Author: www.untoldanimalstories.org

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Lars

by Keith Barnaby*

securedownloadMy name is Lars. I used to be an outdoor cat. My people would let me out to roam my domain, explore, and hunt. Over time, other outdoor cats came and went in my neighborhood. I was friends with some, especially Shadow, another young male. We played and teamed up to defend against other cats who entered our lands.

One day Shadow disappeared, and his people brought home another cat, an unspayed female. She had many kittens, the kittens had kittens, and their ranks grew exponentially. Pretty soon there were lots of cats. Unlike Shadow, the young males didn’t like me and my life changed.

Now when I crossed onto Shadow’s and my old lands, I was the one being attacked. I fought but was bitten badly. My face swelled and my people took me to a man who made me feel better.

Why I returned to Shadow’s lands, I do not know. Why I stood my ground and fought the cats instead of avoiding a fight I could not win, I do not know, but I did so repeatedly. And this time I was hurt worse than ever before.

Once I healed, my people kept me inside. They made a new room for me on the side of my house with soft walls through which I can smell and see birds and passing cats. One day a cat came too close. I hissed and lunged, forgetting about the see-through wall. I bounced off it backward. The cat was so surprised he ran away. I acted like I meant to do it, and licked my paw in a dignified manner. Taught him!

I don’t mind being an indoor cat. My people put a little swinging flap in the front door so I can go out to my special outside room any kitty DSC01014time. When I see a bird, I crouch low, stare, and think, “One, two, three…gotcha!” Then I curl up and go to sleep.
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A 2013 Nature Communications study estimated that outdoor cats kill more than 1.4 billion birds annually.  To protect wildlife—and your cats—please keep them indoors.
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*Keith Barnaby owns www.youreldercare.com and helps seniors and their families save money, time, and pain with a flexible, customized elder life plan.

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Angela Bassett Hound

by Cherie Damron (co-founder of Untold Animal Stories)

718848917_c1ad164ee0A few years ago I moved back to the small town in rural NC where I grew up.  I started volunteering at the local animal shelter, photographing adoptable dogs and cats for the shelter’s Petfinder.com site and the “Pet of the Week” feature in the local paper.  I’ve always had a soft spot for seniors and animals with special needs, shy pets, and animals needing assistance.  I started a small rescue service, taking as many of the dogs as I could that weren’t likely to be put up for adoption, finding foster homes for them or working with other rescues outside of the area (usually in the northeast).

One day in May 2007, Animal Control was called to come and pick up Angela, a 6-year old female basset hound, and take her to be put down.  Her back legs had become paralyzed and she was unable to walk or urinate on her own.  Had Angela gone to the shelter, she would have been immediately euthanized (there is no “hold period” for owner surrenders of high-needs/unadoptable pets).

The Animal Control officer knew I loved hounds and called me as she was leaving Angela’s house to see if I were willing to take her.  I met the truck before it arrived at the shelter and took Angela directly to our veterinarian.  He explained the surgery that was needed, which had to be done at a specialty hospital, and left it up to me and my partner, John, to make our decision.  There was no decision to make for me, and when John looked into those big, sad basset eyes as Angela sat crumpled in the corner of the exam room, he knew we were about to embark on a very expensive, difficult mission.

Off we went to the Veterinary Specialty Hospital in Cary, NC.  Doc called ahead to schedule surgery to correct the two ruptured disk in her spine.  The surgery had to take place within 24 hours of injury or the likelihood of her walking again would be slim.  Angela was taken in to surgery that night.

Angela came through the surgery very well, although bloodwork revealed that she is Heartworm Positive and has antibodies for both Erlichiosis and Rocky Mtn. Spotted Fever, 2 tick-borne diseases.  I brought her home from the hospital two days later.  Angela was still unable to walk or urinate on her own at that time; however, she had no problem wagging her tail!

By Day 4 Angela was going to the bathroom on her own and there was very slight movement in each of her back legs. By Day 9 she was still unable to support her weight or walk without a sling, but there was a great deal of movement in her legs and she “pedalled” in the air as if she were walking.567079651_8e08b6735f

Exactly three weeks after surgery, Angela took a few steps on her own without the assistance of the sling.  Five days later, she was walking completely unassisted by a sling, and although slightly wobbly, she was able to stand still and support herself without swaying from side to side.

A week later Angela had a setback—she became depressed, lethargic, and stopped eating entirely.  She had a temperature of 105.5, and a full-blown case of Erlichiosis.  Four days of hospitalization, IV fluids, and antibiotics later, she was on the mend but fragile.

567089635_de0fba56ecShe came through that, completed her Heartworm treatment, and just prior to her spay surgery, Angela’s teats started growing and she began “nesting” type behavior. There was no possibility of pregnancy, as she hadn’t been in contact with any except my pets, and mine were all neutered.  Our vet suspected a “pseudo-pregnancy,” which I had never even heard of.  We went ahead with the spay surgery and the pseudo-pregnancy was confirmed.

Finally the medical procedures were done and Angela could start being a dog.  Throughout her recovery her personality blossomed.  Angela Bassett Hound has become a fun, happy lady with a huge voice and a very, very big heart.  She loves everyone she meets.  Now, 6 1/2 years after her surgery, at almost 13 years old, Angela has moved across country twice, attended Basset Tea Parties” with founders, and although she is slowing down a bit, she now loves to run and play on the beaches of Cape Cod.  I am so very grateful that I’ve had the chance to have this wonderful being in my life.2011 11 26_0270

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25 Ways to Help Animals & the Humane Society International

From helping animals affected by disasters, providing care for starving street dogs in India and elsewhere, making strides for animals in laboratories, factory farms, puppy mills, and so much more, Humane Society International (HSI) is working to protect animals around the world.  Please visit their site and consider a small holiday donation in honor of someone you love.   Thank you.  http://bit.ly/1g9QZhL

child with dog ID-10023413

25 Actions to Help Animals and HSI

There are many ways to show that you care.  Get involved, make a difference.  Here are 25 ideas for ways you can help animals locally and around the world.

With so many widespread problems facing animals, it takes all of our collective efforts to confront cruelty and change things for the better.

Get involved in your community

  • Write letters to the editor on animal protection issues and encourage radio and television talk shows to cover these topics (hsi.org is a great resource for information).
  • Approach your place of worship about engaging in animal protection issues. See what the HSUS Faith Outreach team has been doing for ideas.
  • Help feral cats in your neighborhood with the HSUS’s Trap-Neuter-Return (TNR) resources.
  • Ask your local restaurants and grocery stores to switch to cage-free eggs, and to protect seals by boycotting Canadian seafood.
  • Take a stand against puppy mills and encourage local stores that sell live animals to stop. Ask pet stores to work with animal welfare organizations to promote animals available for adoption.
  • Promote Meatless Mondays in your school, workplace cafeteria, or in your favorite restaurant. It’s a campaign that’s good for animals, the environment, and our health.

Help animals in your everyday life

  • Be a responsible pet owner. Have your pet spayed or neutered to prevent unwanted births. Put a collar and visible identification on your dogs and cats and encourage others to do the same. And keep your cats safe indoors.
  • Avoid supporting cruelty as “entertainment.” Do not attend bullfights, bull fiestas, or marine mammal shows.
  • Add an HSI video to your website, blog, or social networking page.
  • Educate yourself by signing up for email action alerts and news from HSI. Share emails with friends.
  • Adopt a friend for life from a local animal shelter or foster an animal waiting for a permanent home. Search World Animal Net’s directory and choose “Pet Adoption” or “Foster Homes” under “Select Focus or Activity.” If you live in the U.S., search The Shelter Pet Project.
  • “Like” HSI on Facebook and follow us on Twitter.
  • Eat with conscience. Practice the 3 Rs of eating. Reduce your consumption of meat and other animal-based foods, refine your diet by avoiding animal products derived from factory farming, and replace meat and other animal-based foods with vegetarian options.
  • Pledge to be cruelty-free and only purchase cosmetics that are certified [PDF] to be non-animal-tested.
  • Support compassion in fashion by consulting the Fur-Free Retailer program’s list of fur-free retailers, designers, and brands and The HSUS’s guide [PDF] to telling real fur from fake.
  • Prepare a disaster kit for you and your animals.
  • Make compassionate purchasing decisions while traveling and at home with the help of our Don’t Buy Wild guide.
  • Ask restaurants that serve shark fin soup to stop by providing restaurant managers with our Consumer Cards.
  • Make a personal annual gift to HSI or sign up for an automatic monthly pledge using your credit card.
  • Share this list with family members and friends so they can learn how their actions can help animals, too.

Participate in trainings and events

Volunteer for animals

  • Offer your time and skills to your local animal welfare/protection organization. A useful resource is the World Animal Net directory. Do make sure you are comfortable with the positions and actions of any group you volunteer for. You can also volunteer ”virtually” for groups anywhere in the world!!
  • Some ways you may be able to help animal protection organizations: fundraise, manage their website or social media presence, design and produce flyers and/or advertisements, set up a community education booth [PDF], or take photographs of animals available for adoption.

Reach out to youth and schools

  • Teach children and teens to respect animals with humane education activities and lesson plans. Lead Mission: Humane projects for students and animal clubs who want to help animals.
  • Provide classrooms and youth clubs with our How to Avoid Dog Bites booklet [PDF]
  • Give talks at local schools about factory farming and how students can help animals at every meal by avoiding factory farmed products, and by choosing cage-free eggs and plant-based foods. Encourage them to ask their cafeterias to go cage-free and to adopt Meatless Monday.

Information from http://www.hsi.org and letter from Rebecca Aldworth, Executive Director of HSI Canada on My Life’s Work – Helping Animals

Photograph of Child with Dog courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net and photographer Ashley Cox

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Bring Comfort to a Cold Dog … &… Bring a Soldier’s Rescued Dog Home from War … Two gift ideas

Two gift ideas for people in your life who love animals and want to make an impact.

Bring Comfort to a Cold Dog

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Dogs left outside without protection suffer terribly during the winter.

You can change the life of a chained dog who doesn’t have shelter from winter weather. Become an “Angel for Animals” sponsor, or contribute whatever amount you wish, and a sturdy doghouse will be delivered by People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals to a “backyard dog” to help her/her survive frigid weather.

Each sturdy doghouse has an entrance covered by a flap to keep the interior dry.   For many of these lonely animals this will be the first real shelter that they’d ever had.   http://bit.ly/17Xxsfp

Bring a Soldier’s Rescued Dog Home from Iraq or Afghanistan

“My best friend, Iram, is alive and here at my side because of you.  SPCA International sent their Operation Baghdad Pups (OBP) rescue team to Iraq to save the puppy my soldiers rescued one day from a burning, abandoned car.  Iram was my comfort, my strength, my joy during my third long and lonely 15 month deployment in Iraq.  He saved me – and SPCA International made it possible for me to save him.”
Sergeant Major David Dantzler, USA Ret

Operation Baghdad Pups

“U.S. troops in Iraq and Afghanistan befriend local animals as a way to help cope with the emotional hardships they endure every day while deployed in a war zone.  The Operation Baghdad Pups program provides veterinary care and coordinates complicated logistics and transportation requirements in order to reunite these beloved pets with their service men and women back in the U.S. These important animals not only help our heroes in the war zone, but they also help them readjust to life back home after combat.”

Please consider a gift/donation to SPCA International – Operation Baghdad Pups    http://bit.ly/17XIWPZ


Photos and illustrations from PETA and SPCA International

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The Season Began Today

Autumn sunrise in forest ID-100110584I heard the roar of fast engines across the broad valley at dawn, then the voices, jocular and male, then the crunch of their boots on the frozen ground.  I flipped up my white tail to warn my brothers, and leapt into the woods.  The others followed me, away.

We stopped in an open field where a few sweet grasses poked Running Deer at dusk ID-100193272through the dried autumn stubble.  As light rimmed the horizon, I picked up human scent, nearby.  I lifted my head and twitched my nose to get a better sense of the direction from which it came:  to the left, up, and very close.  The hunter must Uplifted Deer Face ID-100182044have been there all along.  I had heard no approaching footsteps.  My brothers, noses down into the grasses, seemed oblivious.  I flipped my tail, but they did not see, and so I snorted.  They looked up, and in the same moment leapt away with me.  We heard the high, whistling sound of bullets through the air, and just in time we disappeared into the woods.

I peered from behind a cluster of trees and saw him: a large man dressed in mottled brown and green, sitting on a chair high up in a tree.  He lowered his gun to his knee, took a swig from a silvery flask, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  He lifted his gun again, squinted through the view finder, and moved the gun methodically from left to right, right to left.  Not seeing us, he lowered the gun.  As he took another swig from his flask, he spotted a groundhog cautiously exiting his home.  The groundhog squinted in the light and took a few cautious steps into the open.  The hunter pointed the gun.  I snorted a warning.  The groundhog jerked his head up, squealed, and dashed down the hole.  Bullets scattered dirt and grasses up into a plume of dust that sifted down through the light.

Hunting season began today: men who are not hungry killing creatures for pleasure.female deer ID-100185730  I do not understand.

• Lord of the forest by Evgeni Dinev, wild female deer by Criminalatt; running male deer by Arstsamui, courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

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I Have This Dream…

All animals illustration ID-10040124For most of my life I’ve had a pact with myself:  if I see an animal in distress, I will do whatever is within my realm of possibility to help.  It’s how I can live with myself.  Sometimes what I’m able to do seems woefully inadequate.  Sometimes I have to remind myself that even a small victory—restoring just one animal’s life from bare, sketchy survival to plentiful food, water, and shelter (and if it’s fortunate, love) has to be enough.

Sometimes at night I look out the window to the blue moonlight and think of all the creatures with whom I share this night, this land.  It isn’t my job to take on everything, but I can make peace with myself by redefining what it is I can do, and by doing those things.

I can’t save every animal, but I have this dream:  Many, many people choosing to take it upon themselves not to look away from an animal in need and being willing to inconvenience themselves for a few minutes to do what can be done.  So much could be accomplished.

Three days ago I saw a black adolescent cat at the edge of our property.  He watched me and angled his head in interest.  When I took a tentative step toward him, he ran off.  Daily I place bowls of food and a fresh water where I last saw him.  Soon I will set the humane trap, and one of these days, I’ll trap him and take the long drive to the SPCA.  It’s not convenient, but I’ll do it because, for me, I have no other choice.

And when the winter wind blows icy and the snow drifts, I will not have to think of him out there, hungry and cold.  I will not have done much, but I will have helped that one small creature.  For now, it will have to be enough.
Carolyn

“Saving just one animal won’t change the world…but surely the world will change for that one animal.”  Author unknown

Illustration by Vlado courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

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Frankie Valli & Phoenix – Part II

DSCN1401The sun set, and with it came a sinking feeling.  I looked around at the field where I had spent the day grazing.  I looked at Frankie, who had kept close to me throughout the day.  I looked at the evening sky and felt a longing I had never before felt.  I looked toward the road I had traveled earlier that day, and I walked toward it.  By the time I reached the fence, I had the momentum and force to press through it effortlessly, toppling the wooden post.

Frankie watched in disbelief, his head swiveling from me to the fence and back again.  He took a tentative step beyond the fence line, thought better of it, and turned back into his pasture.  As I rounded the bend in the road, I looked back at him one last time, his face a portrait of disappointment.

I retraced my steps from earlier that day, taking my time.  A car came up behind me, slowed, and followed me from a respectful distance.  At the bottom of the long hill, I turned right and then left toward my home.  I stood in the yard and peered in the kitchen window waiting for someone to notice me.  The people who had followed me knocked on the door and my family emerged, talking all at once and laughing.  I was home.DSC_0669

A few days later, we repeated the journey up the road to Frankie Valli’s pasture.  My people told me that I had to stay this time, that I would come to appreciate Frankie, that they would visit me.  Being philosophical and ruminative by nature, I decided to take this in stride.  I settled into life with Frankie.

When the chilly autumn wind swirled the leaves into the sky, the calf that had been growing inside me since the winter began to stir.  In early November, my baby boy was born.  Life is good.

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Frankie Valli & Phoenix – Part 1

DSC_0679He’s a steer who was named for his breed (Jersey), and his gender (boy).  They dubbed this Jersey boy Frankie Valli.  Because his people find it odd to holler “Frankie Valli” across the pasture, and because he trots over to half that name, he’s just “Frankie.”

I’d heard my people talk about him, this young, comical, undignified steer.  The creed of cows is this: We turn slowly toward points of interest.  There’s gravity in our movements.  We study things ruminatively.  Frankie does none of these things.

I’d heard people talk of their plan:  I was to be moved to Frankie’s place.  I thought: nope.  People are peculiar.  They’re so industrious, always in motion and transporting things here and there, driving from place to place and back again, and talking, talking, talking.  We cows stand in the pasture and eat and observe.  Who is the wiser species?

The day came when they slipped a halter over my head, and a parade of people walked me away from my home to Frankie’s.  Walking at the center of the procession of children and adults, I enjoyed the view, gazed at the hills and the yellow and purple flowers dotting the meadow, and listened to the clip-clopping of my hooves and the people’s softer tread.

At the pasture, they set me free.  Frankie lifted his head at my arrival, pulled his neck back in disbelief, then gamboled over to the fence that separated us.  He kicked up his hind legs and danced.  I was not impressed, so he tried harder.  To settle him down, I strolled over and touched my nose to his.  This calmed him, and we walked along our respective sides of the fence together.

When the gate opened I went into Frankie’s pasture.  He playfully put his head down and pushed against mine.  Not a good idea.  I pressed him into walking backwards.  Once I’d made my point, Frankie behaved, and we passed the rest of the day grazing on sweet grasses.DSC_0663

When the dimming of the day came, I began to miss my family and the comforting scent of my barn and kin.

…to be continued

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The Starry Night Was My Blanket

My path here was roundabout, here being a place with space to roam and explore within a context of belonging.  Here I’ve come to know something I’d not known before: trust.  Sometimes it feels foreign, and I retreat back to my native high alertness.

I had lived on a ranch where I had a job to do: tending the livestock.  I took my job seriously and performed it with singular focus, but the time came when the cattle were moved and the people left.  I ran after their truck, sure there had been some mistake, until I could run no longer.  I returned to the empty place; knowing no other place else since puppyhood, I stayed.

There was a trickle of water at the edge of the property from which I drank.  I passed my days foraging for food.  The starry night was my blanket, the warm sun my companion, the rain my welcome, thirst-quenching friend.  And so I passed my time.

One day I saw a car coming from a distance, a cloud of dust trailing behind it.  People I didn’t know emerged from the car.  It was the woman who saw me first, pointing me out to the others then calling to me.  I approached her cautiously.

She stooped down, holding her hand out to me.  I looked into her eyes then walked to her.  She touched my forehead, my ears, my neck and spoke to me quietly.  I didn’t understand her words, but I understood her.  She placed her hand on my spiny back, each finger resting in an indent between my ribs.

They took me to their house.  I hung behind as we walked in, as I’d never before been inside a house.  A cat at the far side of the room arched his back and widened his eyes.  I looked toward the woman for reassurance, who nodded.  I moved slowly toward the cat, my head hung low to show respect.  I reached my neck forward and touched his nose with my nose.  The cat sat down and began bathing his paw.  I went back and stood beside the woman, glancing up to her to make sure I’d done the right thing.  She placed her hand gently on my head.  I closed my eyes.

These days, there is a cedar-smelling bed near the woodstove and bowls of fresh food and water for me, always.  Sometimes I walk to the far edge of the property and sit on the bluff.  From there I gaze out toward the place I used to live and back toward the place I now call home.  I almost always lay my head on my paws and, under the big sky, doze.  Later, I rise, shake myself off, and follow the familiar path home.  There, I am greeted with love, always.

•photo by untoldanimalstories.org co-founder Cherie Damron, http://cdamron.exposuremanager.com/

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Part IV … in the middle of winter

Gracie in windowFor part I:   https://untoldanimalstories.org/2013/09/13/i-was-born-in-the-middle-of-winter/
Part II: https://untoldanimalstories.org/2013/09/20/part-ii-i-was-born-on-an-amish-farm-in-the-middle-of-winter/
Part III: https://untoldanimalstories.org/2013/09/27/part-iii-i-was-born-on-an-amish-farm-in-the-middle-of-winter/

I was not born on an Amish farm in the middle of winter, but I live with the one who was.  I was born in the middle of summer in Peachbottom, PA, near a chain link fence.  By the time I was six months old I’d had a litter of kittens.  At eight months, someone tossed me from a car window by my forearm.  I walked with a limp like Quasimodo for a long time.  I landed in a soft place eventually, but that’s another story for another time.

This part of my story is about Mr. Bean, who blasted into my life after we lost our dog, Beez.  Beez and I were best of friends, and now he’s gone.  Beezel & Gracie 2009My people adopted this wiry, wild-eyed kitten who lacks manners.  Though our pasts have similarities—each of us was neglected and suffered from hunger—I’m more philosophic than Bean is.  I see things as they are, and I soften into them.  Despite Mr. Bean’s behavior toward me, I conduct myself exactly as I chose to be.  I never bite.  I am kind, always.  I live peacefully.  It’s my hope that by walking my path, I will teach this young one.  In the meantime, I’m chased, pounced upon, and chewed on.  If I could sigh, I would.  But things are exactly as they are, and I move through my world in relative serenity, sometimes better than others.

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