Pets - Past & Present
garden row 6

This first picture is of my dog, Buddy (1979-1992).
The Buds-a-Matic, as my Brother Billy called him, was
a mix of German Shepherd-Collie, and quite likely,
basset hound. Buddy was two feet high
and four feet long including his tail!

Buddy was about 10 or 11 years old in this photo.

When we lived in Valleyview, we had several pets. The first pet I remember having was a tabby kitten named Cotsy. That's how I envisioned the spelling, but Grandma Scoles had named her Katze, which was German for cat! It sounded like Cotsy to me! Then there was another Tabby named Tom followed by an all-black dog named Spooky. Then we got two litter-sister puppies who we named Lady & Lucky. Dad found someone to take Lucky, the more rambunctious of the pair, and we kept the more subdued, aptly-named, Lady. We had a Guinea Pig name Ginger that got on well with Lady. I wish I had some pictures of Lady. She was black with white on her chest, and had long hound-dog ears. She went to the farm with us, but was hit by a semi tractor-trailer on the very busy Harrisburg Pike, where we lived just south of Harrisburg OH. She died within minutes of our pulling her off the road.
Annie had various pet mice, and at the time we moved, she had a white one and a black one. They were named Salt & pepper.
Soon after that we had another Lady. She was already named when we got her. She was a beautiful Boxer, pedigreed, but her face was not 'boxery' enough for show.
I guess Mom & Dad felt that kids on a farm should have ponies. Of course, the were right. They bought four and a saddle. We all fed and cared for them. The largest of them, a mustang called Peggy was with foal when we acquired them.
Pictured above in 1965 are Danny, Cheyenne, Trigger and Peggy. Inset photo is of Peggy with her foal. I named the colt, Prince. Farm fowl in 1970.
We had some ducks and lots of chickens on our farm. We brought them with us to rural Jackson Township near grove City, OH when we moved. Their care and feeding had been mine on the farm, and so remained my duty when we moved. I fed them every day before I went to school for as long as we had them.
This is Sammy in 1968. He was a Dachshund-Beagle mix. You can see how short his legs are in this 1969 photo with Jenny.
Psychedelic Samson of Soul was the official name we sisters hung on him, but we always just called him Sam or Sammy.

A few years later Sammy suffered an attack by another dog. He recovered.



We had lots of cats as I was growing up, and when we moved from the farm, we took 11 cats with us. Some of them were cats we took to the farm when we moved from Valleyview.
This is cookie, curious about a grocery bag - 1970. The three cats being served by one of Beatrix Potter's mother cats, are Brownie, Sunny and Susie - 1973.
When I was living in the South End of Columbus in 1973, I found this tabby kitten a few blocks from home, and named her Tibby Tab.
Annette bought Gunther Joachim at -of all places- a flea market!
We called him Spitz, which is a German word like 'poochie.' This photo is from 1973.
When Annette and I moved into an apartment together in the mid 1970s, we took him with us. It didn't work out, and he had to move back home with Mom & Dad. Annie and I would come home from work, and drapes and window screens would be shredded or cardboard boxes torn to pieces. He had what we now know as separation anxiety. He had been so used to companionship all day, every day. Mom was almost always home, but even if she wasn't Sammy was there. Spitzy just could not bear being alone all day. He had another odd trait. He liked to chew rocks! Aside from all his neurosis, he was an intelligent dog. Part Cairn Terrier (circus dog!), he learned many tricks, not only in English but in both German an American Sign Language!

In the mid 1980s, I had a bunny named Charlie, but I don't think I have any pics of her. Someone dropped her in the alley behind my house. I saw him leave her on a snowy October morning. That was the only time she EVER let me walk up to her and just pick her up! Any other time, I had to first join her in a game of tag! She lived in a little wooden house under the pear tree at my folks' house until she died of old age. This bunny looks very much like Charlie, but it's a 1973 picture of Snowball, a rabbit that my younger siblings had after I moved away from home. Snowball was leash-trained and accustomed to being on a chain -like a dog- in the back yard. She was found dead on an Easter morning -of all days- having climbed onto the woodpile and apparently in an attempt to jump over that picket fence, hung herself.
Pippi was originally Annette’s cat. Pippi and her sister, Bullseye were tabby cats with swirled stripes on their sides, like bullseyes. Pippi was a grey tabby and Bullseye’s stripes were black. Sometime after my Bullseye disappeared, we met neighbors who had acquired her! Since Annie was gone a lot, Pippi became mine. This photo was taken in 1976. She moved with me a few times, and was still with me when I moved to my house in 1983.


My most exotic, cheapest and EASIEST TO CARE FOR pet was a red-kneed tarantula. She was about ten years old when I got her from my boss's son, and I had her for about six years. Once a month, a dollar's worth (1 dozen) blind crickets dumped into her cage was the feed, and every 4 to 7 days cleaning and refilling her water dish. Her name was Beowulf. She died in Dec. 1998.


This is Nipper (1985-1997). She was just a year old here. Don't you just love her beauty mark? She mothered two litters within her first two and a half years, before being spayed. Nipper was very affectionate, and would run to greet passersby on the sidewalk. People knew Nipper, who didn't know me!


Noogie a.k.a. "Mr. Moustache" was one of Nipper's kittens. He did not like to be held, but loved to be petted and patted. Because of this, I also called him "Puppy Cat." Noogie died of complications when uremic poisoning was found too late. (1988-1995)


We found Dusty as a kitten at the back of our neighbor's lot, where she had cried out for recognition all day! I had thought it was a blue-jay just making noise! Monica went to investigate, and brought home this beautiful black-smoke fluff ball! She was very affectionate, and loved to play in water. According to my neighbors, she was found, allegedly drowned in their swimming pool. She had been missing only one day.(1993-1998) Dusty was truly a unique cat. Without ever having been taught, she would perch on the edge of the toilet or a bucket to pee!




This is a 1999 picture of Lacey Licorice. Ain't she cute? I named her for that patch of 'white lace' on her black licorice chest! LACEY LICORICE - 1995 to 2010

Lacey's story is one of survival. She was brought to me as a kitten, thought to be so young, her eyes were yet unopened. As it turned out, she was older than she seemed, and her eyes were matted shut. My sister Jenny called me one day to ask if I knew how to hand-rear a kitten. Not wanting the kitten to have to be raised that way unnecessarily, I informed Jenny that my cat Dusty was a nursing mother. I told her to bring me the kitten, and we would see if Dusty would accept and nurse her. Dusty didn't bat an eye, as it were. It didn't seem like she ever realized I had slipped one in on her! But Dusty's hungry brood was another story! They each had their own favored tit, and poor little Lacey's head was scratched raw by them as they sought to keep her from invading their territory! Once I got Lacey's eyes to the point of no longer seeping, I came to the realization that, though she was smaller than Dusty's kittens, she was quite likely older. I started giving her canned cat food, which she devoured. Dusty's babies were still weeks away from this stage. Lacey continued to nurse. I'm sure that that was the most positive part of her healing. Mother's milk was not only nourishment, but strengthening medicine. The cooperative effort between Dusty and me, allowed Lacey to grow into a robust sleek and shiny young cat. I gave away all Dusty's kittens, and kept Lacey. The following summer, when Lacey was about a year old, I noticed she seemed very lethargic. She had not even energy to eat or drink. The "Vet" said she was very anemic. Her tongue was white! As she was still very small, it apparently had not taken the season's infestation of fleas very long to literally suck the life from her. Her blood was almost gone! I prayed. I sought the intercession of St. Francis of Asissi, whom we know as the patron saint of animals. I refused to beleive that the Lord had allowed me to see His tiny creature nursed to health when she was first brought to me, only to have her die a year later. I knew God would not allow that to happen. So, I left her overnight in the animal hospital, where she was given a transfusion. It was amazing how quickly she seemed to come back to life! You see what I mean about being a true survivor? Today (summer 1999) she is a beautiful cat. She loves to be outdoors. Except to lie in the coolness under the neighbor's porch on hot days, she does not leave the yard. With the exception of a bit of tummy flab, she is a solid-muscled feline. Her personality is much like that of my dear departed Noogie. Lacey loves to be patted, petted, mauled, poked, stroked or anything else in the way of showing affection -- except being held. As with Noogie, I call my Lacey Puppy Cat.

Update on Lacey… In August 2006, my husband, Mark & I went on a weekend trip to the Ohio River. When we got back home, a distant sounding cat cry drew us to the bathroom linen closet. I opened the latched door. Out bolted Lacey! She was covered in gooey bubble bath & shower gel! One eye was “pasted” shut. She had punctured tubes of bath scrubs and somehow even got one of the lids unscrewed! The strong odor of mothballs was prevalent. The cello bag was out of the box and shredded! I tried to wipe the stuff from her coat, but it only lathered up! She ran from me four times to hide in the most remote corner of the basement! One last time I retrieved her. I wrapped her front paws and head in a bath towel. Mark gave her a thorough spraying with the garden hose. She did not resist. I’m sure she knew it was for the best. I joked that she had given herself a flea treatment, which is exactly what it amounted to! She got her eye cleared up by the next day, and in two days, her front legs & head were clean and dry. The Puppy Cat is surely short one more of her lives! It was one whole week before she went upstairs again! When she did go into the bathroom, she gave that linen closet door a full minute stare! By summer of 2008, she does not seem to recall the traumatic bathroom closet incident!

Update on Lacey… 2009 – Lacey is 14 this year. I celebrate it on May 7th. She is still a lively, fun loving cat. For a few years, I have called her “the world’s oldest kitten!” She likes to lay down in the lid of an Avon box, and have one of us spin it around until she is dizzy! And not just once! She wants to be spun over and over, until she wears us out! I have to remind myself that she is the original cat-bowling cat! When she was just a kitten, she and Dusty used to climb into plastic grocery bags. Mose, Lu or I would twirl the bag until the handles were twisted up tight, and we’d fling ‘em across the floor! We didn’t really bowl and try to knock anything down. We just flung ‘em! They loved it, and would not get out of the bag, until they wore us out, and they could see we were not going to play anymore! I also have taken to calling her Granny Cat because of her age, and Gravy Cat because she likes the gravy off the canned dog food. !

January 3, 2011 was a sad day for me. At the age of 15 years and 7 months, my beloved Lacey has died. Four days ago, on Thursday Dec. 30th, our 6 1/2 month old dog mauled her. It happened once before, but I was able to get the dog off with no apparent damage to Lacey. This time she was not so lucky. Lacey was no longer able to use her back legs. I had called the Vet on Thursday, but they are not in on Thursdays. It was going to cost $150 to to just walk her in the door at OSU Vet Hospital, and because of the Holiday weekend, even though my paycheck was in the bank, it was unavailable until posting on Monday! Lacey was eating and drinking right up to this morning. I was so proud of her, because five times over these last four days, I carried her to the litter box, held her over it, and she peed into it! The last time I took her, she did not pee much and I think she was working on an unsuccessful bowel movement. I worried about bowel obstruction, uremic poisoning or kidney failure. Until I got home from work around 2AM the morning of Jan. 4th, she seemed to be doing okay, but this morning, I could see decline. She might have fared better with intravenious feeding. Around 11:00 this morning, I held her in my arms and talked to her and sang my little 'Spacey Lacey' song to her. Sometime later after I put her back into the cage, she began calling out to me. I answered her back and I tried to make her comfortable. I watched her die at 1:20PM. It took four minutes. For nearly 16 years, she had given me so many wonderful memories, and she lived a grand, happy life.

Spacey Lacey

Lacey Licorice got a second chance
To live again and learn the Cat Dance
New siblings, new blood and even a new mom!
But it's her secret if she ever got a Tom!


This is my wicked little Peachy Keen! She was named for the "peachy" color in her pastel calico coat.
Wickedness Personified

Peachy Keen is keen on rockin'!
She rocks that chair without stoppin'!
She hides in boxes and then jumps out
To give the dog a walloping clout!
Peachy Keen is Wickedness Personified
or should I say Feline-ified?

Spotz got spots


Spotz gots lots and lots of spots.
If you ask how many spots Spotz gots,
I will say she gots lots and lots!
Spotz was 12 years old in 2006, when her health failed her. We had her put to sleep in September that year. We waited almost 4 years to get another dog. Taffy was 6 weeks old the day we drove to Pike County, Ohio and brought her home. We loved her 'freckles' because they reminded us of Spotzy! I named her Taffy because "she's sweet and sticks to me." I don't say that about her anymore. If you read the above ending of Lacey's story, you know why. Taffy's getting better about her behavior, but it's taking time. She's a strong and beautiful Beagle mix, and it took a friend to wake me up to the fact that "It's a Beagle's instict to kill." As it turns out, she has food aggression issues from having to fight for food as a puppy. She is a bit crazy, so I call her Daffy Taffy. Here's my poem about her.

DAFFY TAFFY

She's my daffy little Taffy
and she does some silly stuff
She's my daffy little Taffy
and she thinks she's pretty tough.

She's my daffy little Taffy
chasin' her tail round & round
She chases 'til she's dizzy
and she falls to the ground.

She's my daffy little Taffy
She's my funny little pup
She's got rawhide chewy
that she won't give up.

She's my daffy little Taffy
She's my lazy little dog
She likes to lay around
like a bump on a log.

Taffy is four years old in this 2014 photo and, yep, she's lazing in the sun!



This is Bob.
.
He came to us New Years Day 2012. He's 3 years old in this 2014 photo. His name was really Marley, but the next-door neighbors have a dog named Harley - confusing to Bob. So now he's Bob Marley! He likes being called Bob. Here's his poem, built on the model of Taffy's poem.

Darlin' Marley

He's my darling little Marley
He's my funny little pup.
He wants that rawhide chewy
Taffy won't give up.

He's my darling little Marley
He's my lazy little dog
He likes to lay around
like a bump on a log.


I have never had a photo of TippyToes on my web site, and she is 12 years old in these 2014 photos. I got her in her 1st year as a kitten, from my niece Brigette, who was going to move and could not take her beloved kitty. Her heart-shaped face and tendencies toward loud vocalization point to an Oriental - possibly Siamese - mix. She would have been a prize-winning show cat with her white whiskers and 'brows.' Not that I ever intended to SHOW her, but any and all possibilities ended for my Beauty Queen several years ago. She came home one day with her tail bent, hanging down at a 90 degree angle! It was broken. So was my heart for my sweet kitty. I salved it, wrapped it and tried to help it mend, to no avail. Then one day, Mark hollered down from upstairs, "The cat's tail is in the bathtub!" "The cat" was sitting on the couch beside me! It took a few years to completely heal, but now she is just a short-tailed cat!
I still have Peachy Keen - Her 16th birthday is 7 September 2014. She's in excellent health, still a kitten at heart!