About Me

On September 1, 2010 my sweet little muppethead, KiraDog, died. She was diagnosed with Cushings disease in November 2009 and it finally gave way to heart disease and liver failure. I knew I needed another dog to fill the void in my heart and my home so I worked with Furbaby Rescue (where Kira came from) and was gently encouraged to meet a particular dog in need of a forever home. On September 10, 2010 I adopted Conor. . . . This is his story.

About Me (and really, when you think about it, it IS all about ME):

Conor: Gender: Masculine; Usage: Irish, English, Irish Mythology; Pronounced: KAHN-ər (English): Anglicized form of the Gaelic name Conchobhar which means "dog lover" or "wolf lover" also "lover of hounds". It has been in use in Ireland for centuries and was the name of several Irish kings.

Hi everyone!


My name is Conor. Well, it used to be Bumper but my mom thought it was as silly name (and in a way, so did I) for a grown-up puppy so she re-named me Conor. Conor, now that's a good strong manly-man Irish name, don't you think? I'm quite proud of it myself :-)

Anyway, I'm a "Liver" coloured Shih Tzu and I was about 2 1/2 years old when I was adopted (Mom says my Birthday is July 4, 2008! She's not 100% sure of the right date, but that's the day she picked). I have allergies and have to be careful (pfft!) about what I eat - no wheat, grains, or beef allowed. I'm a rambunctious guy who always seems to find trouble, er...toys, to play with. I like watching the world around me from my perch in the kitchen bay window and love my mom to bits - and even though he didn't really like me much, I also miss SirWillyCat a little.

Characters in my life:

  • Aunt Jo and Uncle Dale: Mom and Aunt Jo have been friends for almost 30 years, since high school. Aunt Jo is a pet person and raised both her kids to love animals. Uncle Dale, having grown up on a farm, had to be converted a little bit.
  • Aunt Diane: Mom's friend and (retired) co-worker. Aunt Diane lives a few doors away from us and we sometimes go to her place for a visit.
  • Miss Eleni: Founder of Furbaby Rescue
  • Miss Nicole: A Furbaby adopter who has two puppers to call her own. She lives in a different town, but close enough to mom they could visit (if their schedules ever let them!) Miss Nicole loves hearing my stories :-)
  • Miss Vanja: Met mom through Furbaby Rescue. They haven't met in person 'cause she lives far away.
  • VetLady: Dr. I. Elizabeth Borgmann, founder of the Whatcom Road Veterinary Clinic
  • Willy: (aka SirWillyCat): Adopted January 7, 1994. Willy died on January 24, 2011. He was 17 1/2 years old.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Toy Box: I'm a toy. In a box.

Dr. Drew?  Dr, Phil?  I think I need BoxHab.

One by one the toys come out, sometimes mom plays with them, sometimes no.  For some reason she won't throw my pigs' hoof chew.  I really wish she would but all she does is jump and yelp when I drop it by on, er...by her feet.  I decided enough was enough with mom always putting the toys back in the box (it's a lot of work pulling them out one at a time, y'know!) that I finally found a way stop her:

I put myself in the box!!!

See mom , now you HAVE to play with me!!!!!

On a much sadder note, after watching Willy deteriorate rather quickly over the past week, I left a message with the Vet.  I think it's time.  He's practically skin and bone, stopped eating (though he will still eat beef jerky, but not even his soft food) and stopped using the litter box.  He's been having accidents and "senior" moments.  I've been cutting out mats, but as soon as I do, another one surfaces and the hair hasn't grown back.  When he walks, he favors one side and stumbles.  I'm thinking it will be this week sometime.

But as much as I know I will cry and be upset, he IS 17 1/2 years old (roughly 86 in human years) and I've had him since he was 6 months old.  I got him a few months after I moved to Edmonton, Alberta from Victoria, BC.  When I moved into my first apartment in Edmonton in November 1993, there was a 9% vacancy rate in the city so they didn't care if you had a horse, so long as the place was occupied and paying rent.  I high-tailed it to the SPCA after Christmas to get a pet.  Cats were OK then.  I've had him with every every move: 7 (!!) addresses, two provinces, heck, I had him before I started my career and now I'm past the halfway mark to retirement!  I was 25 when I got him, now I'm into my 40's.  He's seen relationships come and go; only one he ever really accepted.  Friends and neighbours, 2 dogs, one sofa, a mattress, and at least 4 scratching posts...

But he's a old man now and I think the time has come for SirWillyCat to find a sunbeam under the rainbow and wait.

2 comments:

  1. Aw that is just so sad. :( Give Willy hug from me. I think Kira will be waiting for Willy at the bridge.

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  2. Something tells me Kira has already crossed - to her first owner - the one who tattooed and spayed her, not the one who made her chew her way to freedom. I was merely her guardian while she waited for her turn. Willy better darn well be waiting for me, though! He sleeps by my shoulder at night and has for 17 years. It's going to be so weird... The appointment is for Thursday night.

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