What to do if Your Cat Goes Missing

A few weeks ago my beloved cat Tucker snuck out the door around midnight and disappeared into the night. When he hadn't come home by the next morning, I became worried. Really worried. Tucker is 12 years old and an indoor cat. I envisioned all kinds of horrible things. But I also took action.

If you ever find yourself in a similar position, here are a few things you can do to (hopefully) get your beloved cat (or other pet) back home.

#1 - visit your local animal shelter.

Our shelter helped me complete a "missing pet" notice, that would be kept in the intake area for six months, so that any cats brought in would be matched against Tucker's description. They also allowed me to view all of the cats at the shelter, including the recent intakes not yet available for adoption. I was also permitted to hang a "lost cat" flier on the bulletin board in their lobby. The animal control officer that assisted me was incredibly helpful and polite, and gave me some first-hand information on what they see that helps reunite owners with their pets.

#2 - post on social media, especially Facebook.

Truth be told, I did this first, just because it's quick & easy. Create a "lost cat" post, with picture, set the privacy to "public" and share with your friends. Ask them to share. Share in local groups in your area. Post in missing pet networks in your region. Post, post, post, share, share, share. Not only is it super-easy, according to the animal control officer I spoke with Facebook is now the #1 way they see owners reunited with pets in our area.

#3 - post fliers, with pictures, in your area.

This was one of the last things that I did, mostly because the three days after Tucker disappeared were filled with summer thunderstorms. Of course. But the first dry day we had I posted fliers on the telephone poles closest to our home, with plans to post more and expand the area every day. The officer told me this is currently the secondmost way they see pets & owners reunited in our area, especially for those who may find your pet but not be on social media. Even though it was too wet to post fliers outdoors due to the weather, I did take fliers to local gas stations, veterinary offices, and pet-related businesses in my area started on day one.

#4 - if your pet is microchipped, notify the microchip company

We rescued Tucker from a shelter, so he came already microchipped, but this was the first time I actually ever needed to use their missing pet alert system. I have to say, I was impressed. I filled out the online form, submitted it, and not only did an email go out to hundreds of other owners of microchipped pets in the area (I've been getting their emails for years), but they also send out a mass communication to local veterinary offices, and even Facebook groups. In fact, one of the "Lost & Found Pets" groups that I went to post to, by the time I got on social media, had already posted the notice they got from our microchip company. For those who may be interested, we use HomeAgain*.

#5 - go out with stinky food and call your pet by name.

For cats, go out in the evening and early morning. Cats are nocturnal by nature, so there's a chance he may be sleeping the day away. If he's going to be found out & about, it's most likely going to be at night.

#6 - put your cat's litter box outside.

Statistics vary, but some claim that a cat can identify their own litter box up to a mile away. I waited until day three to do this, for a few reason. First of all, I had cleaned the litter box right about an hour before he got out. There was nothing for him to smell. Secondly, Tucker shares a litter box with our other cat, Molly. I couldn't leave it outside with nowhere for her to relieve herself. Thirdly, the rain. I didn't clean the litterbox at all the first couple of days after Tucker disappeared. On day three, when the rain let up, I took it outside and dumped it near our property line, in the direction I last saw him running. It was now nice and stinky with Molly's waste, and I figured even if it's not his, he should recognize his sister's smell, right?

#7 - don't give up hope

According to the animal control officer I spoke with, indoor cats who get lost outside, if they haven't been taken in by someone, return after 2-3 days. If a cat has been "rescued" by a well-meaning neighbor, it can be months before you are reunited.
The story usually goes something like this: well meaning person finds "lost" cat with no identification. "Rescues" said cat by taking it in. Since they are doing a good deed, it never occurs to them the cat may be lost. Surely it is a stray or its owners didn't want it or take care of it. After a few months, the cat either isn't fitting in well in the household, or they finally get around to taking it to the vet, or a friend or family member guilts them about never checking to see if the cat were lost. At that point they surrender it to the shelter where it is scanned for a microchip or matched against a missing pet report. Or the vet scans for a microchip and realizes the pet actually belongs to someone else. Or they start looking at lost pet reports or call the shelter and realize that their new pet is actually someone's missing pet.
So don't give up hope.

So what happened to Tucker? He did return home, on day four, around 11pm. I heard a faint meow, and initially thought it must be Molly, sleeping in my three year old's room. Then I realized it wasn't her voice. I looked over, and there was Tucker, peeking in our French doors at the back of the house. He was skinny, covered in burrs, and reeked of gasoline, but was otherwise fine. I'm not sure where he was for those four days, but I sure am glad he's home.

One surprising development was the amount of attention his disappearance and our reunion got on Facebook. People shared my posts all over and I was getting private messages checking on his status. So naturally Tucker ended up with his own Facebook page. My cat has a Facebook page and people are still following his story. Still seems a little crazy, but it's true.

How about you? Have you ever lost a pet? Were you reunited? What steps did you take when you realized it was lost?

As always, thanks for checking in!

*HomeAgain did not ask for a mention or review, nor have I been compensated in any way for this post. I am simply giving my opinion of a service I have paid for out of my own personal finances.

Tucker Earns His Keep

Jason is fond of saying that Tucker needs to "earn his keep".

Then I woke up one morning to find this on the floor of the fireplace room:

Yes, folks, that would be a dead snake, killed by Tucker. I think that qualifies as earning his keep. For life.

If you visit my house...

A few things to keep in mind should you ever choose to visit my house:

There's a good chance my house will not be neat & tidy.
If you choose to come over unannounced, there's a really good chance it won't be neat & tidy.

There will probably be dirty dishes in the sink.
If you choose to come over unannounced, there will probably be dirty dishes on the counter next to the sink.

We don't have curtains on our windows. Any of them. Or blinds. So walk around naked at your own risk.
Wait, if you're there, you're probably there to visit us. So, maybe don't walk around naked at all, 'kay?

We maintain an open-door policy at our house. So if you don't want a preschooler walking in on you while you pee, you should probably lock the bathroom door.

We have three outdoor dogs. They will greet you as you pull up. If you don't want this to happen, you should let us know ahead of time so we can tie them up temporarily make arrangements.

Oh, and Tootsie is losing her vision. And her hearing. So... just watch what you're doing and don't hit our dog, 'kay?

We have one indoor cat. He has long hair. If you're allergic, take your meds before you come. His hair is everywhere.

If a door is closed, don't open it. Since we do maintain an open-door policy, if a door is closed, there's a huge mess in that room reason.

We don't have cable, and only get spotty reception on the 3 local channels we get. Also known as, don't expect to watch the big game at our house.

As a rule, we don't keep pop (ie. soda) in the house. You are however welcome to whatever fruit juice, milk, or in rare occasions sweet tea, we do have. And also, unlimited water. You're welcome.

We don't keep much snack food around either. But we can usually offer you some baby carrots, whatever fruit selection we have that week, and if you're lucky, a granola bar. And ice cream. We do like ice cream, so we should be well stocked in that.

Although if I'm expecting you, I have been known to stock up on snacks & drinks. Because I do try to be a good hostess like that. Emphasize the word "try".

Oh, and going back to the drinks thing, we usually have water for dinner, and it doesn't always occur to us that someone might want something other than water, so if you're coming over for dinner, and you want something other than water, you should probably just bring it, or let us know ahead of time. Otherwise you will be disappointed. (this one from experience)

The chances of Jena being there are about 99.9%. So if you're expecting to drop by for some adult time, it's not gonna happen. And if you want my undivided attention for any reason, that's probably not gonna happen either. Not until she gets a lot older anyway.

We live in the country. If you need to drive thru our yard to get out of the driveway, go for it. You won't upset us. Go for it.

We live in the country. It will feel like an eternity on your way out here, but it's really not that far. We're four miles from the nearest town, about 10 from several major highways, and about seven from a major shopping area. It's really not that far. I promise.

All of that being said, you should also know that you will be welcomed. We may even greet you with open arms. We will be glad you are there, and you will be loved.

Jena may even put on a performance for you, and Tucker might get brave enough to purr in your ear.

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this post inspired by this post

Not Just Another Blog Challenge #17 - A Little Known Fact

 

A little known fact about me, something very few people know, especially in blog world, is...

I used to breed mice.

Yep. Like the furry little rodents.

In high school I took Agricultural Science, and needed a project. Not living on a farm, I was somewhat limited in my choices. So breeding mice it was.

I started with a black & white male named "Mickey", and a brown female named "Minnie".
I bred them for color combinations, and sold the litters to local pet stores.

And then after a few years and being done breeding them, I just kept a few as pets.

And then in college, I decided I wanted one again. So I got another mouse.

Their lifespan is only 3-4 years, and that's if they don't get sick or anything, so you tend to go thru a lot of them over time.

They actually make great pets, although if not handled regularly they can get a little bite-y.

Mickey was so tame I'd let him wander around my bedroom, and he would come when I called him. Most of them I would get out and let them climb on me as I went about my daily business at home, read a book, did homework, watched TV, whatever

Not like all of them at once or anything. Just one or two at a time. As much as I like mice, all of them at once is a little... weird. And hard to manage.

I still have a soft spot for all things mousey, and cringe a little when Tucker does his job in ridding our house of the vermin.

See, I even just cringed a little just calling them "vermin".

So, there ya go. Little known fact about Jodi.

We Have CHICKENS !!!

Fifteen to be exact. All hens. Plymouth Barred Rock.

We got them when they were approximately 28 hours old.

We've been talking about getting chickens since we moved onto this property a year ago. The house sat empty for so long, plus the previous owners didn't take care of it, plus it is in a wooded area, so... we had a major bug problem. Primarily wood roaches and wolf spiders, which were probably feeding off of the wood roaches. Plus when Spring rolled around we had a major mosquito issue because of our neighbors' (non) maintenance of their (stagnant) pond.

So we had several people suggest to us that chickens are an effective, non-toxic, and green way to control bug populations.

But neither of us have experience with chickens, and I actually had a fear of chickens (little known fact), plus we had plenty of renovations to work on in the house, and some marital issues to focus on, so... chickens weren't exactly a priority.

Just doing the renovations & cleaning up the property greatly helped control the roach & spider problem. And we purchased some Mosquito Control Rings which Jason secretly threw into the neighbor's pond, all but eliminating the mosquito problem within a few days.

But we do live in a wooded area, so... there will always be bugs. Always. As the colder weather has been setting in this year, the little critters have already been making their way indoors.

And so... chickens. All natural, non-toxic, environmentally friendly bug control, plus excellent producers of organic, sort-of free range eggs.

Technically I think they qualify as "free range", but once they reach adulthood and are outside, we will be confining (ie protecting) them by housing them in a rather large chicken tractor, the square footage of which is nearly double the recommended size per bird. Yay.

But with Tootsie's history of, ahem, not being nice to animals, and even Buddy, when introduced to the baby chicks we hoped he'd protect... yeah... ends up he thinks baby chicks look yummy. So a very secure chicken tractor. Very secure chicken tractor is in the works.

They are currently in their brooder, locked in the laundry room (away from Tucker), but will be moved to their chicken tractor in the garage within a few weeks, as they outgrow the brooder. This Winter they will be too young to be outside at the outset of Winter (we intentionally chose a cold hardy breed, so future Winters they should be fine outdoors, but this year they will be too young).

So far having chickens is fun. But they poop a lot. Surprisingly a lot. But they're still fun. Thanks for checking in!

Is Anyone's Life NOT a Stumble-Upon ??

Last month Kelle Hampton wrote a great post about how we stumble upon awesome things in life. That really got me thinking.

First, about how my life is such a stumble-upon. Like... just about everything, it seems. A million little accidental findings that have turned out to be the best scenario for me. Ever.

And then I got to thinking... is anyone's life not a stumble-upon? Does anyone out there actually live according to their plans? Does anyone not just stumble thru life, coming upon the things we do and things we have mostly by... accident... fate... God?

Of course, we do have a choice... free will... We choose whether or not to turn down that inviting street, go into that unique shop, "wink" back at that cute guy.

We stumble upon things that are different than where we are, what we are doing, and we decide if we want to take the risk in exploring the stumble-upon that is tugging at us, or go back to road we were travelling safely a few moments before.

We stumble upon these things that we weren't looking for, but almost seem as though they were looking for us. And when we feel that pull, that tug towards the stumble-upon... well, it's hard to resist that tug towards the unknown. The previously unknown.

It appears I do a lot of stumbling.

Like how I met my husband.

And how he stumbled upon our house while helping his parents look for one of their own.

And how I got Tucker because, well, it seemed like a good day to get a cat. The tug was strong that day, practically driving me to the shelter.

And Jena? Most definitely a blessed stumble-upon.

Diving with the manatees? Stumbled upon.

My major in college? Stumbled upon.

Joining the college band? Stumbled upon.

So many things. So many things not planned. Not planned in my wildest dreams. But stumbled upon when I wasn't looking for them. There they were, tugging at my heart, begging me to turn down the next street, veer off the road I was on, change my course...

My life is one big stumble-upon. And I couldn't be happier about it.

If I didn't have a job to wake up for, the cuddling MIGHT have been cute

Maybe.

Possibly.

Or not.

At some point during the night I woke up to Jason moaning in his sleep (the man's a sleep-talker, what can I say). It was at this moment that I also noticed I had a preschooler tightly wadded around my face, and a cat kneading its claws into my knee.

Now, I suppose it's the mom in me, but there was actually a part of me that insisted that I lie really, really still so as not to disturb the three creatures that were disturbing me.

Crazy? Insane? Mom-ish? Whatever. I realized I had to pee.

Scooted Jena to the middle, kicked the cat out of  the bed. Went to the bathroom. Still half asleep.

I don't know what was going on in our house last night, but I got no sleep.

First, just as I was drifting off, Jena came in for the first time, crying that she had to go potty. Okay. Noble enough reason. Helped her go potty (and yes, she actually peed), put her back in bed.

Some time later, I vaguely remember my still-sleeping self waking to a little girl standing next to my bed, staring me in the face, begging to cuddle with me, and me saying something like "go back to bed".

Next.... the aforementioned waking up with her all wadded up on my face. I suppose because I tend to sleep on the very edge of the bed, that was the only place she could find enough room to get on was in the pillow area. So she was curled up into a tight little ball... around my head.

While the cat kneaded my kneecap.

And sometime after I moved her to the middle, I heard Jason make a sound that made me think he might be fighting (he's actually kicked me once & hit me once (two separate occasions), dreaming he was fighting in his sleep), so that woke me up in a start and I actually found myself shielding Jena just in case.

And then I woke up again with Jena breathing in my face and Tucker trying to burrow under my legs. At this point I was awake enough to realize that Jena should not be in our bed (we don't allow co-sleeping unless it's after 5am (ie she's finishing the morning) or she's really sick (ie. I need to keep an eye on her)). I was also awake enough to realize that she usually sleeps like a rock, so if I move her back to her bed, she's not likely to wake up.

And so I did.

Enter the only 90 minutes of uninterrupted sleep I got.

Would have been two hours, but guess who showed up after 90 minutes?

Yup.

Not sure what her deal is, but all I can say is:

#1 - I hope she's not getting sick
#2 - this had better not be a new trend
#3 - I am tired

As always, thanks for checking in!

Five Lined Skink... I think

Found when Tucker was playing with it in our bedroom. Tail already lost (survival mechanism). I released outdoors. It came back in. Not the smartest thing. Did not survive. Approximately four inches long (without tail).

Irresistable Cuteness

Besides just being cute, I feel the need to explain why this pic is soooooo awesome.

See, despite his tolerance of adults doing just about anything to him, Tucker ended up being not very tolerant of kids at all. Including Jena.

From the minute she, as in infant, started flailing her arms in his general direction, he was irritated. He initially responded by swatting at her, but after the first (and only) time he scratched her, and the subsequent claw covers that got put on his little clawies, he never did that again. So from that point on, he just avoided her. Ran, if need be.

But Jena? She loves him. Especially since Tess's untimely exit.

She asks for him to sleep with her. Wants to read to him. Generally thinks that he is the best cat ever.

While he just tries to avoid her, although I will say that on the occasions she spends the night elsewhere, he will go into her bedroom and cry as if he's trying to find her. And he does come into her bedroom every single night as I'm tucking her in, without fail. But he leaves with me, and pretty much really doesn't want her to touch him. Ever.

So, this past Spring when Jason & I walked into the living room one morning to find the above scene playing out on the couch... {{ happy sigh }}

And how could I not grab my camera?

Tucker is slowly becoming more tolerant of Jena. There have been a few of these cat-pillow moments. There have been moments of me having both of them lying on me at the same time. Or both of them sitting and / or lying together on the couch. He seems wary of, but okay with, her presence... until she moves.

As long as she's perfectly still, he's fine. The minutes she stirs, he's outta there.

But still. I love the idea of the two of them getting along. And I'd probably even be willing to give up my bedwarmer every once in a while if he ever wanted to sleep in her bed. Maybe.

Be Still

This phrase has come to me repeatedly over the past... Lord knows how long.

Be Still.
And my response is usually "when?". As in "when will I have time to be still?"

The message has seemed especially insistent lately, and has combined with other... well, I suppose the best word to use would be "signs".

I think God might be trying to tell me something.

Be Still.

Friends have told me how I need to go camping, get out in the woods, be alone with nature.

Magazines and websites, television shows and movie trailers - all seem to be echoing the same message.

Stories of friends & co-workers repeat the same directive.

Be Still.

And then I was. For just a moment.

A few nights ago, I had the unusual circumstance of being home alone for the entire evening. Jena was spending the night at my parents' house, Jason was on boat patrol.

I had a raucous night of catching up on household chores and packing for vacation planned for myself.

And, as usual, I turned on the television and pulled up streaming Netflix to choose something to watch in the background while in viewing area, and in between other chores when I had to leave viewing area.

Because I actually hate to be alone. So the television and Tucker become my company, keeping me from hearing every squeak & scratch, keeping me from being certain someone is breaking in.

When I pulled up Netflix, I started toward my usual sitcom, the 30 minute bits perfect for chores. Nothing you have to pay too close attention to, built-in breaks every 10 minutes to keep you from getting too engrossed and keep you on your path to productivity.

But there it was. Staring at me. "Eat Pray Love". I'd wanted to watch this movie when it was in the theatres, but never did. And it had been in my queue since it was available on Netflix. But I'd never watched it.

Screw the sitcom. I'm watching my movie.

I honestly didn't know a whole lot about the movie. I knew it was about a woman who got divorced and decided to go on a trip around the world to discover herself. And Julia Roberts was the star. That was about it.

Well, if you've seen the movie, then I think you know that the "Be Still" message is infused throughout.

That movie spoke to me.

But I still did my chores. Folding laundry on the living room floor. Straightening the kitchen. Getting the next load of laundry ready. Pausing it between scenes when necessary.

Luckily our open floor plan allows me to do a great deal still in view of the television.

I did I-don't-even-know how many loads of laundry. More than five. Washed the dishes. Took out the garbage. Cleaned the kitty litter. Packed my bag for vacation. And so many more odds & ends.

And then, somewhere in Bali, after finishing folding yet another load of laundry, I pulled myself up onto the couch, remote in hand, to wait for the next end-of-scene moment so I could pause it and begin my next task.

And there, on my couch, somewhere in Bali... I relaxed.

I put the remote down.

I stopped thinking about all I had to do.

My mind simultaneously melded into movie-script and drifted into nothingness, then veered into its own thoughts and back again.

But... calmly. Relaxedly, if there is such a word.

And there, on my couch, somewhere in Bali... I realized that I don't remember the last time I just sat down to watch television, the last time I just sat down, just to... sit down, the last time I let my mind wander so aimlessly.

I don't even remember the last time I did that.

Sure, I sit on my couch. Sure I watch television. But it's always during household chores, or a break in-between chores, or sometimes I'm catching up on emails and text messages and Facebook, and all the time wondering how much I'm gonna get done, and how much will still be left to do.

On infrequent occurrences, the most relaxed couching I get is when Jason & I sit down to watch a movie after Jena has gone to bed. Which is nice, don't get me wrong.

But my ears are always open for sounds of Jena stirring, as she always seems to know when we're having fun without her. My mind is on Jason, so no aimless wandering. And more than once I've been so tired I fell asleep during the movie.

But to just... be? To just relax, and let myself be?... I don't even remember...

But I did that night.

Not forever. Not even for very long. I don't think. I'd guess 30 minutes or less.

But in those few moments... I felt like I found something.

In a few moments of nothing, it felt like I found everything.

I think... I re-learned how to Be Still.

And something inside me tells me that in this mindset to Be Still, I may just find the answer to the problems I've been facing.

So my new goal, is to have more moments to Be Still.

Be it once a week. Heck, once a month would be a good start. To forget the to-do list, forget the stresses of work, forget the troubles of parenting a toddler, the juggles of being a working mom, the tensions that might be in my marriage... let it all go for just a few moments, and just Be Still.

"It is of the LORD's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness. The LORD is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him. The LORD is good unto them that wait for him, to the soul that seeketh him. It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the LORD."  -- Lamentations 3:22-26

Weirdest Night Ever

I swear last night was the weirdest night ever. Things kept happening, one after the other, and I ended up getting all of three hours of sleep.

Oh, nothing hugely major, just a series of oddities.

It all started around 10pm.

First, Tootsie wouldn't finish her canned dog food. Our totally food-motivated, piggy of a dog, who has never turned down any sort of food, wouldn't finish the yummy canned food. You know, the stuff we use to give her the heartworm treatment. Great. I have to use my puppy persuasion powers to convince her to finish it. That really should have been my first sign.

Next, we had bad storms, and about as soon as the rain starts I see a loud flash at the same time I hear a boom and am pretty sure one of our trees got hit by lightening. But it's really dark out. I don't see any fire, so... guess we'll wait till morning to see.

Then, Tucker comes running in from the laundry room with a mouse (he's become quite the good mouser). It's still alive. I tell him to go to his room, because I don't want him letting a live mouse out on the floor of the house. He doesn't (I guess I should explain that normally he will go in "his" room [the spare room - where he's fed & the litter box is] if he's told). I proceed to chase him around the house for 5 - 10 minutes, with a mouse in his mouth, until I finally get him in his room.

The noises that proceeded out of that room were... interesting. The sound of my cat howling, screeching, as things are being knocked over. It seems the mouse might be fighting back.
I couldn't help but laugh at the thought of that little mouse getting in a good bite or two. And in case you haven't had the pleasure... a mouse bite hurts. Like the dickens. Don't let their size fool ya.

But I figured Tucker could handle himself with a little mouse, so left them alone, and the noises quieted down, and in no time he was crying to be let out of the room.

After he comes out, I go in to survey the damage, and there's the little mousie. Poor thing. I use a sock to pick it up by it's tail and put it in a cardboard box before throwing it outside. As I'm carrying it out, it strikes me that it's a female. And seems to be more the type of mouse that you buy as a pet than you find in the wild. Which I find interesting.

And right now I'm chuckling a little on the inside because some of you are probably wondering how in the world I can tell it's a female, or how I must be crazy because all mice are the same, right? ha! Little known facts about Jodi... perhaps I shall write a follow-up post.

Anywho... in the course of the night I also killed three wolf spiders. Which is less weird than it used to be, but I still don't like and the sight of them still makes my heart jump. Mostly because they have this freaky habit of showing up out of nowhere.

So... in the midst of all this I'm doing chores: laundry, dishes, etc.

A little bit later I finish folding a basket of clothes, which I do on the living room floor, and pull myself up on the couch. And then I feel something crawling on me. I look down to see... a TICK! An actual tick!
Of course, my initial reaction is to flick it off, which I do. So then I have to search the couch to find it. Which I did (thank God!). I picked it up with tweezers and put it in the sink, unsure of what to do next. I couldn't find the bug spray, and I just remembered being told they were really hard to kill. So I took a knife & cut it in half. Because you needed that visual, didn't you?

By this time it's nearly 1am, so I put in one final load of laundry and go to check on Jena.

She's fallen out of her bed.

That child has never fallen out  / off of any sleeping surface. She has slept in our bed, on various couches, etc. Last night? I found her on the floor. I go to pick her up, and she is soaked. And I mean, soaked.

The kid who for a couple months has been waking up with dry diapers, and whose diaper I changed in her bed before tucking her in last night, has peed thru her diaper, soaked her pajama pants & top (don't ask me how), and the comforter. I'm guessing the comforter must've somehow gotten underneath her, because her sheets where actually dry.

So I pick her up & put her back in bed, go get a new diaper, and some clean pj's, and come back in to completely change her. She sleeps thru the diaper change, but half-wakes up during the pj change and is not happy about it. But we manage. I fold her comforter so the dry side is up, and place it on the floor next to her bed, just in case, and go get a throw from the hall closet. She falls back to sleep almost instantly.

I finally get ready for bed, and crawl into bed around 1:45pm.

But... around 2:30am I'm awakened by the sound of all three dogs barking madly. And Buddy's bark is not friendly. I sit and listen. Usually this means a strange dog, or a deer, or whatever. Although it is a bit odd that they're all barking. And moving. Thru the yard. And not stopping.

I finally get up and look out our bedroom window.

There's a pickup truck in our yard!

Somebody has just driven right past mine (and Jena's) bedroom windows and is now driving thru our backyard!

What do I do? Jason is working, I'm home alone with a toddler, and someone is blatantly driving onto our property! Do I confront them? Call the cops? Call Jason?

I should have called the police. That would have been the smart thing. I have the direct line to dispatch saved in my cell phone, so I wouldn't even have to call 9-1-1. So that really would have been the smart thing.

But it's 2:30 in the morning, and I'm half asleep. So I'm brilliant enough to put on my shoes, put my cell phone in my pocket, and head out to confront whomever it is, who has now stopped, about an acre back, gotten out of their truck and is shining a flashlight deep into our acreage.

I "call" the dogs as soon as I get outside. I make a quiet clucking sound and they come running. Good dogs.

And then... the guy decides to turn on the flashing yellow lights and LED tail lights installed on his truck.

It's the freakin' electric company.

In the darkness I couldn't see the lights mounted on top, or the signage all over the truck. All I could see was a pickup truck driving thru our property.

Buddy still isn't happy, but now he's probably feeding some off of my tension / anxiety. He growls at the worker, and jumps on him as he approaches me, knocking the flashlight from his hand. I call Buddy back to me and hold him by his collar.

The worker explains that we have a transformer in the middle of our property that got struck by lightening (remember from earlier... aha!). He said "maybe" he should have called or knocked on the front door, but he was hoping to fix it and be gone before anyone knew he was there.

I muttered something about leaving him to do his job, and walked back to the house, with all three dogs in tow. I told them to "stay" on the back porch before going inside. I don't know if they did or not, but I never heard them bark again, until he left, about 45 minutes later. His truck drove by my bedroom window, followed by a chorus of barking dogs.

Now, I'm no expert by any means, and I do understand his good intentions, but personally, I would prefer being awakened by a phone call, or even a knock on the door, in the middle of the night, than to wake up to find someone "trespassing" on my property.
Not to mention the safety issues for himself. Three dogs chase his truck barking, two of those dogs are pretty big, and he gets out without attempting to notify the homeowners? Honestly, he was lucky. Buddy was in defense mode when I got there. And Buddy is not small.
And let's face it, we live out in the country. A lot of people have guns. Showing up on someone's property unannounced, when it's too dark for them to see your identification, and without your flashing lights running, well... it's just not the smartest decision. For your customer or for yourself.

So... off of my soapbox about customer service, and back to the conclusion of my weird night... I walk in the house, take my shoes off at the door, and proceed to walk thru the house barefoot, as I often do.

And somehow get a splinter in the bottom of my foot.

Seriously.

We have all tile or laminate flooring, all of which has been installed for months. Winter is over, so there's no longer any firewood inside.

How the heck do I get a splinter?!?

So I hobble into the bathroom, grab some tweezers (different ones than I used on the tick, thank goodness I have multiple pairs!), and spend the next five minutes or so digging a splinter out of the bottom of my foot.

Good times.

I crawl back into bed around 3am, and hear the electric company truck roll by around 3:15am.

My alarm goes off at 6am. But I somewhat successfully ignore it until 6:45am.

I wake up. I peek in on Jena as I walk out of our bedroom.... and find her on the floor. Again.

****

See. Nothing huge. Nothing major. Just a series of anomalies that added up to the weirdest night ever.

And a very sleepy Jodi.

Oh yeah, so how have I been dealing with the loss of FireKitty?

Okay, I guess.

It definitely seemed to affect me more than anyone else. Although Jena has started talking about her again. The other night we were saying our prayers at bedtime, and she said "Pray Tess feel good". I finished the prayers blubbering.

My mom said she's not surprised at how upset I got. She said it's "in me" to be that way. I've always attached myself to the animals I'm around.

It actually surprised me. I didn't realize how attached I'd gotten to Tess in the short nine months she was part of our family.

But... grieving is just par for the course, right?

The real issue I've had is with anxiety. I can still feel it, rising up in my chest, every time I drive home. Every time. It's worse if I'm driving home after dark, as it was dark when we got home that night.

I now get out of the car, lock the car doors, unlock the front door, go into the house, and do a quick survey of the house before I go back to get Jena out of the car.

If Jason is with us, he must go in first, before I'll even get out of the car.

And I think I'm driving him nuts asking, and re-asking, if he's checked the doors, checked the locks, etc.

I've always been good about locking doors myself, but now I'm fanatical.

Before I go out the back door, for any reason, I lock Tucker in the spare room, and then still exit & return as quickly as possible. Yes, even now that we have the underground fencing keeping the dogs from coming too close to the entranceway (by the way - Buddy & Flopsy understood the new perimeter right away, within a few hours).

Tucker has gotten shoo'ed away and yelled at more than once, if I catch him too close to any of the doors while someone is entering / exiting. Sometimes I think he does it just to freak me out.

Every now and then I have some horrific scenes roll through my mind's eye. Some of them what I imagine happened that night. Some of them anxiety-inducing visions of what I might find has happened to Tucker when I come home. I wish I could get these scenes out of my head.

I'm wary now of someone breaking in. Something I always had a small amount of anxiety about when I lived in the city or suburbs, but what I had never experienced in a rural area before. I was, in fact, before this happened, telling a "city boy" co-worker of mine how much more relaxed I am now that we live out in the country, how much more comfortable, how much less anxiety (he's exactly the opposite - it was an interesting conversation). But not so much anymore. It is quieter though, so strange noises are more easily heard, and identified.

I'm assuming hoping that this anxiety will fade with time. Although part of me hopes that it doesn't. It does make me much more diligent in our home security, especially with regards to Tucker.

So... that is how I'm doing. Dealing with it. Just not always well.

Thanks for checking in.

So What About the Dog ??

Well, right now it looks like we are keeping Tootsie.

Against my wishes.

My feeling is that having her in our household, on our property, is now a known threat to Tucker's safety.

We took steps to keep her separate from the cats, but something happened (we still don't know what), and the first chance she got she killed Tess, and went after Tucker.

To me, the best decision is to:
    - fulfill my responsibility to Tucker to take every step possible to keep him safe, by finding Hydrant a new home
    - fulfill my responsibility to Tootsie to take every step possible to make sure her new home is a good, loving, responsible one. With no cats. Ever.
    - for several reasons, acclimate Buddy & Flopsy to living primarily inside the home, but crated when we are not home

Jason disagrees. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You see, Tootsie is his dog. He's had her the longest, for eight years.
So I don't know that it's so much that he disagrees with my reasoning, as much as he can't bring himself to get rid of her.

I understand. I disagree, but I understand.

We talked argued about it last night. In short order our mature, reasonable discussion of possible solutions degraded into a childish exchange, just using big words to mask the immaturity. And just to be clear, we both fell into that.

His idea is to use our underground fence system to fence off all openings to the house, except one: the laundry room, which is where the dogs currently used to stay on nights it's too cold for them to be outside.
It's actually been cold enough (single digits) for me to bring them in the past two nights, but I can't bring myself to do it. The "what-ifs" won't stop running thru my mind.

He feels this will not only prevent Tootsie from getting into the house unexpectedly, but also keep gun-shy Buddy from damaging the doors trying to get in, come hunting season.

I agree that it is a good idea, and possibly still worth doing, even if we get rid of Tootsie, but the biggest problem is that we already had taken steps to separate the dogs from the cats, and while we were out, something had happened, and they got together. Something beyond our control. So what happens if the fence shorts out? Or we miss the battery on her collar running low? or there's some other malfunction?

I don't feel that it's worth the risk.

The risk of reliving that scene again. Or of that scene happening at a time when Jena comes home with us. Or that scene repeating itself (God forbid) in a time & place where we see it unfold, and maybe Jena sees something so... awful.

Or Jena gets a little older and decides that Tootsie wants to play with Tucker so brings Tootsie in the house, thru the laundry room. Or takes Tucker out into the yard so they can play. And then not only witnesses what happens, but lives with knowing that she did it.

Yeah. To me, that's not worth the risk.

To him, it is.

To him, those are all random "what ifs" that are very unlikely to happen. But after what Tootsie did to Tess the first time she had the opportunity, I see it more as a matter of time before the opportunity presents itself again. We can't be there all the time, we can't be everywhere, see everything.

He also thinks getting rid of another pet so soon after losing Tess would be too traumatic for Jena.

I think we need to remove the known risk from the household, to prevent the likelihood of an even greater trauma in the future.

But not only is it his dog, he is also the head of the household, so he will most likely "win". Although I decided from the beginning this is one of those things that no one "wins". It definitely feels like one of those situations where there is no "right" decision, where every possible solution, is a bad one.

As we went to bed, I asked him if he'd made a decision. He said he had not. I told him if he planned on keeping Tootsie, then I expected to see additional locks installed on the French doors, and the additional fencing installed around the house, like yesterday.
My husband & I are both world-class procrastinators, but I told him there would be no "next time I'm off, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year". Not with this. That if he decided to keep her, then his next day off I expect to come home from work to see the new locks in place and the supplies for the fencing purchased and the installation at least under very good progress, if not completed. And that if it couldn't all be completed in one day, it would be completed his very next day off.

Period.

I guess we'll see what his final decision is. But I think I already know. {{ sigh }}

How is Jena Handling the Loss?

Thankfully, Jena was not with us when we discovered that Tootsie had killed Tess. Jason & I had a late appointment with our physical trainer, and his mom had offered to keep Jena overnight. I really didn't want her to, but reluctantly agreed around 5pm that night. So glad I did.

I picked her up from the in-laws' house after work the next day. As soon as we left their driveway, I turned off her CD of children's worship songs and told her I needed to talk to her about something important, as I adjusted the rearview mirror so I could see her face.

I told her that the night before, while she was spending the night with Mamaw & Papaw, when Mommy & Daddy got home, we found out that while we were gone, something had happened and Tess had died. Tess was dead.

I asked her if she knew what "dead" meant, and she just stared at me. I told her that when someone dies, it means they are gone. Forever.

She paused.

Then began repeating:

"I spend night at Papaw's. Mom & Dad come home. Sumfing happen. Tess diiiieeeeeevvvvvvv"Over, and over, and over again. All the way to McDonald's (because Lord knows the child was getting whatever she wanted that night). I suppose repeating it was her way of processing the information.

At McDonald's, when I saw that our food was dwindling and we would be leaving shortly, I told her I just wanted to make sure she understood that Tess had died, and was gone. That when we got home, Tess would not be there.

She repeated the phrase again.

"I spend night at Papaw's. Mom & Dad come home. Sumfing happen. Tess diiiieeeeeevvvvvvv"

Then she looked up at me, with a twinkle in her eye.

"Mommy! Ask Tess what happen!"
{{ insert heartbreak here }}

Just the way she said it. Like she had just thought of the most brilliant idea. We'll just ask Tess  what happened.
So I explained that we can't ask Tess, because, remember, she's gone. She's not going to be at the house. Ever again.

Jena seemed to ignore me, and went on playing with her toy that she had gotten with her Happy Meal. And then it was time to leave. And she threw a world class tantrum. Throwing things, lying on the floor, the whole bit. And I was by myself. So gathering food, throwing away a tray, collecting things that had been thrown, getting a coat on a flailing toddler... well, these things take time.
So I really didn't appreciate the glares I started getting from other customers. And then from the manager. I mean really?!? Can't you see I'm by myself here, trying to get her out of the restaurant. I suppose I could have left our food on the table, but I'm sure that would have drawn a glare or nasty comment as well. Or left the things she'd thrown on the floor, but again, another glare or comment. Or not taken the time to try to get her coat on. But it was 18 degrees out, and she's two, so... yeah, I'm gonna take the time. Geez! Cut a mother a break.

Anywhoo, I digress. I told her again a few minutes into the drive home. I just really wanted her to understand that Tess was not going to be at the house. As much as she could understand.

And so, we pulled into the driveway and I turned off the engine and turned to look at her.

"I just want to make sure you understand that Tess died. She's not here anymore. She's gone. We only have one cat now. Just Tucker. Okay?"

"Mommy, Tess hidin'"

"No, Jena, Tess isn't hiding. She's gone. She's just not here anymore, not here anywhere, okay? Just Tucker now. No more Tess."

"Tess sum-wer (somewhere)"

I paused. There was one way to handle pet death that I hadn't wanted to go, but Jason had (he was working, so I won by virtue of being the one who had to do it). But maybe I should say it now. Now that she had said "somewhere".

"Jena, Tess is in Heaven. When pets die, that's where they go, they go to Heaven. Do you know where Heaven is? Heaven is where God lives. So since Tess died, she's living with God now. And He's gonna keep her, okay? She's gonna live with Him, and He's not bringing her back. She lives with God now."

 No response.
We got out of the car, and went into the house. She started walking around, mumbling something. I couldn't really make it out, although I did hear "God" repeatedly.

And then... she became obsessed with Tucker. She wanted him to play kitchen with her. She tried to read books to him. She wanted him to sleep in her bed. And she talked about taking him to the sitter's house the next day.

Sweet girl.

A couple of hours later, while eating her snack, she looked at me and very matter-of-factly said:

"Mommy! Go pick Tess up now! She hidin'."
"Hunny, she's not hiding. I can't pick her up, because she's gone, remember? She's not here anymore. Ever."
 
And that was it for that night. When I tucked her in, and we were saying our prayers, I said a special prayer thanking God for the time we had with Tess, and for what a blessing she had been in our lives the short time she was with us.

The next morning, no mention of Tess at all. Until we were leaving. We have a habit of saying goodbye to the cats when walking out the door.

"Goodbye Tucker! Have a nice day! We'll see ya later!"
"Bye-bye Tucker! Bye-bye Tess!" {pause} "Nope. No Tess."
 
She continued walking out the door. I, however, started bawling. I have taken very strong efforts to not cry about this in front of Jena. I don't want her to feed off of my emotion, I want her to have her own reactions to this event in her life. But this time, I lost it. We got in the car, and drove to the sitter's.

And that was that. That evening, we cut our nails before bathtime. First Jena, then mommy, then Tucker's claws.

"Do Tess nails!" she exlaimed excitedly.

"I can't, hunny, remember? Tess's gone."

She mentioned her again this morning. She was singing, and kept saying Tess's name over and over. I couldn't really make out the rest of the words.

And that's the last time she's mentioned her. I keep waiting for her to start looking for Tess. Or to call for her. Or to ask me questions. I keep waiting for it, but so far it hasn't happened.

She seems to be handling it very well. Much better than I am, anyway. I'm still a mess.

Scenes from a Horror Film

**WARNING** this post contains content that some readers may find disturbing. Read at your own risk.

Do you ever feel like you're living a scene from a movie? And even after it's over, it seems like it couldn't have really happened? Like it must have been a movie? And you can actually almost see yourself from the outside, like you're watching the movie?

*********************************

Like when you come home at night, and you're gathering some items from the car to bring in while your husband goes inside, and then he comes back out and yells to you that the dogs were in the house?

And you're confused, and you're like "What do you mean the dogs were in the house? How'd they get in?", and you actually chuckle, because it's not like your dogs grew opposable thumbs the two hours you were gone.

But he yells back "I don't know, but all three dogs were in the house".

And you shake your head and walk toward the house, confused, puzzled at how this could have happened, when all at once that confusion just doesn't matter any more and the how doesn't matter any more as the realization of what this really means sinks in.

It means that your cat-agressive dog has been loose in the house, unsupervised. With the cats.

 You push thru the front door and drop the items you'd gathered from the car on the floor and scream to your husband "Where are my cats?!?"And he looks at you and says plainly "I don't know"

And then you begin hyper-ventilating, and repeating over and over again "where are my cats? where are my cats? where are my cats?" and you nearly collapse on the floor, but do manage to get your feet under you in time to stumble to the garbage can to vomit.

And by this time your husband has locked the dogs in the laundry room, and informed you that the back door was wide open when he came in, and that you need to get it together to find the cats, because you're the only one they'll come to, and they could be fine, they could be hiding in the house, or could be outside somewhere, but you have to find them, because you are the one they trust.

And you remember that your male cat, when he got out at your old house, would hide under your deck, so you go out the back door, and look around, and down the steps, and around to the front of the deck so you can bend down to look under it.

And then you see an unusual... shape... a few feet away.

And you don't want to look, but it could be anything, and you have to get it together because you have a responsibility to these cats to find them. They could be fine. Or they could be injured, and need help. So you cannot not look.

But it's really dark out, living out in the country like you do, and so you have to take a few steps closer, and still your eyes are struggling to adjust, and then you see...

And you hear yourself let out a wail as you stumble a few feet away, and then you sink onto the snowy ground and you know you are yelling something, but you don't know what.

But your husband does hear you and comes running out the back door and yells "What?!?" and you look up at him, and point to the lifeless body of your female cat, your daughter's kitten, as you cry out "They killed her!"

And he says "You have to get up. You have to find the other cat". And you know he's right, so that's it, you're composed, you're on a mission.

You meet your husband on the deck. He hugs you. He asks if you want him to bury her. You tell him yes, but make sure it's somewhere the dogs can't dig her up. He tells you to check the spare room for the male cat, because that's the room the cat-aggressive dog walked out of when he came in.

Then you walk past him to go inside, and you see it for the first time. How you didn't see it before, you don't know, but there it is.

Blood.

On the floor of your fireplace room, just a few feet from the back door.

It happened in the house.

You pause for only a second before moving thru the house, calling out to your male cat.

You push open the door to the spare room, and there he is, sitting, frozen, staring at you wide-eyed, filthy, having just crawled out of a vent in the floor.

As you go to move toward him, he moves toward the vent. He's still scared terrified.

You leave him alone, shutting the door so you'll know where he is and he can feel some security.

You go back to the deck to find your husband, walking past the blood once again.

You can barely see him, he's so far away, almost in the woods. With a shovel in his hand.

You stare at him, frozen at the scene. He yells to you "Did you find him?!?"

At first it's all you can do is to nod, then you yell back "He's okay, I think he's okay"

And then, now that your mission is complete, and your adrenalin is beginning to subside, the emotions come flooding back, and you collapse in the snow on the back deck, sobbing so hard you can't breathe, your chest hurts.

You're not there long, as your  husband comes as soon as he finishes his task, and pulls you up from the snow, he gives you a light hug, then turns to direct you in the house, telling you to find your cat, go hold your cat.

You go, pointing to the blood as you walk past it once again and mumble something about how you really need him to take care of that please.

And the rest of the night is spent in shock and mourning, over-reaching grief, confusion, disgust, sadness, and... heartache.

The kind of heartache where your chest actually hurts.

Not only because your beloved pet has died...

    ... but also because you now have to explain to your two-year-old that her cat is gone, forever.
    ... and because you know that this night sealed the fate on at least one of your dogs


*********************************

My God, I wish I didn't know that scene either. Lord, do I wish that.

Tucker got out!

Tucker got out the other night. And it terrified me.

I came home around 9pm, and walked in the door with my arms full, and he snuck out between my legs. By the time I put Jena down and turned around, he was in the neighbor's yard, being chased by the neighborhood cat. I went out and tried to get him. They were on the verge of fighting. The neighborhood cat didn't see me and I snuck on him and stomped on the ground next to his head, thinking he would run off & I could grab Tucker & take him home.

Nope.

Oh, the neighborhood cat ran. But Tucker also ran, in the opposite direction. I followed him into the next yard, but he kept going. And Jena was in the house alone so I couldn't go any further.

I called Jason, who was at a water rescue meeting. So when he came home he drove around the neighborhood  looking for Tucker. Then he walked around the neighborhood looking. No luck. He came in, and I took a turn, and walked the entire neighborhood looking for Tucker. No luck. I came home & sat on our porch thinking if I was quiet and Tucker saw me there he would come up to me.

Nope. After a few minutes I started crying.

This is my baby. My baby boy. I've had him for 4 1/2 years, after adopting him from the local shelter. And he's not been outside since. It's now 11:30pm, and there's not much more we can do. I'm scared to death for him, and try to console myself by reminding myself that he's really big, and he has all his claws so at least he can defend himself.

I go inside. We go to bed, me somewhat reluctantly. We're lying in bed, and I'm looking out the window, which faces the front of our house, mentally making a list of everything I'll need to do the next day if he's not back in the morning: contact the local shelter, contact the microchip company, make up some lost posters, post lost ads on CraigsList, Facebook, etc.

About a half an hour later, I still can't sleep, and I look up to see a little white head poke out from under our car.

It's him!

I jump out of bed, run down the hallway to the front door, and look out. He's looking at me, but still hiding under the car.

I open the door to go get him, and the minute the door opens he bounds across the yard & straight into the house!

I was so happy! So relieved.

And it was so cute. The first thing he did was go up & lick on Tess. So cute.

Ever since he's been extra cuddly & wanting extra attention. I was hoping that meant he learned his lesson, but he's also been running to the door anytime I go near it, like he wants to go out again.

Not if I can help it.

I'm just so thankful that he came back. And so soon!

So thankful. And so relieved.

Lonely & Frustrated

My husband is gone all... the... time. And I get lonely.

Right now he's gone 36 hrs, home 36 hrs.
Of course, there's sleep time in there. And the hours that I'm gone to work. And whatever time he wants to spend volunteering with Water Rescue. And helping his dad cut firewood, or whatever. And... I get lonely.

Lately I've been lonely a lot. I dropped Jena off at my parents the other day, and cried on my way home. Why? Because I missed her? Sure. But mostly it was a pity party for myself, because I was going home to an empty house. I was lonely. No one to talk to.

I'm sure the people at Kroger think I'm nuts. When I go grocery shopping with Jena, I talk to her the entire shopping trip. Ask her opinions on things. Just talk.
Why? Because I have more words that are trying to get out of my mouth, and no one to say them to. So I say them to her.
I also talk to Tucker quite a bit. And Tootsie has taken to listening to me in the mornings, while Buddy tends to listen better in the evenings.

Did I mention I'm lonely?

I go to work, where I sit in a corner cubicle. By myself. Today, for instance, in the 20 seats nearest to mine, there are three other people. The closest one two seats away. And all three of them are managers or above, and so have been in & out of meetings all day.
And none of them do what I do anyway. I'm the only administrative specialist in my entire division. I'm also the only "temp". Which means I have no one to commiserate with. No one to talk to. All day. Every day.

Did I mention I'm lonely?

And then I go home, to just me & Jena most nights. And I talk to a 13 mo. And she's a joy. But I'm lonely. And then she goes to bed. And I'm alone. Just me & Tucker. Alone.

Which leads me to the frustration part of this posting.

Between work, and taking care of Jena, and family obligations & such, I struggle to keep a neat house. STRUGGLE. It's a constant battle. And I feel like I get very little support from Jason. Which just makes it worse.

I understand that when he's gone, he works very hard. But I also understand that if they don't have any runs to go on, he gets to nap, or play video games. I have also done the math and figured out that he has more waking hours at home than I do.
So, for example, yesterday he's off. So he watches Jena while I go to work.
Oh, as background, I busted my butt all weekend to get our house clean. Still not done, still not perfect. But cleaner & looking better than it has in at least a year. Seriously. Busted my butt.
So he's off yesterday. And what do I come home to?

Jena's cereal bowl from breakfast still sitting on the couch, where he fed her about 10 hours earlier.
Jason's dirty sweatshirt draped across the couch.
Jena's toys strewn across the living room floor.
Remnants of the crackers that he had given Jena crumbling all over the house.
A half-full sippy cup lodged in a shelf on our entertainment center.
A sink full of dirty dishes.

So what did he do all day? Well, that I don't really know for sure. But he did tell me that he got in a nice 2 hour nap during Jena's afternoon nap.
Nice.
When does Mommy get to nap?

So, I'm frustrated. I so want to scream at him, or throw things, or just go on strike. I feel really unappreciated. I worked my butt off to get that house in order, and in just a few short hours come home to a mess. Nice.
Oh, and did I mention that once I'm home, he considers himself "off"? So now that I put in 8 hrs at the office, and come home, he gets to watch TV, play on the computer, or otherwise relax, while I have to make dinner, do dishes, tidy up the house, try to get some laundry done, bathe Jena, feed Jena her dinner & snack, get Jena's clothes ready for the next day, and do all of this while Jena hangs on my legs and Tucker winds himself around my feet. And Jason sits there.
Nice.
But I do get his point of view as well. He's been gone for 36 hours, then watched Jena during the day, so he feels like he deserves to rest now & enjoy his evening. Which he does.
But don't I deserve to rest too? When does Mommy get to nap?

So I'm frustrated. How do you tell someone who works really hard that you need more from them? That you need their HELP?

So I'm frustrated. And lonely. And ready to throw in the proverbial towel.