Cleo's Blog

What a weekend.....

Cleo — Mon, 12 May 2008 22:19:26 +0100

....that was. On Sunday when we all got up The VolpMeister couldn't stand up. He streuggled to do so, but just couldn't make it onto his three legs. "PANIC CITY" I can tell you. The Old Fella and the Missus lifted him out of his enclosure, (I never got an enclosure of my own.... spoiled brat), and tried to see if they could find out what was wrong. They couldn't. After grunting at one another for a while they decided that they had to 'phone Aunt Sal as iot would be up to her to decide what she wanted to do. They decided The Volpster had to go to the Emergency Vet. (I think the little twerp was having them on). So off they drove in my van. After some time they all came back and put Volpe back into his enclosure. He stayed there all day and went slowly stir-crazy.......did I laugh or what.... :) Today they took him back to see Doc S and the Gals at the Veterinary Clinic. Here, no doubt, he was spoiled rotten all day again. He told me that he had another plasma transfusion, (how come I never get these good things?), and had to be kept quiet for a long time. I wonder how long that is? He has another lump, this time on his front leg. The Old Fella thinks that he got this one because he exercises his legs too much and this starts a little haemorage under the skin. Still, after they Old Fella brought him home from seeing Doc S I did hear him say to The Missus, "Good news, Volpe is not suffering from Von Wallegrands Disease after all... and his red blood count is up to 30%"... (whatever that means). But they still don't know what is wrong with him.

I'll let you know any more news when they tell me..... meantime...isn't he sickeningly sweet?

Your friend,

Cleo

Cleo — Mon, 12 May 2008 21:47:07 +0100

A riot?......

Cleo — Sat, 10 May 2008 19:37:15 +0100

...that'd be a relief and less stressful to an old gal like me than having this moron, Volpe, around my house all the time. Guess what the twit was up to today? Chasing a garden hose, that's what. The Old Fella is in the habit of letting him out first thing so that he can....you know.... on the concrete out back. They put a gate on some time ago because they said that when I, (blush), "passed water", it killed the grass. Look at the beautiful lawn in the pictures...can you believe that tosh? Personally I think green grass is over-rated anyway.......sniff. Anyway, the retard , (Volpe that is, not the Old Fella), decided to drop his pants on the concrete so that the Old Fella had to wash it away. (Serves him right I reckon..... LOL). So O.F. (short for Old Fella...get it?; no flies on us Cross Labs), gets out the hose and turns the water on, not remembering that The Retard loves to chase the water jet.So.....

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Here we see The Volpmeister chasing a jet that he can never catch......what a giggle. What a moron. He chased it for some time, until the O.F. said, "Enough now Volpe, we mustn't get you too excited else your lumps will never go down". Hey....for me, I'd excite him out the gate without a leash and in a heart-beat. He's got his feet, (all three of them), too far under the table for my liking, that I can tell you. So, anyway, after a while the water was turned off and The Volpmeister looked like this....

Did you ever see anything like it? Just imagine if you had to share a bedroom with this twerp? But, you know, somehow he seems to grow on everyone.....yep, ...even me. But I digress, I did tell you I would tell you about why he has to go see Doc S at the Veterinary Clinic so often. It seems that for some reason he has these big lumps on him. One is on his left flank just in front of his useless,broken leg, while the other is right on his back above his bum.....(blush......can I say that?)... right where his tail starts. Big mystery I can tell you. They're filled with blood which would indicate internal bleeding, but they don't know what caused them. Aunt Sal, (she's not really my aunt, she's only got two legs, poor soul, but the O.F. and The Missus insist that I be polite), thinks they may have been caused by rough-housing with other dogs during transport to Canada. The O.F. says maybe they come from an injury resultant to whatever broke his leg in the first place. Who knows? He refuses to tell me....part of emphasising his masculine mystique I reckon. So The Volpster goes for blood tests to try to find out what's wrong with him. I wouldn't want to pay Aunt Sal's Vet bills you can bet.......that'd take all of my treats for a year I would think. But you know, I think he likes the attention, comes back with a big smile on his face, and brags about being petted by Doc S and her Gals. What a brown-noser.

That's it for now, I don't want o get you folks too excited either.......down boys, down girls.......

Your friend,

Cleo

I don't even know where to start....

Cleo — Thu, 08 May 2008 23:16:06 +0100

....things seem to go from bad to worse. What a riot there is now in my house. It used to be that I was able to keep the Old Fella and the Missus under control. Sure, sometimes it was hard but, after all, at over 80 years old, I am the matriarch here and I ruled with an iron paw I can tell you. Now they're out of control. I'm not by nature a whiner.....OK......so I am when there are treats around....... but I never saw such pathetic creatures as these folks of mine. I suppose it is my own fault in part, because I tend to take them for granted. When they come home I wag my tail a little and try to look pleased that they have disturbed my day-long nap. But this twit, Volpe , (aka The Volpster or The VolpMeister), wags his tail like crazy, smiles like a guilty film star caught in the act, and bats his eye lashes. I mean to say, a self-respecting dog should have SOME pride, shouldn't she, (or "he", of course)? But these morons I allow to live in my house and look after me lap it all up. I believe I mentioned he only has three legs? Well, he does have four but one is useless due to some sort of accident or maybe even abuse. Well, the Old Fella takes him to see the Vet lady just about every week. Nice gal named Doctor S at the Veterinary Clinic. These guys, (actually I think they are all Gals), are great as they have big, soft hearts; but they have all fallen in love with , (snicker), The VolpMeister. Funnily enough I hate Vets...but this retard seems to like them. I guess it takes all sorts. :) I had hoped to have a picture of two to post but the Old Fella hogged the computer again today so I did not have a chance to process any. I'll see what I can do between walks, naps, treats and chewies tomorrow. Mind you, my walks are greatly curtailed as The Volpster is not allowed to walk too far. I'll tell you why in my next chat.
Oops, he's just dropped a chewie. He stole that from me earlier.......gotta go.........

Cleo

My latest trial......

Cleo — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 22:22:34 +0100

When will this insanity end? Just as I thought that life was getting back to normal they brought in another brat. And this one is the brattiest brat of all so far. I told you all about "Willie" and "Ben" didn't I? Well, we'd no sooner got over saying goodbye to them than the Old Fella says to the Missus, "Sally wants us to look after that little 3-legged fella, Volpe". My heart sank I can tell you...."not another pretty Border Collie", I said to the cat. Meggie just rolled her eyes, "No telling with these people" she meowed. The Old Fella had been telling me that he had to buy another computer as his old one was playing up, and I had hoped that this would occupy him for a while and he would forget about the rescue pups that I had been forced to allow into my home. But it was not to be, and off they drove in my van again. Some time later they brought in a very sorry-looking specimen. A small brown and white Border Collie who hopped along on just three legs. I must admit that I did feel....well....just a little sorry for the lad. I heard the Old Fella saying to the Missus, "They think someone might have kicked him so hard that it broke his leg and no-one bothered to fix it". My stomach churned over at the thought of that, the little guy was only about 7 months old. How much pain must he have gone through in such a short time", I pondered. I remembered that I had been badly treated before I allowed my folks to rescue me, but I'd never been treated this harshly and cruelly. So, in my usual magnanimous way I decided to try and make the best of this situation and allow the little pup to stay with us for the time being. What a mistake .... this guy is a Holy Terror. He is so full of mischief that a barrelfull of monkeys would give me more peace. But I'll have to get back to you tomorrow because it;s getting late and the Old Fella is going to take us for our last walk of the day. Yippee......more good smells.... :)

By the way, Cealeigh of Skye, (did I spell that right I wonder?) and Freckles, thanks for your comments, it's good to know that there are other educated dogs out there who can read my musings......

I'll be back tomorrow to tell you more about this reprobate, Volpe.

Cleo

My latest trial...... continued.

Cleo — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 21:55:59 +0100

Sorry it has taken me so long to get back online. The Old Fella, as I mentioned, (at least I think I did), took it into his head to buy a new computer and has been hogging it ever since. He calls it "learning" but I call it "playing". I wish he'd keep his paws off my machine. Now where was I?...Oh yes, Volpe is a mischievous little monster. He only has three useable legs and plays on this for sympathy. Everyone we meet while we are out walking coos over the poor little fellow. YUK...if they only knew. He is a manipulative little twit, batting his innocent little eyelids at everyone. He constantly steals my chewies and has gotten used to eating my daily treats. Today he ended up with three huge chew sticks by stealing my one yesterday, and then again today and hiding them in his bed.. Fortunately I was able to instruct the Old Fella to give me one of them back. I don't know how much more of this I can take. Will my people never see through his tricks?

Watch this space of further news of my ~~predici~~ ~~predika predddi....~~ prediciament.

Cleo

Ben goes home...?

Cleo — Tue, 22 Apr 2008 20:41:20 +0100

Well, as promised, here I am again with Episode 2 of the saga of Gentle Ben. You know he came into my place and practically took it over. O.K., so he was gentle, and sweet, and went for walks like a perfect gentleman. But. let's face it, what a fuss to make over a pretty face. Just because he was able to chase sheep around the ring as if he had been born to it....well, I ask you! All breeds of dogs have their specialties. As a Black Labrador Retriever, (well, O.K., so they didn't know who or what my genetic father was, what does that prove?), we're supposed to chase and retrieve dead stuff. So Border Collies like to chase live stuff, what's the difference? Anyway, I hate water, cold, wet, scary stuff, but I do like to bark like crazy when anyone comes to the door. That must be worth something surely? Where was I? Yes, Ben had shown he liked to herd and was good at it. Faye, seeing his talent, even went so far as to wonder if maybe he had already had some training, and had been stolen before being dumped at the shelter? Anyway, a week or so later, Mum and Dad had taken Ben back to the farm for another work-out. He did even better than before. He practically drooled when he saw sheep, and I heard someone say, "He's really got the Eye"...whatever that means. Dad was getting way too fond of Ben for my liking, he was even telling Mum that he would go so far as to take up "hobby herding" with Ben if she would let us keep him. Bless her heart, she said "NO" very firmly. We don't need two permanent dogs in this house. Though, on second thoughts, it might be nice to have another dog to share the responsibilty of running this place and looking after my people. Anyway, the decision was taken out of my paws when Sally 'phoned and asked Mum and Dad to take Ben to the farm and leave him with Faye. She had said that either Faye would adopt him or she would find another family with sheep who also needed a family companion. I know that Dad was disappointed, but he knew that this was best for Ben anyway. So, the next Sunday we all piled into my van again and drove around to the farm. As soon as Ben got inside he knew......"Those are my sheep", he said to me....and he lay down on the sand with his nose through the gates, just watching the sheep in the arena. "What a retard", I thought. "he'd rather have a bunch of woolly idiots to chase around than lie in front of the sofa at home". I met lots of other dogs there, all waiting to chase sheep.....all retards I reckon. Quite nice people though, all of them; but all Border Collies and all they talked of was chasing sheep, so we had little in common and not a lot to talk about. When it was Ben's turn to go into the arena he dashed off and started to run in circles.....(see picture above).... he had forgotten all about us. After a while Mum turned to Dad and very quietly said, "Time to go". They had arranged beforehand that it was no use "hanging out the agony", and the best thing to do was to leave while Ben was busy in the ring. Not that he cared, he was having a ball....but they did. So we all quietlyturned and left while Ben was herding his sheep. Now we hope that Faye will keep Ben because, to Dad's untrained eye, he has all the makings of a champion sheep herding dog. As he jokingly said to Faye, "When he starts to win big purses, don't forget I want my share". I wonder who will be the next unlucky/lucky dog to be rescued by Sally and her army of angels, fostered by Mum and Dad, and find a good loving home here in Canada? I'll be keping you in touch as things happen.

Y'all be good now.....ya hear?

Cleo

What's so special about Border Collies...?

Cleo — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 23:08:00 +0100

Well, it's that time again. Dad said it was OK for me to continue with my griping....so here I am again. I told you how my humans got into the BC fostering business, but now I think it seems to be an ongoing thing. They've even put in a special enclosure in the kitchen for them, so that they feel secure I suppose. Does this mean I will periodically need to share my place with gorgeous, (YUK), black and white Border Collies? The only bright spot to this is that it seems that, (so far at least), they all like to herd cats....poor Meggie....LOL. Not that they threaten her, she's not at all scared....they just like to herd her around the house. Must be some inbred weakness with Border Collies I suppose....they gotta HERD.

Anyway, about a week after they took Willie to Martin's place they got another call from Sally. Would they be prepared to help save another dog, Zephyr, from a "shelter" in the U.S. somewhere. Another sad case where inhumane humans had dropped a dog off, and simply walked away on him without even leaving his name. Again he only had three days before it was time to cross over the Bridge. They showed me his picture and, O.K.....he looked quite cute. A long-haired fellow with perky ears. Mum and Dad, (suckers), said "Yes, of course". So, on a Sunday evening, off they drove in my van to pick up "Zephyr". But I snickered as they drove off, "Zephyr"...whoever called a boy dog a name like that? Later, Mum, Dad and Sally came to an agreement and called him "Gentle Ben" because...alright, I admit it....he was a very gentle and gentlemanly dog. He was a bit smelly when he arrived and I appreciated that, a bit of fresh air in the house, but, as usual, humans don't like that honest doggie stink, and the next day they took him for a thorough grooming. After a couple of attempts to mark his territory in the house, he took the hint from Dad and agreed not to try it any more. He was either a very quick learner or had been house trained before being abandonded. Boy, was he different from Willie. When Dad took us for ouir daily walks he never once pulled on his leash.....he just loped along looking beautiful. After a week or so Sally 'phoned and said would Mum and Dad take Ben to FourUFarms where Faye, the owner, would try Ben out for sheep herding capabilities. When they came home they could not stop talking about it. Ben, it appeared, had enormous potential to be a really good sheep dog. Not that I'm jealous you understand, but it really gripes a dog to know that they carry on so much about another dog being gorgeous AND talented.

Back tomorrow for part two on Gentle Ben.

As ever, Cleo

What have they let me in for...?

Cleo — Sat, 19 Apr 2008 23:53:18 +0100

Well, I've never done this before so I hope you'll bear with me as I finally put paw to paper. As you know my name is Cleo,and I allow my humans to live with me in Winnipeg. They adopted me about 12 years ago when I was just a pup and living happily at the Wnnipeg Humane Society. Probably the best thing that ever happened to them I always think, as it allowed me to train them properly; just as humans should be trained. The only thing was that, while at the shelter, I had enjoyed life on my terms, mostly pooping and, by rolling in it, using it to cover my doggie smells. I guess they did not like my natural doggie smells very much as the first thing they did on getting me home was put me into a big white tub for a bath. The ignominy of it. Thank goodness my friends at the shelter could not see me then, I'd have died of embarrassment. ! It didn't take me long to get them into my routine though, that I can tell you. A typical day is, wake up, stretch, get a belly rub, treats, breakfast, walk, long lazy nap, treats, supper, walk, long lazy nap, walk, more treats if I can con them into it, and finally, bed time. After a hectic day like that I need my beauty sleep too. They say it's a dog's life......if only they really knew.

Things went on this way very satisfactorily for years. Just my cat, Meggie, and me, allowing the Mr. and Mrs. to share our house with us. But then one day I heard them making those strange communicating noises. Those typical squeaks, burps, gutteral growls, you know the stuff,. We've all heard it eh? It seems that they were thinking of helping some other dogs I did not know settle here in Canada after they were rescued from bad situations in other places. I wondered what this meant for Meggie and me. Would we be neglected? Not likely as they had always been loving and demonstrative to us. But all we could do was wait.

One day Dad came home and said, "Sally, (she's a lady who, apparently, has a soft spot for abused dogs), wants us to foster a little Border Collie named Wilbur. Wilbur, later re-named Willie, had spent the first year of his life tied up and ignored in someone's back yard. He had then been taken to another home and relegated to a basement, and ignored therealso. His custodians then decided that they no longer wanted him and were taking him to a shelter, where he would be taken to the Rainbow Bridge within 3 days unless someone else offered to take him away with them. Sally, it seems, has an army of wonderful people who transport dogs like Willie to safety. This is what happend and, one evening, Mum and Dad brought Willie into my house. He seemed quite cute, though I did have to put him in his place a couple of times as he got quite fresh with me at the beginning. It then came out that he was supposed to have some sort of "gift" and could sense when a child was going to have a seizure. The trouble was that he tried to communicate this information to his humans by licking the child's face. This, supposedly, was why the other people were going to send him away....because he was trying to help their child! How can these humans be so stupid and ungrateful?

Anyway, Willie settled in very well, except that, being a Border Collie, he wanted to "herd" the cat. But then she's only a cat anyway so who cares?......LOL. After a while Mum and Dad had a young woman from Regina and her little boy, come to stay with us. The little boy suffered from seizures and they hoped that Willie would be able to help thim by warning of the onset of a seizure. But this did not work out so, after about 5 days, they went back to Regina, leaving Willie with us. By now the little guy had quite grown on me. He was polite, needed lots of cuddling from Mum and Dad, and, I could see, had grown on them too. But they knew they could not keep him. If they did then they could not foster other dogs who needed them. So they told Sally to keep looking for a forever home for Willie. One day a really nice young man named Martin dropped by to see Willie, and I could see they were attracted to one another immediately. About a week later Mum and Dad, very sadly it seemd to me, took Willie over to his new forever home. When they came home they seemed very relieved and they told me that they were content that Willie had gone to a home where he would be very much loved and well treated. Funny how, for them, that seemed to take the pain out of having to say goodbye to the little guy.

As a footnote, a few weeks ago, and about a month ior so after they took Willie to live with Martin, we all went to the dog park and met with Sally and her dogs. That ingrate, Willie, acted as tjhough Mum and Dad were total strangers. That made Dad laugh, and he said this was how it should be, as Willie was obviously at home with Martin, and we all knew they would be together always from now on. Martin was happy witn Willie and Willie was happy with Martin. And that, said Dad, was what rescuing and fostering was all about. I wonder who'll be next? And to think that I thought I'd be in for a peaceful old age.

I'll keep you all posted,

Cleo