John A Arkansawyer wrote:Cat scrunchies are saving birds' lives and making cats look stupid, two very important goals.



Saving birds' lives at the risk of making cats die of embarrassment.

Domestic cats and tweety birds the world over have had a long-standing and rather one-sided feud: cats kill as many as 3.7 billion birds, mostly songbirds, every year in the US alone. One Vermont-based company, Birdsbesafe, is seeking to protect our feathery friends while imposing a little whimsical shame on our murdery, furry friends. How? With terrible, early-90s-esque scrunchies.

Did someone say National Dog Day? Pass the froyo!!

Bless her heart.

John A Arkansawyer wrote:Bless her heart.

Future serial killer.

John A Arkansawyer wrote:Bless her heart.

Couldn't happen to a better kid

Swamp wrote:

John A Arkansawyer wrote:Bless her heart.

Couldn't happen to a better kid

I don't think I'll ever stop laughing when I look at this.

Pet of the Week:

Another installment of Our Friend, The Cat:

That bitch:

I have two dogs. Mutts of unknown and questionable parentage. The Mighty Manfred settled the dog v. cat argument today on Sirius' Underground Garage. He played the Stooges' I Wanna Be Your Dog and asked how ridiculous it would be if they said, I Wanna Be Your Cat?

My pet family is like this,my dog was a sweet little border collie named Sadie.Just a darling.Then my son got a black lab,then moved off to college leaving Buddy with me.Buddy is a great dog with one and only purpose in life,retrieving.Sadie was very old by the time Buddy joined us and in about a year and a half passed away.Buddy was just lost without Sadie and shortly after she died,so did my brother.
My brother had a young little mutt and his wife is not at all an animal person, so I took Dixie in and it's been very good for us.Dixie has one purpose in life also.Aggravate Buddy.Loves to steal whatever he's retrieving.
All of that,to get to this.Lately anytime Dixie gets out of the yard she runs off. Hasn't in the past,just the last couple of week.What the hell? Living in the city sucks,the dog catchers are brutal.

Stella getting ready for a ride to the local storefront Chinese joint

Well, this just sucks. My cat Chip, seen below refusing to get out of bed on a Monday morning, is going to have surgery on Thursday for a fracture likely caused by a condition where the growth plate in his upper leg never fused properly. Should be a relatively straightforward procedure with a hopefully rapid and simple rehab, though.

Flea wrote:Well, this just sucks. My cat Chip, seen below refusing to get out of bed on a Monday morning, is going to have surgery on Thursday for a fracture likely caused by a condition where the growth plate in his upper leg never fused properly. Should be a relatively straightforward procedure with a hopefully rapid and simple rehab, though.

Get well soon, Chip.

Clams wrote:

Flea wrote:Well, this just sucks. My cat Chip, seen below refusing to get out of bed on a Monday morning, is going to have surgery on Thursday for a fracture likely caused by a condition where the growth plate in his upper leg never fused properly. Should be a relatively straightforward procedure with a hopefully rapid and simple rehab, though.

Get well soon, Chip.

What Clams said!

Was Chip named after the old dude in Talladega Nights?

Nope, Chocolate Chip, after his coat color. It doesn't really show in the picture, but he's a really uncommon dilute chocolate brown with big splotches of white.

Flea wrote:Nope, Chocolate Chip, after his coat color. It doesn't really show in the picture, but he's a really uncommon dilute chocolate brown with big splotches of white.

Damn.....think I'll go with the Ricky Bobby origin anyway

Cats rule!!!

whatwouldcooleydo? wrote:

Flea wrote:Nope, Chocolate Chip, after his coat color. It doesn't really show in the picture, but he's a really uncommon dilute chocolate brown with big splotches of white.

Damn.....think I'll go with the Ricky Bobby origin anyway

Cats rule!!!

Yep. And he's doing quite well.

ive never posted in this thread so im sorry for bringing it down, but ive exhausted my real life connections and its nowhere close to enough.

i said goodbye to my 16 year old schnauzer chester yesterday.

we got him from a shelter when he was around 8. my sisters choice. i thought he was too injured (he had a bum leg and some skin problems and just from one visit we could tell he was an incredibly needy fella. not a fan of any other dog but desperate for company; one of the shelter workers kept him in his office instead of caged up with the rest of the dogs.) i was overruled and we brought him home the next day. for a while he was more my sisters than anything, because i went off to college and she was going through high school, but seeing himw as always the great joy of my trips back home. then i graduated and moved back, shortly thereafter my sister moved out, and chester became my responsibility, and boy did i need him. postgrad was, and is, not a good time for me, but structuring every day around that guy made it all ok. i hated saying goodbye to him before going to jobs i hated, but knowing how eagerly hed greet me later on, even as he slowed down and stopped running down the stairs as soon as he heard a key, got me through a lot.

i knew it was coming, as the guy was a good year or two past his breeds life expectancy, with miscellaneous ailments piling up (the last 2 years included going blind, a harmless tumor slowly growing on his leg, bad teeth, trouble digesting full size meals, inability to get himself comfortable in bed or find a place to poop outside) but that didnt make it feel any slower when he took the final turn. thanksgiving was not his best day. he ate his dinner fine-ish (dog food, as much as i wanted to spoil him with a bit of turkey) then started choking (not abnormal) and frantically licking everything (quite abnormal). his leg, his bed, the carpet, the grass outside. he threw up and i brought him back inside ready to call the vet, but he settled down and slept soundly the rest of the night. friday morning he was back to normal, or at least his normal. i held off on the vet call. friday night i had him sleep on my bed, a rare move. we fell asleep listening to the anthology of american folk music. around 6 saturday morning i woke up and noticed he wasnt rustling in his sleep like usual, and his stomach was growling. nothing too rare or alarming, so i went back to sleep. around 9 i woke up for good and he wouldnt stir. still not that unusual, so i picked him up and he immediately peed on the carpet. hes not been innocent in that regard, but never like this. combined with his limp legs (wouldnt stand, or even adjust his paws properly too try to stand) and general lethargy (eyes half open, labored breathing) i knew. i called my sister, we all sat with him, giving him syringes full of water regularly, until he started panting. knowing that i was going to watch him die regardless, i opted to make the trip to the vet so he wouldnt have to go through it in any more pain.

he was my first dog so i had no idea what this process entailed. id considered asking around over the past year, as his mortality loomed largest, but as a superstitious idiot i couldnt. the vet looked him over and confirmed that it was the right call. my sister and i knew this but my mom couldnt accept it and wanted to bring him home to wait and see. we talked her into it, spent about an hour saying goodbye, then let it happen. i wish id known that his eyes might not close, or that the nerves shutting down might produce something akin to a yawn/gasping sound. those two details aside, it did seem peaceful. not knowing how much worse he could have gotten (i think he had a stroke, which would have been heavy rehab for the old chap, especially if he never regained use of his legs. the vet wouldnt say, but did say his stomach seemed abnormally liquidy, which could lead to a feeling of drowning. when my mom suggested bringing him home the vet said we'd be talking days, not even weeks. i couldnt bear the thought of him dying alone in his sleep, or alone while im at work) im sure we made the right decision, but it sucks. he did exceed his breeds life expectancy, whatever consolation that might eventually be. im not really a holiday guy but i wanted him with me through one more round, or at the very least, through my birthday tomorrow. in a way i wish he had gone on my birthday. then i could have at least (eventually) appreciated the sheer cruelty of it all

he was the best, guys. i didnt deserve him but i had him when i needed him most. i loved him dearly, and let him know that all the time, but i wish id done more. been more patient when he sniffed around for 15 minutes at 6am before deciding not a single blade of grass was worthy of his poop, or when he knocked over his water bowl seconds after drinking from it, or when it took him legitimately 15 minutes of frantic circles and whimpering to get his bed and blankets properly situated, or when he had spells of what i believe was a form of dementia where hed get up at night and walk around my bedroom, eventually getting himself stuck under a desk, frantically panting. im totally lost. cant sleep, cant eat, cant bring myself to bump my memories of the last night with him by playing any music to kill this unbearable silence. its been 12+ years since i can remember not listening to something, thinking about what to listen to next, or both. all he ever wanted his somebodys company, and knowing that he laid there dying, a foot away from me, for at least 3 hours before i noticed and gave him any is just destroying me. not that i could have saved him, but i wasnt there for him and it sucks.

everyone says it will get better but i dont even know what that even means right now.

So sorry to hear about Chester, Shakespeare. Reading this brings me back to when I had to put my favorite cat, Speedy, to rest about 15 years ago. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. It will get better but it does take time. I know how much it hurts, and I'm so sorry you're feeling it right now. Keep your chin up and remember the good times. And happy birthday to you (as happy as it can be, considering the circumstances).

allisonsdc wrote:So sorry to hear about Chester, Shakespeare.

x2. Been there, done that. I know how hard it is. Very sorry, man.

Clams wrote:

allisonsdc wrote:So sorry to hear about Chester, Shakespeare.

x2. Been there, done that. I know how hard it is. Very sorry, man.

X3. So sorry to read your post. This is one of my worst fears. Our cat MacGruber is still healthy and vital at 14 but of course I know that nothing lasts forever. Only love can break your heart. Love 'em as much as you can as often as you can.

Clams wrote:

allisonsdc wrote:So sorry to hear about Chester, Shakespeare.

x2. Been there, done that. I know how hard it is. Very sorry, man.

x4. All the best to you, my friend.

Sorry for your loss Shakespeare. It's always so hard to say goodbye to your most loyal of friends.

So sorry for your loss, Shakes. All you can do is keep on getting up in the morning. Grieve until you can't grieve that way anymore and then grieve the next way. We all grieve in our own way, we all recover in our own way at our own speed and we all remember the way we remember. That said, try to go easy on yourself on the guilt. If we had nothing to feel guilty about we wouldn't be human which is another way of saying that even when we do the best we can we inevitably fall short. But we still did (and do) the best we can and chances are our loved one(s) knew that.

By far the hardest part about having pets is knowing that someday you'll have to say good bye. I came home to find my dog had died more than 7 years ago. I was absolutely devastated. We are going to have to endure it again soon, as our dogs are 13 and nearly 15. Rest assured that someday the love and joy Chester brought to you will far outweigh the profound grief that you are feeling now. My heart goes out to you Shakespeare.

this put a smile on my face, hope it does the same for some of y'all

Shakespeare wrote:ive never posted in this thread so im sorry for bringing it down, but ive exhausted my real life connections and its nowhere close to enough.

i said goodbye to my 16 year old schnauzer chester yesterday.

we got him from a shelter when he was around 8. my sisters choice. i thought he was too injured (he had a bum leg and some skin problems and just from one visit we could tell he was an incredibly needy fella. not a fan of any other dog but desperate for company; one of the shelter workers kept him in his office instead of caged up with the rest of the dogs.) i was overruled and we brought him home the next day. for a while he was more my sisters than anything, because i went off to college and she was going through high school, but seeing himw as always the great joy of my trips back home. then i graduated and moved back, shortly thereafter my sister moved out, and chester became my responsibility, and boy did i need him. postgrad was, and is, not a good time for me, but structuring every day around that guy made it all ok. i hated saying goodbye to him before going to jobs i hated, but knowing how eagerly hed greet me later on, even as he slowed down and stopped running down the stairs as soon as he heard a key, got me through a lot.

i knew it was coming, as the guy was a good year or two past his breeds life expectancy, with miscellaneous ailments piling up (the last 2 years included going blind, a harmless tumor slowly growing on his leg, bad teeth, trouble digesting full size meals, inability to get himself comfortable in bed or find a place to poop outside) but that didnt make it feel any slower when he took the final turn. thanksgiving was not his best day. he ate his dinner fine-ish (dog food, as much as i wanted to spoil him with a bit of turkey) then started choking (not abnormal) and frantically licking everything (quite abnormal). his leg, his bed, the carpet, the grass outside. he threw up and i brought him back inside ready to call the vet, but he settled down and slept soundly the rest of the night. friday morning he was back to normal, or at least his normal. i held off on the vet call. friday night i had him sleep on my bed, a rare move. we fell asleep listening to the anthology of american folk music. around 6 saturday morning i woke up and noticed he wasnt rustling in his sleep like usual, and his stomach was growling. nothing too rare or alarming, so i went back to sleep. around 9 i woke up for good and he wouldnt stir. still not that unusual, so i picked him up and he immediately peed on the carpet. hes not been innocent in that regard, but never like this. combined with his limp legs (wouldnt stand, or even adjust his paws properly too try to stand) and general lethargy (eyes half open, labored breathing) i knew. i called my sister, we all sat with him, giving him syringes full of water regularly, until he started panting. knowing that i was going to watch him die regardless, i opted to make the trip to the vet so he wouldnt have to go through it in any more pain.

he was my first dog so i had no idea what this process entailed. id considered asking around over the past year, as his mortality loomed largest, but as a superstitious idiot i couldnt. the vet looked him over and confirmed that it was the right call. my sister and i knew this but my mom couldnt accept it and wanted to bring him home to wait and see. we talked her into it, spent about an hour saying goodbye, then let it happen. i wish id known that his eyes might not close, or that the nerves shutting down might produce something akin to a yawn/gasping sound. those two details aside, it did seem peaceful. not knowing how much worse he could have gotten (i think he had a stroke, which would have been heavy rehab for the old chap, especially if he never regained use of his legs. the vet wouldnt say, but did say his stomach seemed abnormally liquidy, which could lead to a feeling of drowning. when my mom suggested bringing him home the vet said we'd be talking days, not even weeks. i couldnt bear the thought of him dying alone in his sleep, or alone while im at work) im sure we made the right decision, but it sucks. he did exceed his breeds life expectancy, whatever consolation that might eventually be. im not really a holiday guy but i wanted him with me through one more round, or at the very least, through my birthday tomorrow. in a way i wish he had gone on my birthday. then i could have at least (eventually) appreciated the sheer cruelty of it all

he was the best, guys. i didnt deserve him but i had him when i needed him most. i loved him dearly, and let him know that all the time, but i wish id done more. been more patient when he sniffed around for 15 minutes at 6am before deciding not a single blade of grass was worthy of his poop, or when he knocked over his water bowl seconds after drinking from it, or when it took him legitimately 15 minutes of frantic circles and whimpering to get his bed and blankets properly situated, or when he had spells of what i believe was a form of dementia where hed get up at night and walk around my bedroom, eventually getting himself stuck under a desk, frantically panting. im totally lost. cant sleep, cant eat, cant bring myself to bump my memories of the last night with him by playing any music to kill this unbearable silence. its been 12+ years since i can remember not listening to something, thinking about what to listen to next, or both. all he ever wanted his somebodys company, and knowing that he laid there dying, a foot away from me, for at least 3 hours before i noticed and gave him any is just destroying me. not that i could have saved him, but i wasnt there for him and it sucks.

everyone says it will get better but i dont even know what that even means right now.

Oh gosh, what a heartbreaking story. I’m so sorry for your loss.

Animals are one of my things. I really love them. And I’ve had to put 4 of them down over the years; 2 dogs and 2 cats. It hasn’t gotten any easier and remains painful and an experience I will continue to dread as long as I have animals in my life. But I do believe that what animals bring to our lives is worth it and that it is better to have loved and lost… (I actually thought you said this, but the Google machine tells me it was Tennyson.)

You will feel better in your own time. In my experience mourning and grieving can’t be rushed. But please be easy on yourself. Nothing good will come of beating yourself up and honestly, it sounds as though you did everything right.

First of all your family and you adopted an older, sick, injured and anxious dog and gave him a kind and loving forever home. So right there, you’ve proven your generosity, selflessness and loyalty. Sick and anxious dogs test those qualities, especially in the later years and you stuck it out. In fact, your dog lived a good 25% longer than average, which is certainly impressive in and of itself, but even more so given that Chester wasn’t in the best health when he first came home with you.

With regard to those three hours during which you were asleep and Chester was ailing beside you? Sick animals don’t like fuss. You mentioned that he liked company. Well he had company. You were there, quietly, beside him. My guess would be that that’s exactly what he wanted. You were there for him.

I know you are in a lot of pain right now, but ultimately this is a happy story. Chester was extremely lucky to have you and you, of course, were very lucky to have him too.