The Back Story
Years ago I trusted my gut and chose two Yellow Labradors that blessed my life for 13 and 14 years. Again in 2011, when we left the ranch I’d managed for several years, Bobby and I trusted our gut feelings and brought the two ranch cats with us.
Late in 2014, we lost our three, senior citizen furbabies. It started in August when we finally had to put down our 14-year-old yellow Lab, Rylee. Her brother, Dakota, had suffered a massive stroke the year before. But Rylee kept living. She, and we, dealt with her diabetes for the last two and a half years of her life.
At least twice a day she endured insulin shots. We would tell her she needed a shot. She would sit and wait then wag her tail happily when each was over. Six months into the ordeal she went blind. That said, aside from the initial “deathly ill” stage when she was first diagnosed, she was a happy, lovable girl. We inspected the yard daily for dangers so she could use the dog door to lay in the California sun. In the picture to the right, Tiger and Rylee share a blanket while their beds are being washed.
Rylee’s health took a final dive in Colorado. The veterinarian subscribed painkillers in lieu of putting her down. That night she seemed to be hallucinating. We gave her a heavy shot of insulin and she finally went to sleep. The next day I took her back to the vet and said goodbye.
Feline Fur
At that same time, our old cat tiger went blind. We’re not sure what caused his malady. Probably glaucoma according to the vet. Just like his big sister, Tiger cat went on with a great attitude. My husband said that they seemed to take it in stride as if the lights had gone out for everyone.
Tiger would soak up the sun with Rylee by day and lay by the fire at night. At one point he did walk into something and became the poster cat for scary. His eye bulged and was obviously severely uncomfortable. Although the vet wanted to remove his eye, we prayed. Through those prayers, I was led to treat the injured eye with olive oil. Success was immediate. Tiger’s eye, although still unable to see, began to shrink and returned to its normal size. Our furry friend returned to his old self.
More Furry Goodbyes
Unfortunately, a few years later in November of 2014, just before Thanksgiving, I caught him halfway into his cat litter peeing on the floor. Anyone with a cat knows how awful, smelly and destructive cat pee can be. The vet said that it obviously hurt his old bones to climb all the way in and he doubted he would ever use it correctly again. He was old and he hurt. At 17, seven years after he’d come into our lives, we had to let him go.
Next, just a month later we noticed that Tiger’s littermate, Mikey, was leaking urine. Oddly enough, the wet spots didn’t smell at all. Back to the vet for the sad news that her kidneys had shut down. Although she drank and drank, her kidneys were not functioning, causing the water to pass right through. He body was not eliminating toxins. It was just after Christmas when we lost our third and last senior citizen.
Empty of Fur
I was devastated when Mikey left us (right). My house full of fur-love was now sadly fur-free. Before we got married, I warned my future husband that I would always, always have a dog. My husband requested that we wait a few weeks before filling the house with fur once again. We had been through quite a bit in the past several years. After we lost Dakota, we moved with three old babies in tow from California to Colorado, in a blizzard. We’d been dealing with a diabetic, blind dog and a blind cat. Rylee needed constant attention and multiple, daily shots. The yard had to be inspected regularly to eliminate any threats of twigs or escape hatches. Ergo, I had to last a few weeks without fur-love.
The Search for Fur
In January I started the hunt for a puppy. Surprisingly, Colorado is a difficult place to find a pup. Sadly, a lot of dogfighting goes on and people are very cautious about who adopts pups. Also, the rescues are over-the-top careful, to the point of crazy. It’s no wonder that many of these dogs and cats are not being adopted.
One evening we were out and passed by a Petsmart. I remember seeing adoptions there before and we went in for a look. We found out that they only housed cats at the store and held adoptions for dogs on weekends. Although we were not in the market for another cat I decided to just have a look. Duh!
Among the dozen kitties behind the glass in kennels was a long, skinny, young, black cat. She was seven or eight months old. She ran to the window when I walked up. I put a finger on the glass and she followed it, eager to play. Of course, I asked to see her. The tech brought her out to the visitors’ room; she was terrified. She ran to hide under the bench in a corner. I reached to pick her up. I’ve been clawed by frightened cats and was extremely cautious.
The little cat didn’t strike out at all. She cowered in the corner and whined in terror as I reached for her. Shortly I let the tech put her back in the kennel. My husband and I agreed that we didn’t want to deal with another problem animal right away. We’d paid our dues to our seniors and just wanted an easy, younger animal.
The Case for the Gut
Over the years I, and my honey, have learned to trust our guts. When I know I’m supposed to do something and can’t explain why, or a thought that won’t go away, I know it’s God. That’s actually how I met my husband.
In this case, the little cat wouldn’t leave my thoughts. It had been a few days and I was still searching for a puppy. The vision of the little, black cat popped in my head the first thing in the morning and returned regularly to my mind throughout the day. One night I mentioned it to Bobby. In my cowboy’s typical fashion, he replied, “Go get the cat!”
The next day we went back to Petsmart and there she was. I thought the saving grace was that she wasn’t aggressive in her fear. The staff member on duty explained that the cat was feral, a.k.a. wild.
Feral Cat: Domestic cat that is born outdoors in the wild. They greatly fear being handled and attempt to remain out of the reach of humans.
After she was caught and spayed the rescue clipped her ear. Ear clipping is an antiquated practice of marking a fixed cat or dog. Today, Colorado places a small tattoo on the animal’s belly after spays or neuters. Believing that no one would be able to tame this terrified cat, the rescue clipped her ear so her reproductive state could be determined from a distance. Not good news, but my gut said take her home. Bobby named her Princess. She cried all the way.
Bringing Home the Fur
At the time we were temporarily living in a large one-bedroom apartment. Upon arrival with our new housemate, we decided to force her to cohabitate. We closed all the doors and blocked any hiding places. I put two folding room dividers I wasn’t using under the couch and the bed. She tried to hide in open corners of the living room. At night she stayed in the living room away from us. I ordered a window perch for her so she would have a place to look out. Within a week she began to get bold.
She would jump on the couch and inspect us. Once in a while she’d put a foot or two on our laps and sniff. Finally, she took the plunge. After a short visit to a lap, Princess would dart for the floor. I decided that we should start holding her when she came to visit. She would quickly try to get away and we would slowly lower her to the floor or set her on the perch in the window. It was a planned response to show her that we were willing to let her go.
Within a couple of weeks, she lived up to her name. She was completely comfortable in her surroundings. She wanted to play and not hide. When someone came to the door, she was cautious but curious. Complete transformation.
Needing More Fur
The hunt for a puppy had taken a breather until we got Princess settled into the family. In February, with our new cat happily engrained, I resumed the dog search. We had decided on a mutt this time for social and health reasons. There are so many dogs needing homes and mutts tend to live longer than purebreds, although I got my last Labradors to 13 and 14.
The local Humane Society had no puppies available. For Princess’s safety, I was even more set on getting a puppy and not a grown dog. Through a rescue in southern Colorado, I found a Labrador/Chesapeake Bay mix. The pups were just four weeks old. I began the extensive adoption process in order to be ready in another month. They provided forms and more forms. A representative visited us at our home. She was very nice. I showed her pictures of our past furbabies and introduced her to our now-friendly Princess. A few days later I got an e-mail stating that we were “not fit” pet parents and they would not allow us to adopt a dog.
Ergo, I was furious. My husband advised me to calm down before I responded, but this time I didn’t take his advice. My response included the fact that we don’t give up on our pets. When time took its toll we became caregivers. We gave Rylee shots for two and a half years and kept a blind dog and cat alive until they were finished enjoying life. I let them know that they had just stolen a good home for the duration from one of those pups.
His Name is Spot
Discouraged, I returned to the pound’s website the next day. Two Blue Heeler mutts had just been dropped off. The picture of the male was so cute that I text it to Bobby at work. Forgetting that we had not yet purchased a second vehicle, he replied, “Go get him! His name is Spot.”
The next day I drove my hubby to work and headed for the Humane Society of Colorado Springs. When I got there, the female, my first choice, had already been adopted. The male was still available. Hesitant to take on another male, but trusting Bobby’s gut, I brought Spotty home. Initially, Princess and Spot were curious but cautious of each other. She spent the majority of her time on the window perch observing. With a little imagination, they began to play together. I tied her favorite toy, a shoestring, to Spotty’s collar. As he ran around the house dragging the string, Princess could not resist.
Travel Lifestyle with Furbabies
Two years after arriving in Colorado we took to the road. My electrician husband was offered a travel job installing solar farms across the country. When we were first considering the option Bobby asked, “What will we do with them?” referring to our furbabies. Of course, I answered that they were coming with us. I’ve seen many posts where people asked about entering the travel lifestyle with pets. My response will always be, how can you live without them?
For the first few months, we found temporary housing. Four months later, when Spotty killed some chickens, we bought a used RV and a year later moved to a new one. We have been on the road for over three years with our traveling furbabies. Since July of 2016 we have lived for months at a time in Minnesota, Idaho, Arizona, Florida, and now Texas. Between jobs, we have been blessed with extended visits to Arkansas, Louisiana, Nevada, and New Mexico in our RV.
Neither of our pets enjoys hanging in the truck when we move. Yet, they endure it without much fuss. Princess is perfectly happy when we arrive at our destination and she’s back in our house on wheels. I’ve also taught her to walk on a leash, although she determines the direction she chooses to walk. In rebellion, she’ll fall on her side if she doesn’t like our path. Luckily, she only grew to nine pounds and is easily carried.
Full Home on Wheels
We bought a new fifth wheel two years ago. It came standard with a cargo carrier on the back. I built a kennel I had seen on a DIY site with wire bookcases. Our Princess can climb out the window and sit outside whenever the weather permits. When anyone comes to the door, she is by her brother Spotty’s side to welcome visitors. She loves to play and run the 40-foot length of the RV. Spotty likes to chase her and they often wrestle; Princess is inevitably the winner. The funniest scene is when she puts him in a headlock and demands to groom him.
Our Spotty has grown into an awesome dog. His mama was a purebred Heeler and daddy was German Short Haired Pointer, Lab, and possibly more. Spot is Heeler smart, fun, protective and extremely energetic. Working at home can produce a very sedentary life, but my Spot won’t allow it. He keeps me moving and has become an excellent watchdog. Staying in RV parks while Bobby is at work is less concerning with a canine security system. Whenever I have a conversation with a man, Spotty moves in front of me. He instinctively stands between me and any potential threat. His name is Spot. His companionship has been priceless.
Trusting Your Gut
In conclusion, trust your gut in cases of the heart. I’m not condoning thoughtless actions on a whim. When you know that you know to do something good, it’s God. He’s using your gut; your conscience to lead you. Trust His leading and you’ll be blessed.
This blog is dedicated to sharing stories of my life experiences with people and animals I’ve encountered. I encourage others to share their stories. Tell Your Story.
Check out my travel lifestyle blog RV Lifestylers and my website ChelsiGraphics.com.
Enjoy the Journey!