Raves ‘n’ Rants ‘n’ and an RIP

RAVE!

The cat came back.  Yesterday we had an adventure where Dexter saw her on the lawn through the window, Wootie tried to corral her under the old trailer on the property, we were thisclose to catching her and then she eluded me and scooted back under the house.

GRRRR.  So I gathered up as much old wood as I could and blocked up as much of the foundation as I could.  You must understand that my one-level house is built on a foundation of boulders (it was either the original 60 year old homestead shack, or a chicken coop, depending on who you talk to), so it’s not level to the ground.  I left one peep hole, which was blocked by the live trap.  At the end of the trap I swapped out the tuna for a can of stinky wet cat food.  My cats eat raw, so wet food is a big bowl of candy to them!

About midnight last night, just before bed, I peeked my head out the door and saw that the bowl was empty.  So I whipped the towel off the trap and VIOLA!  One squashed up and pissed off Donut!

Angry Donut is … well, angry!

RANT.

All her claws are gone.  WTF?  Where’d they go?  Except for like two claws on one of her back feet, they’re all missing. I don’t know if she ripped them off trying to get out of the trap, or if she tangled with something and left a whole bunch of claws in its face, but they’re all gone.  Her feet were a tiny bit bloody, but not as much as one would suppose.  I think I’ll bring her with me today when we head out to the vet clinic to ….

RAVE!

…remove Tweed’s cast!  We have survived one week of crate rest.

Praise Jebus.

RANT

Two more weeks to go.  It’s pathetic, really … yesterday evening I was throwing a toy for Dexter and turned around to see Tweeders WEAVING on 3 legs – hopping through the poles whilst shooting me these sad looks to let me know just how desperate to play he is.

RAVE!

Yesterday I put the baby bunnies back in their nest, which I reconstructed to the best of my ability.  I’m not a Lagomorpha Architect, so I did what I could.  I then barricaded the nest with some wire, some old barbeque grates and some other wood and brick structures designed to be as WooTWoo proof as possible.

I also have a clear view of the nesting site from my kitchen window.  So this morning when I let all the dogs out to pee while I started coffee, I kept a close eye on the nest site.  But …

RANT

… Wootie ate half the sum total of the baby bunnies, right under my nose!  He never crossed the agility yard to do it, which means he knew I was watching, so he went around the house the other way, crossed the ditch, sneaked through the neighbour’s field and crawled in through the grass on his belly from the treeline.  This is VERY VERY SNEAKY and he is a VERY VERY BAD DOG!!!!  I only know he did it because when I called the dogs to come back, he was nowhere to be found … eventually I found him behind my van hurriedly gulping down as many baby bunnies as he could as fast as he can.  HE GOT NO BREAKFAST!  As far as I am concerned, he already *had* breakfast.  Harumph.  I checked the nest and there are 4 left, so I think I will take them out to the Wildlife Refuge today.  I know they stand very little chance of making it, but they stand even less of a chance here on my property.

AN RIP

Sadly, yesterday afternoon, the enigmatic and miraculous old dog known as Sporticus departed this mortal coil :(  I’m told he ate his breakfast (another miracle), had a wander outside in the yard, came back in the house, lay down on the infamous Big Fluffy Pillow and died.  He was over 18 years old, suffered from heart failure and terrible arthritis, but well into his 17th year he tried to take down the wolf hybrid that lived up the street.  Sporty was a dog like no other, and his loss is keenly felt by us all.

Sporty leaves behind his grieving family of Sonja, Christopher and Nicholas, and his brothers Max and Eric.  Without them, and their generous arsenal of medications and home cooking, Sport would not have made it as far as he did.  It’s a very sad day, for Sport was an icon for Border Collie Rescue – a testament to the power of love, and to the ability of an old unwanted dog to make people love him.  Sporty was nothing if not a manipulator.

Please join me in offering condolences to his family, to whom I will be forever grateful for the wonderful home they offered Sporty up until his last.