pet connection

Honestly, I try not to think about the fact that day in and day out, the amount of work I have to do is … basically undo-able (and yet, it gets done). Every week I have to write/edit/coordinate the production of an entire newspaper page of content for our friends at Universal Press, write reviews for DogCars.com, blog in three places (including my “day job” work, which on Earth Day involved a post about … David Cassidy! Yes!) and keep moving forward on a half-dozen book projects at various stages, a dozen or so business proposals that keep trickling in, up to 10,000 e-mails a month and …

… uh … take care of pets, keep up with the laundry and remember to brush my teeth. Oh yeah, and plant a garden.

Not to mention, my doctor threatens to not refill my asthma meds if I don’t come in to see her soon. I like breathing, so I guess seeing the doctor for a long-overdue physical will have to move up on the priority list. And because I turned 50 last December, there’s some gastroenterology group leaving messages all over to schedule something I’m likewise in no hurry to get to, nuff said and puh-lease don’t send me icky warnings about colo-rectal cancer. I’ll get to it. This summer, after book deadline. I swear it.

Then there’s all this other stuff that I’m trying not to think about, like yesterday’s column in the Wall Street Journal online asserting that hoarding food wouldn’t be such a bad idea. I went down the hall here at work to the smartest person I know anywhere, our CFO, usually the dry, upbeat and witty voice of reason (also a man who understands what, exactly, happened at Enron and much, much more and why we should sell these wind turbines but not those, and how best to finance a hydrogen fuel-port).  Instead of telling me not to worry my pretty little head about it all, he offered me a couple of shelves in his basement for storing food (although not, I noticed, room for me and the critters in the bomb shelter … kidding! I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a bomb shelter … Jim? Jim?).

As I said, best not think about it.

The perfectly awful The Earth Is So Screwed Day ended with me putting youngest dog Otter on a plane to Houston at 10 p.m. last night. I was raising this puppy for my friend Mary, and I knew Otter was temporary from the day the little fluff-ball arrived just before Christmas. Still, I was kind of surprised at how emotional I have been these last few days over sending her back, considering that I’ve run a breed rescue and fostered and placed dozens and dozens of pets over the last 25 years. But you know … none of the fosters came to me as puppies, so maybe that was a large part of it. I watched — and helped — this pup grow up, and now she’s off to her new life with the best start I could give her.  I bet she won’t even send me a Mother’s Day card, the little bitch.

This morning started not a whole lot better, with a conference call with our  publisher, and the reminder that all three fall books are completely and utterly due in just a tick over a month, so even the news that Otter arrived safely in Texas this morning hasn’t done much to make me feel that I’m not just slightly less behind today.

OK, then, so now you understand why I’m going to point you elsewhere for good stuff to read, because I ain’t got good stuff to write today. I’m a zombie.

Oh, but listen, I’m not complaining about the work. I’m blessed, in so many ways. I have work I love, and I have people I love and love working with. But sometimes just a little less to love would be love-ly, ya know?

***

So …

ConsumerAffairs.com has considerable number of consumer complaints over  Nutro. Nutro blames blogs (in Google ads appearing just about everywhere).

Our pal the Terrierman has a wonderful historic post about the use of “longdogs” to hunt coyotes. Yeah, I’m sure I should feel sorry for coyotes, but honestly, I just don’t. I have known many friends who have lost cats and small dogs to these voraciously successful urban predators, and while sure, it maybe wouldn’t have happened if the cats had been inside, a couple of those cats were re-habbed ferals who were living the best life they could, in an urban neighborhood not three miles from the State Capitol dome here in Sacramento when a coyote came over the river levee and snapped them up. Another dog, a Jack Russell, was nearly killed while not 10 feet from his owner, who was mucking out stalls inside her Colorado barn when a coyote darted inside the barn and snapped up the dog. Only the Jack’s ferociousness and the adrenaline-assisted pummeling of the hell-beast with a pitch-fork saved the dog’s life. So … coyotes … no sympathy. And here’s the piece.

Patrick also points this morning to a piece in a trade pub regarding the thrashing of the heckuva-job-Brownie FDA chief by Rep. John Dingell:

Dingell: “You know, I’ve been in this business a long time, and I’ve had food and drug commissioners constantly tell me, ‘Ooooh, we’re going to have a new means of doing this, and we’re going to be leaner and meaner.’ Turns out that they’re leaner and poorer and weaker and less capable of doing their jobs. And all of these promises that I get from commissioners…turn out to be nothing more or less than hooey.”

Hooey, indeed. Here’s the rest.

Pet Connection regular reader slt has her own blog, “Yes, Biscuit!,” and she has been writing a ton more than I have lately. Her recent post on pet-food regulation (or lack thereof) is well worth a read. … Pet Connection BFF Dr. Parry Khuly’s post on the AVMA’s policy statement against the keeping of non-human primates as pets generated a lot of heat, if not a lot of light. Reminded me of the old AOL Pet Care Forum days (Christie will remember), when we had a very dedicated group of people committed to the furthering of skunks as pets. Personally, I think we have enough problems with getting people to properly care for dogs and cats. I don’t get the appeal of exotics, generally, and believe it’s a very rare person indeed with anough money, knowledge and time to dedicate to proper care of these animals, so most people are better off without them. (Not to mention the whole issue of animal-dealer scum.) Anyway, jump on over to Dolittler for more.

I’ll add more here throughout the day, but that’s enough to get you started. And I’ll end on a happy note: With Otter going back to Texas, my boy Woody came home. (Mary had him for a few months of advanced training while I was raising puppy Otter.) Of course, I was a little concerned that he and Pip, the shepherd-border collie mix I adopted a few months back, wouldn’t get along.

The worries were for nothing. They are best buds, as the picture above will attest. Nothing like a little guy-guy bonding over a Kong. I expected them to pop open brewskies afterward and turn on some sports.

Update: Mary just called to report that Otter thinks being back home at Windfall Ranch is the coolest thing ever.  Yep, the puppy who slept on my bed for the last four months is totally over me in less than 24 hours. Sheesh.