Archive for November, 2013

We all know the story of the frolicking feline getting stuck in the tree, right? Happens all the time. Dwayne, The Rock, Johnson saving the day, maybe not so often. (This is meant for illustration purposes only and to give me an excuse to look at this fine specimen of a man. No copyright infringement intended.)

I'd climb a tree if it meant Rocky would rescue me! Wheeeeee!!!!

I’d climb a tree if it meant Rocky would rescue me! Wheeeeee!!!!

Have you EVER heard of an overly cautious canine getting stuck in a cat tree?! It could only happen in our house. Seriously, Cindy… you have some issues.


CindyLou used to be our littlest Hoo until Gus the Chihuahua came around. She’s about twice his size in her all of 6 pound glory. She feels like a mighty warrior when she bows up against him to defend my honor. One of her very strange characteristics, behaviors, physical limitations is… she cannot or will not jump up or off anything. Even the littlest thing. The one small step to and from the kitchen to the back porch is not doable unless a rug is on the other side. The small step from the back porch to the back yard has always been a challenge where she must muster all her strength to overcome.


I was shocked to find our weird girl up in the cat tree! Don’t know how she got up there and knew there was no way she’d be able to get herself down. Binks (cat above) looks amused, too. Cindy was a shelter cast-off some 8 years ago, handed to me with a pat on the back and the sounds of “Good Luck!” ringing from my ears.


We got her over the medical problems. Getting her over her confused DNA would not be so easy. She was the 1st DNA test my veterinarian performed. Her results came back showing (not Chihuahua) but Schipperke & Mastiff – I kid you not! As with all foster dogs, a different home from ours was in her future. But, alas, all interested parties in this tiny mighty gal wanted a pup to pose in purses and carry around all day. That’s the last thing this particular pooch wanted.


She wanted to hunt rats. She wanted to eat sticks. She wanted to run with the big dogs… and she did and still does… in our house, with our big dogs. Sigh.


Despite all her strangeness we saw her develop an unexpected friendship with a decrepit old Doberman that crashed with us for a while. The instant Granny and CIndy saw one another they were in love! Bonds were to never be broken. A daily ritual was established. Granny would clean Cindy from head to toe.


They had to always be touching one another in some way. It was amazing and heartwarming. One was never seen without the other, until the inevitable day we lost Granny. She’d endured heartworm, a tick blood disease and failing old bones, thanks to the good-for-nothing former owners. They’d come searching for their lost Doberman then left her to die. We were able to give her a happy year and a half.  I’ve not seen CindyLou happy since.


Yes, I had to “rescue” her from the cat tree. I’m sure she was yearning for her Granny-dog.


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