Warning... this is an adult site. If reading or viewing things about what gay men do sexually with one another bothers you - you should not read this blog. This blog is a reflection of my adventures and thoughts. Some are fun, some not so pretty. I won't name names, or kiss and tell... but I will live to tell. And baby, trust me - I am gonna spill it all over your pretty little party dress. Enjoy!
When at the prairie, I tend to pay attention to the wildlife, the insects, the various grasses and plants. For the past few years, I've noted an incredible decrease in the number of Monarch butterflies present.
The Loppet organization used to offer a class about Monarchs and bring groups of children to the prairie to learn about their habitat. They no longer offer that course.
There used to be dozens and dozens.
Last year, there were two.
This year... there is one.
The last Monarch.
I know that their breeding grounds in Mexico have been under attack for a number of years. And, of course, the prairie has been under attack as well, as The Loppet Organization continues to create 'opportunities' for families at the expense of its health and welfare.
But, I never thought I'd see the day.
Maybe it's an anomaly. Or maybe there are other Monarchs, but they're shy or don't work on Fridays.
But, as of this writing, I've only seen one. And I've been monitoring the situation since May. There are other kinds of butterflies about, but their numbers, too, seem on the wane.
It's hard to remain passive in the light of the extinction of something so precious. And yet, humankind seems content to do just that. Those of us aware, we spend hours contemplating what such an event means and mourn such losses, but... seriously? What can we do?
No, I'm asking.
Are we powerless? Is there nothing to be done? Are the powers that be so very ominous and faceless that we are unable to engage them in conversation? I wouldn't even know where to begin. Whatever the source of the issue, it seems too far 'out there' for me to have any impact. Too faceless. Too complex.
And, so, I simply try to enjoy the moment. The Monarch appears here and there, flitting about. That is their gift. Every time I do spot them I take it as a sign of good fortune. They seem content and happy, so I simply feed off the color and joy they bring to the prairie... even if it's only one.
As I am one.
One person.
I do my part... or effect change where I can. Every Friday, the first thing I do is scout the prairie for litter. I gather it all up - no matter how gross - and pile it up. Then, when I leave for the day, I take it with me and deposit it all in a designated trash can at the mouth of the main trail, just before I return to my car.
It's a little thing.
And I'm not patting myself on the back, either, for my motivation isn't exactly all that altruistic; all that garbage? It gets in the way of my being able to enjoy the prairie. It's unsightly and off-putting. I want to surround myself with beauty while I spend time there - not somebody's used condom wrapper.
So, yes, a little thing.
Something no one else seems to have the motivation to do. That's my opportunity to contribute to the prairie's well-being, so I take it seriously. And I do tell others that I do it, as my hope is that they, too, will take up the cause and try and have a positive impact on the area we all enjoy and love.
He would have been 22 years-old in October. He'd been having issues for some time, now: arthritis, digestive issues. Always a bit of a crabby puss, everything seemed to get a bit worse once he lost his life partner, Cedric, nine months ago.
We should have seen it coming. But then, denial can work as a sort of kindness.
Oh, he was such a cranky old man... but a real love.
The Boyfriend is devastated.
He found Wonk at the humane society. As he walked into the building, there, in the lobby, was a big silver cage with a tiny black kitten in it and a big sign on top proclaiming... "Warning. Knocks Things Over."
He'd been 'returned.'
The Boyfriend looked at the tiny beast inside, walked up to the nearest counter and said... "I'll take that one."
He then went and found Cedric, who was two years old at the time and was suffering from a respiratory infection. They both went home with him that same day and the two cats grew up together under The Boyfriend's watchful, playful eye.
The little kitten was christened 'Wonk' because that is the sound he made when he would hit the door at the end of the hallway of The Boyfriend's old apartment. It was a long hall with a polished wooden floor. The crazed kitten would race down the hallway and then, unable to stop, would smack into the door. He did it over and over again, making the sound that would become his name.
For the Labor Day weekend we had planned a visit to my sister's house in Madison. The last time we'd been there was for the New Year's holiday. It had been a mixed-feeling affair, because we had to put Cedric, who was 23 at the time, down the day before we left.
The day before we were to leave to go to my sister's, The Boyfriend called. Wonk was sick. Acting strange. Hiding. Not able to keep food down. The vet said they would see him right away. Both of us thought the timing was... telling, but we said nothing.
It's strange, as I was driving to the vets with The Boyfriend and Wonk, all I could think about was getting to the prairie for a bit of sun. In these situations, my brain never accepts the eventuality of what is to come. Again... denial is sometimes a form of kindness.
It wasn't until we were in the parking lot and the vet tech was on the phone talking about putting Wonk down that it hit me... I would have to say good-bye to yet another dear friend.
Wonk was uncharacteristically quiet and cooperative. Normally, if you so much as looked at him, he would complain, such a sour puss was he. We sat for a long time in the examination room with him, just gently petting him, the tears flowing freely.
The people you belong to
The places that you've been
They don't tell the whole story
Now where should I begin?
Back at the beginning
When the world and you were young
Life held so much promise
But now your life is done
These little creatures... they take up so much space in our lives and our homes. When they leave us, the void left in their wake feels immense, far too large a space for such a tiny being to have fully occupied.
I miss my Wonker man. As do all his other kitty companions and, most of all... The Boyfriend.
We all feel quite powerless in the presence of another's grief. We want to help, but...? What truly can we do?
Be there.
For them.
To try and make the hole left in their life seem a bit smaller.
I had to say good-bye to one of my dearest friends last week.
Billy was a Boston Terrier who came into my life because a co-worker was relocating to our Taiwan office and his ex-wife wouldn't take his two dogs. He knew I was a soft touch, so he asked me if I would take them. At the time, I already had two dogs, so I could only take on one. I asked my Mom, who had Pepper, an anxiety-ridden Jack Russell Terrier, if she would take on the other.
Billy and his older brother, Atula, had been routinely kept in their kennels for up to 12 hours a day. The man who owned them? Not someone who should have been a pet owner. So, both dogs ended up having major issues. Atula had a number of underlying health conditions which resulted in behavioral and physical issues, so my partner and I took him on.
It would turn out that Billy also had a number of issues. He was overly aggressive and badly socialized. He would also bite people, a rare trait for a Boston Terrier. My mother, along with my partner and I, all worked with him.
We eventually discovered he was one of the sweetest, funniest, kindest animals with the biggest of hearts. He had this Ernest Borgnine way about him, blessed with an adorable bottom-toothed smile.
Last Friday, I was getting ready to go to the prairie when my ex knocked on my door. Billy had jumped off one of my mother's decks (only a foot high) and had broken his leg. I did not react well. It was a beautiful day and I had been looking forward to getting to the prairie, so I was pissed that life and circumstances had once again conspired to ruin my alone time.
All that anger evaporated once I arrived on scene. My mother was seated at the dining room table, still in her nightgown. She'd just gotten up to let the dogs out. Fortunately, she always watches them so she saw the incident happen. She was crying. Billy was already muzzled and looking sad.
When people I love cry? I just start giving orders. My mother kept saying it was all her fault and I nicely explained that there was no way that she could have prevented this. Sometimes bad things just happen.
The ex was outside, pacing and yelling at his phone. Billy's regular vet refused to see him and the emergency clinic was closed. He was getting a list of alternative places to try, but most of them were many, many miles away. I suggested the Broadway clinic. Billy's regular vet had refused at one point to give him a dental, so my mother took him there. Fortunately they agreed to see him.
At this point, the ex continues to talk on the phone while I am desperate to get going. He keeps saying that the situation is not good and that Billy will have to be put down. My brain refuses to consider that. We don't even know what the situation is yet.
Again, I start giving marching orders. I take Billy from my mother and tell her to go get dressed and meet us at the clinic. The ex is arguing with me about taking my car, but I already have it parked in front of my mother's house so I simply keep telling him to get in the car and hold Billy while I drive. The ex tries to tell me how to drive and where to drive, but I'm not taking the bait... I just want to get to the clinic.
Once there, we need masks and our vaccination record. The ex has neither. I have extra masks in the car, but without his vaccination record, he still can't come in. So, it's on me.
They are super nice. I, of course, want immediate attention, but there is only one vet on duty, so Billy and I sit in a room. I fear he's in pain, so I keep talking to him to distract him, telling him what a good boy he is - and he is; he's being very still and quiet. My mother mentioned that she thought he was in shock, and that is what I fear now.
The vet comes in. He's a very elderly gentleman and is very calm. The neighborhood his clinic is in is not very safe and he approaches me like I might yell at him. There is even a sign that says, "If you yell at our staff, you will be told to leave." The vet is very nice.
My mother arrives and is ushered in. She's a mess, still crying. The vet tries to look at Billy's leg and, for the first time, Billy let's out a cry of pain. The vet barely touched it. He shows us a drawing of a dog's front leg and explains the likely break Billy has experienced. There is this small spur that fits in a hole of the elbow bone. The vet believes this has snapped off.
We learn that Billy would have to be put under anesthesia in order to even x-ray the leg, let alone set it in a cast. We explain that can't happen. He's only 12 years old (they have a typical life span of 14), but he has a stage four heart murmur. His regular vet told us that Billy would not survive being put under anesthesia after his last dental, so that was not happening.
My mother pressed for alternatives. The vet said he could be kept in a kennel for five months in the hope that the leg would form, but even if it did, it would be unusable. I told my mother that wasn't happening. Neither of us was in a position to take care of a dog under those conditions for that length of time and I thought the idea cruel.
The vet left us to make a decision. And there really was only one answer. My mother had a hard time accepting it. I rubbed her back and explained the situation. With the facts acknowledged, we called the vet back in. Billy would have to be put down.
Then there was the matter of what to do with his remains. I always allow them to cremate, but my mother wanted to take Billy home and bury him in the backyard. The vet steps away as we discuss. I want to argue for cremation - it's simple, but my mother is in such a state I decide that it's best to simply do as she wishes.
The vet returns and Billy's given something to help him sleep.
It's a sad process. It never gets easier, no matter how many times I go through it. I stayed near Billy's face and talk to him as the pain med they gave him took affect, telling him over and over again what a good boy he was and how much he is loved.
And how sorry I am. I am very, very sorry.
Despite his muzzle, he gave me one last bottom-toothed smile. It broke my heart, but at least I knew that he wasn't in pain anymore. The vet returned and gave him the final shot; the one that would stop his over-sized heart from beating. I talk to him the entire time. I never want to let them go without letting them know how much they are loved.
We wrap Billy in his blanket and my mother sits in the passenger seat of my car, holding him. The ex drives her car. It's surreal. When we arrive at her house, I hold Billy - who I know is no longer bound in that blanket or trapped in that body. The ex digs a hole and I lay him in it. My sister, who is a year younger than me, has arrived from up north. That's a comfort. She'll spend the day with my mother.
In the coming days, being at my Mom's house is all kinds of odd. Billy is not there to bring me one of his many bones or one of his blankets. He's not there to give kisses or sit on my lap. And there's no smiles to be had.
Pepper, his companion, is very quiet and sad. She initially refuses to eat, but that passes with time. I give her extra attention. It helps.
The house seems so quiet and empty without him. That's the way with someone with such a big personality - they take up a lot of room.
Later, my mother apologizes to me for some of the things she said. And, of course, I have to apologize to the ex for how I behaved, too. It seems that as I grow older, I am able to handle a crisis less and less.
I do go to the prairie that day. And I'm glad I went. I read and walk around. It all serves as a good distraction. But one inescapable truth remains...
They come into our lives and add so much pleasure. And even though we know it's not to last forever, we give them our hearts.
No, I'm not talking about that trick you just met in the woods or down by the docks... I am talking about pets.
Cats, dogs, hamsters, gerbils, exotic birds... what have you. And that's what I'd like you to talk about today; those little companions who grace and have graced our lives, giving more than we have any right to expect.
Oh, and by the way... as cat's only have nine lives? So, too, this quiz has only nine questions!
1/ Are you an 'animal' person?
Yes. And I always will be, though, I must say, I am evolving a bit. There for a time, I would take on any challenge, but as I start eying retirement, with my goal of travelling in mind, I am becoming much more conscious of the commitment being made when taking on a new family member and the fairness of the situation.
It's not like I will be travelling 24/7. Not at all. But at the same time, I don't feel it would be fair to take on additional animals at this time.
First, I don't want to be an absent owner. I find that sort of behavior irresponsible. If you make a commitment to care for an animal - you should make choices with your life where that animal is included as a priority, not simply a passing consideration. You have to be present in that animal's life. I'm always shocked at how selfish and blind people are when it comes to pets. If you ignore them, they act out. So, if your pet has behavior issues and you can't figure out why? Look in the mirror, dear. Most issues can be resolved if one simply honors the commitment made when you took the little fella into your home. Spending quality time with an animal? That's part of that commitment. And that's also, typically, an easy solution to any behavioral issues that spring up.
Which is why, as I look to travel more, I know that there may be a time period when pet ownership is not something I can afford - emotionally or ethically.
2/ What was your first pet and what was it's name? How old were you?
Back on the farm, I know we had two different dogs when I was just a wee thing. I don't remember what happened to the one, but the other - a neighboring farmer hated and that a-hole eventually ran him over with his truck.
Enter Lady - a basset/beagle mix. I was three or four years old.
The sweetest, kindest dog, Lady had a great personality. When we moved into town, we had neighbors to the right of us; an older married couple, immigrants from Czechoslovakia, who were very nice to us, but they loved our dog. As time progressed, we noticed Lady putting on excessive weight, eventually learning that when the kindly couple had lunch or dinner, they always made an extra portion for Lady!
Lady taught me what pet ownership was about.
By the time I was a senior in high school, Lady was quite elderly and couldn't climb stairs. She would cry at night at the bottom of the stairs until I went down and got her and she would spend the night in my room. She was terrified of thunder, so I spent many nights under my bed holding her, letting her know it would be alright.
I went off to college and never really made sure that my two sisters or mother were aware of everything Lady needed.
When I came home for Xmas break, I noticed that all the rugs which populated various corners of rooms in the house were missing. I asked. Lady had passed away in late October. My mom just forgot to tell me. So, I never got to say good-bye.
She was a wonderful dog.
3/ In your lifetime, how many pets have you had?
Not counting the cats at The Boyfriend's - one cat, seven dogs. Because I was so involved in theatre all those years? I could not have a pet. I was never home, and having a pet and living that life? Not compatible. And after that I was travelling quite a bit. It was only when recovering from my illness and returning to Minnesota that I took on being a pet owner. I knew it would ground me, and I needed stability at that time.
That's when Beau, my first Chihuahua came into my life. He gave me purpose and focus. I owe him so much.
4/ Have you ever adopted a pet from the pound, a rescue organization, or a shelter?
Oddly, of the six dogs that I have had since 1998, only one came directly from such a place.
Paco (Chihuahua #2) was just a pup and about to be euthanized because the owner, a waitress The Ex used to work with, was having a baby and moving to Sweden and hadn't bothered getting proper papers for the dog to travel - and came to the realization that she couldn't take the dog with her, so she was just going to put him down. So, hearing this, The Ex and I swooped in.
He was the cutest thing ever.
Mona's owner married and had a baby with a man who hated her dog - a lovely, rather rare, 'deer' Chihuahua. The man used to kick her and had injured her quite badly. She was only with us a short time (six months). I am still unclear exactly why she passed away - it was a blur of vet visits and medications. It was all very sad, and we did everything we could to save her. She remains the most beautiful dog I have ever seen.
Atula. The Hun. He was this terrible Boston terrier. Just a monster. I adored him so much. His yowl had to be heard to be appreciated. He was quite elderly when he came into our lives. A co-worker was moving to work in Taiwan and he knew I had taken in animals in the past, so he pressured me to take on both his Boston terriers. My mom took the younger of the two, Billie. And The Ex and I took on Atula - who had some medical and behavioral issues. Turns out most of the problems stemmed from the fact that this man had two dogs and no time. They spent up to 16 hours a day in their kennels. He also lived in apartment, so no yard. He was divorced and hung onto the dogs so his kids would come visit. Both animals were very screwed up. Watching Atula navigate our fenced-in backyard for the first time? As heartbreaking as it was hilarious. He had these big bug-eyes and was terrified of the grass. He warmed up to it quickly, though. His final two years were as best as we could make them. He seemed very happy.
Millie, whose story I shared in a relatively recent post, was a tea-cup Chihuahua my second youngest sister rescued from people who truly had no idea what pet ownership means - and I'll leave it at that. I simply adored her.
Which brings us to Hercules... the only dog I have ever acquired through a 'rescue' organization.
5/ Who currently resides at your house? How old? How did you acquire them?
Hercules. After Beau passed away, I got a phone call at work from the The Ex - "I found a dog who looks just like Beau. We have to go get him." Now, I know this is not a good idea - dogs are not interchangeable and you can't 'replace' one with another, but The Ex knew I was heartbroken when Beau died, and this was his way of 'fixing' things. So, I protested, but acquiesced.
Hercules was at a foster home as part of this dog rescue organization. We get there. The woman has far too many dogs given her tiny house and miniscule yard. Hercules? Looks nothing like Beau (of course) and is, in fact, four times larger than Beau. I look at The Ex like... 'what have you done.' But by then, I knew it was too late... Hercules was our responsibility. Period. If nothing else, he had to be taken out of that home.
Here's everything we learned after adopting Hercules: he'd been hit on the head with a hammer repeatedly and had suffered a bit of brain damage (he's a sweetie, but not a bright bulb). A child poked out one of his eyes with a ball point pen and the org couldn't afford the surgery required to save the eye. No, that fell to us. Two surgeries and $6 K later, turns out they'd waited too long, and we could not save the eye, so Herc has a glass one, which isn't fooling anybody, but The Ex didn't want the other dogs (?) (Millie, our only pup at the time, was blind.) to make fun of him.
Herc is a love. During the pandemic, I began walking him daily. It doesn't take long and it's good for both of us. He barks too much and is afraid of everything, but such a sweetie.
6/ Of course, the ones currently with you are your favorites, but is there one from your past you miss the most?
I do miss them all. I sometimes stare at the backyard and imagine them all there at once.
I would be hard pressed to pick one, but if I had to? Beau. He was my light. I owe him my life.
7/ Do you have friends or family members with pets that you adore? What are they, how old and what is/are their name(s)?
My Mom has Billie (the Boston Terrier) and Pepper. Pepper came from an animal shelter. When my Mom and Dad moved across the street from me (because Dad was failing - Alzheimer's) they had a Shih Tzu named Lil who passed away. My Mom thought my Dad missed Lil and wanted another dog. I suggested we go to the shelter. She saw a Jack Russell Terrier she liked and asked to have some private time with the dog. We were led to this large, fenced pen and were told to stand at one end. The dog was brought in and left off the leash. Her name was Pepa, so my Mom called for Pepper... the dog ran across the length of the room and jumped right into my Mom's arms. Well... end of story.
Pepper has/had terrible anxiety issues which cost my Mom lots of curtains (which Pepper kept tearing off the windows) and Pepper some of her teeth (she would chew her kennels - even metal ones.) Fast forward. She adored my Dad (she would curl up with him in his hospital bed) and has mellowed with age. She's a sweetie.
Billie bites. And pees. It's gotten better, but we have to watch him constantly. Boston Terriers are not known for biting, but, apparently, while being locked in his kennel up to 16 hours a day, Billie didn't get that memo - and his previous owner failed to mention it. He's a cute, funny little guy. I adore him and he seems very happy.
The Boyfriend has four, had five, cats. Cedric, I wrote about last Xmas. That leaves: Wonk, a 21-year old black cat who is cranky and a sweetie, LeRoy - a four year old black cat that The Boyfriend adopted as a kitten (he's an odd duck, stand-offish), Theo, the Siamese no one at the shelter wanted to adopt because he has a broken tail (that's all I needed to hear)(he is a stand-offish love), and Tuxedo - who I have written about in the past - who continues to make great strides. I consider myself co-owner of Tuxedo and am very grateful The Boyfriend agreed to take him on.
My youngest sister has three cats: Boris - a giant black coon-cat, Natasha - a tuxedo cat who taught me about tuxedo cats (very, very stand-offish/everything on their terms), and Molly - who is a dwarf Siamese (some special breed) and is cute as a button. They all came from the local animal shelter, which my sister supports.
8/ If you currently have a pet, could you see your life without one? And if you don't currently have a pet, would you want one and what would it be?
As stated earlier, yes. I see me without a pet for a period of time in the near future.
Hercules is my last dog for the time being. I am burnt out. Saying good-bye is too hard. Plus, I don't want to be an irresponsible pet owner; I plan to travel and that does not a good pet owner make.
I can see myself settling down after a point... and then? Yep, I will adopt someone in need of a home. And who knows? Best made plans and all of that? I know if someone came to me with a sob story, I'd have to change my plans.
Honestly? Other than my very selfish pursuits? I don't see a purpose to my life except to be of help to others - and that includes our animal friends. So, if someone absolutely needed a home?
I'd simply have to change my plans.
9/ If you could have any animal in the whole world as a pet (in a safe and healthy manner), which would you choose and why?
Oh... there are so many cuties. Kohala Bears, Capybaras, Chipmunks, Possums, Raccoons, Ring-tailed Lemurs, Prairie Dogs, Armadillos...
But I will go with a Meerkat. And of course, you cannot have just one Meerkat. You must have a backyard dedicated to a Meerkat family. And, of course, you cannot have just one Meerkat family, you must have at least two.
All of which is a terrible, terrible idea.
Animals that live in the wild? Need to stay in the wild. We humans need to stop thinking we need to domesticate and 'own' everything. That mindset of ours?
Well, look where it's gotten us?
--- ---
That's it for today.
So much fun. I adore pets. Pet ownership is serious business - so rewarding - but if undertaken? It must be taken seriously.
Okay... your turn.
Leave your answers in the comment section or post on your blog and leave a link here.
For those of you who are not a pet owner/animal person? There are still a couple questions you can answer.
