Lisa Duffy-Korpics's Blog: www.talesfromadogcatcher.blogspot.com

Andrew Paterson/Getty Images  One Good Day

You never know when it's coming. It just happens. 
A teacher in high school once asked our class what kind of flower we would be if we could choose, I said "I want to be the grass that grows up out of the sidewalk. It gets walked on. Nobody grows it on purpose. Most don't even notice it. Some people want to get rid of it, but it keeps on growing back because it's resilient. It's strong. I know it's not officially a flower, but if it was, that's the kind of flower I want to be." It was silent in class for a moment and she seemed to be a little taken aback by my answer, but then she said "That's a good choice." It was an important day for me because it was a day where I'd made a huge discovery. I didn't have to be a victim. I could take charge of my own life. I could stop being angry. It was an important moment. Those are the good ones you remember. The ones that will carry you when you're tired or want to give up. It was a good day

You think you learn everything when you're in your twenties, well at least you think you've learned everything when you're in your twenties. You start to shred unnecessary childhood burdens. Then you reach 30 and you realize that all you thought you knew when you were in your 20's might not be as important as you thought it was then. Some of it could be triggered when you have the responsibility of raising children for the first time. For me, that was 30. For others it may be earlier or later. It doesn't matter how they appear, whether in the delivery room, by marriage or adoption. To use a word I don't like because it's trendy  - maybe you're "woke". You realize a lot of what you thought you did on your own was actually in concert with a team of people from different times and places that opened doors and supported your goals and faded away once their job was done and never said anything to you about it. Some taught you lessons you didn't learn until later. And you feel humbled but appreciative. You begin to realize that you've done that for others as well and it may not have occurred to you. That's a good day.

Then of course there's 40 but the time before and after that decade is when the many tasks of life makes everything a blur without much time to ponder what you've learned. It's quite literally, a race.

marriagebirthschildraisingcaringbringchildrentofriendshousesurgentteacherconferencesgoingoverthehomeworkcareattendingchildren'sactivitiesgoingtoworkpayingbillscaringforsickparentscompletingyoureducationstrugglingtomakeenoughmoneymaybefinallymakingenoughmoneybutrealizingit'snotgoingtofixeverything'sthatwrongbuildingyourcareerbuildingyourmarriagegoingtoweddingschristeningsbarmitsvahsretirementpartiesfuneralssurgeriesoothingheartbreaksguidingkidstowardstheirgoalfeedingthedogfillingoutformscleaningupgroceryshoppingbuyingsellingmovinghousesgoingtodoctorsdroppingoffyourchildrenatcollegetreasuringfastrecedingmemoriespickingupmilk
Goingtotheatm...

Then people get sick. Sometimes you get sick.  Your pets die. A parent dies. A brother-in-law. Another brother-in-law. A nephew. Aunts. Uncles. Students you taught. A few friends from childhood. Your child's friends to tragic overdoses and sudden accidents. And you start to become afraid  like when you were  a child but you can always talk to someone who will make it all okay.

But then your last parent dies. 

Then everything is different. Who will love you unconditionally? Who will make it all okay? You were the baby of the family. There's nobody standing in front of you anymore. You don't know where you fit. Suddenly the grass sticking up out of the sidewalk is brown and cold and dry, covered with snow, made weak from too much being piled upon it.  It's not a good day. Probably not for a quite a while. But in time the good days will return if you keep yourself open to them -knowing it's what your parents already knew and hoped to be around to see you learn and the grass will start to appear again in the Spring, and so will you.

You begin to become closer to those around you who are still here. You find more time and appreciation for your spouse who's been through the same and now there's less tasks that distracted you both before. You remember who they are outside of husband/wife/parent and wish you had been able to spend more time together and less time always having to work. You cling to your children at the same time they are attempting to spread their wings and begin their non-punctuated journey above - much the same as yours was. 

And then you're in your 50's and new words creep into your life- words like retirement, pension, grandparent, AARP (actually AARP has been unrelenting in their effort to creep in into your life, what with all the mail, postcards, and ID cards and their very simply written magazine where each sentence has the fewest amount of syllables possible and interviews with celebrities who are at least 20 years older than you but "give interviews" to the magazine where actual real quotes from them are limited to about 3 with much paraphrasing from the writer since there must only be 8 syllables a sentence  - because they believe their intended demographic is already in the beginning stages of dementia). 

Then Facebook sends you an ad to create your Legacy Page - for someone to control it when you pass away and you wonder: Why did Facebook send me this now? Is there something Facebook knows that I don't? I'm younger than Brad Pitt and I wonder if he's getting Legacy Set Up requests on Facebook? You start to buy more fruit and avocados because avocados will save your life according to the most recent edition of the AARP magazine. Brad Pitt probably eats a lot of avocados.

And then you start to get rid of things you once wanted that aren't so important anymore. You Marie Kondo the hell out of your closet and then have nothing to wear to work when Winter comes. You sometimes mistake the new teachers at your job as students. Many were. You have a student in your class who's parent you had in your class. Yesterday you were the energetic creative teacher who always knew the newest tech and practices -  and then realize at 56 you are now the senior member of your department and years rushed by and suddenly your children work at serious jobs with important responsibilities. That was the goal, right? Of course it was but yesterday you were at the park swinging them higher and higher as they squealed for more. A trip to the ice cream place was the ultimate treat. Now they don't eat sweets unless you count lattes and protein smoothies. You wish you could've stopped time to enjoy the ride more and not be forced to make it on time to the next item on your list of responsibilities. Then you remember regret is stupid. You spend time with your grandchildren and watch their every move with a sacred type of attention. Every moment you wished you'd had more of to fully enjoy with your own children- you have now. It's a bittersweet do-over. 

And then one good day a wave of wisdom washes over you. So much seems to make sense that didn't before. You wonder if it's the avocados but you realize it's exactly what your parents and grandparents told you. With age comes wisdom  -along with some unpleasant stuff but hey - wisdom.

You don't understand why younger people can't understand that regret is a waste of good time. That everyone struggles to get somewhere and it's the getting somewhere that matters and not so much whether the journey was straight and easy or zig-zag and difficult - but that you reach that goal and the journey to get there is unique to everyone and probably for a good reason you'll never really understand until the future. 

And if it was straight and easy- it doesn't make you better than someone's whose was crooked and hard. It's what you do to make a good life for yourself and the people you love that matters. Ideally everyone would have a straight and easy journey, making all the right choices with a team of encouragement, hard work, motivation and rewards, but it doesn't make one right and the other wrong.  If everyone could choose - they'd choose straight and easier and happier but it doesn't work that way. Take it from someone who sometimes traveled through a dark twisting road to get to a place where the sun shines - with no applauding audience at the end of that road except for silent intrinsic celebration of getting there in spite of many obstacles -some from what life gave me and some of which I created for myself - ignoring the many flashlights handed to me by good samaritans I couldn't see from the obscured vision that comes from looking to the past too much - and to the future not enough. From not remembering what kind of flower I was.

If you think you made too many mistakes; look hard at them, learn not to repeat them and forgive yourself for things you can't change, recognize and overcome future obstacles with this knowledge and applaud your success as you go on with your life with optimism and joy. If you think you made none, look hard at yourself and recognize that you made mistakes as well and maybe some good luck, lack of obstacles and support helped you not make them again. Applaud your success and  and go on with your life with optimism and joy.  Each is the truth. Everyone makes mistakes. Most everyone can learn from them. Getting to that finish line means you have.  Judging people for any reason is a waste of mojo. 

Keep those connections with people from different periods of your life - it's good for you in so many ways - it reminds you of all the things you were and are still part of who you are -  and not just who you often have to be now sitting somewhere in a meeting while the sun shines outside. Remember where you came from - it can be a lifeline when you become confused as to where you're going now - Forget where you came from if it was a bad place and start from a better point of your choosing. The most important thing to look back on is whether or not people's lives were made better or easier by you. That you were kind. That you made amends and accepted amends. That you noticed when someone really needed a hand and you offered it with no thought of yourself even if it was inconvenient or you were tired. That you gave without any expectations. That you've earned the love and trust of others. That you recognize and remember joy.

One good day you realize it's pretty easy to be unhappy, and it's a lot of work to be happy.  Cut everyone some slack because this is a finite game and so many negative things we fixate and bind ourselves with is just preventing happiness. 

Having regrets is human, but dwelling on them is throwing time away with both hands. That resentment is the antithesis to happiness. Most things that stress you out are temporary and you can choose to recognize that. That happiness doesn't happen to you - you happen to it. 

People will hurt you, unintentionally or on purpose. Forgiveness is good if it's authentic and goes both ways. Sometimes it's easy and sometimes it's hard. Love is not a song lyric. It should never seek to hurt or control. The word "But..." has no place in love. Love is not a word, it's an action. 

And one good day you start learning again. You learn new things. You learn you're not always right. You learn to say less and listen more. You learn people who say mean spirited things about others reflects more on their character than the people they're talking about. You realize that people who do that are often looking to feel better about something inside themselves they can't fix and you can love them, but you don't have to join them. 

One good day you'll recognize that most of the people who loved you as a child are precious and as time goes by their numbers decrease.  People show you who they are if you watch with clear eyes. Nobody is ever all one way. Expecting that from someone else is unrealistic. Try expecting that from yourself first. See. Not a thing.

And you watch the younger generation struggle with all that and hope they take it easy on themselves and others because all that mess is hard. And you hope they'll be okay - but they have to stumble through this regardless. It's just how it is. They have to find their good days themselves. You'll be here if they need you as you always have and as long as possible to make it okay -at least as long as you keep eating avocados 

 It just happens on one good day. Actually multiple good days that come throughout the years often separated by great spans of time. Maybe that day comes to everyone when they can recognize it.

One good day. It can be sooner or later- but the sooner the better because why not. Why not?RSS 2.0: http://talesfromadogcatcher.blogspot....

Andrew Paterson/Getty Images  One Good Day

You never know when it's coming. It just happens. 
When a teacher in high school once asked our class what kind of flower we would be if we could choose, I said "I want to be the grass that grows up out of the sidewalk. It gets walked on. Nobody nurtures it or grows it on purpose. People want to get rid of it, but it keeps on growing because it's strong. It's resilient and always grows back. "It was silent in class for a moment and she seemed to be a little taken aback by my answer, but then she said "That's a good choice." It was an important day for me because it was a day where I'd made a huge discovery. I didn't have to be a victim. I could take charge of my own life. I could stop being angry. It was an important moment Those are the good moments you remember. The ones that will carry you when you're tired or want to give up. It was a good day

You think you learn everything when you're in your twenties, well at least you think you've learned everything when you're in your twenties. You start to shred unnecessary childhood burdens. Then you reach 30 and you realize that all you thought you knew when you were in your 20's might not be as important as you thought it was then. Some of it is triggered when you have children for the first time. For me, that was 30. For others it may be earlier or later. You realize a lot of what you thought you did on your own was actually in concert with a team of people from different times and places that opened doors and supported your goals and faded away once their job was done and never said anything to you about it. And you feel humbled but appreciative. You begin to realize that you've done that for others as well and it may not have occurred to you. That's a good day.

Then of course there's 40 but the time before and after that decade is when the many tasks of life makes everything a blur without much time to ponder what you've learned. It's quite literally, a race.

marriagebirthschildraisingcaringbringchildrentofriendshousesurgentteacherconferencesgoingoverthehomeworkcareattendingchildren'sactivitiesgoingtoworkpayingbillscaringforsickparentscompletingyoureducationstrugglingtomakeenoughmoneymaybefinallymakingenoughmoneybutrealizingit'snotgoingtofixeverything'sthatwrongbuildingyourcareerwritingthatbookbuildingyourmarriagegoingtoweddingschristeningsbarmitsvahsretirementpartiesfuneralshavingasurgeryortwoorfoursoothingheartbreaksguidingkidstowardstheirgoalfeedingthedogfillingoutformscleaningupgroceryshoppingbuyingsellingmovinghousesgoingtodoctorsdroppingoffyourchildrenatcollegegettingsickgettingbetterbuildingmemoriespickingupmilk
goingtotheatm...

Then people get sick. Sometimes you get sick.  Your pets die. A parent dies. A brother-in-law. Another brother-in-law. A nephew. Aunts. Uncles. Students you taught. A few friends from childhood. Your child's friends to a tragic overdose. 

Then your last parent dies. 

Then everything is different. Who will love you unconditionally? You're the oldest generation in your family. You were the baby of the family. Now you don't know where you fit. Suddenly the grass sticking up out of the sidewalk is brown and cold and dry, covered with snow, made weak from too much being piled upon it. There's nobody standing in front of you anymore. It's not a good day. Probably not for a quite a while. But in time they'll return if you keep yourself open to them -knowing it's what your parents already knew and hoped to be around to see you learn and the grass will start to appear again in the Spring, and so will you.

You begin to become closer to those around you who are still here. You find more time and appreciation for your spouse who's been through the same and now there's less tasks that distracted you both before. You remember who they are outside of husband/wife/parent and wish you had been able to spend more time together and less time always having to work. You cling to your children at the same time they are attempting to spread their wings and begin their non-punctuated journey above - much the same as yours was. 

And then you're in your 50's and new words creep into your life- words like retirement, pension, grandparent, AARP (actually AARP has been unrelenting in their effort to creep in on your life what with all the mail, postcards, and ID cards, their very simply written magazine where each sentence has the fewest amount of syllables possible and interviews with celebrities who are at least 20 years older than you but "give interviews" to the magazine where actual quotes from them are limited to about 3 with much paraphrasing from the writer since there must only be 8 syllables a sentence  - because they believe their intended demographic is already in the beginning stages of dementia). 

Then Facebook sends you an ad to create your Legacy Page - for someone to control it when you pass away and you wonder: Why did Facebook send me this now? Is there something Facebook knows that I don't? I'm younger than Brad Pitt and I wonder if he's getting Legacy Set Up requests on Facebook? You start to buy more fruit and avocados because avocados will save your life according to the most recent edition of the AARP magazine. Brad Pitt probably eats a lot of avocados.

And then you start to get rid of things you once wanted that aren't so important anymore. You Marie Kondo the hell out of your closet and then have nothing to wear to work when Winter comes. You sometimes mistake the new teachers at your job as students. Many were. You have a student in your class who's parent you had in your class. Yesterday you were the energetic creative teacher who always knew the newest tech and practices -  and then realize at 56 you are now the senior member of your department.  Your children work at serious jobs with important responsibilities. That was the goal, right. Of course it was but yesterday you were at the park swinging them higher and higher as they squealed for more. A trip to the ice cream place was the ultimate treat. Now they don't eat sweets unless you count lattes and protein smoothies. You wish you could've stopped time to enjoy the ride more and not be forced to make it on time to the next item on your list of responsibilities. Then you remember regret is stupid. You spend time with your grandchildren and watch their every move with a sacred type of attention. Every moment you wished you'd had more of to fully enjoy with your own children- you have now. It's a bittersweet do-over. 

And then one good day a wave of wisdom washes over you. So much seems to make sense that didn't before. You wonder if it's the avocados but you realize it's exactly what your parents and grandparents told you. With age comes wisdom  -along with some unpleasant stuff but hey - wisdom.

You don't understand why younger people can't understand that regret is a waste of good time. That everyone struggles to get somewhere and it's the getting somewhere that matters and not so much whether the journey was straight and easy or zig-zag and difficult - but that you reach that goal and the journey to get there is unique to everyone and probably for a good reason you'll never really understand until the future. 

And if it was straight and easy- it doesn't make you better than someone's whose was crooked and hard. It's what you do to make a good life for yourself and the people you love that matters. If yours was straight and easier than you were probably enjoying the journey as well as making good choices. You were happy and secure. You were rewarded for your efforts. You felt accomplished. If it was crooked and hard then you likely struggled and didn't make all the best choices. You were probably unhappy and had struggles other's didn't understand. You were likely constantly reminded of your flaws  and felt like a failure. Ideally everyone would have a straight and easy journey, making all the right choices with a team of encouragement, hard work, motivation and rewards, but it doesn't make one right and the other wrong.  If everyone could choose - they'd choose straight and easier and happier but it doesn't work that way. Take if from someone who traveled through a dark twisting road to get to a place where the sun shines - with no applauding audience at the end of that road except for my silent intrinsic celebration of getting there in spite of many obstacles  -some from what life gave me and some of which I created for myself. 

If you think you made too many mistakes; look hard at them, learn not to repeat them and forgive yourself for things you can't change, recognize and overcome future obstacles with this knowledge and applaud your success as you go on with your life with optimism and joy. If you think you made none, look hard at yourself and recognize that you made mistakes as well and maybe some good luck, lack of obstacles and support helped you not make them again. Applaud your success and  and go on with your life with optimism and joy.  Each is the truth. Everyone makes mistakes. Most everyone can learn from them. Getting to that finish line means you have.  Judging people for any reason is a waste of mojo. 

Realize that what people post on social media and what their real lives are like is often entirely different than what they want you to see - and the energy that goes into that is so so sad and bad for everyone.  Keeping those connections with people from different periods of your life is good for you in so many ways - it reminds you of all the things you were and are still part of who you are and not just of who you often have to be now - but comparing your life to other's is counterproductive. The most important thing to look back on is whether or not people's lives were made better or easier by you. That you were kind. That you noticed when someone really needed a hand and you offered it with no thought of yourself even if it was inconvenient or you were tired. That you gave without any expectations. That you've earned the love and trust of others -of children and animals. 

One good day you realize it's pretty easy to be unhappy, and it's a lot of work to be happy. It's something you have to work at by setting boundaries and keeping to other's. By addressing your needs and taking care of yourself.  Recognizing your loved ones as individuals and not just offshoots of yourself. Cutting everyone some slack because this is a finite game and so many negative things we fixate and bind ourselves with is just preventing happiness. 

Having regrets is human, but dwelling on them is throwing time away with both hands. That resentment is the antithesis to happiness. That happiness doesn't happen to you - you happen to it. 

People will hurt you, unintentionally or on purpose. Learn to recognize the difference.  Give yourself time to recover from heartbreak. Then go forth wiser and healthier.  Don't  sacrifice your identity for love because then that's not love. Compromise when it's worth it and move forward equitably with identities intact.  Sometimes it's easy and sometimes it's hard. It's always worth it. Love is not a song lyric. It never hurts or controls. It's always with the best interest of the other at heart. Love is not a word. It's an action.

And one good day you start learning again. You learn new things. You learn you're not always right. You learn to say less and listen more. You learn people who say mean spirited things about others reflects more on their character than the people they're talking about. You realize that people who do that are often looking to feel better about something inside themselves they can't fix and you can love them, but you don't have to join them. You realize that you're all in this together but maybe nobody understands this until they get to where you are. You realize that people older than you know more than you do and that they're letting you talk and listening more because they get that already. If you can catch yourself - stop and begin to ask them questions because nobody is ever old inside their mind. They have so much they still need to say and we need to hear.

One good day you'll recognize that the people who knew you as a child are precious and they are the ones who will always know you the best. People show you who they are if you watch with clear eyes. Nobody is ever all one way. Expecting that from someone else is unrealistic. Try expecting that from yourself first. See. Not a thing.

And you watch the younger generation struggle with all that and hope they take it easy on themselves and others because all that mess is hard. And you hope they'll be okay - but they have to stumble through this regardless. It's just how it is. They have to find their good days themselves. You'll be here if they need you as you always have and as long as possible -at least as long as you keep eating avocados 

And we wish we could show you  - those who are younger who we care about - Maybe even those who are older but haven't figured it out yet. We know you'll have to figure that out on your own the same way we did.  It just happens on one good day. Actually multiple good days that come throughout the years often separated by great spans of time. Maybe that day comes to everyone when they can recognize it.

One good day. It can be sooner or later- but the sooner the better because why not. Why not?RSS 2.0: http://talesfromadogcatcher.blogspot....

photo courtesy of climigration.orgI'm a real sucker for those "Best Summer Reads" ads you see proliferating everywhere - on Amazon, Facebook Ads - magazine articles. Of course what represents a desirable Summer Read is entirely subjective.

For those going on vacation - easy, simple romance. "I hate him - he is awful but has an incredible looking (fill in the blank)." Followed by the well meaning friends who see what the character cannot see even though it's obvious because she/he - okay- just she. I'm sticking to she because it's always she no matter how politically correct you're attempting to be. It's just a thing. I think perhaps a "he" would notice those " heated glances", "random meetings","nuanced phrases with subtle innuendo","goosebump resulting accidental physical contact" while passing through the doorway on the way to the kitchen to get the home-made lemonade everyone seems to have on hand for these situations.  

This is followed by the inevitable miscommunication - followed by some conflict which elongates the realization that they are in love (after the requisite 3 days.)  It's a proven recipe as evidenced by all the romance movies set in Southern beach towns my daughter made me binge-watch last week when she was home visiting.

For others it's time to settle down with a good mystery. For a few years Psychological Thriller was my Summer Read. Nothing says  summer read like psychopaths with razors but who still have an "incredible looking (fill in the blank)". For a few years I realized that I needed some help after I gave all my post-vacation paperbacks to my friend at work after the summer and she said "Can you stop this Grief/Death Genre thing - it's starting to get to me." It had been a good thing for a while otherwise I wouldn't have gravitated to it - but her comments really woke me up. It was time for a change.

So if you happen upon this blog - which I hope you do - why not try an uplifting, heartwarming, heart-wrenching, thought provoking yet still at the same time hysterical Summer Read. Instead of physical exercise  - you can raise your heart rate running the emotional gamut while still lounging by the pool. Then you can go  and spoil and appreciate your pet - or perhaps even rescue one when you're back home. In this particular book, (maybe the sequel will improve upon this missing part - let me know what you suggest -really - I'd like to hear what you think), there are really no "incredible looking (fill in the blanks) like in the above examples of Best Summer Reads; unless you're admiring a shiny coat of fur, perky ears, spunky personality, bright eyes, healthy teeth or lovely new collar.

I promise though - all the emotions expressed in Tales from a Dog Catcher which is a narrative non-fiction book -  based on my real-life experiences as a young female Animal Control Officer for a Police Department in the Hudson Valley in New York State in the mid 1980's - are real.

And you won't need a well meaning friend who always has home-made lemonade on hand to help you notice them.

Although that never hurts.

As always - I wish you all the best. Have a great summer anywhere and anyway possible. -LDKRSS 2.0: http://talesfromadogcatcher.blogspot....

<!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Arial",sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family:Arial; mso-ansi-language:EN;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:11.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Arial",sans-serif; mso-ascii-font-family:Arial; mso-fareast-font-family:Arial; mso-hansi-font-family:Arial; mso-bidi-font-family:Arial; mso-ansi-language:EN;} .MsoPapDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; line-height:115%;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} </style></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sometimes life throws us curveballs, and we have to move </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">— whether it’s to be closer to family or for a new job in a new city - when it comes to buying a house, you need to find the best fit for you and also your pooch. If you add just a little bit of extra thought and planning, you’ll soon find yourself enjoying your new home with your four-legged friend.</span></span></div><br /><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-size: small;">Selling Your Home</span></span></span></b><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">First, you have to sell your house. Find a trusted real estate agent and communicate your needs with him or her. An important step in selling your house is to stage your home. Clean up clutter, brighten up dark corners, get rid of personal decor, and hide all signs that your pet lives there (as much as you can, anyway).</span> <a href="https://www.thebalance.com/selling-a-... style="color: #bf9000;">Staging</span></a> <span style="color: #444444;">your home makes it easier for buyers to envision themselves there, and it could help the home sell faster and for more money.</span></span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-size: small;">Keep Your Dog in Mind When Finding a New Home</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">While shopping for a home, keep your dog in mind. Look for a fenced yard, or if there isn’t one, find out if you can add one. Just keep the cost of adding one in mind when putting together your household budget. For example, the average price of a </span><a href="https://www.homeadvisor.com/tloc/Bowi... style="color: #bf9000;">wood fence installation</span></a><span style="color: #444444;"> in Bowie, MD, is between $1,850 and $3,766.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">A nice, big backyard is preferable, but it isn’t necessary. It all depends on you and your four-legged friend. Check out the flooring, too. Some flooring is better when it comes to pets. Carpet might seem ideal, but if you’ve ever house-trained a puppy or cleaned up after an elderly dog, you know that carpets can add complications — and hold on to smells. It’s better to look for hard floors such as hardwood, tile, or concrete. If you have an elderly dog, pay attention to the stairs. Sometimes it’s difficult for older dogs to climb them, so if there are steps, consider whether you can add ramps for your aging, arthritic pup. For example, you can pick up a portable ramp from Amazon for</span> <span style="color: #bf9000;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Perfect-Life-I... style="color: #bf9000;">around $90</span></a>.</span></span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-size: small;">Pay Attention to the Neighborhood</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">Keep </span><a href="https://figopetinsurance.com/blog/tip... style="color: #bf9000;">an eye on</span></a><span style="color: #444444;"> the neighborhood, too. A dog-friendly neighborhood will have lots of people out enjoying time with their animals. You’ll see sidewalks, parks, pet supply stores, vets, and dog parks. If you can, ask the neighbors about dogs in the area. You also want to consider how far your home will be from work. If you can’t get home during the day, you may have to hire a dog walker to give your pup a potty break (a </span><span style="color: #bf9000;"><a href="https://pets.costhelper.com/dog-walke... style="color: #bf9000;">half-hour walk</span></a> </span><span style="color: #444444;">usually costs $18 - $22). </span></span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #274e13;">Moving with Your Dog</span><span style="color: #444444;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">If your move is </span><a href="https://rchumanesociety.org/assets/pd... style="color: #bf9000;">local</span></a><span style="color: #444444;">, take your dog to the new house along with some of his favorite toys and treats. This way, he can sniff around and get familiar with the home, and the treats and play will help him associate the house with good times. If your move is long distance and an early visit isn’t possible, take your dog for a</span> <span style="color: #bf9000;"><a href="https://dogs.thefuntimesguide.com/mov... style="color: #bf9000;">brisk walk</span></a> </span><span style="color: #444444;">before you take him inside. Then take him in on his leash and show him around the home. He’ll want to sniff everywhere, and that’s OK. He’s learning his surroundings.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">When moving day arrives, you should consider sending your pup to a dog sitter to get him out of the way. This is also good for your dog because seeing all his beloved belongings and furniture taken away can be stressful. Having people coming and going from your home can result in open doors and other dangerous situations for your pup. And if your moving date is flexible, consider scheduling your move on a slow weekday. By doing so, you will be less stressed, and so will your pet.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Pack his things last and unpack them first. The sooner he is in his new spot the better, so he can be near the things that are familiar to him and start to adjust. Don’t wash his toys, beds, or blankets. The familiar scents will calm him. Don’t forget to take breaks from unpacking to play with your dog. He’s under a lot of stress, so reassurance that he isn’t losing his loving family is key. Plus, spending time with him helps him get the idea that this is his new home. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">Start his </span><span style="color: #bf9000;"><a href="http://blog.gopetfriendly.com/tips-fo... style="color: #bf9000;">regular walking routine</span></a> </span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444;">as soon as possible. While walking, allow him some extra time to sniff around so he can get the lay of the land. He’ll be experiencing all-new smells in his new home, so it’s both exciting and </span><span style="color: #bf9000;"><a href="http://www.quickanddirtytips.com/pets... style="color: #bf9000;">scary</span></a> </span><span style="color: #444444;">for him. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: small;">Once you’re settled, your pooch will curl up next to you and be just as happy as he was before the move. After all, he’s still got you, and that’s what matters most.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN"><o:p><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;">About the Author: </span></span></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Cindy Aldridge</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> is a </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">freelance writer</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> and </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">dog lover</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #bf9000;">She started </span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/2/goog_1962... style="color: #38761d;">Ourdogfriends</span></a></span><a href="http://.org/"><span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">org</span></span></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> as a </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">fun side project</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> for </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">herself</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> and to </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">educate pet owners</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> and </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">potential pet owners</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> about how </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">dogs can enrich our lives</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She enjoys writing</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> about </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">dogs</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> and </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">pet ownership.</span></span></i><br /><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #bf9000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></i><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #bf9000;">Photo courtesy of </span><a href="pixabay: 1 million+ Stunning Free Images to Use Anywhere" target="_blank"><span style="color: #274e13;">Pixabay</span></a></span></span></i></div><br /><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">RSS 2.0: http://talesfromadogcatcher.blogspot.... src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogsp..." height="1" width="1" alt=""/>

I have a story - it's happy and then tragic but then it was okay. Then because of some amazing people at the Woman's job - it's now a great story. My name is T-Kitty (that name was chosen by the Man here - I didn't choose it nor did the Woman but it does sound sort of like a cool rap name so I'll keep it).

I have my own Facebook Page and 54 friends - some of whom live in other countries because I'm that intriguing. I also have human friends in my neighborhood who don't even know the names of the  Woman and Man who own this house. They should get out more.  I have very particular opinions about most everything and I love everyone. Really.

I was a loved kitten. I had a Mom and she was older but she was great and then one day a big truck with lights came to take her away and she never came back. So I waited. And waited. Then the house became cold and I move into the basement since there was a hole in the foundation I could come and go - the neighborhood humans fed me a lot but they all had dogs who didn't like me so I just stayed in my home waiting for my Mom to come home. One day this Woman comes by in a big car and calls over to me in a snowstorm. I came running over because she looked like she might have snacks and she scooped me up and took me away to another home, but this one was warm and the lights were on and there were a lot of people there who were petting me and feeding me some great food and I fell asleep on some fuzzy blankets. The next morning I had my own bowls filled to the brim and I thought - maybe my Mom wasn't coming home but she somehow sent these people to take care of me. I waited for my Mom for 4 years living in a condemned house in the cold. Now I've lived here in this warm house for 4 years and I have a wonderful new family.

I will always love her - but because she loved me so much I am very affectionate and happy and adaptable. I sometimes give the Man and Woman here a hard time because they need the exercise, but to be honest - I think of them as my new Mom and Dad and Sister and Brother and even a tiny human who is my best friend.

It's great to meet you. I have to go have a snack and take a nap. I may go out a bit and run around in my yard for a while since the sun is shining, but I'll be back to chat now and again.RSS 2.0: http://talesfromadogcatcher.blogspot....

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Me: Hello, I'd like to make an appointment.
Them: That would be fine, is this just a check up or is there a problem
Me: It would be both since I haven't been in over two years
Them: Well we will get you in right away. What is the problem?
Me: (insert long description of problem)
Them: You should've called us earlier! Letting this go on so long could prove fatal. It might be too late to do anything anyway! This is very serious. Can you come in now?!
Me: Uh, is it really? Um, I guess so...um. (insert rapid pulse, face getting hot, panic setting in. Maybe I should hang up and call 911? No-then I’d have to explain myself again and apparently I was running out of time...)
Them: So, what kind of animal is this again?
Me: Excuse me...animal?
Them: Yes. We are an animal hospital.
Me: I, I was calling Riverside Health?
Them: Oh, you must've been calling Dr. Lopez. There's a misprint on his website. Ha ha ha! Looks like you'll survive! You should really get that checked out though. Good luck. 
Me: Okay. Um. Thanks.RSS 2.0: http://talesfromadogcatcher.blogspot....

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Conversation on phone with doctor's office.
[image error]
Me: Hello, I'd like to make an appointment.
Them: That would be fine, is this just a check up or is there a problem
Me: It would be both since I haven't been in over two years
Them: Well we will get you in right away. What is the problem?
Me: (insert long description of problem)
Them: You should've called us earlier! Letting this go on so long could prove fatal. It might be too late to do anything anyway! This is very serious. Can you come in now?!

Me: Uh, is it really? Um, I guess so...um. (insert rapid pulse, face getting hot, panic setting in. Maybe I should hang up and cal 911? No-then I’d have to explain myself again and apparently I was running out of time...)
Them: So, what kind of animal is this again?
Me: Excuse me...animal?
Them: Yes. We are an animal hospital.
Me: I, I was calling Riverside Health?
Them: Oh, you must've been calling Dr. Lopez. There's a misprint on his website. Ha ha ha! Looks like you'll survive! You should really get that checked out though. Good luck. 
Me: Okay. Um. Thanks.RSS 2.0: http://talesfromadogcatcher.blogspot....

This is not a dog story.

Kathleen with about 15% kidney function 1960'sThis is not witty or heartwarming - but it has a happy ending. A happy ending the President of the United States Richard Nixon gave to our family in the form of signing H.R.1 in 1973.

He gave me my mother back. And right now there is a risk that Medicare covering people with End Stage Renal Failure could be impacted by our existing administration. So what can I do, a simple writer and teacher. Here is what I can do. I have a platform. A small platform, but nonetheless a platform. And just like celebrities who use theirs for political causes on award shows I'm using mine for the millions of people who are only alive because they have access to dialysis.

My Mother told me hours before she died "Make sure they know Lisa - you write it and make sure everyone knows." and I never really knew what she meant by that. What she would want "them" to know? There is so much. And maybe someday I will understand and do what she asked  - and in a way maybe this is it? However right now I'm going to use this platform to tell you about my Mother. The short version is posted on facebook to generate support for passing H.R. 3976. The longer version - the story of my Mom and our family and how we almost lost her is here. I will send this link to the House in hopes that a story of pain and death and loss was changed for a story of life by another H.R. Bill in 1973. That they can act with compassion as well and the best parts of their humanity may be affected somehow by my story. A story they can also be the heroes of that voted for my Mom's life 45 years ago.

In 1972 my Mom's kidneys finally began to fail. She was 28 years old. The doctor sent her home to prepare to die, but she'd known they were failing since she was a young teenager and was able to adjust her diet and liquid intake and live on 10% less kidney function for years. She'd make it last again. In the following months it became clear that she was running out of options.  In 1973 at the age of 29 she ran out of time.
They prepared my Dad for her death, how he would know it was imminent, what he could do, how it would look, how long it would take, how he should keep me away from her in the last stages because it would frighten me,  (she would seize, it could be months or days, she'd hallucinate, she'd swell from uremia, she'd no longer recognize me, she'd gasp for breath, she could become combative - death from kidney failure is not a peaceful death unless you're medicated into unconsciousness which didn't seem like an option in the 1970s).
Let me reinforce one thing here. She was a  29 year old beautiful talented young woman, wife and mother, healthy in all other ways. Dialysis existed. It would save her. It was too expensive.
She starting furtively writing me urgent notes with handwriting that looked like scribble, hiding them for fun and telling me I could read them later "like a scavenger hunt in the future" she said.  She finished sewing costumes for my school play because my teacher said "She doesn't look sick and you promised". They did not want my teacher to know the entire story since she could speak out-loud about it in front of me and I'd hear things they didn't want me to know -  and they didn't trust her. There is a special place in hell for that teacher. 
My Mom taught me all about things that Moms usually wait to talk to their daughter's about when they're young teens.
She left tiny notes in my dollhouse for me to discover over time, supposedly written by the characters from "The Borrowers", my favorite book at the time, that would explain that they were going to be there to watch over me for my Mom as long as I needed them. She made my Dad stock up on books - all the James Herriot's - made him promise to get the Stephen King's when they came out. They'd read them together on Friday nights at our house. I had joined in moving up from children's to adult books. It was sometimes silent in my apartment on Friday nights - all of us quietly reading. Those are my favorite memories.
They tried to help prepare my Dad to discuss it with me but he couldn't. He thought he'd be able to fix this somehow. Our extended family tried to help but they both pushed them away. This was something they both agreed on - that this experience was going to be private, that everything be as normal as it could be until it no longer was. I'm sure they were frustrated because everyone knew something was wrong and wanted to help - I know they were but it was intentional on their part. I  only learned that a few years ago as an adult when my father told me this. They deliberately isolated us from friends and family as best they could. They didn't want me to hear anyone who might accidentally speak about it. They were going to hang onto normal as long as possible. One night it no longer was normal. An ambulance came. A day later my father brought my mother home and she went into her bedroom and didn't come out anymore. My father paced back and forth and kept calling people. I begged him to let me go in the bedroom and I'd hear her shout no from down the hall. I heard moaning and crying and talking that made no sense. My Dad told me she was having a nightmare and sent me outside to play. I sat in the hallway in the building and listened. I listened to him trying to comfort her and and her screaming out and then crying. I listened to my father cry.
I found out later they'd sent her home to die. My father was panicking and called my grandfather's doctor who had started to regularly call him after a visit with my Grandfather and had been very insistent on knowing more about my mother. He knew that we needed help now that the reality of it was upon him. He called, relatives came for me. That doctor came right away to our house in the middle of the night and called several people at Westchester Medical Center. (formerly known as Grasslands in Valhalla, NY), The ambulance was taking too long, He picked her up and drove her in his own car to Westchester County Medical Center.
H.R.1 had just passed and it was 1973. A miracle had happened. The President had signed into law that kidney failure at any age requiring dialysis be covered under Medicare. It was almost too late for her, but she was a survivor. It should've been too late at that point in uremic poisoning. She was in systemic organ failure by the time she was in the ICU. There was more than one miracle in those chaotic weeks. 
Kathleen with me before my 8th Grade ConcertFor this to be turned back at this day and age - or limited in some way so that the government can save money on dialysis patients is beyond reprehensible to me. 

You may ask if we had insurance? Yes, we did. Good insurance from my Dad's job at a bank but my mother had a "pre-existing condition". They wouldn't pay. It covered him and it covered me. It would not cover her in anyway. So we never bought a house or went on a vacation or did many things families did because my parents chose life. And life is expensive for a person with kidney failure. So they knew that this was a waiting game, to live in the moment and hope for a miracle. Life is hard for many people - living under a toxic cloud of fear impacted them both irreparably - all of us I believe.  As much as I was deliberately kept from the information as much as possible,  I was a smart child. I knew something was wrong and I pretended for them that I didn't. I overheard things I never shared with them. They needed that. Kathleen at 40 Getting ready to go to dialysis
Dialysis costs are more than the treatment. There are the medications, the tests, the equipment, the transportation. Life changes - and all of it costs. If you are fortunate enough to get a transplant the drugs are not always covered under Medicare. If you actually own a home or have any assets then be prepared to liquidate. Things may have changed in years since under Obama's no longer allowing pre-existing conditions clauses in insurance.  I do not believe that is something we can rely on anymore. Things you expect to keep you safe, alive - are being attacked daily. And we all sit here and wait thinking "Well they can't do that". I'm sure in Germany in 1935 many people sat in their homes feeling safe thinking "Well surely they can't do that."
This is long. You may not share my politics. That doesn't matter. What matters here is that these are our families through no fault of their own relying on dialysis to continue living, being parents, children, employees, spouses, friends. I apologize for the length of this but felt compelled to share this. This is my small platform - and I'm using it. I do this for anyone and everyone who has been down the road my family has - some of us know each other in real life and on FB. 
I share this in support of my Mother. Kathleen Rita Finnell Duffy 1941-2003. 
Those numbers cause me a great deal of pain -  but it's the dash between them that makes the difference. The dash that included wonderful memories, elementary school graduation, middle school dances and concerts, much needed motherly advice, having my friends know and confide in her, my cousins hanging out with their Aunt Kathy - the cool Aunt who tried to keep them out of trouble, (and sometimes got them in trouble),  high school and college graduations, holidays and laughter, tears and long discussions,  advice on raising her two grandchildren and never to wear lilac and moisturize more , the opportunity for my children to have a memory of their grandmother...and I had a Mom. Too much to write here Because We. Had. More. Time. Kathleen with her first grandchild 1994. Her second would arrive
in 1996. They got to know each other.
But without H.R.1 the numbers would've said 
Kathleen Rita Finnell Duffy 1941-1974. 
The dash made all the difference.
In support of everyone living with ESRD and in memory of all who lived courageously for as long as they could with it. In Memory of my Mother Kathleen - the longest surviving continuous dialysis patient in New York State.<!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1073786111 1 0 415 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} </style> --><div class="blogger-post-footer">RSS 2.0: http://talesfromadogcatcher.blogspot.... src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogsp..." height="1" width="1" alt=""/>

In the course of my duties as an animal control officer, I was sometimes often responsible for doing things I didn't want to do. Sure. Everyone can relate to that. It's work. Some people feel this way all the time; others some of the time - for example - using the copier machine at my job is definitely NOT one of my all-time favorite things. "Why not" you ask? "Well that sounds likes tons of fun". I guess I'm just not a fan, especially since it's usually not working or stops working the moment it senses I'm in the room standing in front of it. Now, let's say if one of my responsibilities was breaking the copier, chopping it up with an ax, and I mean really annihilating it, repeatedly - and then dancing on the wreckage while yelling "There you go - how do you like that?!" than that would be an entirely different story. That would be a story of vengeance that would follow with a story about the ways one looks for another job. But I digress.


The story segment below could be construed to be a series of sad events - an isolated eccentric older woman facing an eviction and having to give up some of her beloved pets in the process, unfortunately feeling that the mobs of feral cats that she fed daily who accumulated in the lot next to her building were her pets as well - an opinion not shared by her landlord. However; (especially those who are familiar with the first book), you will find that what may begin as a common and tragic tale is always something more.  It could be unusual and a little dangerous, involve blood shed, high ranking police officials, in full dress uniform en-route to an important ceremony, on their knees in a parking lot yelling into the back of a car and then arguing about who's better at it.  Some hysteria...mass hysteria as well as the more common humorous type, and surprises. Always surprises.
 Below is a segment from the sequel to Tales from a Dog Catcher...only the very first part since there is so much more to the story. This is a promise that the book you ask me about is in the final stages and coming soon. I just wanted to give you a little taste of what's to come and thank you for your patience and continued loyalty. I hope you enjoy this small preview from More Tales from a Dog Catcher. - Lisa

 The General (chapter segment)
After bringing the two carriers downstairs, I saw the owner of the building waiting for me. I braced myself for what was to come and started to walk over to the car. The landlord was still really mad and since the problem of Miss Sally was only half solved by evicting her, he still had to deal with getting rid of the cats that hung around outside. It seemed that he still had quite a bit of mad left in him that he had to get out of his system. "I got a business all lined up to come in here lady, I mean Miss, um warden person… these cats will drive people away. I want them out of here, all of them, that crazy old woman is gone, but those…” He hesitated for a moment and took in the scene before him. A crowd was beginning to gather, and within them, possibly some potential customers for whatever he planned on turning this building in to. I could almost visualize him applying the brakes in his head . “Those…stinkin’ cats!”Clearly, this was not his first choice of words. He knew what he wanted and even though I liked Miss Sally, and I really didn’t like him…none of that mattered. Somehow, I had to get these cats out of here and find a way to dissuade them from coming back, a complex process that I knew he would not understand or tolerate. It would take too much time. I knew that after a while when no one was feeding them anymore they would move on to somewhere else, although he didn’t look like the kind of person who could wait that long. It couldn’t be done overnight. They would come back until they saw that there was nothing more to eat, but that could take weeks. I tried to explain that to him, but it wasn’t having it. It wasn’t the immediate solution he wanted. He stood there with his arms crossed, glaring at me; the current target of his hostility. 

On top of the rest of his complaints, he had just informed me that his taxes paid my salary. You would think with so many people paying my salary that I would be driving a sports car and vacationing on a warm tropical island somewhere…but this was not the case. I was standing on a sidewalk in the middle of the city on a cold day with the wind making me realize I should've opted for the long underwear underneath my uniform pants.  A growing audience was waiting to see what I, and their tax dollars, would do next. The crowd wanted action. 

And that was when I spotted The General.
Miss Sally had named him “The General” and it suited him. He was a grizzled orange cat  -  clearly a veteran of many battles. He was probably the scariest cat I had ever seen. He had scars criss-crossing the side of his face and missing fur in other areas. Half of his left ear was missing from some conflict in his checkered past, but mostly…he was mean and proud of it. He was pretty bold for a feral cat.  I would sometimes get calls from people complaining a wild orange cat had chased them in the middle of the city. I knew immediately who they were referring to. He wouldn’t attack them; at least he never did before. His modus operandi was to charge at strangers walking by and as soon as they reacted, turn and fly back in the other direction. He would run out and chase cars as they were pulling away. He was one of the few wild cats there who didn’t mind getting a little close to people, however not for affectionate purposes. He seemed to enjoy harassing them and showed no fear of humans. It was this feature of his personality that led me to my idea.
The General as the unofficial leader, (or official leader if there is some type of secret feral cat fraternal organization –sort of like the Masons), of the feral cats, was usually the first to come out and eat when Miss Sally set out the cans of cat food in the back of the building. Perhaps I could trap The General?  I knew I would have to bring him to the shelter. He was hostile, aggressive and he was the one I got the most phone calls about. Maybe with him gone, the rest would go off on their own more quickly. It was time to do my job and put all emotion aside. I often had to do things I didn’t want to do, and then gave myself headaches trying to figure out a way to make something positive result from a bad situation.  Sometimes there was no upside. It was what it was. I knew if I baited the trap and left, he would just manage to get to the food and back out without tripping the latch that would shut him in. He was too smart for that. I had had twice trapped cats from this empty lot next to Miss Sally’s building, but never him. Any cat worth earning the rank of general wouldn’t be trapped that easily. But, maybe if I set the trap up and waited there, I could grab the trap up the moment he went for the food and shut the latch myself. I had a feeling that it wouldn’t take that long. I knew I had to do something with the growing crowd waiting for my next move, and The General might be bold enough not to mind an audience. 
I went over to my car and pulled it up onto the sidewalk. Yanking open the back door which was heavy and unwieldy, even without the wind, I pulled out the trap. Maybe this would work, but even if it didn’t it would be obvious to the owner of the building, as well as to the people in the crowd, that I was trying. I hated being in this position, but I had to do my job. I had to put the thoughts about what would happen to The General, if I was able to catch him, out of my mind. I knew in my heart that the General was a cat with little hope of rehabilitation. Maybe he wouldn’t go for it. Maybe he was smart enough to tell it was a set-up. Regardless of how grouchy The General was, I didn’t want to be the one to bring him to the place of his ultimate demise. More and more lately, this seemed to be the primary purpose of my job, but I couldn’t let myself think about that right now. I had taxpayers waiting to see what I would do next.
I set the trap and grabbed a can of cat food out of the car and popped open my glove compartment to get the can opener. I had dry food in the back of the car, but that wouldn’t do it. I opened the can, choosing fish since I knew it would smell the strongest. I set it up and walked back to my car. Looking at my watch, I saw that I was late to another call. If he didn’t jump on this opportunity soon, I would have to leave and come back later and try again. I knew this wouldn’t go over too well with the onlookers, not to mention the landlord, I couldn’t sit around here all day and wait. I had to stay long enough to appear like I was doing my job while ignoring the other calls that were also part of my job. I would probably not be able to catch this cat in this last ditch effort to perform the impossible so I would be NOT doing my job in two places at once, Tax payers love that. - but sometimes appearances were more important than real work in public service - something that still didn't make sense to me.

It was about 10 minutes after I set up the trap, that I saw a flash of orange approaching from the side of the building making its way towards the trap. No way. I couldn’t be this lucky, but it was actually him. The General. He ignored all of us, brazenly heading for the can of food.  It seemed as though The General was going to decide his fate with his stomach. He looked over at the crowd with disdain, and slowly sauntered towards the trap. Everyone was standing still, so apparently chasing people wasn’t in the cards. Slowly, I backed over towards my car and leaned in to open the glove box again. I grabbed the new lead lined gloves the Chief had recently purchased for me.
     “They use these to handle primates at the San Diego Zoo!” He’d told me with a grin. He seemed very pleased with his purchase.     “Guaranteed to be impenetrable.” The Chief put them on and admired them.     “You’ll probably be the only A.C.O. in the county to have these!” he did a few air-boxing moves and took them off, somewhat reluctantly handing them to me.     “Now don’t go and lose these, they weren’t cheap.”     “Yes Chief” I'd said and took them out of his hands. I wondered if I would ever have to use these…hopefully not for any primates. Although in this town; I was learning that almost anything was possible.

     “These are finally going to come in handy,” I thought to myself while pulling them on. 
If I was going to get anywhere near The General, I would certainly need these. By the time I turned around, The General was already in the trap sniffing at the cat food. I started to walk over towards the empty lot. He didn’t move but just sniffed the food and started to eat. I quietly approached him from behind. I knew I only had a split second to do this right. I gave him a quick push and quickly snapped up the trap and tried to slide in the latch that would close it. 
It was jammed!  But wait! I had on my new invincible gloves, I thought why not? and blocked his escape with my hand, keeping the door shut and grasping the wires to hold the trap and trap door all at the same time. There was a loud “yaaay” and some clapping came from the crowd. This was really getting to be too much. Didn’t any of these people have jobs?
All of a sudden, I heard a loud pop and felt like someone had squeezed my hand as hard as they could. The General was howling and banging around inside the trap so hard that I could hardly hold onto it. 
All I have to do is get him in the car and get out of here. I thought to myself. I sort of limped over to the car, banging the heavy trap against my leg. This cat wasn’t as heavy as I thought he would be but the fact that he was howling and thrashing around didn’t help matters any.  I was having a hard time holding onto the trap but I needed to use my other hand to open the back door. I must have caught my hand in it somehow and the gloves were stiff, making all of this more difficult. The General kept howling and hissing, but he wasn’t as large as I thought he would be. I’d held on to Dobermans and Rottweilers easier than this. Why was it so heavy? That was when I heard the crowd again.     “Oooooooh!!”. Really? Didn’t these people have anything else to do? I turned to look at the landlord who looked different. Paler...sort of gray. Oh no...I hoped he wasn't going to have a heart attack.     “Miss, um, Officer…are you ok. Do you need, uh, something?” But the landlord, as ill as he looked, seemed more subdued than he was before, actually almost nice.
"No thank you. I can do this." I said.  I opened the back door with my free hand and  struggled to slide the trap into the back seat and tried to close the door to make sure that The General didn’t escape. I was pushing as hard as I could, but my right hand wasn’t cooperating.  I turned to face the landlord to ask him what he was talking about when I looked down at the sidewalk and noticed that I had stepped in what looked like a puddle of blood. “Oh no! Had I hurt The General?  Did I close his paw in the trap or something?”That's when I saw the stream of blood pouring down my arm from underneath my invincible lead lined gloves. How was he bleeding through my gloves? Why didn't I feel my hand anymore. Then it finally clicked.  I suddenly realized why I had been having such a hard time holding onto The General. Then there was  a loud crash. Turning from the growing puddle of blood, I saw the trap lying on the ground. I hadn’t even felt my hand let go of it. I watched as The General took off like a bullet towards the group of people who had been watching the scene unfold. There was some screaming and a bit of chaos as taxpayers ran for cover. The General zigzagged around the crowd and then ran off into the distance but stopped and turned around abruptly, staring the crowd down. This was the feline equivalent of a Clint Eastwood movie. And that was when he started to charge back in our direction. 
He was heading straight for me. It was too late to run and my hand was now throbbing in pain. I mustn’t have felt it right away due to that adrenalin rush people get when they’re injured. Someone who just got hit by a car will tell you. “Well I felt a bump, and it wasn’t all that bad.” Meanwhile their leg is still under the tire.
Things were starting to appear as though they were in slow motion and my feet felt extra heavy, like they were glued to the sidewalk. Everything started looking wavy. Well, this was how it was all going to end I suppose. Maybe I’d get a statue dedicated to me in the middle of town. No, probably just a plaque. I'd settle for a plaque - it would cost less tax money. 
 I closed my eyes and put my arms up in front of my face and waited for the white light.
I heard a loud bang and then more screaming from the crowd. I hadn’t felt anything hit me. I opened my eyes to see that some of the people in the crowd had adopted my exact posture. “He hit your car door and then took off up Division Street!” a woman in the crowd yelled over to me. “No, he hit the car door and ran under it. I saw it!” a man shouted.“Nah, he’s not under there” said a boy who was on his hands and knees on the sidewalk looking under the car. He looked like he was about 11 years old. Why wasn’t he at school? 
     A murmuring started to develop among the crowd. It seemed that there was some disagreement over which direction the General had gone. The owner of the building looked a bit shook up and whatever animosity he had toward me in the beginning had seemed to evaporate. He started to approach me and I noticed that he still looked a little pale. I thought some people can't take the sight of blood. It never bothered me even though in this case; it was my own.  I mustn’t have looked much better myself because he walked over to me and gently removed the radio that I was clutching in my good hand.“I think you should sit down Miss.” He said holding onto my radio. 
I looked over at my right hand and pulled the glove off with my left. It didn’t look as bad as I thought it would, considering how much I was bleeding, but when I tried to move my fingers, nothing happened.“Could you do me a favor and …help me call headquarters?” I asked. 
There was no way I could use the radio without pushing the transmit button.“Uh, sure. Why don’t you let me hold that for you? I’ll press the button and you talk.”“Okay” I said and sat down on the hood of the car. Blood started dripping down my arm again.“You just sit there and …well..put your arm back up and hold it up, good....yes, like that.  Now hold onto that hand with as much pressure as you can.”            He held the radio up in front of me. I could have asked him to use the emergency switch on the side of the radio because that would signal that an “officer needed assistance”.  It would have sent every police officer in town racing over to me like I’d been shot. I’d only used it once before and this was no way even close to how dangerous that previous situation had been. No, I needed to get some help, but not that much. I didn’t want to draw too much attention to myself, although I had a feeling I’d already lost that battle.
            “306 to 844. I’m at the 100 block of Division Street. I’ve been bit.”Instantly Will responded from the dispatch desk.             “Officer’s responding. ...are you okay?” “Affirmative” I said and explained, as briefly and calmly as I could so they would't send the cavalry, what had happened.I held onto my injured hand to try and control the bleeding. It didn’t look that bad, just two perfectly round puncture holes right in the middle of my palm surrounded with a large purple bruise that was starting to grow larger by the second. So much for the invincible lead lined gloves.
 I tried moving my fingers again and to my relief I thought I saw them move a little.  I heard sirens in the distance and I looked down Division Street to see who they’d sent for me. I felt  my hand was swelling up and I was afraid to look at it again, but when I did, I was surprised at how benign it looked compared to how it felt at the moment. My hand throbbing, I sat on the hood of my car and waited, trying to move my fingers without much success. I would need a ride to the Emergency Room. I looked at the crowd. It seemed to have thinned out a bit yet there was still quite a large group just standing there staring at me. I thought that maybe I should say something. This was getting odder by the moment.“I’m okay. Thank you for your concern. You can go now."  I said. The crowd seemed to collectively turn around and walk away. I thought I might have heard a sigh of disappointment.  The boy was still standing there while his mother was trying to pull him away.      “I’m sorry you got hurt.” He said.                                                                          
     “Thanks” I said. That was sweet. Then I thought about it for a moment and asked     “Why aren’t you in school today?”                                                 “I got braces…see” he said and gave me a big grin. He certainly had a significant amount of metal in his mouth.      “Impressive.” I said.                                                 “Thanks.” He said.                                                                                                         
     “You’re welcome.” I said. Then he and his mother walked away. Aside from him, I just couldn’t wrap my head around why all of these adults had nowhere else to be considering it was a week day. The previously angry building owner - now apparent friend, was waving the police car over towards us. For someone constantly trying to stay under the radar, I usually ended up doing the opposite.  My friend Nick pulled up and shut off the sirens. I was glad they hadn't called the ambulance. This was a quick trip to the emergency room - and thankfully it was busy enough today that I didn't have to be anymore the focus of attention as I already was. I sighed. Finally, for the moment it seemed as though there was quiet. 
   “Show’s over” I whispered to myself under my breath....but what I didn't know was that it had only just begun.

More Tales from a Dog Catcher (c) 2016 Lisa Duffy-Korpics
Photo courtesty of Mark Rogers Photography: San Francisco Pet PhotographyRSS 2.0: http://talesfromadogcatcher.blogspot....

     You had a year of firsts! You lived on your own for almost a year, bought your own food, (sorta), came and went as you pleased whether it was in a town not far from home, a bustling urban mecca or a rural campus in another state where most of the students used words like “Pop” for soda or “Grinder” for a sub – your Mom was with you every second you were away, wondering if you were okay during the day, eating enough, being safe, trusting the right people, meeting new people she hasn’t known since they were 8 years old, rebounding from the inevitable hurt that comes with being a young woman and stepping into the world of relationships, getting enough sleep, feeling sick or sad. Everything you felt, your Mom felt too but was powerless to intervene, help or console you. Maybe for the first time you felt powerful; but your Mom felt powerless.
2 2. Even if you were an independent sort; your Mom still knew where you were, could slip into your room to watch you sleep (only for a second, okay two seconds; it’s not creepy – it’s sweet and you’ll get it someday when you have your own kids). Your Mom was still a Mother who had her children living in her home. Even though she knows you’ll always love her; she was sort of demoted from MOM to mom. Evidently that’s the goal of parenting; but it still hurts no matter how proud you are.
3 3. It’s a year of new beginnings for you, but your Mom likely focused on the year before – a year of endings that were exciting and memorable and bittersweet. They were even more so for you –but for you they signaled a door closing only for another more exciting door to open. In a way your Mom felt the closing of the door in an entirely different way; yet cheered you on, allayed your anxiety and tried to make the transition as smooth as possible. She knew that this was the last door you would walk through together as a pair. You were too busy and excited to realize it, as it should be. It was hard to not think about the first time you walked into a school holding hands when you were so resistant to let go. The ease at which you were eager to let go now was a sign of success….job well done….the creation of a self assured confident young woman such as you. It was still bittersweet.
4 4. A lot of the fun, the friends, the laughter, the noise and even the drama that followed you made life interesting and exciting – if at times a bit exhausting. It was a cloud of joy that followed you wherever you went and when you left; the silence was deafening.
5 5. She may not understand there are new boundaries right away…she will. Give her time and confide in her when you feel comfortable doing so because she will carry your secrets to her grave which is a promise all best friends make and keep – you’ve moved into an additional category - daughter/best friend. Respect that. It’s sacred. Give her some slack because she understands that there are some secrets that are yours alone – because she was your age once too. It is essential that every woman should have some great secrets to look back on when she’s 80. Your mother does, as did hers, and hers before – these are the times when you make them.
6 6. She’s learning too. Just like you are growing from a girl to a woman and then sometimes want to crawl back into the comfort of just being a girl, your Mom understands that and doesn’t see it as a weakness. If you need to, and you probably will, have to push her away at times to become who you are; she may need to be reminded of this. Don’t worry about offending her because she understands but it may take a while for her to accept it. She gets it because she remembers what it’s like to be 19, 20, 21 and the risks, dangers, incredible joy and excitement that waits behind every corner. She gets it because as old as she is; she sometimes feels that way too. It’s the inherent nature of being a woman – you are never too old to need your Mom.
7 7. You Mother loves you more than herself. That never changes. It may be annoying but as you get older you will understand and appreciate it more because when you’re young you just accept it as fact. Unfortunately, you may only understand it once she’s no longer here – but realize that she knew you would. There is a saying that having a daughter, (or a son), is like wearing your heart outside your body for the rest of your life. It’s a terrifying beautiful feeling that you will understand one day all too well and if life smiles upon you; you may get to share that together.  Give her a hug, a Starbucks drink and promise not to text and drive and she’ll leave you alone for a while.
8 8. So, if your Mom is driving you a bit crazy right now, realize it’s because she’s feeling a bit crazy right now. Actually; she is a bit crazy right now but try and remember when you were 6 and made up a story and told your whole school your family was going on a 10 day cruise for 50 dollars a person and everyone’s parents and teachers called her to find out how she got this great deal and she covered for you. She had your back then.  
S 9. She’ll have it forever.RSS 2.0: http://talesfromadogcatcher.blogspot....