Here mousy, mousy, mousy!

Kidding! Okay, yeah, that little felt mouse is adorable, but ain't nothing like the real thing: I can be your mouser, your lap warmer, or someone who can stare at you like this for a few hours.
​ 
My name is Sheena.

I started my life in a shed, a wee, orange, brown and white tabby baby who fell into an orphan honeypot when someone found me and brought me to the Memphis & Shelby County Humane Society. Seriously, have you seen these digs? Of all the places for a waif to find shelter, this place ain't bad. 

But, it's not home. It's a waiting room. 

That's where you come in. I need one. I want to be your cat, and I want you to be my person. I'm waiting.

A few months after the Humane Society took me in someone adopted me. I was happy for nearly two years, but then my person decided I needed too much attention. So here I am again, homeless. Is it wrong to devote my life to giving you my undivided attention? I'm not needy; I'm just givey. I like to give away lots of tiny paw pats, affectionate head butts, and wait until you rub my ears, I lean in like a champ to make it easier for you to scratch a long time. I can stare into your eyes for hours, sit in your lap, rub my head on your hand so you don't have to move.

Here's the thing: I'm a smidge on the shy side. That doesn't mean you'll steal glimpses of me every so often as I dart past a door. Just give me a few minutes. I can quickly decide if you are a person who would appreciate my undivided attention. I'd like to live with one or two people so I can divide attention equally.  I dare you to come see me and hold me for a few minutes. If you aren't smitten by this kitten (okay, corny) then I'll give you one of my teaser toys. 

Once you've cuddled me and talked me, then all you have to do is fill out a wee bit of paperwork and pay my $100 adoption fee. If you ask me, it's a steal. I'm healthy, vaccinated, microchipped and spayed. I will give you a lifetime (well, my lifetime) of love and fun. Oh, I didn't tell you I come with a bag of tricks? Have you ever seen a cat bat a piece of paper on the floor or do one of those hilarious cat crab walks? I got a million ways to make you laugh. 

The Humane Society of Memphis & Shelby County
935 Farm Road
Memphis, TN 38134.  

It's open today until 6 p.m. It's open on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays from 1-6 p.m. and Saturdays and Sundays from 10 a.m.-6 p.m.
(901) 937-3900

My headline sounds a little like the book title "Running with Scissors" though mine isn't about something in your hand, it's about what's crawling on the trail or in the bushes while you are running the trails or forests.

My friend Sherry Rogers runs with Annie, an adorable mixed-breed dog she adopted from Memphis Animal Services. (See, you don't have to get a pure-bred puppy whose ancestors were runners. Just get yourself a healthy little-mixed breed and have fun."

She and Annie run at least three times a week in the outback of the dog park at Shelby Farms and other trails. 

She wants to know what she should carry with her if she's running on the trails with Annie in case of a snakebite. She worries about it on the trails because Annie would probably stick her nose on the snake before Sherry realized what was happening. 

The guy who chained up Tommy and left him to starve in a backyard was telling the truth, at least about two of the breeds detected.

The Wisdom Panel DNA test showed that Tommy is an American Staffordshire Terrier (the American Kennel Club name for a pit bull), Rottweiler and golden retriever cross.

Hmm, the pitbull/Rottweiler cross is what the guy said. I never saw the Rottweiler in him, because Tommy has long, lanky legs. Rottie bodies seem stouter than how his body looks, but he could have been the offspring of a poorly bred Rottie.

Now, a golden retriever, I don't see it. No fluff in his coat or tail, no soft furry ears. He's as sweet as a golden, but that trait is true with pit bulls and Rotties. Plus, you get the bonus of pit bull snuggling. Never met a breed that wants to slam up as hard as he can when he wants to lie next to you. 

I believe it's worth the money to find out the mix breeds in your dog. I've had mixed breeds all my life, except for a golden retriever given to me by a friend's family.

If you want to see the full report, which for some reason landed in my spam folder a while back, email me and I will send it to you in a PDF. My email is [email protected]
 

Check out this video on my blog

Gotta love Maxx!

Jack Wolff likes to collect his balls every day and keep them safe on his dog bed.  If they are under furniture, he comes to me and uses his head and eyes to point to the location. That requires me to lie face down on the floor and stretch my hands underneath the sofa or any other stick of furniture. Once he's satisfied that he's collected enough, he lies peacefully on his bed with his balls.  

Why does your dog or cat have a collar, but no ID tag? Where's the rabies tag, which by law must be showing on a dog's collar?

Can't tell you how many dogs I've found that have a collar with no tag. I saw one this morning. The big beautiful girl was ambling down the street. Luckily her owner posted her on Craigslist, which was the website I jumped on first. She was also on Lost and Found Groups of the Midsouth on Facebook.

But a lot of people don't know about these sites. They look for signs for a lost dog or cat, coming soon to a blog entry near you.

I always look for an ID tag first. Look at these. (Photo)

Then there are the ones that have a microchip with no collar. Microchips are the best way to make sure your dog can always be connected back to you.

We've all seen those reunion videos of dog and owners reunited. Even if the dog or cat were missing for years or hundreds of miles away, that chip would be read somewhere down the road.

I don't have a chip reader. So, when I see a stray, the first thing I look for is a collar. The second is that dangling piece of metal that costs maybe $5. It's the easiest way for a stranger to help you find your pet. 
If you know someone whose pet doesn't have an ID tag, then make one.

Visit this Facebook page and make some bids for cool stuff !

For years, my dog Jack never noticed thunderstorms. Tommy, however, has always been horribly afraid, to the point that I have to drug him.

My guess is Tonmy developed his because he was dog chained outside. Until I came along. When I found him, he didn't have a doghouse, so that meant he had nowhere to hide from the frightening lightening followed by the thunder that sometimes shakes the ground.

In addition to taking Benydryl and Xanax, we have made him a comfy cave in the closet. He can get in there on his dog bed. It's dark and safe to him.

If the storm is severe, he self soothes by closing the bedroom door, then scratch it until we open it again. He does it over and over

He doesn't close It quietly. He uses his paws and head to get it close to closed, then WHAM!

He also goes into the bathroom and wedges his 100-pound self behind the toilet.

As for Jack, medicine doesn't affect him. I've given him the sam medicine I give Tommy. No change in the fear. I even tried acepromizine, which is a knock-out drug I hate, but I'm desperate to get him through it. Again, it just leaves him panting and anxious.

if we are home his 98-pound, yellow self climbs in our lap or we get in a bed with him so he can cuddle as close as he can be.

Today, I went home at lunch. All the other dogs were fine. Tommy was sound asleep on the couch. Jack was hiding in the bath tub. He was so relieved when I came home and so sad when I went back to work.

Do you have a storm phobic dog? Tell me about it and if you've found a way to soothe your pet.

I'm the person who soaks my skin in Deet because mosquitoes eat me alive. Yes, I've tried Skin so Soft and citronella, lemongrass and eucalyptus oils. Mosquitoes backstroke in that mess as they collectively steal a pint.

I'm a hypocrite, sort of. I won't use chemicals on my yard. I believe if worms would rather wriggle out of the soil and writhe in a horrible death on a scorching, summer sidewalk, then it can't be good for the planet.

 I don't use poison on vermin, nor will I use a live-catch trap. (You don't want to know about the time I didn't check on one for weeks.) I prefer a snap trap for a quick death.

​ All of that is to say; I will gladly use chemicals to keep fleas off my four dogs and off of me. 

I've had a flea-infested house before. It took months of chemicals to get rid of those buggers. I even tossed out my pepper for a time, just because it caused flashbacks to that nightmare. 

What product do you like the best? Oh, it must also repel, kill or scare the bejesus out of ticks.​

I used to talk all of my dogs to the Shelby Farms Dog Park; that is until Tommy turned from the mild-mannered boy that frolicked with all breeds into this canine Crip that believed everyone was a Blood. ​

For 10 years, no Tommy. Now he's like Grandpa walking. We couldn't make it very far past the gate. I took him to an appointment 

recently with Jack. I stopped and let them walk a little at Gaisman Park Both were pooped. 

Then I lassoed Deuce and Beagle, and we went to the dog park. Jack loves to go too. He can still run and frolic. They have the best time. A solid hour of Deuce swimming after a stick that she leaves about a foot from the bank. 
The beagle wades around the edge only going leg-pit high. She then finds a hill where she can roll over onto her back and do this goofy inchworm thing all the way to the bottom.

The other time she just prances around, her tail like a helicopter blade twirling and flirting with people. A few times she just walked away with them. Didn't notice until I could make out that tiny, tail-twirling butt headed for a better life.

I squealed by "Beagle Beagle Beagle," which I guess reminded her that she already has a family.

After an hour or so, I came home to two of the saddest dogs in America. They could sniff the lake and the scents from other dogs. They know that smell. Their noses quiver like that someone four houses down is frying bacon. Tommy and Jack were broken-hearted. The saddest eyes. I've always hated letting one dog go somewhere and not taking the rest.

That's why I always looked like Charlton Heston in "Ben Hur" whenever I walked my dogs. 

I know there are purists out there who believe I'm ridiculous. These dogs need to be caged-trained;  uhh "crate" trained. No people food. No eating before the humans eat....Yeah, yeah, yeah, we run a loose ship around here. So imagine a sucker like me trying to let the youngsters have some fun but not hurting the feelings of the old boys. 

Any suggestions that don't involve but these are my old boys, the ones I probably won't have by the end of the year. I can't take the others without them. 

So, does anyone have a way to handle this problem that doesn't involve making them sad?