Before we head off to celebrate, Shamus, the honorary Irish Newf, leaves you with a bit of Irish wisdom to ponder during  your drink fest and corned beef dinner:

• If you’re lucky enough to be Irish, then you’re lucky enough.
• Why should you never iron a 4-leaf clover? You don’t want to press your luck.
• When we drink, we get drunk. When we get drunk, we fall asleep. When we fall asleep, we commit no sin. When we commit no sin, we go to Heaven. So, let’s all get drunk and go to heaven.
• Don’t give cherries to pigs or advice to fools.

Have some of your own Irish wisdom to share? Leave a comment! But, most importantly, have a Happy Saint Pat’s!

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The minute I saw Jai’s work, I sent her one of my favorite photographs of Shamus. She took the time to get to know him by reading This One Wild Life and watching Shamus’ videos. One week later, Jai had captured his essence entirely and named her piece “Gentle Soul.” It couldn’t be a more perfect way to commemorate our first anniversary since Shamus’ adoption.

The Gentle Soul Fine Art Print is now available to the entire world for under $20. Click Shamus’ image for Jai’s online store. If you’re short on wall space, there are plenty of other Gentle Soul products available. (See below.) Of course, I’ll be purchasing one of everything!

Your dog could be chosen to be in the Dogs With Toys series too. Just share a photo of your dog playing with balls, stuffed toys, squeaky toys, or toys which aren’t necessarily traditional (our yard rake comes to mind). Visit Jai’s submission page to see how. 

Mousepad	Art Coffee Mug	Card
Magnet	Stickers	Art Wear Tote Bag*
Long Sleeve Shirt*	Art Wear T Shirt*	Art Wear Tank Top*

 * The “Gentle Soul” text can be replaced with the text of your choice on several of the items above.

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Last night, our friend Doug came to visit. When Jackson greeted him at the door, Doug’s first words were, “That’s a cat.” Taking another look he added, ”That’s not a kitten. It’s a cat.” Doug later watched as the kittens ran about, tackling each other and clutzing about with spines like Slinkies. “Okay, maybe they act like kittens, but really, they look like cats.”

So, it’s not just me, huh? When I first brought these babies home, I joked that their bodies had some significant growing to do before filling in their huge paws. Their spines, each as long as the other, measure the length of my former 11 pound cat, yet Jackson weighed in at 6 lbs. at 4.5 months and Jed weighed 4.5 pounds at the age of nearly 4 months. Their legs are like stilts and their tails are so long, it doesn’t seem possible for the tips to be in the same zip code as their heads.

These tails are a topic unto themselves, really. When the kittens walk, their tails shoots straight up in the air with a slight curl at the tip. They look like little bumper cars - and behave like them more often than not. And these long, orange whips twitch and tangle like insane rattle snakes when the kittens obsess over outdoor birds. It makes my head spin to watch. Tell me these tails (and cats) aren’t long… and perhaps even a little possessed.

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PS: I feel so validated. Thank you.

(Click SL to start the slideshow. FS will take it full screen.)

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Yesterday, I was mopping the day’s mud from the living room floor when Tim came home from work.  We looked down at the hardwood and laughed at layer upon layer of footprints. With the break in the weather, mopping can be a thrice daily task. The dogs just keep on tracking globs, smears and grass hunks through the dog door. 

I sighed, “Sometimes I think it’s useless to mop before the boys settle in for the night.”

Tim added, “Sometimes I think it’s useless to mop until August.”

Looking exhausted and plagued by respiratory issues, Tim headed out to clean up the dog yard. As he reached for the door, I tried to stop him. ”Let me do it today. C’mon. You look like shit.” I’m pretty sure I smirked as those words left my mouth. Tim is a handsom and typically healthy guy so I don’t get to say that very often.

Rallying a smile, he said, “I look like shit, feel like shit, an I’m off to shovel shit.” Then, signaling with his hand like a traffic guard to stay back, he assured me, “I’ve got this shit covered,” and out the door he went.

Taking Tim at his word, I went back to mopping as the dogs charged outside to meet him at the gate. Then, while wringing out the last of the mud, I heard a rapid BANG, BANG, BANG on the dining room window. My head snapped around. One of the kittens was on the kitchen counter. Tim stopped knocking and pointed emphatically in that direction. Questioning such an intense reaction to something so small, I reached for the kitten and lifted him off the surface. That’s when I heard the muffled words through the glass. 

“Close the French doors! Emmett is coming!!!”

What sounded like a heard of elephants charging through my sunroom was, in actuality, our white dog, Emmett, escaping another throw-down by Shamus, our Newf. I beat him to the French doors and closed off the freshly cleaned room. When I turned back around, it all became clear.

(Click SL to start the slideshow. FS will take it full screen.)

Emmett proudly displayed his decorated behind like a badge of honor as he marched through the house. Shamus soon followed Emmett inside, taking credit for his work and wearing his own mud badge of honor – mostly between his enormous webbed feet. Somewhere on this mountain, a troop of dogs played the bugel. I was sure of it.

Piling the pups into the tub (separately) for a big scrub down, somehow we all came clean. I wiped the last of the mud from the bathroom walls, pulled the fur from the drain, hung the towels to dry and fist bumped Tim for a tag-team job well done. Then, exhausted and smelling of sweet kiwi shampoo, we all fell into bed.

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(In case you missed it, visit Newfoundland Dog Rescues New Owners, Part I.)

(If you can’t see the video, visit “Adopting Shamus, Our Newfoundland“on YouTube.)

A SNAPSHOT OF SHAMUS’ HISTORY VIA TWITTER

We enjoyed revisiting our discovery process as we built a relationship with our new dog. I share some our comical ponderances via a collection of last year’s tweets. Consider this a  journal of sorts, one that you are not only allowed, but encouraged to read.

February 01

• Missing the “Bill sounds” that used to fill the silent spaces. It’s as if our house is mourning the loss of it’s dog too.

February 17

• Lilac buds are fat and green. Purple finches have returned. Bill’s icy footprints have all but melted. Spring slowly creeps around the bend.

February 21

• I want a puppy in a way that women who can’t have babies develop the urge to steal one. I’m that irrationally desperate.

March 06

• Clean rugs returned today. Sent them out last week unaware a mud-puppy might destroy them so soon… as in TOMORROW.
• Just dropped some cracker crumbs on the floor. Can I get a dog over here?
• Can’t sit still. Local family deciding whether to adopt to us today. Might meet Shamus tonight. Going OUT OF MY SKULL with excitement.
• DOG DOG DOG DOG DOG DOG DOG DOG DOG DOG DOG DOG DOG DOG *wagging tail* DOG DOG DOG DOG DOG DOG DOG
• Trying to balance giddiness with gravity. Fam is letting the Newf go because 3rd daughter needs significant medical care.
• Not succeeding in the gravity department. Walking on sunshine even on this cloudy day. Newf. Newf. Newf. Newf. (Since when do I chant?)
• The sweetest Landseer Newf came to meet us today and we all hit it off. He’ll be moving in on Sunday
• Underestimated. Within 5 hrs (not 24), Shamus stamped his huge muddy paws all over the fresh clean rugs. Bring it on! He can do no wrong.

March 07

• It’s SHAMUS DAY!! We pick up our new Newf pup at 4:00 – which, at 7 a.m., feels like an eternity away.
• PS: I know today isn’t Sunday. We’re taking Shamus home a day early so we have the weekend to help him adjust to our CRAZY HAPPY HOUSE.

March 13

• Sunday: Took Shamus to PetSmart for grooming supplies, drool rags and food. Drool rags got immediate use when Shamus urped.
• Shamus urp consisted of kibble, 1/2 a balloon, and what was once a plastic child’s toy from his previous home. Feeling better now.
• Shamus at the vet: Lyme and ear infections. $500 later I’m wrestling a 93 lb. dog to the floor for ear drops. Should sell tickets for this.
• Not used to having forehead licked. Kinda like it.
• Shamus and Kringle cat are getting along nicely, but for the time Shamus scooted Kringle across the kitchen floor with his giant nose. Swat!
• Shamus needs a facelift Monday. Droopy eyelids cause irritation. He’ll hardly notice the laser while his *parts* are chopped.
• Swiffering twice daily now. House vacillates between smelling like FeBreeze Rain Forest… and just plain muddy, muddy rain forest.
• Number 1 universal killer of electronic keyboards – coffee. In our house ? Dog drool.
• Bought Shamus the FURminator® yesterday. Didn’t look at the $59 receipt ’til now. Worthwhile “whoops?” We’ll see.
• Rethinking my $100 salon cut. Perhaps a FURminator® really IS all I need.
• My dog’s butt is a giant pom-pom. He’ shakes his “Sis-boom-bah!” with the enthusiasm of a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader. Note: Must sell tickets.
• Shamus can’t get past the 4 minute mark for playtime stamina. Considered it was a symptom of Lyme but it’s probably just that he’s a Newf.
• Channeling the Dog Whisperer works well on all our boarded rescues. Shamus, on the other hand, demands praise BEFORE cooperating, not after.

March 14

• Tim certainly needs no excuse to buy a sailboat, but now, since we own a water dog, what better time to take the plunge?
• Shamus’ big, black head is in my face panting, “Hegh. Hegh. Hegh.” When he’s next to the bed in the dark, it’s like snuggling Darth Vader.
• Shamus urped more chewed plastic in the car today. Hope that’s the last of the child’s toy from his former home AND the last of the cleanup!
• Learned when Shamus leans or puts his paw on my foot, this is domination. Fine. I’ll stop him. (But can I like it, you know, in secret?)
• Oddly, our Newf Boy likes to curl up in small spaces. Even more oddly, he fits!
• Taught Tim how to effectively Swiffer muddy paw prints away today. There’s nothin’ sexier than a man with a Swiffer. Seriously.
• Tim: “Shamus can rest his head on my foot.” Shamus rests his head on Tim’s foot. Tim likes to think that’s obedience, not domination.
• Shamus puts head on couch near Tim. Tim: “Stop with the passive/submissive domination with your eyes closed. I got your number now, pal.”
• Shamus leans on the couch, hearth, bed, wall, stove, counter, fridge, us… He’s got his entire world under complete control. Oh yeah.
• For everybody who says this dog has dominance issues, we think he might just be super cuddly and just a little lazy.

March 15

• Shamus avoided trouncing every single crocus growing in the lawn. Talk about flower power. That’s my kind of dog!
• Using Tim’s sneakers as a pillow, Shamus has fully concealed two size thirteens with a single ear.
• I laughed when Shamus charged across the yard and took Tim out at the knees. Then it happened to me. Not so funny.
• It has been a mere 8 days since Shamus entered our lives. So far, so great! We grow more attached by the minute. Atoms are fusing.
• What IS that? Upside down Landseer Newf or beached Orca with rare leg appendages? Unclear from this distance and angle.
• One little “Come ‘ere, Shamus!” elicited a magic carpet ride on the 5 x 8 braided rug. Whoosh! Should be half way to Newfoundland soon.

March 16

• To growl at real horses yesterday was one thing, but Shamus was keen on Wyatt Earp’s horse as it rode across our flat screen TV. Seriously?
• Signed ourselves up for Tails & Trails, an enjoyable hiking & dog socialization class. Hope Shamus doesn’t turn it into Tails & Entrails.
• Shamus growled at the sweetest little vet tech. So much for a gentle giant! I’d say, “Chop his balls off!” but that’s why Shamus is there.
• Missing my grizzly newf. The house is so quiet. Can’t wait to bring him home from the vet and love him up.
• Shamus is sedated and under the knife. Neuter and a facelift… Let the emasculation begin.
• We unwittingly adopted another dog w/hip dysplasia. Good thing. The first dogs’ hip replacements haven’t fully funded the new vet wing yet.
• Introducing Shamus to friends, we were all, “He’s so smart, so noble, so graceful” Then he fell over during a wee and walked into a wall.
• Imagine, if you will, this 93 lb. bag-of-bones on drugs. Walking a post-anesthetized Shamus on a leash is like steering a drunken sailor.
• A groggy, post-op Shamus ate only after I soaked his kibble and hand fed him. He’ll expect this every meal now, I’m sure. I’m so screwed.
• I promise, hand feeding is a onetime gig. Shamus will have to pay me to continue beyond, say… Okay, so I’d hand feed him.
• Shamus burps and acts all unphased. I burp and Shamus jolts from a sound sleep giving me a look of death. How is this fair?
• My newf’s forehead is as plush as a pillow-top mattress. I think I might nap on it.
• Shamus’ head has Tim’s hand pinned to the floor. Isn’t it precious the way Shamus secretly executes domination in his sleep? … ‘Night all!

March 19

• Shamus comes in from the rain and directly to me for a toweling off before laying down. Now if he’d just learn to wipe his mud-caked feet…
• Next up, teaching Shamus AND my husband to wipe their feet when coming in from the rain. (I need a refresher myself.)
• I should install a storm drain in my living room.

March 20

• 6:15: Shamus, thieving cat food, got stuck behind the couch, broke a lamp (& my brain), then slid across the hardwood in retreat. MORNING.
• 6:18: Kringle, cat of steel, tries to walk across glass & reclaim violated dish. Thwarted by a vacuum hose, he retreats to concoct new plan.
• 6:30: Morning is not a complete bust. While cleaning up Shamus’ destruction, Tim finds the long lost vacuum extension tube under the couch.
• 6:35 Coffee and/or Kibble was enjoyed by all in celebration of our survival.
• Applying the Newf’s ear drops was too easy today. Perhaps he’s feeling sedate since the lamp fell on his head.

Hope you enjoyed this little window into a very special week (well, nearly two) of our lives. Please share your own stories or link to pages where you’ve posted them. We’d love to read about you and yours too!

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TRAGEDY STRIKES

Just over a year ago, Tim and I were deeply grieving the loss of two beloved family members. Bill, our adopted foster, had been with us for 5 years when an undetected mass in his abdomen ruptured. It happened just after a glorious Sunday morning breakfast and a game of tug-of-war in the living room. He went into shock immediately and we rushed him to the vet. During emergency surgery, a blood clot traveled to his main artery and he was gone. On February 14th, we also said good-bye to Tim’s dog, Jack. Jack had sucessfully battled cancer, extending his life 13 good months until there was no more fight left in him. Jack had been with Tim (and Tim’s ex, Stacy, who managed his cancer care) for 14 years.

LEARNING TO COPE

The sadness was unbearable for us both. For me, working from home alone in a house once filled with so much energy was horrendous. For two full weeks, I felt trapped in the stagnation of heartbreak. I needed to push past the sadness, allowing myself to hope, dream and laugh again. I wanted to begin a quest for a joyful relationship once more. I wanted another dog,

Tim and I struggled with this decision for several weeks more. He was unable to think about another dog. When we’d toy with the idea and I’d look through Petfinder, I would latch on to hope. Then we’d argue about timing, coping, feelings, expectations. I learned that toying with the idea was all Tim could do. Hearing him say this brought on tears. He’d tell me that the depth of my grief was unhealthy, that I had to move on. While I understood, he wasn’t able to move forward in the only way I knew how. For me, opening my heart again meant progress, not sitting in the silence and sadness. For him, a new dog would mask his grief rather than allow him to deal with it. We were at an impass.

EXPLORING OUR OPTIONS

Eventually, we considered a sweet, sight-challenged Great Pyrenese named Mojo. Tim has always had a soft spot for animals unlikely to be adopted and I learned from him the importance of that consideration. Reading that Mojo relied on his foster brothers to guide him (none of which were up for adoption) , we considered looking for a companion less independent than a Pyr but large enough to contend with Mojo’s size. The Newfoundland, although I had never heard of one until I began research, seemed a perfect companion breed.

We filled out the adoption application for Mojo and found there were two Newf mix pups available nearby. Unfortunately, the pups were adopted almost immediately prior to our inquiry. My heart felt a bit more crushed. Tim reminded me that things would work out the way they were supposed to, that the dog that was meant for us would find us as they always have. In my mind, we had to do our part too; we had to keep looking so that dog knew we were here.

Trying once more, we found more Newf pups in Boston. They were 8 months old and living in a barn-type situation. When I inquired, I was told that these pups were “the dumbest dogs in existence,” eliminating in their own crates, and that we had better commit soon because there was only one left and another interested party. The experience of dealing with their caretaker was nothing short of unpleasant and replete with comments about prospective adopters being “dicks. This only made us more determined to rescue this Newf from his situation and himself.

Our application had been accepted for the Newf and we planned to meet him on Saturday after Tim returned from skiing in Stowe. Also, after checking on Mojo, we learned that our application was never received. After a phone call, we were as good as approved. We simply had to resubmit the paperwork and set up a home visit. Things were finally lining up!

FATES COLLIDE

In my excitement, I posted to Facebook one picture of the Great Pyr and another projecting what our Newf would grow into. That’s when the miracle happened.

A woman whom I had never met contacted me saying that she had a Landseer male nearly 2 years old who needed to be rehomed. Her youngest of three daughters required extensive medical care and the others were your average handful – times two. Stretched thin with responsibilities and plagued by the decision to give up her Newf, she ultimately felt her dog deserved more attention. “I saw my friend comment on your Newf picture. Are you interested in ours?” she asked.

I emailed the photo she sent to Tim’s Blackberry and told him there was another Newf. He asked where. I couldn’t believe it. This woman could have lived anywhere. “She lives FIFTEEN MINUTES AWAY!” Tim typed back, “Make it happen! I’ll be home at 3:00.”

MEETING SHAMUS

The woman and her husband arrived at 4:00. It was a difficult meeting at best. The couple obviously loved their dog so much that they wanted better for him. Tim and I felt a strong connection with Shamus immediately, but felt we had to stifle our excitement out of respect. We showed them the home we’ve built around dogs, complete with wood floors for easy clean-up, carpeted stairs for traction, two dog doors, a fenced in yard, toys and dog beds everywhere. Shamus investigated it all thoroughly and seemed to approve. We each parted with the understanding that Shamus would go home, say good-bye to the children and we would pick him up that Sunday. That night we cancelled with the woman in Massachusetts.

To us, Sunday rested on the horizon of eternity. We couldn’t pass the time fast enough. As torturous as it was for us, it was equally torturous for the family waiting to let him go. On Saturday morning, the phone rang. “Can you pick Shamus up today instead?”

A BITTERSWEET EVENT

When we arrived at the house, the deep gray of a late winter day hung on the faces of everyone present – except for Shamus. He came bounding over the bushes through the mud and mulch, leaping toward us and barking a huge hello. The oldest daughter hid her crying eyes in the crook of her mother’s arm as her mother hugged her and told her it was okay to wait in the house. My own tears spilled beyond the boundary of my lashes and mingled with the driveway puddles. We promised the young girl that we would take care of Shamus. She nodded silently, turned and slowly walked away.

The girl’s grandfather gave us a stern look as he signed over the dog license. “So, you’re the ones who are taking my dog away.” We tried to assure him, too, that we would take great care, but there seemed to be no way to console their pain. Thankfully, Shamus didn’t need consolation. He hopped right into the back of the car and we drove off toward home.

THE TRANSITION

As we drove off, Shamus stared out the back window, perplexed and seeming to wonder why his family hadn’t come too. I tried to hold back my own tears as I watched him watching. He sat that way until we drew closer to his new home. Then, he turned forward and took in the scenery, snuggling between us both. By then, our excitement had returned and Shamus seemed to feel it.

We had previously scheduled Mojo’s home visit for that night and the interviewers who knew him best thought we made terrific candidates for adoption. When they came, we learned that Mojo’s eyesight had grown far worse since his original posting and his sight would soon be gone entirely. In a home with three floors and stairs into the dog yard, we feared that our setting wasn’t as ideal as we’d hoped. We decided to give Shamus a chance to settle in alone for awhile.

A VERY HAPPY BEGINNING

Shamus, immediately accepting us as his own, has helped to mend our hearts with his constant gift of joy. While I know Shamus still thinks of his family sometimes (he often licks the faces of the small children he encounters to get his fix), he also feels like he belongs here and he has for some time. This weekend we celebrated our one year anniversary since Shamus adopted us and it has been an amazing year at that. We are happy, healed and whole once more.

Watch for tomorrow’s post chronicling Shamus’ homecoming on video as well as a mini-journal of our first humorous adventures via a select collection of tweets.

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At the time these were taken, Tim was off skiing in Jackson Hole, as if he needed to leave the East Coast to find snow. I, on the other hand, was home alone scooping through 20 inches weighing the equivalent of a 12 ton slushy.  In dire need of a rest after clearing the front path, I retired my shovel and took some time to play with the dogs. By play, I mean I laid winded in a cold bed of white and watched the dogs as they played. The only thing I played with is the camera…

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(The first four shots are from a January storm. The rest are from February 24th.)

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That said, I am proud to present my baby boy in print as he makes his debut as an advertising model. (Click the picture for a larger view.) Dawn Niebuhr, the owner at Creekside, kindly offered to mention AnimaLovers in the bottom left corner, giving Emmett credit for his photo appearance.

Now that he’s made the big time, what’s next in Emmett’s future? Dinner. He sure has earned it today.

I answered for Jed. “Are you kidding me? He’s busy growing up – right there in front of your eyes!”

Jackson and Jed already seem changed since Saturday. Their confidence is building, their connection to us is strengthening, and their little bodies are stretching and lengthening. The changes are happening at a perceptible rate.

Not wanting to lose one precious minute of this short span of youth, I posted the following update on Facebook and Twitter yesterday:

I’ve shot 439 photographs of the kittens since 8 PM last night. That’s not SO nuts, is it?

Some of you flat-out think I’m crazy:

In some places you might be charged with stalking.
That is bordering on crazy. Not gonna lie!
Obsess much?
Nuts.

Not at all. Now 500 would be a bit overboard.
No it is not… *glances at 4 gig SD card full of cat & newf pics*
• We share your superfluous adoration!
• So where are the pix? Don’t we get to see 2 or 3 hundred of them?

For those who share my obsession, I have narrowed the “Best of the Best” down to 35 photographs and posted them below. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do!

(Click the SL button to start the slideshow. The FS button will take it full screen. Click FS again to return here.)

Please note: The aloe plant which appears in the final shots is poisonous to cats and has been removed from the kittens’ environment.

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