG" height="214" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam and his girls</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">C</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">oraline became tired of waiting for us to let her back
inside, and as she has been known to do, let herself back in by pulling the
door handle down. Cory will shut the door behind her, but only if we are there
to instruct her. We were still working outside and didn’t notice the wide open
back door for a few minutes. A couple of cats wandered out, marveling at the
snow. I heard a “Crap!” and looked up to see Jay rushing to the door to close
it, cats running back in as he approached. Cory was shut in the house. Fortunately,
she doesn’t know how to open the door from the inside.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Back in the house and outside chores completed, Jay looked
out the window and noticed a small bird that wasn’t acting right. At first it
appeared that the tiny black and grey Chickadee was carrying a thread. Then it
became apparent that it was entangled and tethered to the tree by the thread. Jay
held the bird while I worked to get it loose from the almost invisible thread
that was wrapped around its body. Even its foot was bound to
a flight feather. The little guy was frightened, but still had the wherewithal to
bite us. Fortunately, a Chickadee bite isn’t as powerful as that of a chicken. After
about five minutes, the thread was separated and the Chickadee flew away. It
would have been a great viral video moment had anyone been there to record it. We
feel so fortunate to have been in the right place at the right time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Most of the storm preparation completed, Jay went upstairs to take a call
for work. I decided to fill the dogs’ five gallon water jug. I got our big red Maine
Coon, Pipsqueak, out of the sink so I could fill the jug. She still hovered
close by, supervising my actions. “Could you move?” I asked while putting her
on the floor. Why do the animals always have to get in the way when I’m busy?
They always seem to be right where I’m walking or about to sit. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I looked out the kitchen window as the snow gently covered
the ground, dusting the black smoke cat who was wandering around the bird
feeder. Crap! We missed one. Tina is our adventurous, and pregnant, female. I turned
off the running water and rushed to put my boots and coat on. Jay called down
to me to ask where the kitten was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
couldn’t find little Kate in our master bathroom where she is supposed to be and
her mother, Kiss, was frantic. I had a new priority and yelled, “Tina is outside!” as I went out
in the snow. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I circled the house, calling and looking under bushes. Normally
if a cat gets out, it will instinctively hide under our deck. Our cats are
exclusively indoors so the great outdoors terrifies them. Except for Tina, that
is. She's an indoor cat, but a rebellious one. The last I’d seen of Tina was when she was leaving the bird feeder area and
headed toward the front yard. Tina had kept several steps ahead of me and also
circled the house where I found her sitting calmly by the back door once I
caught up. Apparently the adventure had lost some of its fun with the reality
of snow and cold. I opened the door and Tina sauntered in. Wiping the snow off
of her coat, I lectured all the creatures surrounding me about the dangers of
going out. Didn’t they know there was a blizzard coming? Be grateful you don’t
have to live outside, dammit!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jay called back downstairs. Did I know where the kitten was?
Jeez! I had a good idea since I’d heard the cabinet doors under our bathroom
sink opening and closing before. Under the sink, behind closed cabinet doors,
we have a laundry drop to the washing machine downstairs. The drop is about two
feet before the clothes land in the basket. I had done most of the laundry, but
there were still dirty clothes in there. I reached up and opened the cabinet
over the washing machine and pulled out the basket of clothes. Sure enough,
cute little 5-week-old Kate the kitten sat there nestled in the laundry and looking very
comfortable in her new bed. I took the kitten back to her anxious mother
upstairs and, using a bungee cord, secured the cabinet doors. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUw-nAh9mlLXXiDX1nISmNuPI7UAfnK45ohH_8DeZYUmXTJSVfiyfqT3Dzif9yKGpfvwg0bfGDLDOhhNschq88Wym5U3-w1oJQwQ7Kvtse_ilt1h3Us64DXCBhjPtpr3qvOqTfvnX5Ipk/s1600/Kate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUw-nAh9mlLXXiDX1nISmNuPI7UAfnK45ohH_8DeZYUmXTJSVfiyfqT3Dzif9yKGpfvwg0bfGDLDOhhNschq88Wym5U3-w1oJQwQ7Kvtse_ilt1h3Us64DXCBhjPtpr3qvOqTfvnX5Ipk/s1600/Kate.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kate the laundry princess</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Enough drama with the animals already! Can we just get on
with the blizzard? Check back with me tomorrow to see if I need digging out.</span></div>
Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-65636117764701809582014-10-16T18:15:00.000-04:002014-10-19T09:01:05.219-04:00Curse of the Skunk<br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Warning: this blog
contains gross descriptions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do not read
if you are eating.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When one is a parent, pet owner, cat breeder or just
responsible for the care of others, there will be no shortage of challenging
moments or messes to clean up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You learn
to go with the flow, accept the yin with the yang, cuteness and poop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As pet owners, we sacrifice a bit of
cleanliness, money, and orderliness for the love and completeness we feel by
sharing our homes with furry creatures that have different agendas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Raising children is similar up to a point;
hopefully a child will continue to develop beyond the simple commands of “sit”
and “stay,” learn to clean up her own messes, cost a lot more money, but in the
end move out and live independently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We have two dogs; a 13-year-old Golden Retriever,
Chardonnay, and a 3-year-old Shar-pei mix, Coraline “Cory.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cory is a high-energy gray bullet with a
strong prey drive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a large, geriatric
dog, Chardonnay moves more slowly and takes many naps, but still enjoys
adventure in moderation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although her
knees are weak, her hearing greatly diminished and her mind seems to have
dementia, <a href="http://dracoonfly.blogspot.com/2010/01/another-installment-on-waste-management.html" target="_blank">Chardonnay’s worst quality is that she has never lost her desire for coprophagia</a>; she eats poop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Cory, on the other hand, is the subject of this blog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We adopted Cory for Kelsey, who begged for a
puppy for her 16<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She promised to take full responsibility for the puppy; housebreaking,
puppy kindergarten, clean up any messes, etc. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, you can imagine how long that lasted. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cory’s person of choice is Jay, my
husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am the mean one who doesn’t
allow jumping up, pawing, barking, or other unpleasant behavior.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jay tells the dog to get down while petting
her and wonders why she still has bad habits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jay recently went on his annual salmon fishing trip to New
Brunswick with his buddy, Curt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The day
Jay left, I noticed that Cory had a large, hard bump on her jaw.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was about the diameter of a quarter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though Cory didn’t act like she’d been
stung by rubbing her face repeatedly and the bump was much bigger than normally
associated with a bee sting, I just assumed she'd been stung and didn’t think much of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next day, the bump looked the same and I mentioned it to
Jay when he called from Canada to tell me about his first catch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By late afternoon, however, the bump had
tripled in size.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had just come home
from spending way too much money at Bed, Bath and Beyond for window valances
when I realized that I was going to have to take Cory to the vet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a sinking feeling that I was going to
need to return my purchases in order to pay a vet bill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My vet, Dr. Karen Brown at Stonington Veterinary Hospital,
said Cory had an abscess on her jaw from where she had punctured it on
something like a sharp stick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was too
hard to drain so I was instructed to watch for skin color changes that might
warn of a rupture, apply hot compresses and give her antibiotics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of my summer I’ve had to deal with Levi
the cat’s staph infection on his tail, which also formed an abscess, burst, was
stitched, burst, and is taking forever to heal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I joked that Cory and Levi were going to have to share a room where they
can swap abscess stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV2Di_PiaPB5b4910m3roBS325IbapEVHAivoQAz9eNROYJMU2uF2OPys2NmBUjXaKs5F0erXBgctu2H4TK9dt5aIPqeQiuLTnlvcU7e_Tw6YaeTp96FiNz563aOg3iUujsHX0BvROYEg/s1600/Cory's%2Bswollen%2Bface.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV2Di_PiaPB5b4910m3roBS325IbapEVHAivoQAz9eNROYJMU2uF2OPys2NmBUjXaKs5F0erXBgctu2H4TK9dt5aIPqeQiuLTnlvcU7e_Tw6YaeTp96FiNz563aOg3iUujsHX0BvROYEg/s1600/Cory's%2Bswollen%2Bface.jpg" height="181" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cory with her swollen face</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Cory clearly didn’t feel well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had a fever and the right side of her
face was swollen uncomfortably.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
dutifully applied a warm washcloth to her jaw and babied her throughout the
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shortly before the dogs’ supper
time (5 pm and Chardonnay starts campaigning an hour earlier to be fed), I let
the girls out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Living out in the middle
of the woods has the advantage of not needing a fenced-in yard or having to
walk the dogs on a leash; we just open the back door and let them go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since they learned the parameters of the yard
from the invisible fence collars, they no longer wear the collar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It works, most of the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This time, however, Chardonnay managed to
find her favorite cologne, Essence of Bambi (deer poop) and happily applied it
liberally to her face and neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I wanted
to do was feed the dogs and relax and now I had to wash the stench off the old
girl’s head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took a bottle of dish
detergent and led Chardonnay back out to the garden hose for a lecture on hygiene as tried to wash off the crap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That accomplished, I fed the dogs,
but Cory didn’t come over to eat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
found her hiding and upset because her abscess has started to ooze all over the
side of her chest, leg and neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not
able to reach the hole from which the bloody pus originated with her tongue,
Cory obsessively tried to clean what she could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I called the vet to see if this needed immediate
attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The vet tech, Sherri, asked
me to see if I could facilitate the draining by squeezing Cory’s cheek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So there I was, phone tucked between my
shoulder and face, straddling a nervous dog, holding a wet washcloth against
her swollen cheek and trying to find the right pressure points.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, a glob about the size of a dime came
out of the small puncture wound.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Gross!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is
disgusting!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My husband should be doing
this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cory is HIS dog and he’s in Canada
fishing!” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sherri laughed and reminded me
that I had probably seen a lot more disgusting things as a cat breeder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>True, unfortunately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since it was already about 6 pm, Sherri
asked if I could bring Cory to the office in the morning so they could suture a
drain in the poor pup's face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I sacrificed a washcloth to blood and mucus, I became
aware of an aroma coming off of Cory’s face; skunk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seven months after her <a href="http://dracoonfly.blogspot.com/2014/03/tell-me-why-we-have-dogs-again.html" target="_blank">last skunk encounter</a>,
the water still activated the smell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyone
who’s ever had a skunked dog is familiar with this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then I had a thought; what if the poor skunk that had lost
its life in Cory’s mouth last spring had cursed the dog with its final breath?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It could have planted an alien skunk seed
under Cory’s skin which was now hatching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I envisioned the dog as Sigourney Weaver impregnated by an alien, but
this time a skunk head (I hoped not the tail) would emerge from the side of our
dog’s face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would be an extra mouth
to feed, but think of the money we’d make on the talk show circuit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe we’d even get our own reality show,
“Cory and Stinky - Two Heads, Two Species, One Body”. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next morning, I took our grandson to school, a kitten to
my other vet to be spayed 35 minutes in the opposite direction, then came home to
get Cory and drove her to Stonington.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
lot of veterinary chauffeuring, but I got it all done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I picked Cory up after her procedure, her swelling was mostly gone and she
had a rubber tube which protruded from two places behind her jaw, vertically
up, through her cheek then out the bottom near to where her original wound
was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked a lot happier, but
weird.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had already told my vet about
my alien skunk theory, but when I saw the drain, I started joking about blowing
in one end so Cory could make bubbles in her water bowl or taking her
snorkeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My vet has concluded that I
have a strange sense of humor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Poor
Cory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had gone through hell week and
all I could do was make fun of her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWudeZQBP5fdwax5W8R04ApNcc89LjjBl5-wQZiRgLO7Xx3QerpB0z-2bNz89c6Rv6Nh-LFExVU-CE0XT1TCvBH5o5qHlemLuNhOSJkAcJX0uhOJ5X3Tvr9GbZi_I1kVT7Xe-73fYf4kE/s1600/Cory's%2Bdrainage%2Bface.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWudeZQBP5fdwax5W8R04ApNcc89LjjBl5-wQZiRgLO7Xx3QerpB0z-2bNz89c6Rv6Nh-LFExVU-CE0XT1TCvBH5o5qHlemLuNhOSJkAcJX0uhOJ5X3Tvr9GbZi_I1kVT7Xe-73fYf4kE/s1600/Cory's%2Bdrainage%2Bface.jpg" height="181" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cory with her drainage tube. Note the tube goes through her skin and exits below her jaw.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">By the time Jay came home Saturday night, Cory’s drain had
been removed and other than a couple of residual holes in her face, she looked
normal and very happy to see her favorite human.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just a
regular week here in the land of fur and feathers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-57148987930706065162014-09-30T15:34:00.000-04:002014-09-30T15:40:24.758-04:00Pull My Finger...Not!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I’m up on my game (meaning, I remember and have the
time and energy), I will bathe the kittens that will be leaving soon for their
new homes; more so if the kitten will be joining another cat along with his or
her new family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This way, the kitten will
smell more neutral to the other cat instead of so much like my house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have found this helps to gain acceptance in
the feline world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9tJGBR1eLNBrd3UMcgFNJiIVFCs1ZqkYCNZUPnIZRGzfwEB1sRKXLfzRR8z3Sg93uqOiyKswERYWkWlvjIhgOXk4i-H9EfXQ06NqhyJQED06bM4P56owPM2SsJoPDGiRPyQanADqQ0R8/s1600/Artists+in+the+Railing.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9tJGBR1eLNBrd3UMcgFNJiIVFCs1ZqkYCNZUPnIZRGzfwEB1sRKXLfzRR8z3Sg93uqOiyKswERYWkWlvjIhgOXk4i-H9EfXQ06NqhyJQED06bM4P56owPM2SsJoPDGiRPyQanADqQ0R8/s1600/Artists+in+the+Railing.JPG" height="214" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The kitten bath is much simpler and easier than the type I
give a show cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I use shampoo or even
hand soap, holding a squirming kitten in my kitchen sink while it jumps like a
kangaroo to attempt escape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes a
kitten panics and needs to be scruffed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes
it simply gives up and lies down in the sink. The bathing process takes about
five minutes, then the kitten is toweled off and placed in a carrier where I
direct warm air from a blow dryer at low speed on the drowned rat-looking
thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kitten coat is comparatively fast
and easy, enabling the offended party to be released after about 10 minutes of
drying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will still be damp, but not
easily chilled by then, happy to walk out and groom itself thoroughly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sometimes a kitten surprises me, but none like the other
night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had already bathed his
littermate with no problem and moved onto Kitten Number Two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As soon as this kitten heard the water from
the faucet hit the stainless steel sink, he panicked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I moved to scruff position with my right
hand, but this little guy was determined to escape and he bit down on the index
finger of my left hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I let go as I
was now bleeding from three places and it hurt!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve been bitten before, even to the point of vomiting and requiring
antibiotics administered intravenously in the Urgent Care every eight hours for
two days several years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I understand
and appreciate the seriousness of a cat bite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This is why I have my doctor prescribe Augmentin so I can always have
some on hand (no pun intended) in the event of a bad bite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My finger bled quite a bit while I waited for the pain to
subside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a lot of swearing and
near-crying on my end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took an
Augmentin and just sat with ice on it for a while, waiting for my husband, Jay,
to come inside so I could share my drama.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Jay was appropriately concerned, offering me wine and Ibuprofen and
fixing salad for supper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My finger was
still throbbing when I went to bed that night, but I told myself that if it
were worse in the morning, I’d call the doctor. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicDccmchN7bSPhcTU0LcdXfIyalV0Mpq5tk1hrFfygARr45Y7ev4CljNn2LZ27uJyAl8UkQ_cOl7gsjqC_ZX7Kkiv4L39Hg9nuzMh_9fJ-KYDcxBmopxbCPEXLHq38j-GUNeai6h94au8/s1600/cat+bite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicDccmchN7bSPhcTU0LcdXfIyalV0Mpq5tk1hrFfygARr45Y7ev4CljNn2LZ27uJyAl8UkQ_cOl7gsjqC_ZX7Kkiv4L39Hg9nuzMh_9fJ-KYDcxBmopxbCPEXLHq38j-GUNeai6h94au8/s1600/cat+bite.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next morning, it seemed better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least my finger didn’t hurt anymore and
the swelling was still confined to the first knuckle. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By afternoon, my second knuckle looked a
little swollen too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I could tell a difference when I compared my two index fingers. </span>I showed it to Jay
for his opinion while I was driving us to Home Depot to pick up more lumber for the larger
chicken coop we’re working on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now
picture this: I’m driving the car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jay
is sitting in the passenger seat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Keeping my eyes on the road, I crossed my left hand over toward my
caring husband and said, “Look,” dangling my wounded finger in front of him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I expected an “Oh my goodness!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It looks more swollen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Does it still hurt?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Instead I got a “What?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Look!” I repeated, waving my finger again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So what does my husband do, my husband who
knows my finger has been mutilated by a vicious animal, who witnessed my arm in
a sling years ago when I was being treated for a serious cat bite, who has been
bitten himself and sympathizes with the pain and concern involved?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What does he do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He pulls my finger.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Ow! What was that for?” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I thought you were making a joke and wanted me to pull your
finger.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“No! No! No! What’s with you and farting? I just wanted you
tell me if you thought it looked more swollen.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Oh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, it looks the
same.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Not for long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
want to step on my hand next?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
</div>
Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-39100533864781190182014-09-12T12:11:00.000-04:002014-09-29T10:42:22.602-04:00Time to Retire (not me, the cats)<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Last month I took a cat back that I had sold as a kitten two
years ago because his owner could no longer keep him due to her divorce and
personal upheaval.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I posted Rudy’s
availability on Facebook: “Red tabby neutered male Maine Coon, great
personality, needs a stable home” along with a cute picture of handsome
Rudy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As it so often happens with a
Maine Coon, I was flooded with inquiries along with comments on Facebook, most
wishing they could have him or good wishes on finding the right home for
Rudy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One follower questioned me, “Why
don’t you just keep him yourself?” </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBLssPUdT_VkEQheNsNxSrFEaPl2EqrkWggN-DkGWmhuZ9hSsUaL_VvTmf5NpvyyL5F_-uS2qKH3KY7hyphenhyphen80xdlvgkIAGx0B5Tm0kBB9wdWIDIn_y00YcWRr_2C_17DCACer-dAMn2b8xM/s1600/Rudy+full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBLssPUdT_VkEQheNsNxSrFEaPl2EqrkWggN-DkGWmhuZ9hSsUaL_VvTmf5NpvyyL5F_-uS2qKH3KY7hyphenhyphen80xdlvgkIAGx0B5Tm0kBB9wdWIDIn_y00YcWRr_2C_17DCACer-dAMn2b8xM/s1600/Rudy+full.jpg" height="181" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rudy in my house</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And I wondered, briefly, why not?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rudy gets along well with others, he’s very
friendly and it would be one way of insuring that the poor guy doesn’t have to
move again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I calculated that Rudy had
moved at least five times in his two short years so stability was a priority.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But I don’t allow it, not for my family or for the cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a cat breeder, we have to make the hard
decision to let our cats go to pet homes after we have stopped using them for
breeding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems a bit cold sometimes,
but I learned the hard way after I kept my first Maine Coon, Sassy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt somehow that I would be betraying
Sassy if I didn’t look after her for the rest of her life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn’t go well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sassy had pissues (peeing outside the box) as a breeding
female.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Clothes baskets were her
favorite toilet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many queens have this
problem, especially when they are in heat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, it’s not really a problem unless you are a human and also don’t
want to cage your cats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even after Sassy
was spayed at the age of five years, she had pissues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried isolating her in our half-bathroom
with 3 different litters and boxes, but she still refused usage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The best I could get from Sassy was to leave
out an empty litter box and most of the time she’d pee there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sassy also became unhappy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her job as a mother was no longer needed and
Sassy was a wonderful mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried to
tell her to help out as resident grandmother, but the success was minimal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kittens were brats and they quickly tired of
Sassy’s “Back in my day” stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Because of my problems with Sassy as a retired queen, I
vowed to place all retiring females in pet homes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This has worked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If a cat (male or female) had pissues as a
breeder, that stopped once they got out of my home, away from the
competition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their hormones settled and
new, less offensive habits were formed in the new home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They receive more individual attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their coats and size grow and the new owners
have a beautiful, loving addition to the family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> For 2014, I've retired Sally, Olivia, Tippet and Sunday. Lulu will retire after her next litter. I've also kept two female kittens for breeding and am considering a third. </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Male breeding cats have their own set of issues. Not all
spray, but when they do, it’s hard to ignore. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The good ones (and there have been a few, it's largely a hereditary behavior) live
in our bedroom unless we have newborn kittens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Male urine changes aroma when they hit puberty, one of the signs we look
for when trying to determine if he’s ready to try breeding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maine Coon boys are slow to mature, some
taking up to two years before they show an interest in a girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The conversations among breeders can be
pretty explicit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“He doesn't have a clue. She's writhing around like a hussy and he just thinks she wants to play.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“He enjoys practicing, but he’s still shooting blanks.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I’ve put him on top of her, catnip on her neck, showed him
dirty movies, played sexy music…and still he’d rather eat than breed.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Because of the strong aroma of male cat urine, many breeders
have to cage or confine them to a room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This is especially true of the “hosers”, males who feel the need to
claim their space outside the box on a regular basis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hosers typically don’t remain working studs
for long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my house, they’re bred a
few times, then neutered and placed so they can live the rest of their lives as
beloved pets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The non-spraying males
work longer simply because they’re easier to keep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After living with several other cats, showing and making
babies, my Maine Coons deserve to spend the rest of its life as a spoiled pet,
free from the side-effects of their hormones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have only three non-breeding cats now that Sassy passed away from
cancer last year; Bubba, my daughter’s crazy-ass European Burmese who was
purchased as a pet in the first place; Pipsqueak, a red Maine Coon spay who was
never bred because she has aerotic stenosis and wasn’t supposed to live past
the age of three (she’s five now); and Bugger, my former stud male who didn’t
retire until he was older and I felt it would be too hard for him to adjust to
a move at that age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Bubba, Pipsqueak and Bugger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Obviously, we only keep the non-breeding cats that have most
embarrassing nicknames, just to amuse ourselves by calling them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Normal-named cats don’t make the cut.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxaxzNqGR9ZOu39k2JVqDyOEazdBLKUjJOXmjvN8PzA47FiXAVyvMFMusANxnciGYJcQM2KrH28mmLBL2B1WEKL1eAACPa0PRxwWeLeKxCnFXQNwd7Av-gbR8i9F2LgEjvXGy_e7xSmtQ/s1600/Bubba+on+back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxaxzNqGR9ZOu39k2JVqDyOEazdBLKUjJOXmjvN8PzA47FiXAVyvMFMusANxnciGYJcQM2KrH28mmLBL2B1WEKL1eAACPa0PRxwWeLeKxCnFXQNwd7Av-gbR8i9F2LgEjvXGy_e7xSmtQ/s1600/Bubba+on+back.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bubba the ultimate Diva<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The other, more practical, reason for placing retirees is to
keep my numbers down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Keep in mind we also have chickens and two dogs. </span>I’ve been breeding
Maine Coons for almost 13 years. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I kept
each one after it was retired, I estimate I’d have in excess of 40 cats. In
terms of breeding cats, I aim for six girls and two boys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I keep a kitten, I have plans to re-home
an adult within the year. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I miss some of
them tremendously, but it’s not like I don’t have other cats to replace that spot on my lap.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">How long I keep a cat for breeding depends upon many
factors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I read several years ago that
when a queen starts producing smaller litters, it’s time for her to
retire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sassy went from three to four
kittens per litter to singletons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kitty
menopause was approaching for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some cats just aren’t good at living in a cattery
environments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These cats may have pissues,
fight, or are easily bullied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These cats
often have to be confined away from others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have a built in cage in our basement that
has cat-door access to an enclosed outdoor run so that helps, but still, I
don’t have that much space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also have
to try to appease my family with some designated cat-free zones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My cattery environment is not rows of cages
or an out- building; they live in my house, separated by doors to rooms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> All of the females except the new moms</span> run at large in the
house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The two boys have their own spaces
to eliminate “whoops” breedings. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A cat whose heart ultrasound is questionable will not be
bred, petted out to avoid possibly passing on genetic disease to
offspring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Likewise if I find out it could be passing on other health issues that the cat itself doesn't have, like gingivitis. </span>If the cat just doesn’t
develop into a good example of the breed, I’m not so likely to keep it,
especially if I have something better. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Reproduction issues in cats, like in humans, can be
common.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, the veterinary medicine
for feline reproductions isn’t nearly as advanced so we breeders are often
witness to the heartbreak of stillborn or fading kittens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My female cats are normally given two chances
at producing healthy, viable kittens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Failing that, she will have a shorter breeding career rather than risk her
health and future little lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pregnancy
can be complicated and some bodies just aren’t meant to make babies. When it works right, raising kittens is a beautiful miracle. When it doesn't, I like to limit the emotional toll it takes on the mother and me.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_T0opKNy_8AijC_1Zv5muRpMsQ4hoP_JjOn0sfgYJw2uZz85w6i0KF-V6jNYMKJhQ-pc30tpTqT8jUF1IQMPvFGTA5dMKg7XkJxT-Gb0z4lTTz8VUOAu-d7YLreN7Y81AtyTnramRI1k/s1600/Reindeer-1-day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_T0opKNy_8AijC_1Zv5muRpMsQ4hoP_JjOn0sfgYJw2uZz85w6i0KF-V6jNYMKJhQ-pc30tpTqT8jUF1IQMPvFGTA5dMKg7XkJxT-Gb0z4lTTz8VUOAu-d7YLreN7Y81AtyTnramRI1k/s1600/Reindeer-1-day.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunday with her litter of nine.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Another big consideration for breeders is the usefulness of
the pedigree behind the cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t
like to have more than two stud cats at one time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I keep daughters out of Stud Number One, Levi,
with the intention of breeding those girls to Stud Number Two, Wilkinson,
that’s great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what happens with the
next generation if I then want to keep a female out of Wilkinson?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> This isn't West Virginia. </span>Sure, I can take her to a fellow breeder’s
stud, but that can be more complicated. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Plus, I’m further limited with Wilkinson
because he’s a brother to three of my queens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s already in the plans to retire Wilky at the ripe age of two years as
soon as my new stud is purchased (he’s still waiting to be born as of this
writing).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Those are all examples of why I would retire a cat a bit earlier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the cat passes all of the above tests for
health, type, personality, good cattery cat and usable pedigree, she or he will
probably stay here as a breeding cat until four or five years of age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We love them while they’re here, and after
they retire, we allow someone else to love them too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find homes for cats I have to take back for
the same reason; they deserve more attention than what I can give them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rudy now lives with previous
kitten buyers and their other Dracoonfly cat, Camden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rudy has stability and Camden has a
coonpanion. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA1AR55BxuhvwFzL4JqDQJUuAVbYwet6qFuQD1wlMXd3ZJG4Ad1w6aO2eahbzK-YJqdPGnlNFH2qLk_j6sz6ZUxStUs-xokV_Vua8enL3bLf3zliNDj_e8RjvsOuxn3RPo3wDNZroFlrc/s1600/Rudy+and+Camden+cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA1AR55BxuhvwFzL4JqDQJUuAVbYwet6qFuQD1wlMXd3ZJG4Ad1w6aO2eahbzK-YJqdPGnlNFH2qLk_j6sz6ZUxStUs-xokV_Vua8enL3bLf3zliNDj_e8RjvsOuxn3RPo3wDNZroFlrc/s1600/Rudy+and+Camden+cropped.jpg" height="223" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rudy in his forever home with Camden</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
</div>
Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-89053601038869780862014-05-24T10:15:00.000-04:002014-05-26T08:57:47.786-04:00What Do Lumberjacks Wear?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">During the week between my son Tyler’s college graduation
from the University of South Carolina and my step-brother’s wedding in St.
Simon’s, Georgia, we had to move Kelsey home from college in Vermont and then my
husband Jay had a birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A lot of
planning, airports, driving, carrying an endless supply of dorm necessities
down three flights of stairs, waiting for a cat to give birth, visiting family,
spending money, etc., all within one week bookended by two eventful weekends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I normally plan birthday gifts in advance,
but this time Jay was an after- thought.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I finally thought to ask, Jay came up with his usual
request.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I really need a white dress
shirt and a tie.” Again?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, this year
that would be okay with me, given how stretched I was feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked one more time after returning from
Tyler’s graduation and before our trek to Vermont to move Kelsey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well, maybe a new chain saw.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now you tell me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One of my husband’s favorite past times is playing
lumberjack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He loves to split and stack
firewood, always preparing us for the long cold winter by stocking up for the
wood stove which supplements our heat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The last time he purchased a chain saw was in 1985, a Stihl which still
worked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wanted another Stihl of
course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I said nothing to indicate that
I was thinking anymore about his birthday, but called Jay’s friend Curt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Curt is my gift advisor for Jay when it comes
to fishing gear and power tools.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know
enough about the stuff to know I know nothing (can we hear it for using the
same word three times in one sentence?)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Since Kelsey and her dorm contents had to be crammed into
our van which drove a total of eight hours on Wednesday, I had only Thursday to
pull this off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thursday was Jay’s
birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Curt and I drove out to the
Stihl dealer to pick up the chain saw he’d selected as the best for Jay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As we returned, Curt asked me how I was going to give it
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mentioned the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lumberjack Song</i> as performed on the Monty
Python Show many years back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Curt gave
me a blank stare so I sang the one verse I remembered, the verse I sang to Jay
when I felt like teasing him about his hobby:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <em> Oh, I'm a lumberjack, and I'm okay</em></span><br />
<em></em><br />
<em> I sleep all night and I work all day.</em><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> I cut down
trees</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I wear high heels</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Suspenders and a
bra.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I wish I were a
girlie,</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Just like my dear
papa.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Curt has a good sense of humor, but having never heard the
song before, I got a look.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was very
similar to the response Kelsey gave me when I told how I was thinking of presenting
the chain saw to Jay, although she added the teenage eye roll at the end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t care what they thought, my idea
cracked me up and in the end, that’s all that really matters when it comes to
satisfying my warped mind.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That evening, we took Jay out to dinner then came home for
Reeses ice cream cake, joined by Curt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Kelsey gave Jay a T-shirt which read on the front, “I’m sorry for what I
said when I was hungry.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gave Jay a
funny card with a piece of paper enclosed which had the following typed on it:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">You asked for a shirt</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">And also a tie</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">That’s all you wanted</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">But we know you lie<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">T</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">o get your gift</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">You’ll have to work</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">High and low you’ll look</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">But please don’t twerk</span></i><br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">You get three clues</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">About your present</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">If you guess right</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">You get to open it</span></i></div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"></span></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Your first clue resides</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">In a special place</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Under lock and key</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Where you record the fish, rivers and
lakes</span></i><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now my doubters, Kelsey
and Curt, perked up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> This was going to be fun after all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They didn't know the location in the clue, but Jay certainly did. </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jay went right to the armoire
where he keeps his fishing flies, rods, and the fishing journals he’s maintained for
decades.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There he found a wrapped present which
revealed the new Vera Wang shoes I intended to wear to the wedding that
weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Confusion, but another clue lay
with my pumps.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Oops! Not quite your size</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">But this is clue Number One</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Number Two is where </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Number two is done</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Easy clue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the bathroom Jay found a pair of rainbow
suspenders wrapped in tissue paper (purchased from Goodwill that morning).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What? Curt started teasing Jay about what he
needed to wear to the next fishing club event.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Next clue:</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Clue Number three</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">The final one</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Has keys a plenty</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">But none you turn</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Found in the piano
bench (it wouldn’t fit with the piano keys), wrapped in tissue paper, was one
of my bras and the last clue.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Your three clues…hmmm</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Now use your head</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">If you’re right</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">It’s in the shed</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jay started to go
outside to the shed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stopped him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Solve the riddle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No present until you guess based upon your
clues.” </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Hmm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shoes, suspenders and bra... Suspenders. Bra. </span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Wait a minute! ”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ding ding ding!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The Lumberjack Song!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You got me a chainsaw?”</span></span><br />
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSnCtuQ-firARdJKn-IDdLtTooT6oeE-UaTAUi_5CxmbexmwsQ5b_a98_2Y33sgXzYkS-Sh-wDgsNsLSBWP7R5Z-C26E21TUOgJQnpKzc0anWQ9BqqrUJ5WO_vdxVOseBVWytCLk0GJmI/s1600/Jay's+62nd+(9).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSnCtuQ-firARdJKn-IDdLtTooT6oeE-UaTAUi_5CxmbexmwsQ5b_a98_2Y33sgXzYkS-Sh-wDgsNsLSBWP7R5Z-C26E21TUOgJQnpKzc0anWQ9BqqrUJ5WO_vdxVOseBVWytCLk0GJmI/s1600/Jay's+62nd+(9).JPG" height="214" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
Watch the Lumberjack Song skit on You Tube <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mL7n5mEmXJo">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mL7n5mEmXJo</a><br />
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Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2345121988520360245.post-43241772854044011102014-05-11T10:25:00.000-04:002014-05-11T21:37:06.841-04:00Things My Mama Taught Me<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On Mother’s Day I celebrate being a mother and having a
mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every year, we thank the women
who brought us into this world and raised us, influencing us in ways they
probably never thought they would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Child
and parent have different memories of those formative years, so I thought I’d
make a list of some of the lessons I have taken from the marvelous woman who
brought me into this world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Take care of your teeth as they are the only ones you get<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Write thank-you notes after receiving a gift<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Wearing sunglasses regularly will prevent premature wrinkles
around your eyes caused by squinting <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thank you for not only allowing me to try the bang-trimming
method I’d read about in a magazine on you, but for forgiving me when I royally
screwed up your hair<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Allergies are all in my head (well, technically I guess they
are)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A bug in your food is just extra protein and not a big deal<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Snakes, mice, spiders and other creatures are fascinating<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Learn how to fix basic stuff around the house by yourself<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Grow a garden in the summer<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If it looks like your outfit doesn’t really match but your
mother assures you it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">blends</i>, don’t
wear it<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You never truly appreciate how patient, calm and tireless
your mother is until you become one yourself<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Don’t judge other people; there is good in every one<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you are critical of others a lot, maybe it’s yourself you
aren’t happy with<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Compared to all the other kids’ moms, mine was always the
prettiest (still is)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s okay to call out to inanimate objects and ask them
where they are hiding<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Don’t be afraid to try new things <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Love animals<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Be stoic and don’t complain<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Practice piano, flute, violin, etc. for at least 30 minutes
a day<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You can’t play until you’ve completed your Saturday morning
chores<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You should always have a Sunday-go-meeting outfit and loud dress
shoes<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you can’t pay attention, then draw during church so you
don’t disturb everyone else<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Respect adults, but don’t assume they are smarter than you <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One month after cancer treatment, go on a Caribbean cruise<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Learn how to properly wrap gifts<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Never miss the opportunity to make a snow angel<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Put your napkin in your lap, don’t chew with your mouth open
or sit on your knees at the table<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you’re tired, take a 10-minute nap <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You don’t need to know the top 40 songs on the radio as long
as you know church hymns and Broadway songs…all the songs from every musical
soundtrack we owned memorized, in order, verbatim<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you see a baby locked in a car on a warm day or a man
passed out in the park, call the police <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Love your children unconditionally<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Cuteness is not just a characteristic of short people; a
5-foot, 10-inch tall woman can be adorably cute<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Never tire of telling the story of your child’s birth to her
and recalling how perfect her little toes were<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If your daughter was born 5 days before Christmas, always
celebrate separately and wrap the presents in birthday paper<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Eat breakfast <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hike to the top of a mountain on your 60<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>
birthday<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If someone prepares a nice meal, it’s “fancy”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you enjoy your food, hum and make appreciative noises while
eating<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Never use racist language or swear<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you don’t want to wait until Mom gets out of work to pick
you up, either walk or get a ride home from after school sports and activities<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Bactine and Pepto Bismal cure all itches and ills; anything
else is an evil drug<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Don’t get in the water until 30 minutes after eating or you
may drown like your great uncle did (I found out later he really drowned
because he didn’t know how to swim)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything
at all<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Flatulence means someone has to go to the bathroom, referred
to back then as “dirty work”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My brother Paul must have had to go A LOT</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
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Sharon Stegallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08935498110605297098noreply@blogger.com0