Laura’s extended family

Figured I’d add my little crew to the menagerie…

Indy (named after Indiana Jones) is 13, and still acts like he’s 3.  Officially, he’s considered a Domestic Shorthair, but I tell people that he’s purebred American Shitty Kitty.  He amuses himself by stalking Cruiser’s tail, and chasing his own.  He’s gotten bolder in the last few years, counter-surfing in broad daylight, instead of just sneaking around under the cover of night.  He regularly blames the dog for the things he knocks over.  He also has a strange affinity for toilet brushes.  I am always chasing him out of our bathroom at 3 AM because he goes in there to pull the brush out of its holder and chew on it.  I’ve had to switch to non-toxic toilet cleaner, as well as washing the brushes after each use, just to make sure he doesn’t poison himself.   The cat is nuts, but has an amazing motor that comforts me in the night when he curls next to me in bed.  Happiness is a purring kitty.

Cruisin’ for a Bruisin’ (“Cruise”), age 3, is a 77 lb. Golden Retriever.  He came to us from Alaska, where he was bred to be a Guide/Service Dog.  He was fostered out for the first year of his life with a family who treated him as their own, teaching him not only the basics like sit and heel, but fun stuff, like “bring” (he brings me whatever I tell him), “take the sock” (he’ll pull your socks off of your feet for you, then give it over… usually, unless it’s unusually sweaty and smelly, then he rolls on it), and “close the door”.  Right after his 1-year birthday, he took – and failed – the test to enter the official Service Dog Program, because he chased a squirrel during the test.  My best friend lives in AK, and was not only the teacher for his puppy and obedience classes, but also a tech at the Veterinary Hospital where he received his checkups.  Well, she met Cruise as an 8-week old puppy, and knew from that moment that he should be my dog.  So when he failed his test, she called me.  We made arrangements, and flew him down here to Iowa.  And now he’s part of our family.  Ironic, though, that he failed his Service Dog Test, and now my husband is blind…

There is also an over-aggressive Cockatiel, Hamlet, who is deathly afraid of the camera, so I don’t have a picture of him.  He’s 11, and has had a bit of a life.  We got him as a hand-raised baby, but when he got his wings, he also got an attitude.  Then we moved to Texas, and I was afraid to take him on a car trip that long (24 hours), so my brother and his family adopted him for several years, and he just got more aggressive.  Now, he’s back with us, in a larger cage, and perched high up in our great room, so he can survey his kingdom.  He’s much happier up there, where he can be above everything, and fear nothing.  He loves nothing more than a house full of people, and he regularly gets in on the conversation with his shrieks and whistles.

 

Finally, no farm would be complete without a herd of miniature horses (there are 5) and a flock of stray kitties. Oh, yeah, and the bats that winter in our attic.  I don’t have their pictures, but they’re around!!

 

Laura