No matter, it’s worth it. Better to go out in a flame of glory and be eaten by a cougar than be eaten by the couch.

Aside from the physical exercise and the mental stimulation of watching out for predatory cats, we are also enjoying the springtime blossoms and the less frightening forms of wildlife more prevalent in the area. Such as the oodles of lizards.

SO many lizards. Large ones, little ones, basking, scurrying. Despite this reptilian smorgasbord, I was somewhat surprised and not at all distressed that we haven’t come across any snakes. I am OK with this.

You’d think a desert mountain like this would be prime rattler territory- and it is- but they are generally avoidable if you stay to the cleared trails. In fact, the most assertive animal I’ve seen is this one:

Wile E. Coyote couldn’t give two hoots about all the humans around. Behind me, a group of schoolchildren ran amuk in the parking lot. He didn’t care. After spotting this guy I did mention to the woman with the off leash Maltese that she might want to reconsider her plans. (She did.)

My point is, it’s been a real pleasure to get out and commune with nature, especially since our own yards tend to be a little light on the wildlife-side. Except from that bobcat we had, I guess, and the skunk, and the coyotes. Seven years in this house and we’ve only seen a snake twice.

Oh, make that three times.

Today, my daughter opened the front door to go enjoy the afternoon sun, and let out a screech. “There’s a snake out there!” she yelled, slamming the door.

I walked over, thinking it would be another 12 inch gopher snake like the last one. And there, coiled on our welcome mat like the boss that he is, a King snake about 8000000 feet long. Somewhere between 3 feet and 8000000, at least.

He was a Burmese python as far as I’m concerned, a massive beast. It was kind of him to pose directly underneath the front window so we could safely press our faces to the door like a reverse zoo.

He soon realized he had an audience, craning his neck or whatever the heck snakes have to peer up at the five inquisitive primate and canine faces plastered to the glass in front of him. He stuck his tongue out as if to say, “I just came in from the sun for a moment, calm down,” and off he slithered into the front yard, passing right by the statue of St. Joseph huddled headfirst in the dirt like a sad ostrich.

I buried the St. Joseph statue as instructed by the more devout Catholics among you who informed me he is the patron saint of home selling, but maybe my behavior in college is still counting against me since I’m still waiting for him to pull through. So I guess I don’t really need to go far for wildlife, really- I have to find a way to work that to my advantage. I wonder if I should upgrade our MLS to read “Resplendent King Snake viewing from the front porch.” I’m sure that would bring ‘em in.

“A mother is a person who, seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.”

And I sighed. I really don’t like that quote.

It’s like what we talked about on Friday all over again. Hey, unless you’re cutting off your limbs and giving away all your pie and raising free range human children in a yurt, YOU AREN’T A REAL MOTHER.

Sure, it seems like a nice sentiment on the surface, but underneath it reeks of that judgy, who’s the most sacrife-y woman out there kind of martyrdom. And what kind of pie are we talking about here? Because if it’s berry pie, I will gladly say, “I never did care for pie,” and it would be true. But if it’s a banana cream pie, and I’m sitting there with my kids and my husband and some other person, I would cut a sliver off each of those four pieces and make me a Franken-slice. Because I like banana cream pie, and I would want some too. And there is nothing wrong with my solution, which leaves no one in the corner without any pie.

My sister and I were raised without any sort of qualifications on our growth, without any assumptions that gender would figure into our career choices. I wanted to be at various times a palaeontologist, an astronaut, a Blue Angel, the next great American author, and a neurosurgeon. It never occurred to me that I might one day have to negotiate the minefield of family and career, and that my choices about one might influence the other. And yet it has.

I know that some women have managed to figure it out, how to have it all. I envy them that. For me, family and career has been like a downhill slalom, weaving back and forth across the slope, putting my weight on the left leg, then on the right, trying to slow my descent enough so that I don’t fall and break my neck, trying to make it through all the gates; now school plays, now continuing education conferences, making toxic matchboxes, keeping the dogs in good health. I have given up trying to do one thing perfectly in favor of doing lots of things pretty well, and that is how life seems to go for people (men and women alike) who spend a portion of their lives in a caretaker position.

There were a lot of cool things I thought about doing as a veterinarian. I wanted to be a radiologist, or a dermatologist. Instead, I decided to dial back on work to focus on the kids a little more, and once they grew old enough for me to seriously wonder if that was something I still wanted to pursue, knowing what that would mean for the family, the answer was no. Instead, I dusted off that old rarely-used corner of my brain that delighted in writing, and worked on that. I’d say that worked out pretty well.

I have no regrets about the decisions I’ve made, no resentments. But one of the most important things I’ve learned while figuring all of this out is that we are allowed to take care of ourselves every once in a while. It’s not selfish to want to do that. Sometimes it seems like you can’t win; if an exhausted new mom goes out in sweats and greasy hair, she’s mocked as a slob, but if she decides to take time to herself to work out or go get her hair done, then she’s self centered, because of course all real moms know you should never put yourself first, not once or ever. And apparently, you aren’t allowed to ask if one might share a treat, either.

My husband did not really want me to go to Africa (I leave one month from today!) The timing is terrible. I will miss my kids’ last day of school since they inexplicably added three days to the end of the school year just a month ago, we’re in the middle of selling the house, and I just realized I will also be gone for Father’s Day. Yup. Bad, bad, bad mom. I am taking off and missing all of those things because I’ve wanted to do a trip with World Vets for years, and the opportunity presented itself. And once my husband realized just how excited I was to get to do this, he was happy for me too.

Kids are half a world away and I manage to work up a small smile. We all survived.

I suppose I could have just not gone. That is what a real mom would do, right? Sacrifice. Or would a real mother teach her kids that you should take a leap of faith every now and then and go do something really extraordinary? Ten years from now, will my daughter be emulating a woman who consistently choked down everything important to her, or one who said, ‘I’m going to go climb a mountain and then go hang out with some Maasai and some donkeys, because I worked really hard for years and years and I want to do something meaningful, and you will hang out with Dad and be just dandy.’

I really don’t feel horrible about it. I just spent five hours making a birthday party invitation for my son in Photoshop in between shuttling my daughter back and forth to play practice for the last month. I spend the other 50 or so weeks of the year staring at the empty pie plate of my free time, so this one time I am taking a slice for myself, taking it into the corner, and savoring every mother-loving bite.

When the casting call went out for Sandy, they were looking for three things:

• scruffy terrierlike mutt
• takes direction well
• mellow

And of course, Brody is none of those things, so he was out, but they did find just the most perfect dog for the role.

This last Saturday was a grueling 9-5 all day rehearsal, which when you’re seven, is a lot. I mean, it’s a lot no matter how old you are, but for seven year olds and dogs, it’s particularly demanding. I didn’t even stay the whole time. But the cast did, and let me tell you, they did really, really well.

It’s been said time and time again that having pets around is good for people’s stress levels. Since this is my first time with this theater, I don’t know what the ambiance is normally like, but part of me wonders if the presence of a mellow dog who was fine with regular attention had something to do with the emotional well-being of the young cast. They certainly took advantage of his presence.

Gimme pets!

More? OK.

I hear you all had pizza for lunch. If there’s any crust left……

And when he was ready for some alone time, he found a quiet area right under the director’s feet to escape the solicitous attention of the girls of the Municipal Girls’ Orphanage.

It’s always good to have a pup around, that’s what I say.

I don’t know if Susan Maushart requires one to provide their credentials before pontificating on motherhood, but just to be sure, yes, I have human kids as well as some furry ones. I still refer to myself as Brody’s mom. I like that better than owner, though that works too. I go back and forth. I guess that makes me a monkey (though I would prefer to be referred to as a great ape.)

I need to make one thing clear: We all know that pets are not small humans in fur. They are, in fact, dogs, or cats, or ferrets or whatever. We relate to them differently than we do humans. I have yet to meet one person, and I’ve met a lot of people, who seem unclear on that distinction. Even the ones who dress them up because it makes them happy- yes, even those people know that it is an animal in a dress and not a human. So what? It’s not hurting you. The day I see one of those people wheeling the said dress-wearing cat into the pediatrician’s office for an MMR, then we’ll talk. Who cares if someone relates to their pet in a maternal way and wants to call them their kid?

Maushart’s main reason, as far as I can tell, for objecting to calling pets kids is “you and I both know that pets are stupid.” Is that the only criterion? Because I have to tell you, and this is confidential, but I’ve met a lot of stupid kids too, the kind who show up with peanuts lodged in their nostrils or pencils shoved through their eardrums because they want to know what lead sounds like. If I were to fall unconscious on a railroad track, for instance, this is the only eight year old I want by my side.

The author with her eldest, who will never ask to borrow the car or wonder why the other kids get more posts on the blog.

So who anointed Maushart Grand Vizier of the Ministry of Motherhood anyway?  And what are the membership requirements exactly? Is it as strict as, “you must have birthed a human child from your own loins, and the child must then be smart, and raised on organic produce after you’ve nursed him for four years“? Oh yes, those moms are a blast to be around.

Motherhood is not a black and white concept. It just isn’t. I’ve spoken with adoptive mothers, who have shed tears when their child was asked who their “real” mom was. I’ve hugged women who have wept after a miscarriage and been told, “Well, you don’t get to celebrate Mother’s Day, you’re not a mother.” That hurts. It hurts because they felt that bond, regardless of whether or not you were empathetic enough to acknowledge it.

Some people, like me, have pets and kids. Some have pets instead of kids, because they don’t want them, haven’t gotten around to it, or maybe they can’t. I had clients once who were unable to have children of their own. They shared this freely when they brought in their Akita Bonnie, and laughed as they told me, “Bonnie’s our only child.” And was she ever.

Bonnie was involved in an accident. I have never seen two people so devastated. For a month, she was in the hospital, and for a month, her mother came in. I watched as she rotated her to keep her lungs inflated, massaged her legs to keep the musculature from contracting, listened to her whisper in her ear as she stroked her fur in order to get a happy thump of the tail. Every day she came in, and nursed Bonnie.

And when she unfortunately died, I leaned over Bonnie’s mom as her head was buried in her motionless chest, put a hand on her shoulder, and whispered, “Calm down. It’s not like you’re a real mom.”

Oh wait. I didn’t. Because I’m not that cruel. Couch it however you want in smug rolly-eyed condescending cheekiness, that post was mean.

So wear your Mom badge proud, moms of the world, and if anyone tries to tell you otherwise, pity them. Because one day their kid will roll their eyes at them and tell them they hate them and do all sorts of other pleasant human-child behaviors, while yours will lick you on the face and pull your body off the railroad tracks. And have a happy Mother’s Day!

I had always assumed koalas were in pretty good shape. Other than watching them shyly chomping on eucalyptus at the zoo, I’ve never seen one in its natural habitat, and I figured- hey, I have plenty of time to make it to Australia. But as an article in the May issue of National Geographic excerpted below asserts, the koala is in danger:

The koala, cuddly symbol of a nation and one of the most beloved animals on the planet, is in crisis. Before Europeans settled Australia more than two centuries ago, about ten million koalas lived in a 1,500-mile-long swath of the east coast eucalyptus forests. Hunted for their luxurious fur, koalas were brought to the edge of extinction in the southern half of their range. In the northern half, Queensland, a million were killed in 1919 alone. After the last open season in Queensland was held in 1927, only tens of thousands remained.

Through the next half century their numbers slowly rebounded, in part due to efforts to relocate and recolonize them. Then urbanization began to take its toll. Habitat was lost, and diseases spread. With urbanization came the threat of dogs and highways. Since 1990, when about 430,000 koalas inhabited Australia, their numbers have dropped sharply. Because surveys are difficult, current population estimates vary widely—from a low of 44,000 by advocacy groups to a high of 300,000 by government agencies. More than a decade ago a survey of the Koala Coast, a 93,000-acre region in southeastern Queensland, estimated a koala population of 6,200; today there are believed to be around 2,000.

“Koalas are getting caught in fences and dying, being killed by dogs, struck by vehicles, even dying simply because a homeowner cut down several eucalyptus trees in his backyard,” says Deidré de Villiers, one of the chief koala researchers at the Queensland Department of Environment and Resource Management. For 15 years de Villiers, 38, has been tracking koalas, monitoring populations, studying the reasons for their decline, and creating guidelines to make development more koala-friendly.

De Villiers insists that koalas and humans can coexist in urban environments “if developers get on board with koala-sensitive designs,” such as lower speed limits for streets, green corridors for koala movement, and, most especially, preserving every precious eucalyptus tree. Unfortunately, koalas have another problem.

Two joeys cling to each other at an animal hospital before being placed with human caregivers. Later on, they'll be released into the wild. ©Joel Sartore/National Geographic

Vicky Toomey, head veterinarian nurse at the Australia Zoo Wildlife Hospital in Beerwah, trims a cast for Harley, who is lucky to be alive and on the mend after being hit by a car. ©Joel Sartore/National Geographic

I MUST GET ON A QANTAS FLIGHT RIGHT NOW AND SMOOCH THIS CREATURE AND SAVE ALL THE KOALAS.

I had access to a third photo, a scene of a “koala morgue”, but it was so sad I decided not to post it here. You can see the full series here.

This excerpt and photo selection, used with permission, are from the May issue of National Geographic Magazine – on newsstands and ipad now. And for more from the fantastically talented photographer, check out his website, JoelSartore.com. OK, so who’s coming Down Under with me next week?

Have you ever tried Gu when you’re out exercising? It’s like trying to swallow phlegm: pasty, sticky stuff that seals your esophagus shut with something that is supposed to be good for you. I don’t care for it (obviously.)

I think Brody feels the same way about biscuits. They’re fine for home, but if you’re out working up a sweat/pant/whatever, a dried out dessicated crunchy thing may not be the most appetizing choice. He doesn’t care for them. So I decided it was my goal for Be Kind to Animals Week to find a power bar or trail mix recipe that we could share. Pre made mixes won’t work: they’re either too salty, too sugary, or too packed with raisins and chocolate chips. Then, I found this recipe, and voila! a new treat was born.

Brody Bars

Adapted from Dog Treat Kitchen.com

The ingredients: It looks like a lot, but you don’t use much of any one thing.

• 1/3 c olive oil
• 1/4 c light brown sugar (I used sucanat)
• 1/2 c peanut butter
• 1 mashed banana
• 1 egg white
• 1 c whole wheat flour
• 1/8 c milled flax seed
• 1 3/4 c rolled oats
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• 1 1/2 tsp baking powder
• 1 c assorted nuts, seeds, and fruits. I used pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, cashews, almonds, peanuts, coconut, mango, and banana chips. Remember to avoid chocolate, raisins, and macadamia nuts!

Directions:

1. Combine olive oil and brown sugar until well combined

2. Stir in peanut butter

3. Add in banana and egg white

4. Combine flour, flax, cinnamon, and baking powder. Add to mix.

5. Stir in oats

6. Stir in trail mix, blending well until dough sticks together.

7. Shape with your hands into flat, round 1-2 inch cookies. Bake in preheated 350 degree oven on greased cookie sheet or Silpat for 8 minutes.

Store in refrigerator for 2 weeks or freezer for up to 4 months! Bet they won’t last that long.

 If you want to see the process in action- I filmed at the same time I was photographing it, and boy that gets complex!- here is the video. Added bonus, you get to see whether or not Brody and Koa liked them at the end.

As you’re all probably aware, Diamond Pet Foods is in the midst of a fairly large scale recall due to potential Salmonella contamination. As of this weekend, the recall had expanded from three brands to fourteen, encompassing 16 states.The Diamond Recall page lists all the Diamond brands, as well as the production codes being recalled:

• Chicken Soup for the Pet Lover’s Soul
• Country Value
• Diamond
• Diamond Naturals
• Premium Edge
• Professional
• 4Health
• Taste of the Wild
• Apex
• Kirkland
• Canidae

Three other brands manufactured at the same facility have issued voluntary recalls as a precaution:

• Wellness Super5 Mix Large Breed Puppy only
• Natural Balance
• Solid Gold WolfKing/Wolf Cub

I know it’s scary, and the temptation to draw parallels to the 2007 Menu recall is there. But there are a few vital differences:

1. The original recalls in April covered three brands. None of the additional products have tested positive for Salmonella, but because they share manufacturing equipment they are being voluntarily recalled. I am GLAD companies are being proactive. It did not used to be this way, when companies would wait until contamination was confirmed. I like it better now, don’t you?
2. This is not a case of deliberate adulteration of an ingredient. It was a contamination issue. Yes, it stinks, but Salmonella happens. It’s one of the most common causes of food borne illness and of pet food recalls.
3. All of the reported illnesses (fourteen) happened in people who had been in contact with dogs. While Salmonella can be a nasty disease to have, it is uncommon for it to be life-threatening.

Let me emphasize that last point: The animal at biggest risk from Salmonella contaminated pet food is you. The CDC has advice for people who are concerned, and a more general list of advice about preventing Salmonella infections from handling pet food. The number one piece of advice is this:

Wash your hands after handling pet food!

 Bye bye Salmonella.

Where the Wild Pups Are

The night Brode wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind and another

His mother called him “Wild Thing!” and Brody said “I’ll eat you up!” so he was sent to bed without eating anything.

That very night in Brody’s yard a forest grew, and grew until the ceiling hung with vines and the walls became the world all around

And he sailed off through night and day and in and out of weeks and almost over a year, to where the wild things are.

And when he came to the place where the wild things are they roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and showed their terrible claws

Till Brody said “Be still!” and tamed them with the magic trick of staring into all their yellow eyes without blinking once

And they were frightened and called him the most wild thing of all, and made him king of all wild things.

And Brody the king of all wild things said “I’m lonely!” and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.

So Brody waved good-bye and sailed back almost over a year and in and out of weeks and through a day and into the night of his own room

Where he found his supper waiting for him.

And it was still hot.

(Originally posted October 30, 2009).

I know the people who read here are a self-selecting group that is already very aware of animal welfare, so this might be preaching to the choir, but it never hurts to have an official mandate to make a conscious effort to do a kind thing. Here are 5 different ways you can celebrate this week (and every week!)

1. Teach an old dog a new trick.

Studies in mice have demonstrated that mental enrichment can actually slow down cognitive decline due to age, a finding that can have huge implications for pets as well as people. Animals whose brains are challenged, through interaction, puzzle feeders, and daily tasks may actually tolerate the aging process better than those who lay about all day with nothing to think about. So keep up that Sudoku, because it probably affects us too. Brains: use em or lose em.

2. Offer to give a presentation to a school or scout troop.

No group of humans is more receptive to a talk about animal welfare than a group of little kids. And that’s a good thing, because they’re the ones who are going to grow up and take over for us some day. From how to greet a strange dog to how to teach a cat to sit, the possibilities are endless. It doesn’t take much: we want to get them engaged, because then they care- and you would be amazed at how often kids are the ones who get a busy parent to take a dog to training or to the vet.

3. Do a shelter drive-by

I have yet to come across a shelter or rescue that said, “We’re good, thanks” when I pop my head in on the way to Petsmart and asked, “What are you low on?” It’s something small- that’s what makes it easy- a few bags of Milk-Bones, some towels, toys, that sort of thing- but it’s a habit now, and it’s easy. Best part is, my kids see me doing it and are now coming up with drives and fundraisers of their own. The indoctrination has begun!

4. Pick a wildlife or environmental issue to learn about

We suffer from over-insulation sometimes, oblivious to the big picture because it’s not something that is confronting us immediately and doesn’t have an impact on our day-to-day lives. I’m not asking you to get a PhD, or make a $10,000 donation- just pick something, and learn about it. Then report back to me, because I want to learn about it too, be it the impact of human encroachment on mountain lion habitats, the impact of overfishing, whatever floats your boat. I don’t know when being inquisitive about the world around us went out of fashion- maybe it’s just me getting crotchety with age- but I, for one, embrace being nerdy and wanting to learn, learn, learn.

5. Don’t be afraid to stand up for animals

I’ve gotten my share of eye rolls from people when I’ve waited by cars on hot days to make sure the owner came back before the car overheated. I’ve had pursed lips from parents when I, as politely as possible, told their child that the way they were handling an animal was inappropriate- and why. (P.S. I’ve also gotten really good at giving them the Mean Stranger head shake when their parents aren’t looking. Yes, I go there.) I have to conduct myself in a certain manner as a member of the veterinary profession, but I also have an obligation to advocate for those who can’t do it for themselves. And I do. Politely, of course.

Any good suggestions I’ve missed? How will you celebrate Be Kind to Animals Week?

In honor of the occasion, I’m going to whip up some Brody’s Surf Shack Fish Tacos, crack open a Dos Equiis, and oh yes, put a sombrero on the dog.

*cue music*

He walks himself…because no one can do it better.

Cats hate him because he has TEN lives.

“Best In Show” was named after him.

Poodles call HIM for grooming advice.

When Cesar Milan met him, Cesar rolled on his back and peed.

He’s the only Golden Retriever who actually retrieves gold.

When he pees on dead grass, it turns green.

His annual shots are Patrón, Bacardi 151, and Jack Daniels.

He is….the most interesting dog in the world.

Stay bloodthirsty, my friends.