Muses

Elsa

Hitch and his bestie, Elsa!

Adopting Elsa was truly special. I never thought in a million years I would have the opportunity to have a dog like her since I won’t buy a purebred anything, but then again, as we can see, so many purebred animals need rescuing too and boy did she, in a bad way. Plus, Hitch had been asking for a puppy after losing our first three dogs and Hitch gets what Hitch wants!

Post grooming photo shoot in the backyard.

Super close up!

Jake and I had decided to take a break from dogs after we lost Maple D. I had set up the whole house to accommodate a feline only environment for the first time in 15 years. I think we made it about a whopping 4 months from losing Maple before adopting Elsa. Our friends and neighbors are affiliated with the Bernese Mountain Dog club here in Atlanta. They foster and help place dogs as well as serve on the board. One night, while Jake was working late, they invited me down for drinks and to see their new foster dog. She was only to be with them a few nights before she went to her permeant foster home awaiting adoption. They knew what they were doing to me! If you cannot tell my now, we are BIG dog people, though Maple was perfection in every way, we are more of the 100# or bust mentality or else just have a cat!

With her bunny.

Hitch was like, "Can we keep her? Pretty please?"

It didn’t take but an hour or two of hanging out before I asked, can I walk her home and see how she does with the cats? “Of course,” they said! Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more. When Jake arrived home, I was sitting on the back deck with Elle, drinking wine. He got out of his car with a big smile on his face (this man is a good egg) and crawled up the stairs asking, “who is our guest?”. I explained her story, I told him I already had her inside and she was sweet as could be with the cats. I told him that Hitch took to her right away, and well, we are weak, weak people. To this date, Elsa was Hitch’s favorite dog, no doubt. He has known all six, but he loved him some “Smelly Elle”. We gave her a derogatory nickname purely by accident, but it stuck. She was so damn gorgeous we didn’t want her to have a big head! Sometimes we just called her Smelly! Ha!

Chillin' in the living room like she has lived here her whole life!

Now, her story. Elsa was beaten by a teenage boy. The household consisted of a mother, her two twin teenage sons, other smaller children, I do not recall details and I believe two small breed dogs. No cats that I recall. One of the twin teenage boys had some challenges and I was told the mom got Elsa as protection. Have any of you met and Berner? I mean, she could have chosen a German Shepherd or a Doby, but I digress. One twin was good, one was trouble. He yanked Elsa’s feet out from under her as she tried to walk upstairs, he beat her with a garden hose (after adopting her we never bathed our dogs outside again-always in the tub), she was terrified of the sound of metal. All I know is when the mother surrender Elsa to the rescue group she did so because Elsa had tried to bite this boy (Go Smelly! Well done!) and she relinquished Elsa for her own safety. I was informed that the mother put a lock on her own bedroom door after giving Elsa up she was so fearful of her son.

And of course, she knew little Yahtzee, our best friend's dog!

Having a Bernese Mountain Dog meeting in our driveway. Important business!

Would you look at these two! Messes! Trying to take a photo for the website.

The only decent one out of 47!

On a hike.

Elsa was going to be safe with us. Her original name was Caribou, and while I loved the coffee chain, it didn’t roll off the tongue. Combined with the negative connotations, Elsa it became! Training was interesting. This dog did not trust anyone. Talk about positive reinforcement training. Try popping her with a choke collar and see how you fare? Clickers and treats were key here! Within just two weeks I was able to walk around her in a full circle, when previously she would not let anyone go behind her. We were building trust!

Hitch and Elsa in their Halloween costumes, Yoda and Chewy.

We had many tiny hurdles to get past and they were all small feats like I described above. I remember taking her to visit our family and pulling up the metal (manual – I KNOW!!) garage door and she was FREAKED out! It took us a while to get her in the house and get her to walk through that garage. Oh, and then there was the eating of things. She was our first ingester of non-food items and hopefully our last. One day she ate a gardening glove. I jumped to the task and administered hydrogen peroxide (no longer recommended by the by-do not try this at home) and successfully made her vomit. But then one day, oh this is glorious to share, she ate a pair of my underwear! Not any old underwear. OLD, workout underwear, that I had decided that day was going in the trash. I left the pair on the counter, hopped in the shower, came out-GONE! There was no getting peroxide down this dog a second time. Let’s recall she had a bite history and was about 100#. We tried; but Elsa tossed Jake across the yard with the politest “NO” one has ever seen. Off to the ER we went where they induced vomiting. Did I mention an old co-worker worked there and she puked up my 15-year-old underwear right in front of her. Just wow. Good times. Thanks Elle!

Elsa also decided that she was going to have an adverse reaction to a commonly used drug and went neurologic on us. Had to take her to the ER and hospitalize her. She was VERY out of character, and this was the only time where we both thought, “Yep, she might bite us.” It was all we could do to get her outside to eliminate, she was literally like a 100# flounder. It was very dangerous because the few times she got away from us she would flail and flop around and we were afraid she was going to knock herself out on the stone walls. It was hard to get a hand on her without her trying to bite us. She was not herself, it was not personal, but she was terrified and didn’t understand what was happening to her. She recovered fully in just a few very long and scary days and I would like to once again give a shout out to the amazing Help ‘Em Up harness, an absolute lifesaver. We’ve used it for three of our dogs now even though it was originally only purchased for Yukon.

Gotta love the snow!

Look closely, do you see Hitch right below her? This is what I came home to. LOVE.

A natural beauty against the white.

Elsa could go everywhere with us, she was fantastic. We even went to a local fine dining restaurant that allowed dogs on the patio, she was treated like a Queen and served her own menu! The first three dogs got attention because the three of them were a lot and made a spectacle, but Elsa could not get through a single walk without us hearing, “Beautiful dog” or “Can I pet your dog?” She was quite large for a female Berner, but not intimidating because she was so friendly and sweet. We even won a selfie photo contest together for Atlanta’s Best Self magazine and she of course attended the awards party!

One summer, the same neighbors that helped us adopt her rescued a mom and her kitties and I was of course roped into the newly coined, “Itty Bitty Kitty Committee” and Elsa was the kitten socializer! We would go over one or two days a week so the kittens could crawl all over her. She was so calm; I could literally just ask her to “down” and she would stay put and allow them to approach at their own pace. They all got adopted and became well-socialized cats.

Elsa, Itty Bitty Kitty Committee employee!

The kittens would crawl all over her!

Our friend's kids could even walk her and they also tried their hand at the cat stroller.

She also went on a lot of stroller walks with us and I even had her embrace her breed history and pull the stroller once! It was hilarious. She was welcome in everyone’s home, perfect manners and was rarely seen without a cat, mostly Hitch. I even had to strive to select photos that did not have Hitch in them for this post, it is her feature after all. She overcame a lot to have a life back, but after just a few months of building trust she had an absolutely great time here.

Pulling Hitch in the cat stroller!

A boy and his dog.

Elsa and Hitch, strollin'

Wiccas and Elle. She was always with a cat!

Simon, Elsa and Hitchinson.

We adopted Elle at age four. Bernese Mountain Dogs are the shortest lived of all the giant breeds, 8-10 being average. When I told our internist that we adopted her the first thing she said to me was, “oh, they pretty much get their own special ‘Berner” cancer”. I thought, oh super. Well, she was right and that is exactly what happened. We had four glorious years with Smelly. She was diagnosed with exactly what was predicted. We treated it, she thrived, and we made it to the very last month of her 3–6-month life expectancy post diagnosis. She suffered little if at all. As soon as she lost interest in food and regular activities, we called it knowing the fight was futile.

Love this pic!

This boy just adored her.

Elsa, you were a dream dog. Hitch misses you so much, you were by far his favorite. We’ve have tried twice now to fill your void with something GIANT and fuzzy, but it is not the same. Jake and I are both so grateful for the chance to have saved you from the hell you were living in, you embraced all we had to offer you with open paws, and I hope you were better off for it. You were certainly loved.

Saying "goodbye" for the last time.

Hitch said his goodbye with headbutts and some nuzzling.

Hitch laid with her after she passed for quite a while. This was heartbreaking.

Fluffy

Fluffy, Fluffernutter, Flufferschteen, Schteen, Butters, you name it, we called him pretty much anything but Fluffy. Still cannot believe we had a cat named Fluffy. But here goes…

I knew Fluffy for a looooong time. I was his hair stylist for many years! He came to see me at my previous clinic as well as the one where I work now. He and his litter mate were both patients. Fluffy was grossly obese. If I remember correctly, he was 29.25# the day he was relinquished to us (to me-basically). He would get lion cuts a few times a year and in-between the clients were encouraged to bring him in for sanitary shaves because this cat had not seen his own rear in years! This rarely happened. He was always so caked with feces and dried urine over his prepuce and anus. It was so sad, and he was so itchy not being able to satiate the itch and effectively groom himself.

The day he was relinquished.

Fluffy and his brother Reginald were super sweet cats. Both were huge but Fluffy was spectacular! It always bothered me that Reginald got a “real” name. They never really wanted to keep Fluffy, and I guess that showed in the lack of originality. Both cats were indoor/outdoor, and I recall that Reginald ate some lilies outside the home one day. Odd because they had been planted and blooming there his entire life, but this one spring he decided to munch on them needless to say we treated him for acute kidney failure and he lived!!! He is the ONLY cat that I have known that has had Lillie poisoning that lived, the only one! It was remarkable.

Relinquishment day before photos.

One of his first few days home, really wish this pic was lighter!

Still caged at the clinic here. Wondering why he has to forage for his food.

I never thought the day would come, but one day I got the dreaded call. Fluffy was urinating outside of the litter box and they were going to have none of that. He also scratched on the furniture. I tried. I tried to help and educate, but the things Fluffy needed to be successful were not going to be provided. Let me tell you this cat did not have a “behavior problem” this cat had a “humans problem”!!! He was completely set up to fail. Grossly obese, feces matted to his rear on the regular and would anyone like to guess how big this cats litter box was???? It was 8 ½ x 11!!!! It was one of those tiny pans we use in a cage at the clinic for the day if a cat is dropped off. He wasn’t “eliminating outside the box” it was all a case of simple logistics and he was simply over shooting the pan. He was IN THE BOX, it is just that his pee and poop were going over the side because he was well, GIANT!

I love this photo of him.

Anyone want to take a guess as to where this cat’s scratching post was located and what it looked like? It was in the basement right next to the litter box, and it was about 18 inches tall. The end! Bring him to me, there is nothing wrong with this delicious, scrumptious muffin except that he lives in YOUR house and you refuse to meet his environmental needs!

Big boys club! Hitch, Fluffy and Bears.

Fluffernutter was perfect in every freakin’ way! This cat had nothing wrong with his urine, he used the boxes provided perfectly right up until the day he died and he was so sweet. I am a BIG fan of spaying and neutering but OMG if he and Peaches could have had kittens. One can dream.

Look at how well he fit in!

First on the agenda, weight loss! I will say that he is the first cat (at the time) that bit holes in his foraging toy instead of manipulating them as intended to acquire the food. He was a brute and we thought it was hilarious but he did eventually get the concept and stopped chewing them up like a puppy. When G.G. and Crusty came home that one Thanksgiving week, so did Schteen, and well, he stayed too. They were all just so easy and happy and grateful. How could we not? Plus, I had loved him for so long. I was glad he was mine, finally.

He was not small.

The largest cat we have ever had.

Butters made it to 19# without even doing anything drastic. We opened four 5.5oz cans of wet food twice a day at that juncture in our feline husbandry, and much of that was Hill’s w/d, a weight loss food. Then, all his dry was in food puzzles and not bowls, voila, he lost weight, the healthy way and without frustration and he also became an indoor only cat which for most that would have resulted in weight gain, but not when they are working for their dry food, enriched and playing etc. Makes a difference when one does not rely on any one thing to achieve that weight loss.

Look at that sweet face, he can pee on my floor anytime!

I absolutley love this photo!

We made a half-hearted attempt to make him a full-figured spokes cat for Revolution, the plus size, back the day, he did not become rich and famous, but it was fun. He got to try out our cat stroller and he loved it. So often I am told, “oh, he doesn’t play” and I just love it when I get them home and comfortable, and they actually start to enjoy playtime. That was true for all three of these clinic cats, despite being older, got them all playing. We also continued to maintain his linocut regularly, it helped him “feel” thinner! Ha!

Zoetis really missed the boat with this spokesmodel!

Hanging with his PWC peeps in the sun.

Strollin'!

Cozy time Schteen!

Stunning little guy.

Fierce killer.

Fluffernutter did succumb to cancer and was taken from us far too soon. We tried very hard to save his life, but he had something really weird that we were never able to precisely diagnose, and it made him terribly anemic and weak. Sad to see for such a big, tough guy, but he was always a sweet little teddy bear on the inside.

We never really called him Fluffy; we don’t think he cared.

Playing!!

At least he was happy here for a while, loved and accepted.

Mr. Seymour Crusty

One of his cleanest and most handsome pics

Don’t laugh, but Crusty was found with a Fritos bag on his head! We affectionately referred to this as him being an “original forager”, bringing a real life meaning to what we know to be all about toys and enrichment at our house. He was foraging for his life. I’m sure licking the contents out of the bag was delicious!

G.G. and Crusty, "Early bird special at Denny's"

A local rescue woman brought him to see us at the office because he was a such a mess she didn’t want to take him to one of her many “regular vets”, Crust needed cat people! Let’s see if I can recall his myriad of issues, a mouth full of horrible teeth which resulted in full mouth extractions, he was FIV+, he had Pododermatitis on all four feet, a condition seen with FIV+ cats and interestingly more common in male cats as well. He had the Feline Herpes Virus, no surprise when you look at his pics and runny eyes and nose. His body was covered in scars. You can see in all of his photos, even at his most handsome and with hair styling by Moi, he looks a bit motheaten and splotchy. Feet chronically stained from his eye discharge, and well, he was old, old as crust! This is how he got the name, old and crusty, but then we didn’t want his name to be too derogatory, so we added the “Mr.” and “Seymour” and see, now his name was fancy and fun!

Supervising Yukon's Laser treatments.

This pic taken while still living the life of a clinic cat.

Snuggled up to Yukon's bloomers!

Remarkable interest in dogs after life on the street.

This cat was something else. Super timid with people at first, he was a “cats’ cat” and that became ever so much more evident as he healed and we introduced him to G.G. They made the cutest little senior citizen couple! He was not exactly adoptable. I mean, to the right individual, but he needed to be with other cats and with a whole host of medical issue we were not exactly advertising to place him. He became a staple at the clinic, and he was even ok with dogs. I brought Yukon, our German Shepard up for cold laser therapy pretty regularly for a while, and you can see that Crust happily nestled into the tail fur and supervised my treatments!

After dinner activities at the senior center with GG and Crust!

Peek-a-boo Crusty!

He, along with G.G. and Fluffy (I know!), were the three clinic cats I brought home that one Thanksgiving week and never brought them back. To see them blossom in a home, enjoy the fireplace, sofa, screened porch and to sleep in our bed, how could I possible return them to clinic life at their age? Now clinic cats were not exactly destitute at our practice, they lived the lap of luxury compared to most, but it was still a “harder” environment. No rugs, no soft furnishings, no bed or human to sleep with and they deserved that.

He was a "classic" kinda guy!

Strollin' Crust!

Crusty fully took advantage of all of the amenities! He really settled in, let his guard down and played a lot for a senior cat with medical problems. He even got to go for stroller walks! A far cry from fighting for his life on the street. He practically lived out on the screen porch and being a cat’s cat, he had SO MANY friends here. I have always found males to be a bit more easy going and accepting of others and this could not have been more true in our home. We had an overwhelming number of boys and he could often be found in the cuddle puddle. In preparing for this post, I was reminded of many videos of he and Hitch wrestling together, grooming each other, lots of mutual grooming. He was in heaven!

Makes one wonder what he thought of all of this?

Cuddle puddle

Still choosing to hang out with his clinic cat friends.

Cuddle train.

Cuddle puddle.

Boys club!

He and Vader became buds too.

Screen porch time!

While he was living with us, he also developed diabetes (Yay! He became my THIRD diabetic cat AT THE SAME TIME!) likely subsequent to the steroids used to treat his pododermatitis. He also developed heart disease and chronic kidney disease. So his laundry list of medications and treatments grew.

We love how much he played here!

Killing blue mouse toy!

I have no idea how old Crust was, we guessed maybe 15 years or so. Who knows how old he was when he passed. He’s one of those cats with lots of secrets we will never know. I got the call while I was at work, Jake came home from work and found Mr. Seymour Crusty had passed away. He looked to have fallen asleep quite peacefully in a soft, fuzzy, plush bed. His little heart just gave out. We understood this might happen but we always hope to be with them to help them leave us and be there to say our goodbyes. It doesn’t happen often, but at the time he was the second cat we found deceased and did not plan for. This is never a good feeling. Looking back on all of the photos and videos though helps us know we did right by him. He had a nice retirement here with us. We have no regrets. We like to think he enjoyed our snacks more than Frito crumbs!

He loved the sun, as most senior cats do.

Classic photo of him, just a wee bit of snot coming from his nose!

G.G.

G.G. at the clinic, right by the door, greeting everyone.

G.G. was originally named Gabrielle, but to us she was always G.G. or just simply, Geeg! Gabrielle was cute but a bit too formal for her once we got to know her. Boy oh boy, sometimes those oldies but goodies come along, and you don’t know them for very long, but they really stick with you, this could not be more true than with our little Geeg!

Gabrielle lived the first 17 years of her life as an outdoor only cat and lived outside of a local daycare center. She had kittens, made it through cold winters, blistering hot Georgia summers, survived the parking lot, and was exposed to loads of children but then the day came where the daycare facility was set to close and G.G. would no longer have someone to care for her. I do not recall why the individual that cared for her all these years could not keep her, but I feel like it was a situation where the husband said “no” to bringing her home. She was 17 years old when she came to us and became our clinic cat.

Asking for lap time from Jake, a.k.a. buttering him up.

Becoming an indoor only cat did not seem to be a bothersome lifestyle change for Geeg, in fact, I think she was like, “Finally, I’ve been waiting so damn long for someone to bring me in!” She would sit at the door to the clinic and look out the window but never tried to escape, she could’ve cared less. We could hold the door open, and clients would freak that she might get out and she would just sit there, like “Nope, I’m good, take your time”. Being a clinic cat with us was not all that bad. Her medical needs were met, she was immediately put on heartworm and flea prevention, started being treated for arthritis and kidney disease, you name it, we would do it. These were not “blood donor cats” that lived in cages, they were family; they were not even up for adoption because we took care of them like they were ours and we were attached.

G.G. and Mr. Seymour Crusty at the clinic.

On the exam table at the clinic, posing. She could still jump!

Geeg, Fluff and Crust chillin' in a sunbeam!

Over the years the clinic cat family grew, and she had a few gentleman callers that moved in too, Mr. Seymour Crusty and Fluffy! You’ll hear their stories next! But Little Geeg was AMAZING!! She was a super sweet greeter cat, we used her for medicating lessons because she was such a compliant little lady, she had a hilarious personality and even let the kids that visited the clinic pet her and faun all over her. She was BEYOND patient. I guess all those years on the streets living among the hustle and bustle really does help make some of these cats some of the coolest. They are not quite the same when they grow up in the little bubble that is our homes, no life experience!

Playing doctor. Look at how patient she was with them!

We thought at 17 she might be a short-term commitment, but the months passed, and she kept on ticking. Clinic life was not bad to them, we had plenty of snacks, soft cushy bedding, heating pads, toys and she still played-oh you bet! But it wasn’t a home, and it was “hard” meaning that all of the surfaces are so hard. Hard floors, no carpet, soft bedding but no couch or armchair, no fireplace, none of those little luxuries. Every year for Thanksgiving our clinic would close for the week and the staff would take turns coming in to care for the three clinic cats. One year the doctor decided to travel so only two of us were left to share this responsibility. I decided that I would bring them home for the week, set them up in a room and allow them to be in a home and cozy and in turn make my life easier. Twenty-six mile commuting ONE WAY for 25 years, well let’s just say I’m WAY over it. I was over it back then, really over it now. It really ruined the “week off”, but alas, I drive for ethics.

Sunning Geeg!

Not dead, I swear, happy, relaxied in the sun!

These guys were just so chill, and so easy-going, that well, by the end of the week they were loose in the house, and no one cared! They were sleeping on dog beds by the fire, totally cool with our three large dogs, which was impressive and integrating with the cats quite nicely. Anyone want to guess what happened next? Well, we had no clinic cats after that week, I adopted all three of them! Who here is surprised, no one! I just couldn’t bring them back!

Enjoying the screened porch!

Screen porch time with her main squeeze, Mr. Crusty!

Geeg reminded us of the senior citizens that walk Lenox mall. She would make laps around our kitchen bar like “old folks at the mall”. And we’d say that to her, “You doin’ laps at Lenox again, G.G.?” It was so cute, like she was getting in her steps. She was 19 years old when I committed to her, so she was on a laundry list of umpteen number of meds and SQ fluids of course, appetite stimulants and junky cat food. So, while she totally learned to forage (that’s right naysayers-19 years old and learned to forage) she had ”room service” in her special purple bathroom. She was so in routine she would bolt ahead of us knowing it was time for her Fancy Feast! We would let her eat her junk food and then let her back out and she was quite content with this routine.

This is what we mean when we say, "Googly!"

Cat Stoller! That's right, great activity for seniors!

She was what Jake and I call, “googly”. Scrumptious little square muzzle and big googly eyeballs that always made her look so freakin’ cute. She also reminded us of our sweet, dear, Mammas (Asia) and swear they could have been sisters. I have a lot of terrible photos of G.G. because she never stopped moving. I have blurry side by side pics with Mammas, and all kinds of pics with half her face cut off. There are only a few good ones in this post! She was impossible to photograph. She only left us with our memories.

She lived her for 11 months. We let her go one month shy of what was estimated to be her 20^th birthday. I barely knew her three years but I gotta tell ya, she gave us a very special three years. I have video of her foraging, playing with wand toys, cuddling with the other cats. She came here to retire but she lived it up! It was my pleasure Gegeers! Glad we had the chance to know you! Once again, we were the lucky ones.

Finally, a soft sofa! She waited her whole life for this.

Enjoying the screen porch. No more fighting for her life, just relaxing watching birds.

Ferorcious Geeg! Complete with spooky spiders on her collar.

Tortie train!

Look at that little lady!

Albert

Professional photo shoot pics. He made it into this family just in time for this shoot!

Oh dear, I’m not even sure if I should tell Albert’s full story. Albert was one of the MANY clinic cats at the first cat clinic I worked in, as you can see, that job filled up my house! I started that job with five cats, when I left, I had 16 and three dogs! Albert came to us from Cherokee County Humane Society and because he was a large, long-haired cat, ya know, he was a “Maine Coon!” No, he wasn’t. So many people think they have a Maine Coon, and I am here to tell you that most of the time you have a long-haired cat with stripes, and please ignore the “M” on the forehead, it’s an old wives tale! Lots of tabby cats have those. This is a bit of a pet peeve, no you likely do not have a Russian Blue, you have a grey Domestic Shorthair, and you know what? Your cat is still awesome and beautiful!

But it was Albert’s looks that got him pulled out of the shelter, so good for him! He was a handsome beast in his early years, no doubt. He was brought to our clinic because he was FIV+. FIV stands for Feline Immunodeficiency Virus, and it is not a death sentence. It is spread via “extreme transmission of blood and saliva” so mostly a disease of fighting, unneutered male cats and sometimes transmitted via birth. I will not go into all of the details of the disease, but he came to us because most shelters and rescues back then were still euthanizing cats like Albert or keeping them separated from other cats. At our clinic we understood the disease and he was permitted to live freely and have friends, we had multiple FIV+ cats up for adoption and did our best to educate the public and find these guys good homes. We truly set the example and even had a bonded FIV+ pair as our greeter cats at the front desk.

Livin' the clinic life rockin' his wooly-bear phase of his lioncut.

At the clinic.

With his new tailess sister, Peaches! OMG! How cute are they together.

A bit bedraggled post bath. Someone needs to be combed.

Problem was, Albert never found his forever people. He was a bit of a grumpy Gus, got along with some cats but was not what you would call easy going, and he would occasionally spray. Oh, that is a fun story! One day while cleaning a bottom cage in the treatment room, he walked right up behind me, turned around and sprayed the back of me, yup, that’s right! We all had a laugh, changed my scrub top and moved on! I can’t believe I almost forgot to share this part of his story.

We liked to call this his beached whale pose! Haha!

Cats with FIV have weakened immune systems, just like people with HIV. So, they succumb to things like URI’s (upper respiratory infections), gingivitis/stomatitis and often have very unhealthy mouths requiring dental cleanings and extractions and RINGWORM! The latter was Albert’s challenge. That also likely hindered his ability to find a home. As the groomer at this clinic, I was regularly in charge of his dermatological care. This involved lion-cuts, anti-fungal baths, Lyme Dips (YUM!), as well as topical and oral medications to treat the fungus and his itchies. He was amazingly tolerant of this.

Charcoal's like, "What are you doing, dude?"

Quite the stunning coat for a cat with chronic ringworm!

Albert became one of the “core” residents. We had about 15 or so cats, of the 55-60 that were up for adoption, that never really left. They got looked at, but no one ever took them home (except staff) or they lived out their life there. Mind you, life wasn’t terrible, it wasn’t a home, but it wasn’t terrible. They had cat trees and scratching posts galore! We had a HUGE screened in porch and Albert pretty much lived out there. We also had windows in every room that went straight to the floor, so they always got to look outside and get sunbeams. The bedding was ridiculous, it was not hard to find a plush place to nap. We of course had troughs of dry food for everyone (we followed the environment of plenty rule) but they got wet food EVERYDAY. For a privately owned practice with so many residents, that is pretty much unheard of. They received monthly heartworm prevention and flea control, quarterly deworming, lab work as needed and if they required it, daily meds.

He was right at home on our living room rug!

He was quite the specimen wasn't he?

Yea, he looks inebriated here. He was boozin' it up on the holiday!

When it came time for me to move on, there were two residents left that just killed me to leave behind. Charlotte (affectionately called Snarlett) I successfully placed with a fantastic family who we still see to this day! But Albert was left behind. I thought about him every day. Then I heard that the new owner of the clinic didn’t want the burden of the clinic cats and that some of them were being shipped to her other clinic to live a life in cages and be blood donor cats. The same would be true for some left behind at this office. If they were senior or had medical problems well, I feared the worse! Albert, being FIV+ was a goner in my opinion. Certainly not going to be a blood donor with FIV. This is where I should probably stop sharing but here it goes.

Just so handsome!

I love this one, so many great captions!

I contacted my last hope at the clinic, the only one who stayed after we all abandoned the ship and told her I wanted to come get him. We planned a night for me to drive over there after work, they stayed open later than my current practice, a night when the docs were gone…She let me in the back door and I swiftly went to the grooming room, it had been my room for many years after all and I had only been gone for about two weeks. Everything was where I left it. I proceeded to fine Bert as we affectionately called him, donned my grooming apron and an anti-fungal bath was in full swing! No way I was bringing him home all gross. Now I realize bringing a cat with chronic ringworm into my house was a bit of a crazy crapshoot, but I will honestly tell you that Albert’s worm was his own special recipe. He never gave it to anyone, I never got it from him, nor did the staff, nor did any of our other pets.

So, it’s not like I broke in or anything, but it was a covert rescue mission, and it was successful!

Bert fit in just fine here, he was used to a multi-cat environment and honestly, we had some spraying back then and that is not a deal breaker for us. Clean it up, move on. But he was a really good boy, he even meshed with the dogs. We all brought our dogs to the clinic for care, so he was no stranger to canines. But what was super cute was seeing him with Peaches!! OMG, had they both not been spayed and neutered could you imagine the amazingly cute kittens they would have had!! They were twinsies with the exception that she had no tail.

Ok, they were huge, but adorbs.

In my veterinary career, rarely have I seen a cat actually die of complications to being FIV+, in fact, I can only think of one other cat that succumbed to it specifically. FIV is not a death sentence, so many of these cats live long lives and die of something else like good old-fashioned kidney disease, but not Albert, the FIV finally got him in the end. It was really weird. His RBC count was so low at one point he really should not have been able to walk but he was still motoring around the house and still eating. We treated each and every condition as it arose, and he too was victim to my poly-pharmacy treatment protocols. He did well for a long time, but on his last days we let him out in the yard to enjoy the grass and flowers. You can see in the photos the ringworm all over his little nose and his bib is wet from constantly drinking so much. These were the “strictly indoor” days when we did not do leash and harness walks, catios or stroller rides. I always felt it was important to let them go outside in their final days and that made me think…”I bet they would have enjoyed this more when they felt better and were healthy” and so that is partially how the change began. I am now a big proponent of allowing cats safe, supervised outdoor access (if they enjoy it) as it significantly improves their quality of life. Live and learn.

Labs say he shouldn't be alive, but so strong he was still walking around the yard.

Bert wasn’t with us too long about 4 years or so, but I have always felt so good about going back and scooping him up even if it was a little bit of a secret mission. No one noticed he was gone, no one cared, but I did, and my caring changed Albert’s life and probably saved it too. Love you, you grumpy Gus! We always loved your spiciness!

At least he felt what is was like to be in a home, even if just for a little while.

RIP Albert.

Yukon

Yukon during his professional photo shoot! Soakin' up the love.

Yukon was yet another animal found by my previous employer. She was pretty good at filling up our household! She lived far from the clinic in North Georgia and found Yukon laying near a tombstone in a graveyard in Elijay, Georgia, on Yukon Road…All of the first three dogs were named after the streets they were found on. Yukon was emaciated, absolutely covered in ticks, not neutered, no collar, no microchip, nothing. My rule of thumb has always been that if it is obvious that some effort was made to take good care of them, meaning they are spayed and neutered, in relatively good health and have some form of identification, then we would always try to find the original owner. In Yukon’s case, as with so many, it did not look as though returning him to where he came from was in his best interest. We like to think it was one of those tragic stories where he was laying by my master’s grave, but we will never know. He was a young dog, barely a year old and was likely just lost and happened to be resting there.

First week home all scrawny and moth eaten fur.

Yukon and Jake in front yard 6-2002-1 (Copy)

Look at how gross his ears were!

Now, of course we didn’t “need” him, but clearly, I LOVE BIG dogs and Grant and Maple were not exactly big, so I saw this as my chance to finally have a BIG dog! A few of the other staff were interested in adopting him as well, but I had first dibs, and it didn’t take more than a meet and greet with our crew to know we were keeping him. Oh, that first night home…the TICKS!!! They just kept falling off of him, it was so gross. The dog must have had 100 plus ticks on him.

We joke that this was as close as either got to being caged shelter dogs.

Yukon and Grant became fast friends, in fact, Grant was the only dog that Yukon would wrestle and play with. No matter how many friends’ dogs we introduced Yukon to, he would not spar with any of them. Being a German Shepard, he was easy to train, and all three dogs learned basic and advanced obedience as well as agility training, we even dabbled with a splash of nose work but didn’t stick with it. Yukon loved big soccer balls from the start! We regularly purchased new ones as his jaws were so enormous, he could put his whole mouth around the ball and just puncture it! We went through a lot of soccer balls. He also liked to catch Frisbees! For such a big guy he was quite active and agile. He got along great with the cats, and they loved to snuggle into and groom his fuzzy coat.

At the grandparents for the holidays.

A sleepy pack.

At a friend's house visiting with their doggie friend, Cosmo.

Fireman Nilius to the resuce!

All three of these dogs traveled home with us to visit family, it was amazing to have such a substantial pack of dogs and they were all welcomed wherever they went. It was really nice. Yukon was definitely the “good boy” of the two big boys however, and he got to go do a few things that Grant could not because Grant was naughtier! For example, he enjoyed the Atlanta Dogwood festival, Grant would have lifted his leg on every booth and piece of furniture and art for sale, but Corny was a perfect gentleman! He had many nicknames, Yukon Cornelius, Corny, or Nilius, the nicknames are endless here at our house. Remember Yukon Cornelius from Rudolph? Totally him, “sniff, sniff, sniff, nothing!” Haha!

I could walk all three of these guys in a perfect “heel” on my left and push the cats in the cat stroller at the same time! We taught them “left” and ”right” training commands and we would all turn a corner together it was quite cool to see! They were quite the team. Very intimidating crew and when our friend’s Old English Bulldog came over for us to pet sit, watch out, no one would enter our yard with these dogs! We were safe.

Yukon was also a really good patient. I can recall one day, just playing in the yard he sliced open his back paw pad on a slate flagstone on our sidewalk. Oh, the blood shed! This was my chance to learn to suture! I did as much as I could on my own to save money and to avoid carting the 100# dog up to the cat practice! The vet I worked with was like, “oh you can do it!” She literally folded up two towels, we took some old suture and she quickly reviewed “simple continuous” suture pattern. I did it side by side with her and then brought my example home and sat it beside me while I worked. We gave him some pain meds, cleaned the wound, and stitched him right up! What a very good boy!

So well behaved on our walks.

Performing minor surgery at home in the living room!

What a team! They have all just had their monthly bath and blow dry!

I remember one day when Jake was mowing the grass in the backyard, a very brave UPS driver tried to deliver a package to our front door, the dogs were all on the back deck, until they weren’t! Jake looked up to see a man, outside of the fence of the front yard who had taken his shirt off and was waving it like a flag. Jake stopped mowing the grass and could hear the dogs barking. The three of them had pinned the UPS man on our front step. They didn’t bite him, but they sure as hell were not letting him leave! Jake came up to the front to diffuse the situation and the UPS man safely exited the yard. The guy who had take his shirt off was standing there talking to them and Grant came up and snatched the shirt out of his hands and started running around the yard with it playing keep away. They were a mess, but I never feared being alone in this house while those three beasts were on the job.

One morning, when he was only four years old, he went out the back door to pee, laid down and would not get back up. We hadn’t a clue what was wrong. He was to become the first of our dogs to have a major issue. I rushed him over to the super folks as Northlake Veterinary Surgery, at that time, they were still Northlake Veterinary Specialists and had an internist on site. Yukon’s ultrasound showed a ruptured splenic mass, and he needed emergency surgery. He was the first of what has become an absolutely horrible trend of ruptured spleens. It is a big dog thing, and we have lost multiple dogs to this now. So, he had surgery, and the biopsy results came back as an “undifferentiated sarcoma”. It was explained to me at the time that this meant the cancer cells were so immature they had not yet turned into a definitive type of cancer, so we had no idea what we were dealing with, how to treat it and he was given 3 months to live.

We have used this crate to "hospitalize" dogs and cats when needed.

Note the IV catheter, we have done some pretty intense nursing care here at home.

Yukon orange soccer ball 7-2002-1 (Copy)

We spoiled him, he got all the frisbees and soccer balls we could buy, fed him the single most expensive prescription food Hill’s makes called n/d (neoplasia diet), we took hikes, went on our walks (he would carry the frisbees ALL THE WAY back home after we went to the field to play, so precious). And the months and years passed…we really do not know what happened, but we suspect we either got stupid lucky which is not our luck, or the samples got screwed up at the lab. Yukon lived to be about 11 years old with a whole host of other problems that got him. Grant later had a ruptured spleen and due to our success with Yukon we proceeded with Grant’s surgery with hope, but he only survived a few days post op.

Yukon had a chance to get old, not that I am convinced that is all that awesome, but it was better than being ripped away from us at age four! In his senior years he developed Degenerative Myelopathy (DM) an extremely common condition of German Shepard Dogs affecting the spine, this would slowly paralyze him over time. Our wonderful surgeon said to me regarding exercise and taking it easy. “If you were Yukon, wouldn’t you rather go out catching your frisbee versus living sedentary in a bubble?” Ok, ok, that made sense, we continued to play on! We were going to let him go out with a bang and a splash of acupuncture, Chinese tea pills and a whole host of other potions and antioxidants and joint support. You name it, he got it. There is a reason we didn’t go out and do much with our friends during these 20 years, we were busy nursing a home full of broken pets and that is where every dime went too!

Wearing his Help'em Up Harness and Piddle Pants. Looking at this pic you can see why we forged on with care!

Via agility training they learned to jump and climb.

Majestic!

Passers by were in awe, we did these jumps on our daily walks!

But wait, there is more. Yukon developed ASS CANCER! Yep, that’s right, at this point, no holding back and being appropriate. It is a good thing he was such a cooperative patient because the vet visits and at home blood draws for rechecks, wow it was a lot. I will spare you the photos and boy do I have some doozies! I literally biopsied the mass at home, I applied lidocaine to the area, lanced it and squeezed out a whole bunch of delicious gunk (you vet techs out there get me, we like gross things), and sent off the sample. I forget what type of cancer it came back as at this point. It didn’t matter, he was eating and drinking and maintaining his weight, he just couldn’t easily defecate on his own once the masses got so large as they were obstructing his anus. So, guess what I did every night for 9 months? Came home from work, put his back legs in the bathtub, scooped out his poops and flushed them down, washed his tush and put on fresh pants! I swore I would not put him in piddle pants, but you can see from the photos that I could not avoid it. He was still playing with his soccer balls and could still catch a frisbee, how could I euthanize him? He struggled to stand up but once he was up, he was good to go! The Help ‘Em Up harness is a miracle device if there ever was one, it’s comfortable enough that they can stay in it long term, sleep in it and it is easily washable.

Cold laser treatments, note Mr Custy laying on his tail, little did they know they would soon live together.

The Three Musketeers.

Our annual Fall hike to Red Top Mountain

How could we not keep going with this degree of quality of life?

Robust an at his healthiest.

On top of the world!

In writing this, I have of course reviewed old photos and videos. I have videos of all of the cats gathered around him on his last night, being headbutt by Mammas and Wiccas, a belly flop by Peaches, Hitch laying by his side, but I just don’t have any great pics of him with the cats, they were all friends though. Yukon was an amazing and handsome boy, and we were so lucky he was ours. I admired his resilience and devotion to our family. We miss you Nilius.

The whole team. Maple, Grant and Yukon.

So cute. Watching mommy for commands.