Forgot to include a link of the Bulldog sisters:
[Sis is on the left, Punky is on the right.](<a href=“Photo Storage | Photobucket” target=“_blank”><img src=“http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v682/PrincessWinnie/Girls1.jpg” border=“0” alt=“The Girls”></a>)
A rare picture where one isn’t yawning, one isn’t laying down, one isn’t sniffing the other, and one isn’t looking away in disgust.
I just thought of one more reason they’re spoiled. After their afternoon walk they get a popsicle. Anything over 60 degrees is hot for a bulldog to be walking so they get a Freeze-Pop to share.
Link doesn’t work… sorry, but I’ve attempted to post this link 5 times in a row from Photobucket with a fail each time. Anyone have any better suggestions for posting a photo?
There are fleece cat nests on the boards on top of the living room radiator and the guest bedroom radiator. They love this in the winter. The living room radiator is a particularly nice place for cats to hang out because it is under a sunny window.
They also have bed-high posts with a nest on top at the foot of our bed, one for each cat. Even though they sleep in the bed most of the time, sometimes they want nests, so they get them.
We don’t make our bed. We figure leaving it unmade gives the cats more chances to get under the covers, or to lie on the sheets that smell like us. (OK, OK, the real reason we don’t make the bed is that we’re too lazy. But we say it’s for the cats, and they seem to like it.)
Since the kitty in question is not Sapphire, Sapphire doesn’t care. Sapphire only cares about herself, and a teensy bit about me, because I am her Mom. She will be friendly to others, but this is only so that they can admire the Glory That Is Sapphire.
Sapphire is Siamese, and yes, they do think they should be given their rightful due.
We have one fleece cat nest and several knitted and fleece baby blankets scattered around the house. Most of the blankies are on top of bookshelves, where the cats can lounge and yet are still conveniently at hand to be petted when a human passes by. I knitted the knit blankies specifically for the cats, because they were always getting on my knitting and crocheting. They love the knitted blankies because those things smell like me…when I handle the yarn, I put my scent on it. I try to convince my husband to wear a tshirt he’s about to throw out and then let the cats have it, unwashed.
My cat, Bob, won’t eat alone at night. He generally wakes me up twice a night so I can follow him into the kitchen and watch him eat. I only do this because if I don’t get up he’ll start bothering the husband, who will make my life even more miserable than Bob does. And because Bob’s so cute.
I only feed Maxwell and Samuel ground beef or chicken breasts that I cook up for them. Of course now they would never consider eating dog food. Water comes chilled out of the water cooler and never from the tap. They get bathed at least twice a week and fur and teeth brushed every day. I give them two different vitamins daily.
They sleep in my bed. I sleep on my side and maxwell sleeps on top of my hip. Sammy sleeps at my feet. I wash their paws and butts every time they go outside and their faces after they eat. They have little babywipes that are on the counter only for that purpose.
They each get a beef neck bone each day, lightly boiled so the bones don’t splinter so I don’t feel bad about leaving them to go to work. They wait by the refrigerator each morning for their bone.
My son says I love the dogs better. He may be right.
I think our cats have spoiled us pretty well. They allow us to watch some TV, occasionally use the computer without being petted or lying on the keyboard, feed them on a schedule suitable to us (sometimes), let us sleep until at least 6 am.
We’ve had a few dogs over the years, and we usually get them from the Humane Society. One time, we had just aquired a new half grown German shepherd mix. We showed her the food and water dishes, we let her run around outside for a bit, then we came out with the beef bones, one for the older dog, and one for her. She was incredibly gobsmacked. She liked us, liked her new brother, liked the yard…and she had received a BONE. All her own. She loved that bone, and carried it around with her all day, licking it every now and then. It was obvious that she’d never had a real bone before. Then she discovered that she would be fed a can of dog food a day, in addition to all the dry kibble she could eat. She was in heaven.
Hub would prepare Sunday breakfast for our late Yorkie, Brownie. If we were having pancakes, Brownie would get two quarter-size pancakes. Plus, he’d get a SmokYLink cut into itty bitty pieces with just a trickle of syrup.
Hub also goes through the KFC drive through and gets 2 original recipe chicken breasts for our current Yorkies. It’s their favorite.
Yes you are correct. I have approval from the vet to use a gentle formula baby shampoo on them and also baby oil. This stops the drying out and itching of the skin. (Working around my OCD regarding cleanliness and unpleasant odors)
I LOVE that. I often think of a rescue like the red headed step child that hits the lottery. I wonder how long they remember their old lives? Do they forget that they were chained outside to a tree in all sorts of weather once they are safe an comfy on the rug in front of the fire place?
This is basically how my mother treated our late greyhounds. I also accused her of loving the dogs more than us!
I don’t think my cat Santi is spoiled more than the usual. He gets the most expensive variety of litter and prescription cat food, the furniture in the house is arranged to maximize his window viewing, and I’ve started letting him lounge on the dining room table next to my elbow while I eat.
The really big thing I must admit though, is that for the first year of his life he woke me up every night at 2:30 a.m. to be fed. And, zombie-like, I would stagger to the kitchen to dish out his wet food, which is what he wanted, since he always had plenty of kibble. Really, though, this was more out of selfishness on my part, since he was a persistent little bugger. No amount of burrowing under the covers would deter his questing claws and he would keep at it for hours until I fed him. So for a whole year, I didn’t get eight straight hours of sleep. Then, one day, he abruptly stopped waking me up, and he hasn’t done it since.
I don’t know about dogs. Ours always seemed to be happy in the moment. However, cats do seem to remember, if they were adopted as adults. We have three cats now, all adopted from the Humane Society, and two of them we got as adults. Both the adult adoptions do seem to realize that living with their own family is much nicer than living in the HS, even though the workers do the best they can for the animals waiting to be adopted. My Siamese girl has separation anxiety, but I don’t know if that’s because she was adopted as an adult or because she’s Siamese. Meezers are famous for this behavior. My orange boy, Shadow, clearly hates to be picked up and hugged or held, though he will climb into a lap to be petted. I think that he was picked up and harassed by his former owners, though of course I can’t be sure. He was named Shadow by his former owners, and knows it’s his name, and I was advised not to change it, although I do call him Shadowcat sometimes. At times, he jumps onto his blankie on the bookshelf next to the kitchen, and look at my husband and me and the two other cats, and seems to just radiate contentment and happiness. So I think that Shadow, at least, remembers that his previous life wasn’t this happy, and he remembers his time in the shelter. He needed a family without children, and with at least one other cat, and that’s what he has.
My husband’s cat was born in the shelter, and raised in a cage. His shelter name was Simon, but he answers to Charlie now. He really, REALLY enjoys having the whole house to run around in, as opposed to just a cage. He has toys, and he loves snuggling up to people to snooze on them. Every night, if my husband is home, Charlie goes to bed with him. If my husband has to go out of town, Charlie is inconsolable. My husband has never really had a cat before. Oh, my daughter and I have had cats, and my husband has petted them and given them food and water, but Charlie is Bill’s cat. And Bill is Charlie’s human. When Charlie was a kitten, and Bill was sitting in his chair watching TV, Charlie would curl up on Bill’s chest and go to sleep when he got tired. And Bill would gently cradle him and pet him as he slept.
so they get a Freeze-Pop to share.
