Thursday, February 25, 2010

This post is in loving memory of my Uncle Freidrich "Fritz" Föller who passed away today at a hospital in Germany following complications from surgery to untwist a portion of his intestinal tract. He was 90 years old and my only uncle. Ruhe gut mein Onkel. Ich liebe Sie.

Prayers to my cousin Gerhard, son of Uncle Fritz, who is hospitalized right now battling lung cancer from years of working with asbestos. Seien Sie stark. Fühlen Sie sich besser bald.

And to my best friend, Lisa, who is battling a blood infection and a blood clot near her heart. Stay strong! I am here for you....always.

February 22, 2010 - Gretchen

Wow, back to blogging. It hardly seems like I was gone! Anyway...onto Gretchen. So there we were with my three dogs, Wrigley, Harry and Dawson (this was pre-Charlie, Tucker and Barney) and my friend Jeanne called and asked if we could foster her aunt Connie's dog because health concerns had landed her in a nursing home. Jenni (my roommate) had been kicking around the idea of getting a small dog so we figured this would be a good trial run. So I drove over to Portage and was handed this chunky little weiner dog, a kennel and a food bowl. I was told by Jeanne's cousin that the dog's name was Gretchen and not much else. I knew right off the bat that Gretchen had some issues. She was timid and seemed afraid of her own shadow. But we took her home and she quickly adjusted to us and slowly adjusted to the cats. (She still doesn't like them, but she does tolerate them.) About 2 weeks after we began fostering Gretchen, I got a phone call from Jeanne. The conversation went something like this: "Hey! How are you? How is it going with Gretchen?" "Great thanks! How are you? Gretchen is great. We just love having her around." "Good! Because my aunt Connie died and Gretchen needs a home!" So from that point on, we have had the neurotic weiner dog.

At one point in her life, Gretchen was a trucking dog so she LIVES to travel. In fact, I took her to North Carolina with me to get Barney last August. I thought she would keep me company but she slept most of the way. I have many funny pictures of her in various positions in the front seat. Once she knows you, she is the most affectionate little dog on the planet. But one sudden movement and she runs away, screaming. Sadly, I think the person who had her as a puppy before Jeanne's aunt adopted her, was abusive. But, she is safe and loved now and will be for the rest of her life. Her favorite person is my brother Robbie who buys her hot dogs every time we go to Kwik Trip (a.k.a. the Hot Dog Store). She just worships Uncle Robbie and he enjoys babysitting her once in awhile to give her a break from the other dogs.

So that is my Gretchie...my neurotic weiner dog...my dachalina...one of the great loves of my life. Tomorrow I shall tell you about my favorite beagle, Charlie.

Have a blessed day and thanks for reading.

February 20, 2010 - The Fence and the Car

Ok, sorry, but I won't be blogging about Gretchen until Monday. I am hard at work on fence repairs and my stupid car broke down this morning. The fuel pump is shot. Sighhhhhhhhhh....
See you Monday cyber world.

Thursday, February 18, 2010 - Barney

The internet is a powerful and dangerous and wonderful thing. That's for sure! In my life it has been an avenue for people (my siblings) to hurt me. It has been "the information superhighway" when I needed to know things. It has also been the resource that brought me my sweet, beloved, beautiful dog Barney. As I told you yesterday, shortly after we acquired my niece's two dogs, Max and Tucker, we lost Max to angiosarcoma. Poor Tucker was lost without his brother and, after about 2 months, I began considering getting another dog as a playmate for Tucker. Yes, we had 5 other dogs, but Wrigley, Harry and Dawson hated Tucker and Charlie and Gretchen were really too little to play with him. One day I logged onto my Facebook page and there was a posting by an animal rescue group about a dog in North Carolina named Barney. It told the story of this little dog, a black lab mix of some kind, who had been tied to a tree for the entire 8 years of his life. One fateful day, the land adjacent to Barney's "home" was purchased and the new owner's granddaughter saw Barney. Instead of being like countless others who saw this little dog and walked away, she decided to take the bull by the horns and help him. She befriended the owner, who admitted to beating Barney with sticks, and was able to get him to safety. From there, she made sure he had veterinary care and she worked with a local rescue group to put him up for adoption. That's where I came in. Barney was not necessarily the "big" dog I was looking for to play with Tucker (Barn weighs about 40lbs) but he has the spunk and the fearlessness.



So we processed the adoption and I met Sarah, Barney's rescuer and foster mom. I am always amazed by animal rescue. In the last few years, I have met some of the most outstanding human beings ever put on Earth. Sarah is one of those people. She didn't HAVE to save Barney. She didn't HAVE to take him to the vet. She didn't HAVE to try to find him a better home. She could have just kept walking. But she didn't and she changed Barney's life forever.



So then we had the question of how to transport Barney from North Carolina to Wisconsin. We looked into horse people traveling to Kentucky with the plan that I would meet them in Louisville. It seemed like every time we got close, something would fall through. So finally, I just decided to rent a car and go get him. My good friend Lisa and I held a fundraising garage sale with the help of all my friends who donated items and, in one weekend, raised enough money for my trip. I left for North Carolina at about 6am on Thursday, August 20. Gretchen the dachshund and I made the 16 hour drive, ending at my niece Rachel's house in King, NC at about 1am Friday morning. (Gretchen was supposed to keep me company but slept the whole way!)

I was met by my niece's husband Brian who showed me to the spare bedroom. I think Gretchen and I were both asleep by 1:15! We woke promptly at 6:30 and grabbed a shower before saying a quick hello to my niece and my great-niece Madelyn. Then, it was off to get Barney. I met Sarah in Hickory, NC and instantly fell head over heels in love with little Barney. It still amazes me that this dog, who has been through such horrible circumstances, has a loving spirit and happy disposition. It took all of 1 day to house train Barney. He is extremely intelligent and eager to learn.

We arrived back in Wisconsin at 6am on Saturday morning after sleeping at a rest area for 3 hours along the way. I know it sounds like a grueling drive, but it was SO worth it. I came home with the coolest dog on the planet. Barney definitely has black lab in him (you can see it in his head) but he is perched on short stubby legs and only stands about as tall as a beagle. My vet thinks he is mixed with a Welsh Corgi, if you can imagine that.

It has been my honor and privilege to be Barney's mom and I thank God every day for bringing him, first to Sarah and then to me. Not everything has been easy. When Barney first arrived, he had no manners at all and has required a lot of training. But he learns very quickly. He has even learned to swim. Perhaps the most heartbreaking thing about Barney is that, when he first arrived 6 months ago and up until recently, he would not sleep on anything soft. He would not sleep on my bed. He would not sleep on a blanket. He would not sleep on a dog bed. No matter what I tried, he would climb off and go lay on the hard floor. It was as if he did not believe he was worthy of being treated kindly. I am happy to say though that he now sleeps on my bed. It took a lot of coaxing and a lot of reassurance, but now he jumps right up and curls up. It's awesome.

So that is my Barney...my Barn Man...my Barn Barn....my Barney Rubble...one of the great loves of my life. Stay tuned tomorrow and I will tell you all about Gretchen the neurotic weiner dog.

Have a blessed day and thanks for reading.

Tuesday, February 17, 2010 - Tucker

So today I want to tell you about Tucker. Keep in mind as I write this that I DID NOT want a LAB...lol. Tucker was my niece Jaime's dog. She had adopted him when he was just a puppy and raised him in a loving home. However, sometimes things change that you just have no control over. In January of 2009, Jaime filed for divorce from her husband. Custody questions were, of course, over their 2 boys, Colten and Cayden. However, there was also the question of where to go with her two big labs since staying in the house was not an option. It was, shall we say, not a good idea for Jaime's estranged husband to take the dogs. So, they came to live with me. Tucker is a yellow lab and his brother, Max, a black lab. We tried them out in my house and it quickly became apparent that my yellow lab and Alpha male, Dawson, would have no part of it. He HATED Tucker with a passion and wasted no time in causing a need for a few stitches. Now, in Dawson's defense, let me explain a little bit about Tucker. He is...well...ummmmm...a little dense. That is not to say he isn't an intelligent dog, he is just a very focused one. You see, Tucker's passion in life is his tennis ball. The only time I see him without one in his mouth is when he is eating. So when Dawson could not garner the respect he demanded from Tucker as the alpha, he got frustrated and attacked. Tucker, blood dripping from his ear, looked at me as if to say, "Well, I don't know what THAT was about, but where is my tennis ball??"



When it became apparent that I could not keep Tucker safe, I sent him and Max back to my niece. Again, circumstances beyond our control landed the dogs back with me. This time, we were better set-up to keep the dogs separated so it made things a lot safer and easier for Tucker.



On a side note, it was with tremendous sadness that we suddenly and unexpectedly lost Max on May 18, 2009 to an undetected angiosarcoma (cancerous blood vessel) that burst. He was an awesome dog and we feel his loss every day...our 100 pound lap dog.



Tucker has adjusted well and has been with us almost a year now. He LOVES to play and can catch a tennis ball like no dog you have ever seen. If his tennis ball gets knocked under the bed or couch, he will bark and bark and bark at it as if to somehow will it to the edge where he can reach it. Charlie, the beagle, loves to steal Tucker's ball and run off with it to be chased. Tucker, however, is so non-confrontational that he just barks to get my attention in the hopes that I will rescue his beloved tennis balls from the jaws of the thieving beagle.

In order to achieve some sort of peace at night and get a few hours of sleep, we have to "say ni ni to the tennis ball." It is our goodnight ceremony in which Tucker watches me toss his tennis ball outside for him to retrieve in the morning. Otherwise, I will spend the night being stared at, a huge yellow head with big brown eyes just inches from my face and a tennis ball in between us, resting precariously on my pillow. Tucker is sure I am going to move eventually and, when I do, I will be happy to toss his tennis ball for him. Who cares if it is 2am and -20 degrees? Let's go! Woot! Woot!

So that is my Tucker Dog, my Tucka Bubba, my Tuck Man and Jaime's Tucker Joe and one of the great loves of my life. Stay tuned tomorrow to meet my sweet Barney.

Have a blessed day and thanks for reading.

Saturday, February 13, 2010 - Harry

Hello everyone! I didn't think I would get to blog today but I am babysitting my nephew Joshua and he is napping so it is computer time for me!

So where was I? Oh, yes, my beautiful puppies who were complete buttheads this morning. Dawson was not listening to me AT ALL and managed to push open the front door of the house. In an instant, he and Wrigley were both running as fast as they could right down the middle of the highway! I FREAKED! Cars were stopping and honking. Luckily, my neighbor, Pete, was on the road and pulled over to get them into his truck. WHEW! Thanks again Pete!

The one angel puppy, who is almost three years old and weighs about 100 pounds is Harry. As you recall from previous posts, I set out to Chicago to adopt my two puppies, Wrigley and Dawson (AKA as of today, Bonnie and Clyde). When I arrived at the Animart where the adoption event was being held, I immediately began to look for my puppies. I was so excited I was on the verge of tears. Stupidly, I thought that, since the adoption was approved, they would cage my two puppies together. WRONG! I found Wrigley in a cage by herself on the far end of the room. I smiled as I read the "Adoption Pending" note on her cage. She was everything I had hoped for and had fallen in love with on my computer screen. I began to look for Dawson. There he was about 10 cages away, curled up and sleeping amidst the chaos, with a little black puppy about his size. I stopped in my tracks as my brain screamed, "What is going to happen to the black puppy? I can't just take his brother from him and leave him here!" As if my mother, who came along for the ride, had heard my thoughts, she stood behind me saying, "No! No! No! Two puppies is enough! Don't do it!" Well, needless to say, I listened to my inner voice and not the audible one behind me. I approached Kristi, the director of the shelter and inquired about this black puppy. She explained that there was not a pending adoption and that he would have to return to the shelter and be by himself because he was the only large breed dog not getting adopted. My heart broke instantly. I had only brought $400 with me and Wrigley and Dawson were $200 each. "Kristi," I said cautiously, "What is your cat population like?" Kristi, who was aware of my cat rescue in Wisconsin, said with exasperation, "We have about 30 cats that have been with us for over 2 years. We just don't have a market for cat adoptions in our area." With a sparkle forming in my eyes, I said, "Ok, what if I took the 30 cats and got them adopted out in Wisconsin? We have a better chance there, away from the big city." Kristi looked at me and smiled as she said, "And you want the black puppy?" "Yes! Please!" I said, grinning.

So, my quest to get 3 golden retrievers and NO LABS, landed me a springer spaniel, a yellow lab, a rotweiller mix and 30 cats. That's just how things go sometimes!

I had come prepared for Wrigley and Dawson, whom I had named after my Chicago Cubs. On the first part of the 2 1/2 hour drive home, mom and I tossed around any name I could think of relating to the Cubs. Jody after Jody Davis, a catcher for the Cubs in the 80's. Zonk after Keith Moreland, my second favorite Cub of all time. Sammy or Sosa after the obvious. Aramis after Aramis Ramirez, the current third baseman. Nothing seemed to quite fit this little black puppy. Then, as we were crossing the state line back into Wisconsin, the lightning bolt hit me...DUH! What self-respecting fan of the Chicago Cubs would not name her dog after Broadcasting Hall of Fame and beloved drunken Cubs broadcaster, Harry Caray? My sweet little puppy's name from that moment forward, was to be Harry.

Harry is very much a mama's boy and only strives to be with me or near me at all times. He is the kindest, gentlest spirit I have ever met in a dog. Sometimes, when he is in a funny mood and doesn't want to eat his dinner, I have to sit with him and his food bowl and sing, "Har-ry...Harry Baby...Har-ry....Harry Baby..." to get him to eat. It's the least I can do for the greatest dog on earth. But, please make no mistake, if I am threatened or if Harry can sense fear in me, he will be the first through the door to protect me. He is a rotweiller with the gentleness of a golden retriever, but he is a rotweiller nonetheless. Don't mess with his mama. :-)

Harry had the misfortune of tearing his right rear ACL (anterior cruciate ligament - the ligament in a dog's leg that allows it to bend but stops it from moving left to right at the "knee") in April of 2008 while running around the yard with his brother and sister. Surgery was performed by our outstanding veterinarian on April 21, 2008, which was Harry's first birthday. He came through with flying colors and within 6 months was walking and running perfectly with no signs of trouble. However, tragedy struck my Harry Dog again in July of 2009 when he tore his left rear ACL. Statistics show that 50% of dogs who tear one ACL will tear the other at some point in their lifetimes. So that one was repaired on July 17 and, again, within 6 months, Harry was walking and running like a champ. We can probably expect Harry to have some arthritis problems in his old age but at 3 years old, he has a lot of life in him before that. And he is on supplements and vitamins to help him avoid that.

So my "free" dog has single handedly cost more by way of vet bills than his siblings combined. But you know what? I don't regret it for a minute. I thank God every day that someone at Wrightway Rescue, although probably unintentionally, had the foresight to put this little black puppy in a cage with Dawson for the adoption event. Otherwise, I may not have ever looked at him. Maybe he would have found a good home, but, selfishly, I am thankful he found one with me. I am proud to be his mom.

So that is my Harry Dog, my Harry Caray, my Harry Man...my Freebie...one of the great loves of my life. Stay tuned tomorrow or Monday and I will tell you all about Tucker.

Have a blessed day and thanks for reading.

Thursday, February 11, 2010 - Dawson

So if you read my blog yesterday, you met my Wriggles. And in telling the story of Wrigley, I mentioned that I had set out to get 2 dogs. Well, I can tell you that in thinking about dogs, the LAST thing I wanted was a lab. We had labs when I was a kid and, in my mind, they were too high-strung and mischevious and I was worried about training. After I picked out Wrigley, I went searching the website for the same rescue to get a second dog. "No labs!" I told myself. Well, there on the homepage for Wrightway Rescue was the Puppy of the Week...a yellow lab named Roleigh. I tried to force myself to look away but the eyes on this puppy...those big brown beautiful eyes...grabbed ahold of my heart and would not let go. The story of Roleigh talked about how large his feet were and how he was going to someday be a big boy and that was why they were having trouble finding him a home. I have always loved big dogs. So, I put my anti-lab mentality aside and applied for Roleigh's adoption. (Wrigley's name at the shelter, on a side note, was Callifornia.) Anyway, when the adoption was approved, I named my new lab puppy, Dawson after Andre Dawson who was the 1987 NL MVP for the Chicago Cubs and was recently elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame.



I can honestly tell you that talking myself out of my anti-lab mentality was the best thing I have ever done. I am so in love with Dawson that I cannot imagine my life without him or with any other dog. As Forrest Gump would say, "We fit together like peas and carrots, me and Dawson." He reads my every mood and is always there to give me puppy kisses and snuggles or to make me laugh when I need it the most. He is the Alpha Male and doesn't like to share his food or toys with his siblings, but I can take his food right out of his mouth and he never so much as protests. There is a gentleness about Dawson like nothing I have ever seen. He is my friend and my protector and I know he would give his life for me, as I would for him.



In 2008, Dawson was diagnosed with OCD. No, that's not Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder although I suspect at times that he has a touch of ADHD. Anyway, it is Osteochondritis Dissecans which means that the cartilage in the tops of his femurs does not adhere properly to the bone and can break off. In Dawson's case, it happened in his right front leg and the broken cartilage slipped up under his shoulder blade and caused him great pain. In diagnosing Dawson, our veterinarian also discovered possible hip dysplasia in both hind hips as well as bone growth problems in the front legs. I was told of the possibilities and that we would get better xrays when he was under anesthesia for his surgery.



Surgery was performed in July of that year and Dawson came through with flying colors. In fact, our vet told me it would be a few weeks until Dawson used his leg. WRONG! Dawson walked (without limping) out of the clinic the next day and never looked back! AND, the follow-up xrays ruled out the hip dysplasia and growth problems. YAHOOOOO!! Dawson has never had a problem since.



So that is my Daws-man, my Big Daws, my Pupper-duppy, my Mr. Andre Dawson...my yellow fellow...one of the great loves of my life.

I may not be able to blog for a few days as things are getting very busy right now. But stay tuned to meet Harry, my rotweiller mix.

Have a blessed day and thanks for reading.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010 - Wrigley

Ok, so today I have decided to take a break from all of this police/cats/negativity and just blog. I have decided that I am going to introduce one of the animals to the internet world every day so that you all (the 3 people who read this...lol) can get to know them. I'm going to start with the dogs just because there are "only" 7 of them. I love talking about them so I'm sorry if I bore you. I just think they are the coolest dogs on earth and I am genuine when I say that it is my honor and privilege to be their mom. I will try to post my badge picture and profile picture on Facebook with the animal I am talking about that day so you can see them. So, that said, I would like you to meet my Wrigley. In 2007, I set out to adopt 2 golden retriever puppies. I wanted puppies because of the obvious cat issue that I could face with an adult dog who is already set in his ways. So I went onto petfinder.com and looked for a puppy. Well, the only golden retriever puppies in Wisconsin were spoken for and I won't buy from a breeder. So the next closest was a rescue south of Chicago called Wrightway Rescue. The first "golden retriever" puppy to appear on my screen was a white dog with brown spots over her butt, right ear and left eye. Clearly, she looked like a springer spaniel and nothing like the golden retriever I had my heart set on. But, as I sat there looking at the sweetest little dog I had ever seen. With tears streaming down my face, I said to my mom, "Look mom...that's my dog." I had not had a dog in about 15 years so this was a whole new adventure for me...the cat lady. I put the application in immediately and drove to Chicago to pick up my dogs. Tomorrow I will tell you about the other "golden retriever" puppy I set out to get that day. I always try to adopt in pairs so they have each other so I knew I was getting two that day. Ok, so I ended up with three. But that's another blog.

Anyway, my Wrigley (named after Wrigley Field...GO CUBBIES!) is as high strung as they come and I love her for it...ok, except when she runs AT me and hits me in the gut with both front legs. I think they must have called springer spaniels "springers" because, clearly, they have springs in their butts. Wrigley was taught to sit at a very young age and is very good at it. However, she is oblivious to the fact that "sit" means to KEEP her butt on the ground. As soon as she sees her treat or toy, she is right back up again in order to make sure she gets the first one and her poor brothers are forced to wait that painful 2 additional seconds. Wrigley is technically my only girl (the beagle and dachshund belong to Jenni, my roommate, although I am usually their caretaker.) Now, one would think that, being the only girl, she would be docile and timid. WRONG! Wrigley is the perfect Alpha Female. Sometimes I think she is me in the dog world as far as not taking crap from anyone and being tough on the outside. But make no mistake, Wriggles is a cream puff. She, unfortunately though, doesn't care for the other female dogs in the house, or for Tucker and has caused emergency trips to the vet for stitches for Gretchen, Charlie and Tucker. So now we just keep them separate. She loves to spend her time with her brothers, Harry and Dawson and is the only other dog I have seen who can eat out of Dawson's food bowl without getting growled at. (He's a cream puff too and he loves his little sister. :-)

So that is my Wrigley...my baby girl...my Wriggles...my Wiggly Wrigley...one of the great loves of my life.

Have a blessed day and thanks for reading.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

So yesterday I found out that my oldest sister Gabby (which, incidentally, spelled backwards is YB-BAG) called the Columbia County Sheriff's Department and told them to "shut me down." Now, please keep in mind that I have been estranged from and have not spoken to said sister in 6 1/2 years. She has never been to my house. She doesn't even know where it is. I find it almost hilarious that she is so self-absorbed as to think that the sheriff's department would shut me down simply at her request. Well, Yb-BAG, if you are out there somewhere reading this, you are not all that and a bag of chips. The sheriff's department has to have a LEGAL reason to "shut me down", not just a request of a self-centered, egocentric, Muchausen-suffering windbag who has nothing better to do than meddle in the lives of others in a lame attempt to somehow make herself feel better after flunking out of Weight Watchers. Bite me, bitch!

Monday, February 8, 2010

I don't think it is doing my case much good when my drug addict friends call the sheriff's department and ask them what is going on. Hmmmmm....not sure what to think about that. We found out that it is going to cost $300 to fix the fence. Not sure where that is coming from. The animals, however, are doing well. I know they can't wait to go outside, despite the snow. I wish more people would read this blog. Maybe I just need to make it more witty and interesting. That's not easy when you just aren't feeling it. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Today is all about family and being a doormat. With everything that has been going on with the animals and the sheriff's department, the support from friends has been tremendous. I got an email today from someone I don't even know, offering her support. Amazing. However, my own siblings (and God help me there are 7 of them) have turned their backs. I am currently the subject of their emails amongst each other, I am sure. There is no acceptance for who I am. There is no love for me. There is no benefit of the doubt. There is only blame and crucifiction. And all because I don't walk the path THEY think I should walk. All because I march to the beat of my own drummer. You know, William Shakespeare once said, "This above all, to thine own self be true." Do I deserve this treatment because I am true to myself? I guess, in their eyes, I do. Well, for 5 years I have taken their punches to the head and I have said nothing. As of today I say NO MORE. I will not be a doormat anymore. I will fight back. I have done nothing wrong and time will prove that. I am angry...more angry than I think I have ever been. My animals and my love for them has no bearing on the lives of my siblings but they act as if I ask them to buy the food or litter. It's laughable. So, with renewed strength and self-worth I say goodbye to the past and to my membership in a family to which I no longer care to belong. I am a giant.

"You tried to hold us down.
You tried to hold us back.
You tried to make us wrong.
You tried to make us crack.

You wanted to see us cry.
You wanted to see us leave.
You didn't count on the tide.
You didn't count on the pride.
You didn't count on...me.

I am a giant
And you will not make me fall.
And you will not make me crawl.
I am a giant
And I am not alone
Winds of change have blown
And the walls come tumbling down.

And I have learned from my mistakes
Picked myself up off the floor
I have learned just what it takes
Now I am stronger than before

We are standing side by side
We are determined now to win
We have come too far
And we've got the scars
And we are never going back into the shadows again."

--Melissa Etheridge, "Giant"

Friday, February 5, 2010

Wow! I have a follower! Thanks Brent!



I woke up this morning thinking about this blog so I can already tell it is going to take over my life. It's all about making the mundane seem entertaining I suppose. The cats and dogs are all tucked away in the house right now because it is snowing, although I suspect that at least Dawson would rather be out galavanting. I honestly don't think he feels cold, except for the occasional emergency need to hold up one of his feet and whine while he is trying to balance to pee in the bitter cold. Animals in Wisconsin don't have an easy life, even those with good homes. After all, would YOU want to go outside at 3 am when it is 20 below zero with the windchill factor to pee? I certainly don't. I'm glad we built the enclosure on to the house so I don't have to go out there with them! It reminds me of a poem I read the other day:

It's winter in Wisconsin and the gentle breezes blow
At seventy miles per hour and thirty-five below
Oh how I love Wisconsin when the snow's up to your butt
You take a breath of winter
And your nose gets frozen shut!
Yes the weather here is wonderful
I think I'll stick around
I could never leave Wisconsin
Since I'm frozen to the ground!

Blogging....Hmmmm...Day 1

Ok, so people have suggested that I start a blog...sort of "A Day in the Life of the Crazy Cat Lady." I have to admit that some of the things that happen at my house are pretty funny. Maybe you'll enjoy reading about them. Some things are not-so-funny but what the heck, it is all reality. I suppose I should start by introducing myself. I run a cat rescue in the state of Wisconsin called Worthy Paws. We have a hefty cat population as well as 7 dogs. I will introduce the cats as we go since there are a number of them. The dogs are: Dawson, my 2.5 year old rambunctious, alpha male yellow lab. Harry, my 2.5 year old mama's boy rotweiller mix. Wrigley, my 2.5 year old springer spaniel who I swear literally has a spring in her butt. Tucker, my 8 year old tennis-ball-obsessed yellow lab. Barney, my 8 year old black lab/corgi mix. He has a big ol' black lab head on short stubby legs. Gretchen, the 8 year old neurotic weiner dog. And Charlie, the 5 year old sweeter-than-sin beagle who eats cat poop. So there you have it. I hope you enjoy reading about their antics.