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By Deb D’Andrea
Over the years as a pet sitter, I have witnessed what I perceive to be doggy and kitty depression: especially within the first couple days of their people being on holiday. It is quite an adjustment period, even when pets continue to experience a similar daily routine – staying in their home and familiar surroundings; but it’s just not the same as when their people are there.
I’ve seen a variety of ways pets communicate their displeasure; urinating and defecating in the house and on their people’s clothes, hiding under the bed, or sometimes not eating for several days. It is very clear they are not happy that their people have disappeared. This is one of the reasons I always take my dogs along to clients’ homes as they are the ultimate mobile puppy playtime – taking everyone’s mind off their troubles.
Your faithful dog or curious cat sits there watching you as you pack your bags, fully knowing what the next moves are, thinking “I hope they’re going to take me with them!” And then the bags are tossed in the back of the car and off you go, leaving Fido and Fluffy behind.
Herbal & Homeopathic remedies, and Flower Essences can safely help calm your companions when you leave. For dogs, I’ve found that stuffing a treat toy, like the Monster Mouth, with peanut butter and kibble, freezing it and then giving it to them a little bit before leaving helps tremendously in keeping their minds off the fact that you’ve just left.
Pets also get depressed when they lose a playmate as the neighbors move – or even harder yet, when a housemate passes away. Kids could be heading off to school and now the house is a lot quieter; or you’re heading to work, leaving them alone for 10 hours a day. Being aware of your dog’s mental space is key to ensuring a long, happy lifetime. It really helps to leave snacks, water, toys and classical music – or better yet Canine Lullabies, on when heading out. The music helps keep them calm and relaxed while awaiting your return.
Yes, dogs and cats do get depressed, but with a little extra support we can help them through it. And when you get home, they’ll be so glad to see you that all their troubles and worries will be forgotten!
 by Carol Frank
Avian Adventures was the name of a bird cage company I owned from 1996 to 2007. I loved the name as I felt it depicted a certain type of excitement that is befit a parrot. (I sold the company in 2007 to Midwest Homes for Pets, and they have since renamed it Avian Adventures by Midwest).
Just a few weeks ago, I experienced a different kind of Avian Adventure. My beloved African Grey, Lola, literally flew the coop. I had let her wings grow out because a local bird trainer urged me to….she said it would be better for her psyche. I enjoyed watching her fly around my house and from her cage to my arm, and was careful around open doors and windows.
I have a giant aviary in my backyard where Lola and Murphy (Eclectus) reside during most summer days. On a gorgeous Thursday morning, all seemed well until Murphy started acting like a toot. I was fixing something in the cage and he came over and chomped down on my finger, something he virtually never does….but he does NOT like to have his cage messed with! I opened the door to take him out for a little “talking to”, and Lola shot out of the cage. She flew over my back fence and across the street before I could make it out of the yard to see where she went. She was gone in a flash.
Lola is a sensitive little girl. She could tell I was upset, and she didn’t want to be around for Murphy’s scolding.
I thought for sure I would spot her quickly and bring her home. Minutes turned into hours; hours turned into days as I spent my days posting online ads, printing flyers, making phone calls, and riding my bike around in circles, calling her name over and over again. It’s a horrible feeling to not know where your feathered (or furry) child is. And with a parrot, you just really never know what in the world they are thinking or doing. She could have gone ANYWHERE. Plus, since she is gray, she didn’t exactly stand out amongst all of the foliage. One of the few redeeming things about the situation is that our Boulder CO nights were warm, so I knew she at least wouldn’t be cold.
Angels appeared out of nowhere. I posted an ad on Craigslist and I got a reply from a volunteer for parrotalert.com. I posted an ad in the online version of our local paper, and got an e-mail from Retta, a volunteer with 911parrotalert.com. They monitor online posts for lost parrots and reach out to people when they see a new post. By this time Lola had been gone for 3 days and two nights. I had done everything I could think of short of starting a Facebook page, which was going to be my next step. Then I read a paragraph in the volunteer’s newsletter that changed everything.
“Don’t give up, birds are often found after several weeks, even
months. I believe the number one thing an owner can do to get their
bird back is to post flyers in the neighborhood. So post as many
as you can including pet shops, vets, grocery stores, post offices,
police and fire stations, schools, nearby apartment buildings,
animal shelters, etc. Even put one in your car window. The more
people who know about your missing bird the better your chances
of getting it back.”
Sunday morning my boyfriend and I got up very early, got out on our bikes, and started posting….three hours later we had put up 70 flyers on Boulders busiest street corners and retail stores.
After a quick lunch break, we were back at it. Riding down Broadway Avenue, my phone rang. Excited to see a phone # I didn’t recognize, I heard a voice utter words that I will never forget “I saw your flyer and I have your bird. She is safe and sound in a cage in my home.”
Lola’s Avian Adventure had taken her nearly 3 miles into the backyard of a University of Colorado student who just so happened to have had parrots during his childhood. What are the chances??? I don’t necessarily think he was planning to look very hard for Lola’s owner; he had captured her the day before and had already gone to the pet store to buy toys! But he and his roommates had seen my flyer earlier in the day and that compelled him to call me. It was probably the line “Beloved Family Pet” that made him pick up the phone. I mean, who would keep someone’s bird after seeing that?
I rushed over to pick her up, nervous the whole time that this was some kind of cruel hoax. She perked up when she saw me walk in, and proceeded to give me the biggest cuddles and kisses ever. I am so beyond grateful and happy to have my baby girl home. As much as I would love to see her fly around the house again, I just can’t take the chance ever again that she will fly out of my yard and possibly out of my life forever. The wings are staying clipped.
by Julie Dye
As I drove up to Inja’s home, I saw her waiting on the front doorstep for me, anxious to get out of her house and spend time with me, her oldest friend. At first, I felt uncertain about how much I should help—do I offer her my arm? Do I help her into the car? But soon, I relaxed and remembered I’ve known Inja for more than 35 years and regardless of what has happened to her, we are as we have always been: comfortable friends.
It has been nearly 11 months since her mother phoned me late one Friday night, desperate to get to her daughter from 1,800 miles away. A kidney infection that had gone unrecognized and untested by her doctor had turned septic. She was fighting for her life. But Inja has always been a fighter and while the infection put up a near equal fight, she overcame the infection that ran rampant in her entire body, heart, spine and brain. Though she showed a strong recovery each day, a week later, Inja suffered a brain aneurysm, called a mycotic pseudoaneurysm–meaning the infection caused the aneurysm. She was flown by “flight for life” down to the University Hospital in Denver. During her 6 hours of surgery, the lead surgeon came to the lobby to tell the family of my best friend: a mother of three, sister of three, loving daughter and dedicated wife, that she would “not make it off the table.” There was too much damage. Another call from her mother who told me I needed to come to the hospital the following day to say goodbye to my dear friend. Remembering her mom’s voice sob “oh her babies, her babies…” still brings me to tears.
And yet she survived. Again and again, through multiple strokes, continued infection, two full brain surgeries where they removed a piece of her frontal lobe, she survived. She did more than survive: she amazed.
Today Inja walks, she talks, she reads, she writes, she thinks, she heals, and yet she has not survived without scars—and in more ways than just the huge circular scar hidden under her hair. Her memory is still resorting itself, as if her brain were a computer that has rebooted and must sort each file. She faces continuing complications, which slow her process. Inja is home with her husband and three active children, but can be overwhelmed and confused by a busy life.
Which leads me to when I arrived at her home. A couple months ago, I met Tara Pagoda who owns Fifth Element Ranch in Loveland, CO, just 30 minutes away. Tara is a therapist and uses six therapy horses who help Tara access and understand patients. I had told Tara about Inja and she invited me to bring Inja to the ranch. On the drive through picturesque rural Colorado, Inja and I spoke about how she was doing, how the kids were adjusting, and even the difficulty in picking the right school for her children. Inja told me “If you expect more, you get more. If you give more, you get more.” I felt as if she were speaking about more than school, but her life.
A lot of people no longer know how to relate to Inja. Many ignore her, don’t make eye contact, talk about her instead of to her. When we arrived at the Fifth Element Ranch, the reaction was anything but disregard. The horses were immediately drawn to Inja. We were first introduced to Max, regal in white and black, and Joe, kingly in white and brown.
We were shown how to offer a closed fist as a handshake, and gave treats. Tara then explained to us how horses are able to see true emotion and understand the subconscious. They live authentically and in the present and help others to have that kind of renewed awareness. Horses help people to find their gifts. Tara said “they are trying to tell you something right now. What do you feel? What’s going on in your body right now?” Inja began to talk about how people have told her she is brain damaged. She affirmed, “It’s not true!” Just then, Max started making sounds and Joe became very engaged. Tara instructed, “did you see how he was supporting you? They know something special is happening here.”
Inja and I were introduced to soul horses, Cassie and Kokopelli, in the field and made our way into the arena. There we met Andy, a stunning dark brown horse who had been orphaned at a much too early age. He was very attached to a horse in the neighboring stall: Misty, a gorgeous grey horse covered with tiny brown markings. Misty had been used excessively to breed and was a mama to 10 horses. She was very interested in Inja and kept walking over and putting her head down in front of Inja. It was quite touching to watch. Inja was equally as drawn to Misty and remarked on how she wanted to bring her home. Tara invited us to go into one of the stalls and just sit on chairs. Inja selected Misty.
While Inja sat down, I stood, stroked Misty’s muzzle and talked with her. Tara asked me to talk about what was going on in my body. She instructed me to close my eyes, take a breath and move down from my head, through my neck, chest, arms, legs and so on. She asked if any specific body part was talking or feeling something. I told her my shoulders and knees. Tara asked which was louder. “My knees.” “What are your knees feeling?” “Overwhelm. I’m just tired and overwhelmed.” She asked me to put my hand on Misty and feel what my body is trying to tell me. Inja said “family,” which actually made my knees feel lighter.
Tara asked Inja if she was feeling anything specific in her body and Inja responded that her knee hurt. Tara asked why. Inja said “I am stressed about trying to be the mom who does everything right…does it all…is perfect.” After everything she has been through, her biggest concern is how she can be the best mom possible. We spent a little more time talking with Misty and feeling her calming energy, and walked back toward the car. On the way, Tara talked with Inja about her oldest son, who has been really struggling, living in the hope that his mommy doesn’t die. Tara’s suggestions for Inja on how to ease his fears were so beautiful.
I’ve always thought horses were both calming and invigorating at the same time. In a horse’s presence, it’s impossible for me not to feel more positive and grounded. With Tara’s guidance and warm-heartened facilitation it was a very magical time.
I received an email from Tara shortly after I got home. She had been hanging down with the horse including mama Misty, and started hearing a message about Inja’s quest for perfection as a mom. Here is the rough translation Tara sent me.
“Mothering takes many forms. It’s basic point is love, and connection, and not a specific form, in a specific format, i.e. it may not look like what we think a mother is supposed to look like, and/or act like, as in June Cleaver in Leave It To Beaver. Love and heart and connection. Having a bond. That’s the gift of mothering, and having that, is what makes us feel right inside. Having our heart be heard, is first priority. Then, the how-to meet our logistical life needs (food and shelter) and by who is not as precise. Someone kind can meet these needs. But, our heart connection, that’s the mothering we truly need. Andy says he’s doing alright, and look at his mothering life. And, Misty weighed in and said her heart has always tried to stay open, no matter what happened to her babies. It’s heart, it’s connecting, and then all the horses chorused that we all (not just a mother) need to connect, and our heart is how. When you feel truly connected to the divine being, everything just rights itself.”
To me, this was a “perfect” response to our drive for perfection. Inja might never be the mother she was—but that does not make her a mother who is incapable of love. To recognize this is so empowering and I’m so thankful for the experience.
In our next blog, we’ll take a look at why horses make incredible therapeutic partners.
By Julie Dye
 Marley is my first pet. Sure, growing up I had goldfish and we even had a suicidal newt (another story), but since my sister suffered from severe allergies all my childhood, I waited until I was 26 before I finally brought my best friend home.
The summer in between my grad school years, I worked as a consultant assisting non-profits and start ups. I knew as soon as I received an assignment at the Boulder Valley Humane Society that I was going home with a dog. On the first day, I arrived to meet with the executive director and during a tour of the facilities, we visited a section of the rescue housing newly arrived pets. Marley, a 1 ½ year chocolate lab with little slivers of white on her front paws, came to me and from the first moment we were “introduced” (she peed on me), I knew she was marking me for her own and she was mine.
We’ve been through it all together—moved several times, gained a spouse, introduced two little girls into the family, been to the vet more times than I can count. When Marley was about 5, xrays showed Marley had nearly no cartilage remaining in her left back leg. The vet recommended surgery that would fuse the bone together, allowing her to continue her active lifestyle. In the years that have followed since, her leg remains her “Achilles tendon” and because I’ve worked in the natural pet industry for years, she has become a seasoned reviewer for nearly every natural joint support product on the market.
Marley is now about 13 years old. Though still a very present and beloved member of our family, she is slowing down. My old pup with a whitening muzzle is still playful, but sometimes her legs go out from under her and we have to lift up her mid-section. Other times, she struggles to get up from her more restful moments. We are aware her time is coming. Until recently, I thought that she would just die of old age one day. That I would come home and she would not find her way to me. I now realize that I am going to have to make the decision of when that “right” time is. Even to think about it is quite distressing. I hope I know. I hope she tells me and I listen to her when she’s ready.
Right now, though, I will give hugs and pets, call for her to lie down during storms or stop barking at that dog she clearly dislikes. I will focus on the dog who has loved me, sat in the hall between my daughter’s rooms to watch over them at night and who has hiked, run, swam and explored with us. As Bonnie Wilcox once wrote “Old dogs, like old shoes, are comfortable. They might be a bit out of shape and a little worn around the edges, but they fit well.”
 It was August 23, 1992, the day Boogey (a black headed Caique) arrived from California at DFW airport, and my husband and I had driven to the airport to get our baby bird. The first time I saw him he was in a “birdie box” marked Fragile, Live Bird, This Side Up. I can still see his little black head bobbing around trying to peer out the top of the box. Shortly after moving into our house he took over our hearts. Last year, while we were on vacation, Boogey passed away. My husband picked him up from “Camp Summertree” and brought Boogey home for the last time. He was once again in a box, but there was no little black head bobbing around trying to peer out. Instead, he lay motionless, silent, and cool to the touch.
The years with Boogey will live with me all of my life. During these 18 years, there were the moments when he lived up to his breed’s reputation and was truly “a toot on the loose”. These moments were counterbalanced by the hours upon hours of pure joy when he was the sunshine of our lives.
I remember those early days when Boogey was on a self designated mission to explore everything in his new home. I was forever “on watch” and constantly asking this clumsy baby bird, “What are you doing, baby?”. Time passed, and one day I was in the kitchen noisily cleaning out a cabinet and Boogey clattered out of his cage and demanded of me, “What are you doing, baby?”. This was the first time I realized he could talk! He learned to say Boogey, good boy, good Boogey bird, good Boogey baby, Boogey you’re a baby, and to laugh and wolf whistle. Pretty good for a bird with a reputation for not being a good talker. (And if it sounds like I’m bragging, it is because, well, I am.)
Over the years he continued to amaze, surprise, and most of all, make me laugh. Even though my husband and I took proactive steps to thwart many of Boogey’s antics, I still have to laugh as I remember him sliding down the side of the refrigerator, climbing the curtains and hanging upside down from the curtain rod, shoving the telephone off of the hook, and throwing my car key into a flower pot for evidently being in his space. (Do you have any idea how hard it is to find car keys when they are in a flower pot?)
Just as his antics made me laugh, at times they made my heart stop and sent us rushing him to the vet’s office. An injection to control the swelling in his foot after he knocked over a towel rack, emergency surgery to repair a ruptured lung sack (to this day I have no idea how this happened), and three days in the hospital after he took an unauthorized road trip to the back of the house to “taste-test” the Damp Rid crystals. I still feel guilty about that one. Lesson learned.
For 18 years he had semi-annual well bird exams and his test results were always “clean”. He was a healthy bird. Then, one day I noticed he was slightly favoring his right foot. Within about three weeks he couldn’t put any weight on his left foot. Extensive tests and two sets of X-Rays indicated nothing directly wrong with his leg or foot. His vet suspected a tumor in his kidney was pressing on the nerve to his leg and foot. There was nothing that could be done to eradicate the tumor; the only thing that could be done was to give him anti-inflammatories to reduce swelling and control any pain.
Once on anti-inflammatories, Boogey’s foot improved considerably. In fact, on many days he seemed almost back to normal. For a year, we managed to convince ourselves that it was “just arthritis” and probably had not shown up in the X-Rays. When we left him for boarding at the vet’s while we were in Hawaii, we thought he would be much better when we return. Unfortunately, that was not to be the case.
After the fact, it took very little research to realize Boogey’s foot condition read like a text book example of avian kidney cancer. Though not confirmed by a necropsy, (I could not stand the thought of our beautiful bird being cut up like a chicken), his vet said that he, too, strongly suspected it was cancer.
Was there something I could have done to prevent, or even delay the cancer? Did I feed him the wrong pellet food? Was his diet too much pellet food and not enough fruit and veggies? Should I have been more diligent to be sure his fruits and veggies were all organic? Maybe I shouldn’t have cooked the veggies in the microwave. Or, maybe it was simply his time to go. I don’t know.
What I do know is losing Boogey is emotionally like having my heart ripped out, stomped on and put through a meat grinder. I know my husband was so upset when he went to get Boogey for the last time that he put his pants on backwards. Things have not been the same in our house without Boogey. During this time friends and co-workers have been wonderfully supportive. “Camp Summertree” sent a sympathy card, and the doctors and staff all took the time to write personal notes inside the card.
At some level, I will always miss Boogey. What I hope for myself is to get to the point where instead of crying every time I think, talk, or write about Boogey I remember all of the wonderful, happy, and fun times I had with him and re-experience this joy.
And what about Boogey? Is it all over for him? My heart tells me no, it isn’t. An inscription I saw in Hawaii expresses my hopes for Boogey. It read:
Still is the form,
Cool is the footprint.
It is now your time
Arise - Know you are forever loved
and fly sacred to the new dawn.
1:15pm. Thursday. April 14, 2011.
BOULDER, CO – Not quite sure how I got myself into this mess. I was just playing around in the backyard at home as usual and I must’ve stepped on something sharp- my toenail split right in half! OUCH!! Mom had to take me to the vet to get it checked out, and they gave me this really cool (not really) sock thing. I try to keep it off as much as possible while Mom keeps putting it back on. Ugh. I think what happens now is we wait for the split nail to fall off, and the new nail to grow in… oh, and I get to wear a sock in the meantime!
 8:14pm. Wednesday. April 6, 2011
GOLDEN, CO – So mom and some of our friends play on a softball team in Golden, Colorado. Golden, CO is home to Coors Brewing Company, Colorado School of Mines, Golden Retriever Rescue of the Rockies, and it’s the birthplace of Jolly Ranchers candy. The Golden Rescue is where my older brother Honda came from… and if I’m lucky I’ll get another brother from there one day soon (hint, hint, mom- if you’re reading).
So anyway, back to the organized sport of softball. It seems like a really fun game involving people hitting and catching a flying yellow ball. It’s really too bad that yellow ball isn’t a tennis ball… the game would probably be a LOT more fun. The Golden Misfits made an extra jersey for me, which I’m wearing in this picture. Who knew orange could look so good!
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