Can I Keep It?

Aida, Aida Velveeta. But that's just her stage name...

 

I had a recurring dream before I found Aida.  I phoned all of my friends and told them about my new kitten.  "Her name's Aida.  Aida Velveeta, but that's just her stage name..." I had searched for my cat for weeks.  On a trip to Knoxville to have my wedding dress fitted.  She wasn't there.  Nashville on the way home.  No her.  The pound in Collierville.  No Aida.  The Memphis/Shelby County Pound.  She wasn't there. And then, in a small cage at the Memphis Humane Society, I found her.  Tiny, shaky and newly operated on.  Someone had abused her.  Her tail had died and needed to be docked. "That's my cat," I stated to the lady at the counter.  "That one?  Are you sure?"she replied incredulousy.  "Yes,"I sighed, "I'd know her anywhere."

And I adopted her and brought her home where she could be safe. I promised her that no one would ever hurt her again.

You see, I needed that promise myself.  My father had committed suicide a few weeks before.  I figured maybe we could patch each other up.

Well, relatively safe anyway.  Carmen adored her.  The first in a long line of canines dispelling the myth that dogs and cats can't get along. At least dogs and Aida.

We often joked that they were so close that they had always traveled through lives together, trading which one got the short tail in each incarnation.  A border collie, Carmen had a long fluffy tail.  But the only black on Carmen was on that tail.  A thin line of it right where a docking would occur. This time it was Aida's turn apparently. 

The abuse always caused her trouble.  She leaked when she slept.  She had bowel problems. And she was terribly shy.  Fewer than twenty-five people had ever seen Aida in real life.  My brother stayed with me for a weekend once and declared that we were imagining her.  He swore the pictures were someone else's cat staged in our home. We started calling her the "Ghost Cat".

But Aida had many nicknames- The Big Cheese, Cheesy Poof, Fuzzy Bag of Bones, Stinky McStinkington. The list was endless.

My least favorite was "Bee Hive".  Aida liked to crawl into my hair in the wee morning hours and knead it like bread.  Only her claws nicked me.  Oh, it was painful!  Once we had a housesitter who had never met Aida, even though she had stayed here on many occassions. Late one night, as she slept, needy Aida over came her fears and perched on the housesitter's head.  The housesitter awakened to what she said felt like a hive of bees stinging her head!  She quickly realized that it was Aida.  She laid there, taking the abuse because she was relieved that Ghost Cat had finally come out for her.  Aida never hid from her again.

Aida was sweet, warm and friendly to us.  When Boudreaux came to live with us, he fell instantly in love with her.  She allowed him to mouth her head as she went about her business.  It was constanly a slobbery mess.  Aida didn't mind at all and sought out his company daily.

But Aida's health had been failing of late.

Yesterday, after contacting the vet who saw Zoe through her cancer, we took her to AngelCare and had Kathy Mitchener help us to take her home. Aida had lost more than half her body weight and was bleeding internally.  She was constanty leaking fluids. 

A fighter until the end, Kathy took little Aida back to put in the catheter in her arm. Aida started jumping up and down like a monkey.  Pop! Pop! Pop! Then Kathy quietly told her that she didn't have to fight anymore.  Aida stopped.  Laid down, stuck out her paw and allowed her to insert the needle without moving a muscle.

Kathy brought her back to me and Hud and laid her in my lap.

It was a sweet and peaceful ending for my sweet and peaceful friend.

I love you, Aida Velveeta.  Kiss Carmen and Zoe for me.  But stay away from Tee Tee.  She never really was a fan of yours. Well, of anyone for that matter.

Aida was sixteen.

* Thank you, Kathy Mitchener.  You are the kindest, dearest person.  You gave her the peace she deserved. Hud and I appreciate everything you did for the three of us.

Whew

The last couple of weeks Hud and I have been social butterflies.  Good thing he has a five day weekend coming up.  I need a rest. 

We photographed the Rhodes College graduation for one.  Went to a wedding at the Metals Museum for another.

The river is very high from all of the snow run off up north.  It's racing so fast that the barges going downstream disappeared in  a matter of minutes, while the ones travelling upstream?  Are probably still fighting the current six days later.

We went to a Gatsby Party, which was grand fun.  And my Art Deco jewelry got to go out for the evening, which it adored. Art Deco jewelry loves a good party.

Our friends, the Flowers.  Hud has known Calvin since they were babies, like sixty years.  Not being hyperbolic, even.  For reals.

We're having the house refinanced.  Zali and Simone were not impressed.  They had to go to jail for a few hours while the appraiser was here.

Muhzer! Wee are ze stressed owt!

I should have put Simone in her Thundershirt. Hud and I did Paws for a Cause a couple of weekends ago and I gave in and bought her one to ease her anxiety.  Two years ago, without warning, Simone became petrified of thunderstorms.  The slightest rumble would cause her to shake so terribly that I was afraid she'd rattle her teeth out of her head.  When I discovered her hiding behind the toilet after I got out of the shower, I knew that I had to try something.  And you know what?

EffingFunderCanBiteMe.GrowlAtSomebodyElse,AshullSky.

It works!  

The Thundershirt doesn't completely put her at ease, but during yesterday's storms, she merely panted a few times.  No shaking!  Simone even managed a nap during a particularly strong line of storms.  I may get one for Boudreaux.  Zoe didn't teach him how to catch a ball like an Olympian, but she did transfer her fear of the vacuum cleaner.

And we went to bunch and lunches with a variety of friends.  That's about enough, isn't it?

Well, there is this:

A baby Fig Parrot.  From Zooborns.com.

You are welcome.

Sprung

A few days ago, I headed out to the garden to do some weeding with the kids.  As I left the door and waited for them to follow, I realized that the wisteria arbor above my head was issuing a low huuuuuummmm.

Spring had errupted in my yard.  The kids set about to chasing drunken bees.

 

Over night, the arbors over the patio and at the end of the pool, look as if they are cover by a thick lavendar chenille spread.

My favorite time of the year snuck up on me.

NotMe,Mommee.IHeardDemPrickleeJerksFromInsideTheHowse!

Long Time, No Blog

I've been crushed by commission deadlines for the past month.  I know.  It's probably bragging, rather than complaining.  Work is good.  Pets are still crazy.  Everything was humming along and then -

It turned cold. We had the boiler serviced and the pilot lit. Scintillating, I know.  But the system never fully heated and in the morning, Hud went down to check on it and the pilot had gone out.  So we had James come back.  He found a leak in a pipe, so he thought.  Hud called a contact from work who came out that day to see it.  They referred us to a heating company.  They came out and then - 

The serviceman found out the boiler reservoir had cracked.  

I know.

Game over. Scene.  Get the Fat Lady warmed up.

But we're counting our bessings.  The mechanical engineer who came out and diagosed the problem said it should have exploded when Hud and James tried to light it the second time.  Said he had seen them blow through the foundation seven or eight feet into the ground.

I know.

We've been without heat since Friday.  It's colder than a witch's hoo ha at night.  Even the dogs are snuggling up for warmth.  

Bou fink dis gud idea. Bou lyke.

Bou was shivering, despite cuddling up against Zoe.  So we covered the two of them up.

The guys just arrived to install the new one.  Twenty-first century, here we come!

Bou fink dis gud idea. Bou lyke.

Change is in the Air

Last Friday, the winds blew in a change in the weather. We awoke to temperatures in the eighties.  A full twenty degrees cooler than the average around here.  

The kids were frisky.  It hasn't been this lovely in months.  Boudreaux was all smiles.

Zoe felt better than ever.  She even insisted on going to the park with Hud and Boudreaux.

Zali wanted to go for a walk, but he settled for chasing Bou and Simone around the backyard.

Hud came out to enjoy the day, but he was so into the book, Gone Girl, that he hardly noticed it.

The toad lilies are blooming brightly after the storms.

All of the yard was heaving a sigh.  The drought is lifted.

AhThinkItSuks.It'sGettingMyBeautifulFurWet.StupitWain.

And On the Next Episode of Hoarders...

Hud and I spent the gorgeous Sunday afternoon doing an event called Paws for a Cause at the Shops of Saddlecreek.  There were pet bakers, pet stores, pet accupuncturists, pet photographers, pet painters and of course, the rescue groups.

We were immediately to the right of the Greyhound Rescue Group.  Only they're aren't really rescues, more of a second chance group. 

All of these beauties were there with their parents.  The greyhounds are not well socialized when they are up for adoption.  They've spent a lot of time alone in a pen waiting to go to work, instead of romping in backyards with twelve year old boys.  The group brings only the adopted ones to show how they blossom when they get to know people.

Good Dog Rescue was there as well.  Oh! The small funny faces!

This little girl had me at hello.  But I resisted the temptation.

They told me this was the laziest terrier in the country.  He wouldn't even get up for dinner if he was napping.

You know, as the Furry Godmother, people love to talk to me about their animal friends.  And there were some real stories yesterday.  Tales of the worst and the best in people.

This is Gus, a six month old St. Bernard puppy.  He was ginormous.  And fluffy as a chick.  And sweet as candy.  And spent four months locked in a wooden crate in a garage.  An unwanted birthday gift, ignored and treated so badly, when Sam got him, he couldn't walk.  He crawled on his belly to her.

But she has nursed him back to health.  He seems to bear no scars from his ordeal.

Unlike Honeysuckle.

She was found after someone set her on fire.  She had been bred, but probably failed to produce winning fighters.  The pups probably all inherited her gentle nature. That's her girlfriend, Feather, being fed a cookie by their mom from Three Dog Bakery. 

I had run up to the restroom and on my return, I spotted a new pen at the Good Dog Rescue.  It was so much larger than the others. 

And then I saw his face.

I asked the young attractive woman why she had my dog in a cage. 

Kristi took him out and I fell like a rock.  All the discussions swirled around my brain.  Four dogs is plenty.  We'll wait until Carmen is gone.  No. More. Male. Dogs.  I told Kristi that I would send my husband up to meet him.  Explained about Carmen.  Tried to talk myself out of it.

Kristi pleaded her case.  Someone she knew had owned Ace and had to move.  She could not take him with her.  ( I hope it wasn't that, "Arizona doesn't take dogs" excuse the Humane Society gets all the time.)  So Kristi, who fosters for Good Dog, told her that she would take him and find him a good home. She had him for a while, though now and she was two weeks from delivering her second child.  She was desperate to find that place.  She felt guilty because he was so very loving and they had been trying not to bond with him. 

I wandered back to my booth, wondering how I could get Hud to agree with all the wrongheadedness of it.

I told him that the dog was a Catahoula/Shepard mix.

He jumped up and said, "Well, let's have a look at him then..."

I waited, biting my lip.  Wringing my hands.  Waited. Minutes passed and out of the corner of my eye, I see Hud, walking with Ace back to me. 

"We need to change his name.  I'm calling him Boudreaux."

So it is official.  We are animal hoarders.

He fit in seamlessly.  Zali has only groused a few times to push his weight around.  Bou was cool with that. After the initial alarmed barking by Simone, accepts him.  Zoe took to him right off and shared a toy with Bou. Carmen finds him fascinating. The only things we're working on are the cat and the birds.  Boudreaux simply does not understand have wild animals in the house.  Aida is not amused.

But I am!  He's already revealed some of the quirky bits of his personality.  He likes music. It makes him do the RCA dog head.  Loves to watch TV to the point of needing to tell him to sit down when he finds some particular piece of dialogue riveting.  And himself.  He could spend hours watching himself in the mirror.

He was only agitated for an hour or two.  Then he jumped down fromthe ottoman Zoe shared with him.  Nosed through the toy basket until he found the perfect one. Then he hopped back up.  Settled in beside Zoe again and squeaked peacefully.

Welcome home, Boudreaux. We're all glad you're here.

 

 

 

Good Days

The whole pack has been spending as much time as possible with Carmen.  She's been having lucid, steady days lately.  We've seen less of Carkeys and that is a blessing.

She goes on teetering walks about the backyard.  Eats heartily for breakfast and dinner.  But mostly?  She sleeps on her bed in the den.

She sleeps more soundly when we cover her with several layers of beach towels.  And yes, give her one as a pillow for her head.  Good thing she isn't spoiled or anything. 

Zoe has been spending a lot more time with her.  Instead of snoozing in the bar, she's been napping on her ottoman with Carmen.

Even the little kids are sticking close.

Well, admittantly, Zali may be sticking around like a remora.  He hovers like a vulture when Carmen eats her meals, waiting to snatch goodies from her plate.  That dog is a weasel sometimes.

So we're lazing happily along, relishing the good days.  And counting all of our blessings.

Turn that thing off!  Can't a girl get some rest around here?

Doubly Thankful

This year, we decided to celebrate Thanksgiving by having a few drinks with the ducks.

The mallard was being particularly randy, putting up a rooster tail of water as he chased the hens about the basin of the fountain.

The spread that the Peabody puts forth is not to be equaled.  We had fried green tomatoes with creme fraiche, cheese, and scallions.

Our favorite is always the seafood course.  Plump shrimp, caviar, smoked salmon, scallops, sushi, and smokey grilled vegetables spilled over the edges of our plates.

We talked about all the things that make our life so very special.  I am thankful for such a loving, talented, wonderful person to share my life.  And put up with my pet obsession.

And dessert.  I was thankful that it was a splurge day and the Peabody never scrimps on the dessert table!

There were tiny creme brulees, dark chocolate cupcakes, fruit tarts, ice cream with a thousand choices of toppings, and rich gooey brownies.

And all the while we were serenaded by the lovely sounds of Francis and her harp.  Hud knows her from his wedding photography days. 

The Peabody chefs had prepared all the holiday decorations. There is a sleigh and fondant covered elves.

And a tiny gingerbread town with a real train running through it.

Friday, we celebrated at home.  I made a spicy turkey, bourbon sweet potato souffle, turnip greens, fluffy biscuits, cranberry/raspberry sauce, and my Grandmother Elois' sausage/cornbread dressing.  I have to make it for every major holiday.  There is no recipe.  Just the memory of helping her make it.  I feel it helps me to keep her alive.

The kids were all in attendance.  That's a snippet of Simone's tail in the lower right.  Aida was on the table.  I know.  Stop it.  Even sweet Carmen came down and made a rare appearance for the meal.

And I was very thankful for that.

I hope everyone is having a joyful and happy holiday!

Giving Comfort to Joy

Yesterday morning, around 8:30, as Hud and Zoe were making their way back from the church yard next door, Hud noticed a tiny dog marching determinedly towards North Parkway.  He let Zoe in the house, crossed the street and scooped her up.  She appeared to be the littlest Bassett hound I have ever seen.  A slight six or seven pounds.  Smaller than Simone!

On her collar was her name, Joy and a phone number.  Hud called it and left a message.  Joy never made a peep.  Did not chew anything.  Did not beg for food.  Clearly she was in the wrong house.

As the day wore on, we began to suspect she had been dumped.  No returned calls.  No tearful people with empty leashes searching the street. (As Howard had done to me once.) No flyers pinned to the light posts.

Sundays are lazy at the Hudarosa.  We popped in a Six Feet Under and snuggled in to the couch.  Zali and Simone refused to allow her up, so I sat on the floor with tiny Joy. 

I officially look like an animal hoarder in this shot.  Okay, make that just hoarder with all the dog toys and magazines and Zoe's yogurt plastic.  And dogs.  Lots of dogs. 

At 8:15, twelve hours after Hud saved her from the bright lights of Memphis on her way to the Commodor Hotel, Joy was beginning to fold in to the family.  She was sleeping soundly on my leg, when a knock at the front door, startled us out of our comfort.  It was Joy's family.  They had finally checked the home answering machine. 

Her people had come to take her home. 

I kissed her sad hang dog face. 

And then they took my Joy away.

 

Ten

Yesterday, we celebrated Zoe's tenth birthday!  We sang happy birthday dear Zoe, which I'm sure sounded like, "Blurdy poo poop, HERE ZOE!" to her.

 

We did all of her favorite things, which were eat, nap, throw the ball and hang around the pool.  Which, by the way is code for, "ignore my outfit and complete lack of effort" ensemble.  I wasn't supposed to be in the pictures.

After we trumpeted in her special day, CAKE was served.  Zoe got the first bite.

 

Enough of the politeness from Zoe.  Here's where Zoe takes the CAKE:

 

And Zali tried to "help".  Not to worry, he got a piece of his very own.

 

Wee Simone got some, too.

 

Of course, hers seemed to last forever.  That is one dainty eater, unusual in a pooch.

 

After much ado, she had her CAKE and ate it, too.

 

Carmen was upstairs, in the nursing home.  She was singing songs.  But she didn't know it was Zoe's day.  She was probably chanting pirate ditties and imagining the budgies were parrots.

Happy birthday, dear old Zoe!  Stick around for another ten, will ya'?