We put our house up for sale this summer. I think we can equate this chapter in our lives with a momentary lapse of reason. It’s an incredibly stressful upheaval. Since we work full time and the kids are in camp all day, it’s a challenge to keep the house clean every day. But, we finally worked out a routine, because we have to be prepared if someone wants to see the house during the day when we’re not home. The kids make their beds every day and make sure their rooms are clean at night. We manage to get the dishes in the dishwasher, and somehow keep the bathrooms neat. But, there’s one organizational detail we didn’t think about in this whole process: our dog.

We’ve had Eddie since he was a puppy and he’s a fantastic 11 year-old dog. But, he’s a big dog. You can’t just pick him up and carry him around with you. And, when you have showings and open houses, no one wants to be followed around the house by a furry 40 lb. Chow mix who wants to be petted and cuddled. So, my realtor, who also happens to be my mom, puts Eddie outside in the fenced yard for showings. But, this weekend we had an open house, and couldn’t leave him at the house. We don’t have any friends that would welcome Eddie for this period of time, and my parents are allergic to dogs. We had nowhere else to put him, so he spent the day at the kennel.

We had an open house back in July and had the brilliant idea to take him and the kids for a visit to Grandma and Grandpa’s (my in-laws) house in Tampa. That worked out very well, and he behaved perfectly. And, he enjoyed the company of Grandma’s long-haired dachshund, Lucky. But, we can’t keep inflicting ourselves on Grandma and Grandpa on a monthly basis for our open houses – especially since they are very active and travel a lot.

So, this time, we ended up spending $35 for the day to put him in the kennel. It seems like one of those necessary evils: tough for him, and on us. Not to mention that it will start to add up, month after month. I do wish I had a more inventive way to spend three hours out of the house with two 7 year-old kids and a dog. Do you have any ideas? What can I do with a large dog for an afternoon?

Our son was born almost 10 months ago, but we are only now about to become parents.

That’s because we are giving in to the inevitable parental right of passage. We are getting a minivan.

Okay, so I just lied for dramatic effect. We probably aren’t getting a minivan, but we are planning to get an SUV. An SUV was my compromise with my husband who just cannot stand the idea of owning a “mommy mobile” even though I would be the one driving it.

Either way we absolutely must have a larger car.

You would think that one 20-pound individual such as Baby D would not take up an inordinate amount of room. You would be wrong.

Along with our 20-pound bundle of joy comes a gigantic car seat, a diaper bag filled with supplies fit for survival in an underground bunker for a month and a stroller that takes up the whole trunk. And that’s just for a trip to the store. Let’s not even discuss how crammed the car is on a road trip.

Add two bouncy, slobbery canines to the mix and a hoped-for future sibling for Baby D and our sedan just won’t pass muster anymore. It won’t pass anything actually; it will be so weighed down with people, animals and stuff.

So we are researching SUVs and then we’ll look for a dealer with good reviews.

Although shopping for a new car is a hassle, I am excited to become an “official” parent with my very own mommy mobile. Next up in our evolution towards genuine parenthood? Those little stick figure decals for the rear window.

“Grrrf! Ruff ruff awoof.”

That’s Dog-ese for “time to find a new veterinarian.”

Our old vet was a family member who owned his own place and got us fabulous discounts on shots and medicine for the last eight years. Man, were we spoiled.

Now he has sold his business and taken a job with a larger chain, a job that will not afford us the luxury of discount doggy care.

::Pout::

But this is an opportunity for new beginnings. In spite of the great deals and special treatment, the old place was too far away and I didn’t like their boarding facility.

I looked on Kudzu and found a couple of places with great reviews that are right around the corner from our house. So this Saturday we’ll stop in to meet the doctors and check out the offices.

Once we find a place we like, I’ll be sure to come back to Kudzu to write a review – translated from the original Dog-ese on behalf of Emmy and Kahlua, of course.

Last weekend, my yard-fanatical husband was once again mowing the lawn. Apparently, he came across a nest of baby bunnies. The mama rabbit apparently thought the small space between the A/C unit and the water spigot was a cool place to lay a nest. Which was about the size of a measuring cup — shallow, fur-lined and completely inadequate.

When my six-year-old daughter and I got home from work and school, Bill told us he wanted to show us something. We walked around the side of the house and saw our cat carrier in the grass. Inside were four small brown baby bunnies. And my heart? Yeah, it melted.

Bill explained that he ran the lawnmower over the nest, and the bunnies scurried. They were larger — about the size of a fist. He shut the lawnmower down and tried to box the terrified mammals into a cardboard box, but failed. (I can picture my sweaty hubby chasing four baby rabbits around the yard with a box and the image is pretty darn funny.) Eventually, he thought that the cat carrier was the best solution short of hiring a pest exterminator. (OK, it’s bad enough putting a human smell on the tiny critters, but making them smell like a cat? Not so much …) …CONTINUE READING »

Here’s a personal Christmas gift-giving story that will forever be etched in my memory. (It will help the reader during this telling if you keep chanting the words “He meant well. He meant well.”)

I’ve mentioned before in this blog that I never had a cat until I was in my thirties. My mom never liked them so we always had dogs when I was growing up. My sister-in-law’s cat had a litter, however, and I fell in love with the little kittens on the spot.

She gave me one of the kittens, a little Calico girl we named Buzz. (My son, who was six at the time, was heavily into Toy Story and named the kitten after Buzz Lightyear, throwing all gender implications to the wind.)

It would be an understatement to say I adored this cat. Having been used to dog behavior, I was mesmerized by the way she played and moved. And she didn’t have any of the stereotypical behavioral characteristics I was expecting. She loved to be held.

I don’t want to dwell on the sad part, but she died when she was about three years old. Her death was, honestly, one of the toughest things I’d ever had to go through. One of the few times I saw my husband tear up was when he saw my reaction to Buzz’s death.

When Christmas of that year rolled around, and (unbeknownst to me) my husband somehow got it into his head that the perfect gift for me would be another calico cat. Now, I know that all the women out there reading this are reacting the same way I did after the fact: How could someone think you could replace a pet that way? All I know is that somewhere in that Y-chromosome mind of his, my husband truly did believe that this was what I needed. (I try not to think about what actions he would take if I were suddenly felled in a freak accident.)

So, anyway, the next logical step in this idea would be to visit a pet store or shelter. No, my husband decided to tell all his friends to be on the lookout for a calico cat. So eventually, Ssomeone knew someone who knew someone who’d heard of this cat.

Which is how he and his buddy ended up on a cold Christmas Eve morning, chasing a terrified kitten down the road of a trailer court. That afternoon he walked in the house with a bag of litter and a litter box and set it down on the table. When I looked at him like he was crazy, he unzipped his jacket and out popped this scroungy little calico kitten that promptly ran under our bed and didn’t come out for three days.

Of course, the reasoning aside, I loved this little creature–who I named Tink–on sight. She was not cuddly, mind you, and being from the streets, she carried a couple of knives and wasn’t afraid to use them. But we eventually settled into a routine in which she would allow me to pet her on her terms.

A couple of months after she arrived, I had to have surgery. She became very protective of me, sleeping on the bed right beside me for days and sitting outside the shower when I was in there, meowing loudly the whole time. So, maybe my husband’s circuitous thinking was actually a good thing. Maybe the broken path that led her to me had a higher purpose after all.

OK, I know that you read that title and thought to yourself, “Yeah, right, a killer cat.” But I will lay out the facts for you and you can judge for yourself.

It all started two weeks ago when my son brought home a rain-soaked kitten that he’d found under my dad’s porch. As you heard in one of my last blogs, I’m kind of a pushover for strays so I didn’t stand a chance at the sight of this little (about 6-week-old) wet, forlorn looking little kitten. My son named her “Dallas.”

So we take it in and I notice pretty soon that this kitten loves my son but doesn’t necessarily like me. She squirms out of the arms when I pick her up and actually swatted her little paw at me once. It was unusual for an animal not to take to me—I am pretty much the Pet Whisperer. …CONTINUE READING »

Remember when you were a kid and you tried to bring home a stray dog or cat? You had at least one parent who would be such a hard sell that you had to prepare the saddest story ever just to stand a chance of being able to keep the animal.

Unfortunately, there is no such in our house. My husband and I are both totally incapable of turning away anything that my son drags home. In other words, there is no mature adult in the Bowers household. None.

I’ve tried, believe me. One time my son asked if he could have a puppy from the litter of his girlfriend’s dog. I said, “Are you kidding me? We already have three dogs and two cats! No way.” Then he brought out the big guns. He brought the puppy in wrapped in a baby blanket. He rolled the blanket back to reveal the puppy’s face and I asked, “What are you going to name it?” Just like that, Dozer came to live with us. I’m utterly spineless. In my defense, however, that was some face. (See the picture above.) …CONTINUE READING »

I am the proud owner of two rescue dogs – Brutus and Button. My husband and I adopted them as puppies two years ago and since doing that they’ve brought a ton of joy into our lives (except when they wake us up at 6:30am every Saturday). Having dogs does however pose a question mark when it comes to traveling. We have a very busy month coming up and I hate the idea of boarding them more than once this month.

We’ve boarded them before, but at a no kennel facility called Dog Days. They love it there, and it’s certainly an option for us again, but I can’t help to feel guilty when we leave them behind. My husband prefers that they are somewhere where we know they can’t get into anything, but lately we’ve been contemplating having a dog sitter check in on them at home when we are gone. I’m just not sure that my two energetic dogs can be trusted alone in our house for a weekend. I envision coming home to a chewed up couch or half eaten curtains.

So, as a compromise we’ve asked a friend to stay at our house the weekend that we’ll be gone. This way, my dogs can stay home and have a yard to run and play in, and I know that someone will be there to watch them to ensure I don’t come home to find my living room has been destroyed. I know we can’t ask friends to watch them any time we need to travel, but it’s nice to know that this time we have an animal loving friend who will take good care of them. I just hope he can train them to sleep past 6:30am while we are gone!