Busy busy busy

Oh Kato and I are so busy! Every day! We go to the park every day after work. That usually involves lots of playing with his dog BFFs and some walking, and if I am feeling up to it a little hiking. Kato is always up for it, especially if it means we get to go to the creek. He is a little land shark that is for sure.

On the weekends we go to my grandmother's place in Garland. She has a yard that is full of wildlife and smells! Squirrels abounds! Plus there is always FatCat who is good for a howl. Yesterday we went over to my grandmother's and my parents were there with my mom's little dog. Her and Kato usually get along unless Kato is overzealous with his playing. She bit him yesterday pretty darn well. He acted like it was the. end. of. the. world. Turns out she just pinched him -really- hard and took out a nice chunk of fur. That is not to say that Kato didn't milk it for all it was worth. Oh, he did. When it was time to go he wouldn't leave my mom's side because she was loving him so much.

He has a few more nicknames now: Kato-potato, Sir Kato, and Knight in Furry Armor. Those are in addition to the million other nicknames he has.

I saw some Rottie-Shepherd pups at the pet store on Saturday. They looked like baby Katos. The only difference was that they had shaggier fur. Some had little curl tails and some only had half moon curls. Needless to mention, I squealed over them profusely. They were adorable, what else could I do?

There is a little fur slug warming my spot until I get to the couch to watch Big Trouble in Little China. I better go shoo him away!

My dog is nuts,

Even though he doesn’t have any. I’m sorry, that joke was crude. It had to be made though.

Kato got fixed on Tuesday. The vet said he was a model patient. I am sure he was just milking it for all he could. The vet’s office is staffed with several woman, and as we know… Kato is a ladies dog. He was pretty goofy that night. He slept some, and whined a lot. The cats were very upset that he was so vocal. But after Tuesday night, he has been overall a lot less vocal. He isn’t a barker, but he is a whiner. Or at least he was a whiner.

The vet said that he should take it easy (this is where the title comes in), but I have since realized that Kato does not know/understand what this means. Tuesday night he wanted to play with the cats. That never ends well, but when you have a cone on your head and smell of the vet it is even worse. (Angel has been known to retaliate against animals that come back smelling like the evil vet) Kato’s first target was Angel. She was enjoying a nice nap on the sofa that he very rudely interrupted by jumping on her (couldn’t see around his cone) and then whining after she popped him one. He then decided to lay down under the coffee table, but he couldn’t fit with the cone. So maybe next to the couch would be a better option. But Sandy was lurking on the arm of the couch and did a kamikaze style airborne attack. After this Kato had enough.

He went barreling through the apartment. Whining, running into everything, he was a dog unhinged. First he gets castrated, then he can’t find a place to lay down, he didn’t get to eat much, plus he has to take a pill for a few days, the world was just asking too much of Kato and he couldn’t take it anymore. So I went and opened up my bedroom door. I keep it closed during the day to prevent the cats from urinating on my bed (they are mean like that). Kato ran in and just flopped down on my bed. He was fine the next morning. And of course by fine I mean nuts.

Dogconomics

With all the hub bub about the economy (or the ecomony) I was pondering about my crazy dog. A phrase that is near and dear to my heart is “Dogs don’t understand hamburger tomorrow.” It came up in high school about the differences between humans and animals. One of the differences was our concept of time. While I don’t doubt that Kato doesn’t understand the concept of tomorrow, I do think that he understand the concept of later in a general sense.

My dog is a saver. He saves his bones/treats. If I give him one and he doesn’t want it right now, he’ll bury it for “later.” He isn’t a hoarder, if he feels like a treat he will pull from is stash and have a bone. The reason for the title of this post is thus: People should follow the idea of my crazy dog. Save your money. Get some when you need it. Now I wouldn’t ask Kato for stock market tips. His portfolio would be heavy in kid futures, and squeaky toys. But as far as savings and loan information… Kato is spot on. He even has his own insurance plan. The cats were heading over to his secret hiding place. Kato jumped at them and gave a little bark. The cats didn’t look over there again. So hire a dog to watch your money, they will keep it safe from cats.

My friend got us a flashy collar (that’s for Kato) and a flashy clip-on (for me) for my birthday. That way when Kato and I are walking early in the morning people will more easily see us. Kato doesn’t really care. He is like that.

Kato ran around with some kids yesterday. It was fun times for all. He loves kids and running. I was happy because the kids were having a grand time, lots of running giggling and squealing. Even the kids that shied away from him at first were running with him at the end. They all call him good dog, and give him treats and loving. He is so easy going and fun. The other dogs in the complex bark and chase the kids. Kato just wants to be part of their pack.

The Story of Angel

Angel’s story actually is one of particular interest. How did I end up with a cat so sweet and loving? Well, she didn’t start that way, and it took a while.

My sister got her cat, Ringo, as a present when she was in HS. And since I was a jealous child (with a few emotional problems) I had an issue with this. And since I couldn’t find an acceptable outlet for said issue (usually anger) I took it out on Ringo. I have since apologized to him, and he accepted. I teased and mildly abused that poor kitty. I never hurt him, but I didn’t make his kitty life easy. The one I remember most is that I cut a small chunk of fur. I was just giving him a trim. Actually I was sitting, and he was in my lap, there were scissors nearby… I went snip, and then went “What did I just do?!!?” I did that a lot. I would do things, then not understand who/what/why… So my parents took me to a therapist, I think because they didn’t want me to turn into a kitty torturer turned serial killer. The therapist said, “Why don’t you get her a cat? She is just jealous.” And a little light bulb went off over my parents’ head.

So Karen took me to the animal shelter in Garland, and I had a cute kitty all picked out. He was a lanky teenager cat, mostly white with a few calico spots and a stripy tail. But the shelter had stopped adopting for the day; we would have to return tomorrow. So we returned (I want to say I came back with my mom), and she suggested that I look around a little. So I spun around and behind me were three cages filled with snow-white fluff balls. There were seven total, all white with either blue or green eyes. Little Angel (her name was Tina at the time) was just a meowing away. Then my mind was changed, I had to take the darling fluff home.

For a very very very very very (very) long time Angel was prissy. She is/was/always will be a princess of the highest order. Dirty paws were never her thing. In her advanced age she has become a little bit more relaxed in her cleaning regimen, but she is still a princess. Angel didn’t really turn the prissy to not so prissy corner until after I came back from college the first semester. Then she became my little white shadow. She followed me everywhere. Then she decided that just guarding my room from intruders would be a good job. I would have to leave the door cracked a little and she would just loaf right inside. Now she fancies herself the top pet in the apartment. I say, “fancies herself”, but she is the top pet. If one of the other pets start acting up and disturbs her she is not afraid to lay the smack down. Kato was whining one day and woke her up. After that he got meowed at, and chased around the apartment. It was good times.

In conclusion, Angel is my angel. I don’t know what I would do without her. And I am not looking forward to when it is time to let her go.

The Story of Sandy

What a tale of peril and woe is the story of Sandy. Not really, but sometimes you have to play up the drama.

I didn’t really want or need a second kitty. But my family has a soft spot for the critters. Our family already had two cats and a dog at the time of Sandy’s arrival. Mom had said “No more!” But one-day dad came home and said that there was a message on the board at work about a momma cat that needed a home. A very nice family had rescued this kitty when she was pregnant. They had been able to adopt out all of the kittens, but were unable to find a home for her. Their home was already overrun with felines so keeping her was not an option.

Mom said “Sure!” for some unknown reason. I still don’t know why. We decided that the new addition wouldn’t be one person’s cat, but more of a family cat. We picked her name from a hat. I forgot what some of the other choices were, but my top pick was Kato (hah!).
It took her a while to become acquainted in the Brank household, but she worked it out. Her biggest problem was with the dog we were taking care of for my sister, the evil red dog, Sam. She isn’t actually evil; she is just really dumb. Sam didn’t know that no meant no, or that a swat meant, “Get out of my face!” Sandy quickly realized that my room was a safe haven from dogs. Angel had run a tight watch and dogs knew that they could not enter into the cat sanctuary. Which is how Sandy ended up being mine. Her and Angel got along well, and she slept with me.

Sandy however is what I call a “lap whore”. She will sit on any lap, at any time, in any situation. You can push her off, and she will come right back. She will occupy your lap for as long as she wants too. Very rarely does she voluntarily leave a lap. She used to spend lots of time on my dad’s lap. To tease her/bug my dad I would mess with her tail. Since Sandy also has anger transference issues (i.e. Biting me instead of the dog) she would bite my dad instead of me. It was great fun.

After two moves Sandy is still her disapproving self, always good for a cuddle and a purr. She is my little jerkface.

The Story of Kato

I just wanted to give a little story about how a girl, already with two cats in a not so big apartment, ended up with the awesomeness that is Kato.

I have been afraid of dogs for a long time. A miniature chow attacked me when I was about 6 or 7. (I still don’t like chows) Dogs were not on my list of animals I was friendly too. A choice few dogs I approved/tolerated, but most of them were on my hate list. That was until my dad got his dog, Dixie. Then my love affair with dogs started all over again. I have wanted an Australian shepherd for the longest of times, but I know they are clever and high energy. Having the particular breed in an apartment would have been terrible for everyone involved.

So I resigned myself to a smaller breed. When I went to the Irving shelter I was actually looking for a Chihuahua that they had posted on their site. Sadly/Happily he had been reclaimed by his owner. But of course, there were many other dogs that needed adopting, so I looked around the kennel. They had (and still have!) many pit bulls, German shepherds, labs, goldens, and other various large breeds. They had a few small fuzzies, and a very humorous pug mix. And then they had this sweetheart named Shelton. I can’t say if it was his sad whimper, or that he was trying so hard to get me to pet him that broke my little heart. He was leaning against his cage so hard trying the get me to scratch his neck. He wasn’t available for adoption for two days. But that was enough time for me to decide that I had to have him.

I had doubts of course, especially those first few days with him. I wasn’t sure if I could take care of him in my apartment. Would I give him enough entertainment to keep him from being bored? I knew I could do the basic stuff: food, shelter, water, lots of love and attention. But keeping him occupied while I am at work, keeping him from destroying everything out of boredom/anxiety, and keeping him from jumping out of my second story apartment window were a task. I think I have it about figured out now. He still isn’t too keen on his crate, but he knows now that I will come back. After I let him out of the crate we go for a walk, then he gets fed. Then depending on his mood we play together, he plays by himself, or he just naps.

There are still times when I wonder if he would be a better fit in a family with dogs and children. Then I remember that if I think he needs to play with another dog I know where I can find one, if he needs to play with a kid I know where I can find one. Everything he may need I can find or get for him. I see him sleeping at the foot of my bed sprawled out on his back with his legs in the air and I know we’ll work it out.