I have such a cute nephew. Two of them actually. One of them is old enough to come away with me and the D-Man on daytime adventures. He's four.
On Monday school was out for President's Day and I had the day off of work as well, so I scheduled an adventure--D-Man, the nephew and I--off to the Lowry Park Zoo in Tampa. With pee pee breaks, it was about an hour and a half away, so not a bad little trip.
Naturally, every family in Southwest Florida that was not at the beach or Busch Gardens had the same zoo idea. So for a few hours we sneaked around other strollers, smart phone-laden teenagers trying to get pics, and hordes of families positioning for good views of the sluggish looking fauna.
I thought we had a pretty good time. We covered some serious ground enjoying everything from monkeys to tapirs to bizarre ibises to giraffes, and we pushed cute little Neph in the stroller the whole time so he didn't even have to get tired out.
As we were leaving, I said, "Neph, did you have a good time at the zoo?"
"No," he replied, very matter-of-factly.
I was planning on not feeding into the little trick. Being outsmarted by a 4 year old is not a good plan. So we loaded up into the car and I suggested a milkshake stop on the way home. Two strawberries and one chocolate. That would be a nice after-event pacifier for all of us, I thought.
About 15 minutes from the house, Neph started working himself up into a teary episode. "What the heck is going on here?" I thought.
I got him out of it a few times by making conversation, but as soon as he could remember his plan to be upset for extra love from mommy during the reuniting, he started the pouting again.
By the time we pulled in the driveway, he was in the middle of a full-on cry and went running up to the door like Big Bad Aunt Gropius had taken him along on a road trip from hell.
Overtired, needing to poop, who knows... I know, he's only four. But I still felt lousy that a good day had to end like that for all three of us. Next time we'll make it a little shorter and a little closer to home. He's a sweet kid and we all love to spend time with him. But really, Neph, did you have to do that?
Showing posts with label animals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label animals. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
The Zebra Wins
There seems to be a strange and pervasive fascination with what has become the "mother of all wildlife terror," the migration of zebra or wildebeast that inevitably includes crossing a crocodile-filled river. It's on almost constantly in nature television.
I thought this Red Bull ad was pretty cute and clever. They really know how to capitalize on things.
I thought this Red Bull ad was pretty cute and clever. They really know how to capitalize on things.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Inside Ducks
Years ago people used to ask, "Is your dog an 'inside dog' or an 'outside dog'?" These days, there's only one kind: the inside dog, or you're an animal abuser. I kind of agree. But The Peabody has "inside ducks." I've already posted on this, but here's a refresher. It's a short video I shot today while at a conference at The Peabody in Orlando. Damn they're cute:
Monday, December 13, 2010
Final Coyote Resting Place
Here in Arizona, and in many places in the US, coyotes are everywhere. We have a growing population in Florida as well. I think they're interesting, charming and versatile as a species.
Even the nature lovers among our human inhabitants here on Earth tend to forget the majesty of a creature as it becomes more common. And poor coyote has fallen victim to irreverence since he's not so rare. But I find him pretty amazing.
On Saturday as we were driving up to Pinnacle Peak (outside of Carefree, Arizona) for a hike, the light was so beautiful streaming through the saguaros all over the landscape. They looked like they were glowing as the sun highlighted the spines. And the salt bushes were almost angelic as the morning illuminated their fluffy seed vessels and the ground around them as if touched by newly fallen snow.
I asked the Coaching Goddess to pull over so I could take a photo or two, and we happened to choose the spot right where a coyote had passed out of its life. It was probably hit by a car. Because the ground was covered in the white dandelion-like fluff, I didn't even notice him at first. Then I saw his paws, still in tact.
You can see his outline in the second photo on this post too, if you look closely.
I thought about Coyote for the rest of the day and what his life must have been like from the start as a playful pup, through adolescence and going out on his own, and to all of the trials of his adult life surviving on what the desert provides.
His final resting place is so beautiful, and his body is going back into the desert. Where his spirit is, I could only guess.
Even the nature lovers among our human inhabitants here on Earth tend to forget the majesty of a creature as it becomes more common. And poor coyote has fallen victim to irreverence since he's not so rare. But I find him pretty amazing.
On Saturday as we were driving up to Pinnacle Peak (outside of Carefree, Arizona) for a hike, the light was so beautiful streaming through the saguaros all over the landscape. They looked like they were glowing as the sun highlighted the spines. And the salt bushes were almost angelic as the morning illuminated their fluffy seed vessels and the ground around them as if touched by newly fallen snow.
I asked the Coaching Goddess to pull over so I could take a photo or two, and we happened to choose the spot right where a coyote had passed out of its life. It was probably hit by a car. Because the ground was covered in the white dandelion-like fluff, I didn't even notice him at first. Then I saw his paws, still in tact.
You can see his outline in the second photo on this post too, if you look closely.
I thought about Coyote for the rest of the day and what his life must have been like from the start as a playful pup, through adolescence and going out on his own, and to all of the trials of his adult life surviving on what the desert provides.
His final resting place is so beautiful, and his body is going back into the desert. Where his spirit is, I could only guess.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
My Other Dog Face, Stream of Consciousness
So I marched down to the neighbor's house this evening and discovered that...
What is it with people and animals?!
The sound of the barking, obviously carrying farther in the cold air, resumed by 6:00 p.m. this evening.
(Wait, does sound really travel farther in cold air? See answer.)
Neither my problem listening to the barking nor the dog's problem being left outside without care are resolved by this knowledge. And I feel pretty bad for the neighbors I labeled as the culprits at this point. They can't escape it, no matter what, because of their proximity.
So I have already established my love for all things animals with you, right? But let's just say I do not like to see pooches (however lovely they are) inside of stores or on airplanes. I looked up in Ann Taylor not long ago--stop me if I told you this already--and saw some lady with a snotty dog in a purse. "WTF," I thought, "this ain't no PetSmart."
Last week a plane bound for Phoenix landed in Pittsburgh because an 89 year old passenger's dog decided to let itself out of its little kennel. It bit another passenger and the flight attendant. Really? What the hell are dogs doing on planes again? I forgot.
I feel sort of two-faced about the whole thing. My dog is a part of my family and I feel that pets should be treated as such. But there are certain places meant for humans--like places with tight spaces in which you've paid for a seat (and cannot escape) and places selling new goods or food you don't want to have touched by pet dander or hair.
Is that fair? OMG! The dog stopped barking...
...Never mind, something was just loud on the tv.
a.) It was not their sweet, old, shiter-spreading dog barking all night.The irresponsible person with the barking dog lives behind them. It barks all day. And it barks all night.
b.) They have taken in a second dog they found wandering around the street and have relentlessly tried to find its home for 4 days. That's not the dog barking either. They don't know what to do. The shelter here is full, and the pound carries an uncertain future.
What is it with people and animals?!
The sound of the barking, obviously carrying farther in the cold air, resumed by 6:00 p.m. this evening.
(Wait, does sound really travel farther in cold air? See answer.)
Neither my problem listening to the barking nor the dog's problem being left outside without care are resolved by this knowledge. And I feel pretty bad for the neighbors I labeled as the culprits at this point. They can't escape it, no matter what, because of their proximity.
So I have already established my love for all things animals with you, right? But let's just say I do not like to see pooches (however lovely they are) inside of stores or on airplanes. I looked up in Ann Taylor not long ago--stop me if I told you this already--and saw some lady with a snotty dog in a purse. "WTF," I thought, "this ain't no PetSmart."
Last week a plane bound for Phoenix landed in Pittsburgh because an 89 year old passenger's dog decided to let itself out of its little kennel. It bit another passenger and the flight attendant. Really? What the hell are dogs doing on planes again? I forgot.
I feel sort of two-faced about the whole thing. My dog is a part of my family and I feel that pets should be treated as such. But there are certain places meant for humans--like places with tight spaces in which you've paid for a seat (and cannot escape) and places selling new goods or food you don't want to have touched by pet dander or hair.
Is that fair? OMG! The dog stopped barking...
...Never mind, something was just loud on the tv.
I'd Like My Neighbors To Enjoy Being Outside Overnight in 32 Degrees
Maybe then they would have a greater understanding of how their dogs felt last night.
You screw with animals, and you're not really on my good side.
Around 4 am this morning, I heard a number of dogs barking on our street--dogs who had been left outdoors in the freezing temperatures we're experiencing here. In addition to being awake for quite a while after a very long work day yesterday, I can't sleep and am outraged at this irresponsibility.
Dogs are not objects. They deserve to be nurtured and taken care of. If you can't do it, don't own a dog. Don't "try it" and give the dog up if you can't handle it. Don't even make that decision to go there by getting one in the first place.
I called the police twice in the last two hours. When they arrived on the street, three of the barking dogs were just walking around the street.
I understand these things happen. Accidents occur. Dogs go under fences or escape through unsecured doors. But really? On a night when it's freezing here in Florida?
I know one household to which a barker from this long early morning belongs. The dog has been a wanderer for quite some time and is frequently found taking its morning constitutional in our backyard. I feel terrible for the dog--it's old and not well cared for. The problem is, the alternative is death in the pound. They don't go to great lengths to adopt old dogs out. They get euthanized.
I believe these neighbors have had difficult financial circumstances, but I'm so disappointed that they aren't doing what's best for their pet--or the neighborhood. And they're going to get a knock on the door from me when I get home this afternoon.
You screw with animals, and you're not really on my good side.
Around 4 am this morning, I heard a number of dogs barking on our street--dogs who had been left outdoors in the freezing temperatures we're experiencing here. In addition to being awake for quite a while after a very long work day yesterday, I can't sleep and am outraged at this irresponsibility.
Dogs are not objects. They deserve to be nurtured and taken care of. If you can't do it, don't own a dog. Don't "try it" and give the dog up if you can't handle it. Don't even make that decision to go there by getting one in the first place.
I called the police twice in the last two hours. When they arrived on the street, three of the barking dogs were just walking around the street.
I understand these things happen. Accidents occur. Dogs go under fences or escape through unsecured doors. But really? On a night when it's freezing here in Florida?
I know one household to which a barker from this long early morning belongs. The dog has been a wanderer for quite some time and is frequently found taking its morning constitutional in our backyard. I feel terrible for the dog--it's old and not well cared for. The problem is, the alternative is death in the pound. They don't go to great lengths to adopt old dogs out. They get euthanized.
I believe these neighbors have had difficult financial circumstances, but I'm so disappointed that they aren't doing what's best for their pet--or the neighborhood. And they're going to get a knock on the door from me when I get home this afternoon.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Willie
Early this afternoon, D-Man and I went to Robinson Preserve to enjoy the 3.8 mile loop. It's such a beautiful trail. D-Man rides his bike and I do a power walk.
We were maybe half a mile from the parking lot on the return loop when we encountered an elderly woman who was walking a small long-haired dog that looked like it was a perfect match for her. Little dogs usually aren't my thing, but something about this guy told me he had quite a story behind him.
D-Man approached with his hand outstretched, inquiring if it was okay to say hello.
"Why yes," she said. "But he's shy."
"Someone who was very mean to him used to own him. I've had Willie for a couple of years now, and he's starting to trust again. "
Willie sniffed D-Man's hand and then ran back behind the woman, darting between her feet.
"I can't understand people who get dogs just to hurt them," she continued.
As we turned to continue down the trail, we heard the woman say, "Willie is my best friend."
Nearly 12 years ago, I found my Flanders on the street. She was living under an abandoned cottage near my office building. A large cut ran down her head, as if she had squeezed underneath a chain link fence trying to get out of a bad situation. I fed her for 3 weeks before she would come anywhere near me.
I hate to imagine how she began her life, but I feel like we were destined to find each other. She's one of the greatest parts of each day, always such a comfort to me.
Of course I thought of this blessing when I met Willie and his owner. They were destined to find each other, and this connection between human and animal is one that only some will understand.
Friday, November 26, 2010
The Cardinals From Hell
Every morning around 9 a.m., the firm tapping sound would begin, surfacing from the living room at my parents' house. They would hear it every 30 seconds or so and would round the corner to see a cardinal (and sometimes its mate) dive bombing the window, hitting it hard as hell, from the adjacent tree. This would continue on and off for about an hour or so every day.
A long-time Audubon person, I was soon on the receiving end of the call as Parents tried to figure out what was going on and what could be done.
It's not unusual for birds to fly into windows, either catching insects on the wing or not realizing the window is an impermeable surface separating the inside from the outside. But these strange cardinals do it over and over again...and then some. And they make it a daily exercise. Odd, to be sure.
Parents tried all the usual stuff like putting up a visual distraction on the window to be sure the birds knew it wasn't an extension of the vegetation. But this hasn't worked. Nothing has worked.
So to put it all into perspective, I'll tell you this started YEARS ago. Just to be sure we're on the same page, that's like 4 years ago. Now, the birds aren't starting at 9 a.m., they're starting at 7 a.m. And they'll now return for an afternoon encore performance. It's crazy.
We're wondering: are these the same birds, or have they now passed the behavior onto their offspring? Are the birds insane? Are they seriously mentally challenged, taking the bird brain to a whole new level of minimalism? Are they trying to remove a parasite or something? Who knows. They're like bird masochists.
It's terrible to think about what they're doing to themselves. And if you're a human inside the house, listening to that sound over and over again is pretty killer too.
In their latest attempt to derail the bizarre avian activity, Parents mixed up a water/ Cayenne pepper concoction and put it all over the window and the tree. We'll see what that does...we'll just see... My hopes aren't too high. I'm betting that the cardinals from hell will prevail in their mystery quest.
A long-time Audubon person, I was soon on the receiving end of the call as Parents tried to figure out what was going on and what could be done.
It's not unusual for birds to fly into windows, either catching insects on the wing or not realizing the window is an impermeable surface separating the inside from the outside. But these strange cardinals do it over and over again...and then some. And they make it a daily exercise. Odd, to be sure.
Parents tried all the usual stuff like putting up a visual distraction on the window to be sure the birds knew it wasn't an extension of the vegetation. But this hasn't worked. Nothing has worked.
So to put it all into perspective, I'll tell you this started YEARS ago. Just to be sure we're on the same page, that's like 4 years ago. Now, the birds aren't starting at 9 a.m., they're starting at 7 a.m. And they'll now return for an afternoon encore performance. It's crazy.
We're wondering: are these the same birds, or have they now passed the behavior onto their offspring? Are the birds insane? Are they seriously mentally challenged, taking the bird brain to a whole new level of minimalism? Are they trying to remove a parasite or something? Who knows. They're like bird masochists.
It's terrible to think about what they're doing to themselves. And if you're a human inside the house, listening to that sound over and over again is pretty killer too.
In their latest attempt to derail the bizarre avian activity, Parents mixed up a water/ Cayenne pepper concoction and put it all over the window and the tree. We'll see what that does...we'll just see... My hopes aren't too high. I'm betting that the cardinals from hell will prevail in their mystery quest.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Presidential Turkey Pardon: I Don't Get It
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| No this isn't mine. It's owned by Alex Wong/Getty Images. |
But really? It's kind of like the Free Willy syndrome. All those cute little kids and sympathetic adults of all ages feeling sorry for Willy, petitioning to free him and then spending a vacation day at SeaWorld.
I've never seen Obama read a speech, but he was reading that turkey proclamation today. I could just imagine the inner thoughts, "Holy CRAP, do I actually have to do this? There are a few other pressing things, just a few, that I should probably be taking care of."
The close up shots of him stroking the turkey were especially entertaining for me. It's like WTF? Enjoy that turkey dinner.
I'm going to feast on my Tofurkey tomorrow and of course, all of the carb-laden sides. The sides are pretty good.
Meanwhile, just know my deepest feelings about this pardon. It's stupid. I mean, maybe not for the sole turkey who gets to walk.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
A Strange and Unpleasant Morning at School
I awoke in the middle of the night really, really pissed. After trying to get in touch with D-Man's science teacher through phone and e-mail for well over a week about a very pressing problem, on Tuesday morning I resorted to calling the vice principal. He assured me he would take care of it, yet alas, as of Wednesday evening, I had heard nothing.
So during what has now become now my standard 1:00 a.m. wake up call with Flanders, I started stewing to the point that I just couldn't get back to sleep.
I showed up at the school this morning at 8:15 a.m. and vowed to wait in the office until VP arrived. And wait I did.
After over an hour (oh yes, it's been a fine week for Gropius), Husband and I were becoming increasingly agitated. A semi-comic relief entered the office area, and it was just so bizarre at the time...but now, of course I'm feeling the terror of what she actually described. Terror for the animal that is.
So picture it. We're sitting there, arms crossed in frustration, watching the scene...
Now that you have the scene in your mind, enter stage right a very overweight woman wearing a sundress and lots of bling on the fingers. She's carrying a dog that is dressed in a baby's onesie. Um okay, now we have dogs in the school? (And keep in mind, I am a dog lover, but really, at school?) She sits down beside Larry and allows the dog to start running around the office. No one seems to care.
And then it gets weirder. She begins to tell us--along with everyone else within a 300 ft. radius who isn't consumed with the other disturbing issues going on--about how she really "don't know nothing about no dogs." ...How her former dog was "just like this one," but "I stepped on it in the middle of the night and caused trauma to its head" and "after I paid $2,000 in vet bills they had to put it to sleep anyway."
"So I just up and got a new one. $2,000 this one cost me too. Mmmm hmmm," she continued.
She got up and left, came back in with the dog 5 or 10 minutes later and left again. I have no freaking idea what she was even doing in the office. It was like a scene from Candid Camera, except no one came in to surprise us with the big joke.
I wish this had an interesting ending, but that's all she wrote for my storytelling skills tonight. I'm absolutely exhausted. And wondering if I'm still in the after 1 a.m. realm...maybe this day never happened.
Yes--I wish. But today was only a day, and there are much worse things going for others. Perspective: I try.
So during what has now become now my standard 1:00 a.m. wake up call with Flanders, I started stewing to the point that I just couldn't get back to sleep.
I showed up at the school this morning at 8:15 a.m. and vowed to wait in the office until VP arrived. And wait I did.
After over an hour (oh yes, it's been a fine week for Gropius), Husband and I were becoming increasingly agitated. A semi-comic relief entered the office area, and it was just so bizarre at the time...but now, of course I'm feeling the terror of what she actually described. Terror for the animal that is.
So picture it. We're sitting there, arms crossed in frustration, watching the scene...
- Lingering students who, for whatever reason, weren't in class
- Non-English speaking parents struggling to converse with the receptionist about a bus stop at a seemingly non-existent address
- A grandmother storming in with her grandson who had been bullied on the bus
- A half dressed mother enrolling her student in school
Now that you have the scene in your mind, enter stage right a very overweight woman wearing a sundress and lots of bling on the fingers. She's carrying a dog that is dressed in a baby's onesie. Um okay, now we have dogs in the school? (And keep in mind, I am a dog lover, but really, at school?) She sits down beside Larry and allows the dog to start running around the office. No one seems to care.
And then it gets weirder. She begins to tell us--along with everyone else within a 300 ft. radius who isn't consumed with the other disturbing issues going on--about how she really "don't know nothing about no dogs." ...How her former dog was "just like this one," but "I stepped on it in the middle of the night and caused trauma to its head" and "after I paid $2,000 in vet bills they had to put it to sleep anyway."
"So I just up and got a new one. $2,000 this one cost me too. Mmmm hmmm," she continued.
She got up and left, came back in with the dog 5 or 10 minutes later and left again. I have no freaking idea what she was even doing in the office. It was like a scene from Candid Camera, except no one came in to surprise us with the big joke.
I wish this had an interesting ending, but that's all she wrote for my storytelling skills tonight. I'm absolutely exhausted. And wondering if I'm still in the after 1 a.m. realm...maybe this day never happened.
Yes--I wish. But today was only a day, and there are much worse things going for others. Perspective: I try.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Rodents of Unusual Size...And Chicken Eaters
Being a lover of nature and wildlife, I normally don't make a point of convincing people that any member of the Kingdom is grotesque. But quite frankly, the image of a filthy opossum lumbering along with that giant coffee stained tooth mouth grabbing a chicken through its wire enclosure it isn't too pleasant. It must not be a quick sort of death.
The Virginia opossum (Didelphus virginiana) is actually our only marsupial here in the wilds of Florida (and the only marsupial in North America). (Australia's leaving us in the dust on that count.)
I love the description on the University of Florida IFAS website:
"Opossums have a scaly, rat-like, prehensile tail they use with their opposable thumbs to grasp small branches and other objects. Opossums also have more teeth (50) than any other North American mammal."
Mmmm....delicious. And let me tell you about those teeth. When I was in college, I volunteered at a wildlife rescue center. So many of our patients were litters of opossums that were left on their own when a mother was killed by a passing car. People would find the little guys wandering about and bring them in. At first they were cute, all huddled together in their cage, staring at me as I replenished the food and water dishes. But as they grew, they became less patient with my caring antics and started flashing a mouth full of yellow teeth at me, hissing. Gross.
On several occasions, the infamous yellow lab I grew up with, Jerome, bravely assaulted and killed a ballsy opossum who had dared to enter the driveway. That is, we thought he killed it. Father even shoveled it off the driveway, but we returned shortly afterward to find that it had revived from its "play dead" charade to plunder a different lawn.
Flanders has done the same here, and it was a shock to her confidence when she realized she was taken for a fool.
They may be gross, but opossums are clearly formidable. You could easily convince me that the Rodents of Unusual Size in the Princess Bride were inspired by this cutie pie of the animal world. Ah yes, just imagine an opossum that large. I'd hate to think of it. Not everyone has a Westly roaming around every corner to save her--especially those poor Bradentucky chickens.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Going Absolutely Mad: Licking, Chewing, Scratching
No, I'm not licking, chewing or scratching myself or anyone else. Nor am I being licked, chewed or scratched thank goodness.
But Flanders, oh Flanders...she's literally about to drive me crazy.
Blogging about one's dog can get a little annoying I know. And I've certainly done it lately. But I am at the brink of sanity.
Mostly I'm grateful. About a month ago, we awoke to find that she didn't seem to have the use of her back legs. It was terrible. After getting her to the best vet in town, a lady I greatly admire because of her community service as well as veterinary skills, it was determined that Flanders had an inner ear issue causing dizziness. A few days and an antibiotic treatment later and she was fine.
But her skin was a different issue. For years, we've taken her to our old timey vet for allergy shots for chronically itching, raw skin. It just didn't seem to stop.
The new vet took a different, more aggressive approach. I am grateful for that too, since old doc wasn't really getting to the heart of the problem. Itching caused by one thing. Opening up the skin to infection from the scratching another thing. Licking on top of that caused another thing. And the shots led to uncontrolled peeing. So nice to deal with.
Except now we have spent OVER $900 on everything from skin biopsies that didn't reveal anything to 6 pills per day including anti-fungals, antibiotics, anti-this, anti-that, etc. And she is still scratching, licking, biting, chewing!!! And her condition plus the noise of her scratching, licking and chewing are driving me completely insane. Vet has done all of the right and necessary things, but none have worked. (Not her fault.)
We keep a shirt on Flanders to help protect her belly, have kept the Cone of Shame on her to prevent her from reaching around and licking, and have kept her out of the yard so she won't be lying in the grass which could be a potential irritant. What kind of life is this? So I get all weepy eyed and temporarily remove the Cone of Shame, and the licking, chewing and scratching begin again. I wake up in the middle of the night every night to this....or to the sound of her trying to navigate around the house wearing her Cone.
The $3 per can hypoallergenic dog food and the $60 16-lb bag of dry hypoallergenic dog food haven't seemed to make any difference either. And she hates them.
Other than her skin, she's in great shape. And again, I am most grateful for that. I will be a complete and total basketcase whenever her time comes, and knowing it's not soon is such a relief.
But someone pleeeeeeaaaaaase, stop the madness. It's driving all of us crazy, I'm sure least of which is poor Flanders.
But Flanders, oh Flanders...she's literally about to drive me crazy.
Blogging about one's dog can get a little annoying I know. And I've certainly done it lately. But I am at the brink of sanity.
Mostly I'm grateful. About a month ago, we awoke to find that she didn't seem to have the use of her back legs. It was terrible. After getting her to the best vet in town, a lady I greatly admire because of her community service as well as veterinary skills, it was determined that Flanders had an inner ear issue causing dizziness. A few days and an antibiotic treatment later and she was fine.
But her skin was a different issue. For years, we've taken her to our old timey vet for allergy shots for chronically itching, raw skin. It just didn't seem to stop.
The new vet took a different, more aggressive approach. I am grateful for that too, since old doc wasn't really getting to the heart of the problem. Itching caused by one thing. Opening up the skin to infection from the scratching another thing. Licking on top of that caused another thing. And the shots led to uncontrolled peeing. So nice to deal with.
Except now we have spent OVER $900 on everything from skin biopsies that didn't reveal anything to 6 pills per day including anti-fungals, antibiotics, anti-this, anti-that, etc. And she is still scratching, licking, biting, chewing!!! And her condition plus the noise of her scratching, licking and chewing are driving me completely insane. Vet has done all of the right and necessary things, but none have worked. (Not her fault.)
We keep a shirt on Flanders to help protect her belly, have kept the Cone of Shame on her to prevent her from reaching around and licking, and have kept her out of the yard so she won't be lying in the grass which could be a potential irritant. What kind of life is this? So I get all weepy eyed and temporarily remove the Cone of Shame, and the licking, chewing and scratching begin again. I wake up in the middle of the night every night to this....or to the sound of her trying to navigate around the house wearing her Cone.
The $3 per can hypoallergenic dog food and the $60 16-lb bag of dry hypoallergenic dog food haven't seemed to make any difference either. And she hates them.
Other than her skin, she's in great shape. And again, I am most grateful for that. I will be a complete and total basketcase whenever her time comes, and knowing it's not soon is such a relief.
But someone pleeeeeeaaaaaase, stop the madness. It's driving all of us crazy, I'm sure least of which is poor Flanders.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
The Hiatus and Scattered Reports from In Between
One of my least favorite words of all time is "hiatus." It's right up there with "hyena."
I've taken the longest writing hiatus on Gropius since I started the blog but I'm checking in to report a few scattered happenings since we've talked last. My mind, work, and everything-in-between-and-overlapping have been too tied up in details to put anything reasonable on the old scrolling digital journal. And most of those things I felt that I would regret writing about later.
So here's a tiny sampling on the reportable mini-happenings from the last post:
I've taken the longest writing hiatus on Gropius since I started the blog but I'm checking in to report a few scattered happenings since we've talked last. My mind, work, and everything-in-between-and-overlapping have been too tied up in details to put anything reasonable on the old scrolling digital journal. And most of those things I felt that I would regret writing about later.
So here's a tiny sampling on the reportable mini-happenings from the last post:
Why "Hello there, Bono!" Thank you very much to the gal at work who Photoshopped us together when the latest professional staff photos came in. Some people got a wrinkle or two removed; I got Bono. I'm really happy about the choice. Husband has been a great sport about it, since I obviously printed this and put it up on the fridge.
This is sweet Ingrid with her husband Stig. You may remember from previous posts that we lost her over a year ago to blood cancer. She was an amazing and inspirational soul for nearly everyone who met her--whether it was for an afternoon or a decade. I miss her daily. I've put a team together to walk in her honor on October 16. The Light the Night Walks take place all over the country to raise money for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. Many thanks to Pines Lake Redhead & all the others who gave money to support the cause. You rock, and I appreciate you so much. If you'd like to contribute to the cause, you can check out our team and donate here.
Thank goodness for the angels who walk here on Earth. My sweet Flanders is 12, and we woke up one morning to find her stumbling about. Every few steps her legs just seemed to give out. Her eyes were darting back and forth wildly like she was speed reading. Our normal vet couldn't see her that day. I was panicked.
A vet practicing an hour from our house (who donates every ounce of time outside of her practice to local animal rescue groups) took my call on her cell and came in on her day off to see Flanders. I am so grateful. Turns out Flanders had "old dog" vestibular disease, making her dizzy. That, along with arthritis, put her in bad shape. She's doing much better now, and I have her under the care of someone who looks at her as a member of my family, not just a furry object who lives in my house.
This is not your brain on drugs. This is my brain (not on drugs). Thoreau was not kidding when he said our lives were frittered away by detail. There are so many things I'm trying to mentally keep track of, I've been a bit scrambled lately. Okay, totally scrambled. Completely and totally freaking scrambled. I'm working on that since life doesn't usually change in it's pace, but the way you handle it can.
To all the regular Gropius visitors, thanks for hanging out with me. I'll be catching up with you this week during my down time in my trip to Charlotte. If you're new, thanks for reading and I hope you'll come back.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Alive
Yesterday morning I went to Emerson Point Preserve, one of my favorite places in Manatee County. Laced with enchanted mangrove trails along the Terra Ceia Bay, a view of the grand Skyway Bridge in the distance and an upland trail through a transitioning habitat, it's diverse and full of subjects for any inspired photographer. I didn't bring my camera yesterday. I'm glad I didn't. I was able to focus on all the senses, and found some extraordinary things.
The night before we were fortunate to get drenched with a heavy storm. When the rain hits and soaks in, the world rejoices. Emerson was alive with sounds, smells and colors. Everything looked so bright.
Seven Roseate Spoonbills stood on the side of a shrinking pond that still didn't get nearly enough water to restore the normal levels. Tracks from a wandering armadillo were clear enough to observe from dig to dig, where it had scraped a string of three inch holes searching for a tasty dinner, each laced with a thin line from its receding tail.
Recently the upland trail had been burned. Prescribed fire is a popular habitat management tool here in Florida, where invasive plants are destroyed and pine flatwoods are stopped from the process of succession to hardwood hammocks. Because of the rain, the smell of the burned earth was ripe again, and filled my nose with the scent of a raging campfire the morning after. Beautiful.
The wild limes, a native plant which doesn't actually bear limes, were blooming with clusters of tiny flowers. As I approached each wild lime, a sound like a muffled airstrip grew louder. Hundreds and hundreds of bees were pollinating them, and no matter how close I got, it wasn't close enough to disturb them from their deliberate work of working the small blossoms. Incredible.
I love how the world becomes even more alive after the rain. Although I'm not sure if the plants and creatures are sure of what they're missing, when it comes, they buzz with gratitude and celebration.
The night before we were fortunate to get drenched with a heavy storm. When the rain hits and soaks in, the world rejoices. Emerson was alive with sounds, smells and colors. Everything looked so bright.
Seven Roseate Spoonbills stood on the side of a shrinking pond that still didn't get nearly enough water to restore the normal levels. Tracks from a wandering armadillo were clear enough to observe from dig to dig, where it had scraped a string of three inch holes searching for a tasty dinner, each laced with a thin line from its receding tail.
Recently the upland trail had been burned. Prescribed fire is a popular habitat management tool here in Florida, where invasive plants are destroyed and pine flatwoods are stopped from the process of succession to hardwood hammocks. Because of the rain, the smell of the burned earth was ripe again, and filled my nose with the scent of a raging campfire the morning after. Beautiful.
The wild limes, a native plant which doesn't actually bear limes, were blooming with clusters of tiny flowers. As I approached each wild lime, a sound like a muffled airstrip grew louder. Hundreds and hundreds of bees were pollinating them, and no matter how close I got, it wasn't close enough to disturb them from their deliberate work of working the small blossoms. Incredible.
I love how the world becomes even more alive after the rain. Although I'm not sure if the plants and creatures are sure of what they're missing, when it comes, they buzz with gratitude and celebration.
Monday, April 19, 2010
My Big Beef With Stores that Sell Puppies
I've recenlty noticed people employed by Petland standing on the roadside with signs exclaiming "PUPPIES!" in large red letters. Petland is still around and still selling puppies because people are still buying puppies from them.
I'd like to believe that 100% of people don't purchase puppies from pet stores once they learn that a vast majority of these animals are bred in puppy mills.
I'm not talking about anything radical here. And I'm not talking about anything new. I'm talking about dogs that are tortured for a lifetime for one purpose only: to breed, give birth and do it all again. In a cage. And anyone who buys a dog that came from a puppy mill is perpetuating this industry.
In short, here's why they're so appaling to me and to many people:
Here's a list of FAQ's about puppy mills assembled by the Humane Society of the United States.
What can you do? Get your next pet from a shelter. If you're looking for a specific breed, there's a rescue group--literally--for every breed of dog you could possibly want.
If you do have to get a puppy that's not from the County shelter or from the Humane Society, check out a breeder who is responsible--who takes good care of the mother dog and who makes sure the offspring go to owners who look at a pet as more than an object to exploit.
I'd like to believe that 100% of people don't purchase puppies from pet stores once they learn that a vast majority of these animals are bred in puppy mills.
I'm not talking about anything radical here. And I'm not talking about anything new. I'm talking about dogs that are tortured for a lifetime for one purpose only: to breed, give birth and do it all again. In a cage. And anyone who buys a dog that came from a puppy mill is perpetuating this industry.
In short, here's why they're so appaling to me and to many people:
- They are incredibly cruel for the breeder dogs. In most cases, she will spend her entire life in a small wire cage, being bred over and over again. No home, no comfort, often disgusting and filthy. What happens when she's no longer producing? Many times, breeding animals are abandoned or sold cheaply to another more filthy mill in an attempt to get a final litter out of the dog before she's killed.
- They are incredibly cruel for the puppies, kept in a cage in a pet store until someone finds them cute enough or feels sorry enough for them to make a purchase.
- They contribute to the terrible problem of pet overpopulation in this country. According to the Humane Society, 4 MILLION dogs and cats are put to sleep every year (one every 8 seconds) in US shelters. There's no shortage of adoptable dogs and cats!
- Many of the young offspring are sickly, a product of the overbreeding and poor conditions.
Here's a list of FAQ's about puppy mills assembled by the Humane Society of the United States.
What can you do? Get your next pet from a shelter. If you're looking for a specific breed, there's a rescue group--literally--for every breed of dog you could possibly want.
If you do have to get a puppy that's not from the County shelter or from the Humane Society, check out a breeder who is responsible--who takes good care of the mother dog and who makes sure the offspring go to owners who look at a pet as more than an object to exploit.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
This Is a Big Sign
That's right, it says "SLOW SPEED." Brilliant!
Many argue that these signs are strategically placed in front of large waterfront homes so their owners don't have to dabble in the noise of honkey fishermen's boats going past with their loud motors. I don't doubt that's true in some instances.
But the law is the law, people. The manatee is a protected species for good reason. If you're not in Florida, you might not know it, but soooo many boaters are not responsible--we see them navigating through no wake or minimal wake zones full steam ahead. My family includes boaters and fisherman, so I know that some of them are careful, law abiding citizens.
The ones who aren't just kill me. I only wish there was more active enforcement. There were 97 manatee deaths caused by watercraft in 2009 in Florida, according to the Florida Fish & Wildlife Conservation Commission.
The signs are big, people, but your brains, evidently, are not. Please learn to read.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
The Big Flight
Call me a nerd, but the miracles of migration astound me anew everytime I think about them. Can you believe that delicate Monarch butterflies flutter 2,500 miles? And that birds of all kinds fly from Canada to South America every year for the winter and then back to their summer nesting grounds? I find it incredible.
This time of year in Florida, we love our migrating birds. They stop here to refuel before continuing on journeys to their northern homes. Last weekend at Hillsborough River State Park (left) near Tampa, I saw three such species I had never seen before: a Prothonatary warbler, a Blue-headed vireo, and a Hermit thrush.
This week I'm in east-central Florida visiting my mother and father. Here's a Gray Catbird I photographed at Smyrna Dunes Park on a walk with my mother Thursday morning. He was stocking up--unfortunately with exotic Brazilian Pepper berries--before headed on his big flight. Like the Blue-headed vireo and Hermit thrush, some of them hang out in Florida all winter.
They make a cat-like noise. Check out her dark gray cap and rufous-colored behind. So cute.
This week I'm in east-central Florida visiting my mother and father. Here's a Gray Catbird I photographed at Smyrna Dunes Park on a walk with my mother Thursday morning. He was stocking up--unfortunately with exotic Brazilian Pepper berries--before headed on his big flight. Like the Blue-headed vireo and Hermit thrush, some of them hang out in Florida all winter.
They make a cat-like noise. Check out her dark gray cap and rufous-colored behind. So cute.
Just when I'm considering how daunting a task can be or how I might lose my way, I find inspiration in the Big Flight made twice per year by these amazing birds. Somehow they're guided by a force and a knowledge that seems so much bigger than what is contained in a bird brain.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
I'm Sure It's a Lovely Rooster
A lovely lady in our accounting department lives in a slightly rural area outside of town and has gone through 3 groups of chickens--lovingly referred to as "the girls"--since I've known her. She's a most conscious caretaker of them, but you see, there are predators around. Hawks, bobcats--you know birds and mammals that get a kick out of eating easy prey. She and her husband have built one hell of a henhouse for the girls, and I'm thinking it could be larger than our small abode here in Bradentucky.
There was slight surprise a few months ago when the girls were first coming of age, getting ready to lay their first batch of fresh eggs. That surprise was an unmistakeable rooster crowing. And that's when all suspicions were confirmed: a man was living in their midst.
It's not really pretty. The rooster is hungry for sex, as all men are, and he's pecked a sore in the back of at least one of the girls. Now chickens do have a tendency to peck on things that have been pre-pecked, and we're hoping the others don't continue to peck away at what's left of her since that is an instinct and inclination. Peck. Peck. Peck. Basically, it's just been a pain in the ass. Literally for the girls.
Today I heard the funniest thing come out of our sweet Mel. After we talked about the possibility of someone consuming the rooster if she was to give it away, she said, and I repeat her exact words,
"I'm not going to eat it, but somebody else can. I don't care."
Is it just me, or is this hilarious? Even vegetarians have a sense of humor.
There was slight surprise a few months ago when the girls were first coming of age, getting ready to lay their first batch of fresh eggs. That surprise was an unmistakeable rooster crowing. And that's when all suspicions were confirmed: a man was living in their midst.
It's not really pretty. The rooster is hungry for sex, as all men are, and he's pecked a sore in the back of at least one of the girls. Now chickens do have a tendency to peck on things that have been pre-pecked, and we're hoping the others don't continue to peck away at what's left of her since that is an instinct and inclination. Peck. Peck. Peck. Basically, it's just been a pain in the ass. Literally for the girls.
Today I heard the funniest thing come out of our sweet Mel. After we talked about the possibility of someone consuming the rooster if she was to give it away, she said, and I repeat her exact words,
"I'm not going to eat it, but somebody else can. I don't care."
Is it just me, or is this hilarious? Even vegetarians have a sense of humor.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Lettuce Lake
A short hour's drive from the world of Bradenton sits a cypress-covered oasis on the outskirts of Tampa.
Lettuce Lake hosts wading birds along its edges, woodland migrants flitting about in the red maple tree canopies, ospreys grabbing Spanish moss laden branches for their Spring nests and abundant reptile life sunning in half-submerged mossy logs.
It was such a treat for us.
Lettuce Lake hosts wading birds along its edges, woodland migrants flitting about in the red maple tree canopies, ospreys grabbing Spanish moss laden branches for their Spring nests and abundant reptile life sunning in half-submerged mossy logs.
It was such a treat for us.
Duckweed dotting the water surface.
Yellow rat snake hunting or searching for a nearby tree to climb.
D-Man takes his chances with Swamp Thing.
Water lettuce, for which the lake is named.
American alligator chillin' out on a log.
Fresh spring cypress growth.
Old oak tree split apart by lightening or disease.
Florida is full of treasures. It was a beautiful weekend with new places to visit. We were happy to see so many others on the boardwalk and trails at Lettuce Lake. Love this time of year!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Cats vs. Birds
I find myself in the middle of an interesting argument.
I'm a pretty strong environmentalist and have a degree in Environmental Science from the University of Florida and 33 years of passion for all things nature. And I'm an advocate for animal rights as well--not a freak but someone with a deep concern for the welfare of our fellow creatures. Sometimes the two clash and I am left in a state of confusion that can't give birth to the right answer (for me).
Such is the case with the great feral cat debate. We have tons of them in SW Florida. The offspring of domesticated cats that were abandoned, they have never known a house or home. Wild, with wild instincts and savvy survival skills, they're left on the streets and often wouldn't come to a friendly extended human hand if it was offered.
Wildlife advocates, with data to back it up, claim that feral cats severely impact populations of ground nesting birds and other wildlife, regardless of whether they have plentiful food from dumps or thoughtful restaurant owners who may leave healthy scraps in the parking lots. Animal rights enthusiasts, armed with their own studies, claim there is no such proof of this impact, that the environmental impact studies are flawed, and that catch and release spay/neuter programs are making a big dent in the exponential populations of feral cat populations.
Now I'm a data gal. Frankly, I'd like to see a new study that's been commissioned by an independent party. Leaving emotion on both sides out of the equation, I want to know what's going on, and if, as I'm inclined to believe, feral cats are causing significant impact on bird populations and other wildlife, I think we can be solution-minded instead of finger-pointing. Either way, humans have the capacity to cause serious destruction but can also be very crafty in problem-solving. We're smart and creative. Let's take stock of our assets but first look at facts.
Do you have a feral cat issue in your part of the world? I can't stand to see any creature getting hurt by a human hand--whether it's an abandoned cat that is now hardly considered domestic, or whether it's a member of our traditional wildlife team. Either way, the harm is linked to our carelessness and we're ultimately responsible.
I'm a pretty strong environmentalist and have a degree in Environmental Science from the University of Florida and 33 years of passion for all things nature. And I'm an advocate for animal rights as well--not a freak but someone with a deep concern for the welfare of our fellow creatures. Sometimes the two clash and I am left in a state of confusion that can't give birth to the right answer (for me).
Such is the case with the great feral cat debate. We have tons of them in SW Florida. The offspring of domesticated cats that were abandoned, they have never known a house or home. Wild, with wild instincts and savvy survival skills, they're left on the streets and often wouldn't come to a friendly extended human hand if it was offered.
Wildlife advocates, with data to back it up, claim that feral cats severely impact populations of ground nesting birds and other wildlife, regardless of whether they have plentiful food from dumps or thoughtful restaurant owners who may leave healthy scraps in the parking lots. Animal rights enthusiasts, armed with their own studies, claim there is no such proof of this impact, that the environmental impact studies are flawed, and that catch and release spay/neuter programs are making a big dent in the exponential populations of feral cat populations.
Now I'm a data gal. Frankly, I'd like to see a new study that's been commissioned by an independent party. Leaving emotion on both sides out of the equation, I want to know what's going on, and if, as I'm inclined to believe, feral cats are causing significant impact on bird populations and other wildlife, I think we can be solution-minded instead of finger-pointing. Either way, humans have the capacity to cause serious destruction but can also be very crafty in problem-solving. We're smart and creative. Let's take stock of our assets but first look at facts.
Do you have a feral cat issue in your part of the world? I can't stand to see any creature getting hurt by a human hand--whether it's an abandoned cat that is now hardly considered domestic, or whether it's a member of our traditional wildlife team. Either way, the harm is linked to our carelessness and we're ultimately responsible.
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