Golden Silk and Golden Memories

One can learn many fine things from simply observing the natural world, and using “out of the ordinary” things as jumping-off points. This was brought home to me this Summer and Fall by an unusual “guest” that took up residence at our house, and by her simple existence became an unforgettable and educational part of our lives.

The small adventure of discovery began one warm, sunny morning in August while my wife was changing our two-year-old daughter’s diaper. Her changing table is positioned under a window through which the brilliant sunlight of the mornings here in the Southeast streams. At one point, my daughter was looking up at the big window, and reacted with a frightened squeal. “Mommy!”, she exclaimed, “There’s a bug…a big bug!”. My wife looked where the little one was pointing, and outside the window was a large spider, putting the finishing touches on a huge web, a web that used the roof overhangs, window sill, and bricks for support.

Now, my wife is from New England, and has little experience with Southern flora and fauna. Northeastern spiders do not grow to the size of saucers! Plus, her only other experience to date with Southern spiders was the previous year, when she spent two months getting over the illness and infection caused by a particularly nasty bite from a Black Widow spider, a bite so savage, the arachnid had left one of its fangs in her skin. So, she was quite concerned about having a spider the size of a Sharpie cap setting up housekeeping right outside her baby’s window. As millions of husbands around the world will attest, there is only one response from a concerned mother in such a circumstance…”HONEY! Get the spider!”.

I went outside to the window, armed with a broom, to put an end to this “threat”. Normally, I am biased in the favor of spiders…around here, they help control annoying insect pests like mosquitoes and flies. However, I am far more biased towards keeping them clear of my kids, especially since seeing the results of the Black Widow the previous year, and those of Brown Recluse bites, which I encounter often on young Sailors I work on the base with (the barracks have long had a problem with these creatures). I expected to be clearing out a common spider web and annoyed resident.

Instead, I was surprised to see a multicolored arachnid the size of my open hand in the center of one of the most amazing structures I had ever seen. The spider was one that folks down here refer to as a “banana” spider, and of course I’d seen them before, but I had never taken the time to really examine them or their works; all to my great loss. Her web (as I was to learn, only females of this species build webs) was an intricate, elegant, and wonderful example of natural engineering. Two outer “scaffolds”, on each flat side of the main web, were attached both to the main web and to the house. These “outer”, or support, webs were made of white silk, thick in appearance, and were arranged in no discernable pattern; seemingly an ad-hoc design built to conform to the house the structure was attached to, and to hold true the work of natural art that was the main web.

It was spun of fine, gossamer silk which, head-on, was near to invisible against the red brick of the house. From a slight angle, the golden-colored silk caught the light of the Sun and glittered in such a way that one could be forgiven for thinking that it was spun from actual, impossibly ductile metallic gold. A classic round spider web design, in all its delicate glory, the orb measured close to a meter in diameter. Its circular strands were about a half-centimeter apart, and its “spokes” were about 6 inches apart at the edge. No insects except the very smallest, and therefore unappetizing to so large a spider, could escape being caught in its sticky threads; and its unique color would render the lethal trap invisible at exactly the angle the prey would approach.

The entire web structure was about a meter and a half across, covering the whole window frame, and anchored at the top at the gutter edge of the roof. It was breathtaking in its complexity, design, elegance, and obvious effectiveness. The Summer breeze then blowing barely moved the huge affair; its strength and soundness testified to by its stillness. I would doubt that any human, equipped with the latest in design tools and a Master’s in engineering, could duplicate this wonder that had emerged from a simple creature’s instinct.

As for the artist herself, she was positioned at the apex center of the main web, in a head-down position; so regal-looking in her work of wonder that she almost seemed to be taking a bow. Had she been, she would have been excellently-attired…she had a cylindrically-shaped abdomen of bright yellow-orange decorated with silver spots in two rows on either side. Her smaller thorax was black with silver-colored fur befitting a starlet. From the thorax sprang the eight legs, with the largest six adorned at the joints with their own tufts of fur. As she used her front two legs to clean and preen herself in the Sun, I could only look on in wonder at the complete natural beauty I beheld, and marvel at how common and normal this sort of thing really is.

I put the broom away…I could no more destroy that web and kill its maker than I could put the Mona Lisa through a shredder after shooting Da Vinci. I had no idea at this point if the spider was, in fact, dangerous, but I would certainly find out for sure before even thinking about destroying the web. As it was, I called my family outside to see our new guest. My wife, our six-year-old, and the aforementioned two-year-old daughter joined me in viewing the web and its occupant. As they watched the spider go about its arachnoid business, my wife and I discussed what to do. She’s as impressed with such things as I, so we readily agreed to let the spider remain where she was, and also to find some way to preserve her life even if the web had to go. My daughter was still a bit leery of this strange creature with all its legs and hair, but my son was enraptured with the scene as only an inquisitive little boy can be. All of us were in agreement that we should endeavor to learn as much about our guest as we could.

To that end, I fired up the computer and went straightaway to Google. A few hours’ worth of searching and cross-referencing later, and I was a bit more intelligent regarding “our” spider…

- She was female, as only females spin webs in her species;

- She was properly called a “Golden Silk Spider” in English, and her Latin, scientific name was Nephila clavipes ;

- Her general species is found all around the tropics and temperate climates, with the largest versions being located in Australia and New Zealand, where they are known to eat birds and mice;

- She was NOT venomous or aggressive enough to be a threat to my family or myself or our pets. She’d only bite if seriously annoyed (say, if pinched betwixt two fingers), and even then her bite would cause less distress than a bee sting;

- She had a one-year-life cycle, that is, she was born early in the year, matured over the Summer, and finally began her masterpiece web in late Summer. By late fall, she would have mated and would construct her egg sac. Shortly after laying her eggs, she would die;

- Her golden silk was the subject of serious scientific study, due to its high (even for spider-silk) tensile strength and stickiness. Suffice it to say, steel cables don’t even come close to Golden Silk’s strength-to-area ratio;

- She was the largest non-Tarantula spider species native to North America.

By the time I’d finished my research, the kids and their mother had given our arachnid guest a name…Charlotte. By a strange bit of foreshadowing, the kids had watched the live-action + CGI film “Charlotte’s Web” a few days prior, and the memory was still with them. I sat the kids down on the back porch, in full view of Charlotte, and gave them all the relevant information I had gathered. My wife was visibly relieved that Charlotte was no threat, and therefore could stay. She made immediate arrangements to move our outdoor furniture to allow Charlotte a good, clear area to live in. The kids wanted to get closer looks at her, and had dozens of questions. For the young ones and I, the afternoon turned into a sort of pseudo-classroom, in which the basics of spider life and the particulars of Charlotte’s species were discussed, dissected, re-checked online, and researched. We all concluded the day by welcoming Charlotte to our home, and wishing her well.

Over the weeks and months to come, I found myself checking up on Charlotte at least once a week, sometimes more. My son and daughter would often go with me to see her. My daughter got over her initial fear of her and came to regard the big bug as sort of a pet, albeit one that lived outside. Each morning, at her first diaper-change of the day, she would say, “Good Morning, Charlotte!” in her adorable voice. Each evening, she would say, “Ni-Night, Charlotte!” to the dark window. My son often told me how “cool” he thought Charlotte was. Even my wife came to think of the big, furry spider as a sort of “good omen”, and checked on her daily. By her simple existence and fascinating life and work, the spider had gained the protection and affection of an entire family of humans.

I took up the habit of feeding her. At one point, an outbreak of voracious caterpillars ate the leaves off two of my backyard trees. I couldn’t save the trees, but Charlotte had fine dining. I’d toss fat, squirming caterpillars into her web, and observe her explosive hunting and pouncing abilities. She barely moved at all for most of the day, but when that web vibrated with a struggling captive, she moved with the speed and grace of a cross between a prima ballerina, an Olympic gymnast, and a high-wire performer. I watched her dispatch flies, beetles, and even a dragonfly as large as herself with as little difficulty as a human would have consuming a juicy steak dinner. She stored no food that I could see; when she caught prey, she ate it all, with the exception of wings.

As the months wore on, I found myself repeatedly returning to the computer to answer questions about Charlotte’s species that had cropped up, either to myself or to the rest of the family. We learned that males of her species were considerably smaller than the females, and might be seen sharing her web or food (although we never observed the presence of a male, subsequent events confirm that one did, in fact, visit). We also learned that her wondrous web, in addition to being the marvel it already was, further pushed the “amazing” envelope…it was a fixed structure. Most orb-weaving spiders, you see, totally replace their webs every evening, so a fresh, clean one is available for the next day. The Golden Silk Spider, on the other hand, does not replace its web; aside from minor repairs and cleaning, the web is intended to last for months. Again, I sincerely doubt that any human activity currently available could reproduce that structure at any scale. One event confirmed the overall incredible nature of the Golden Silk web.

In early November, Tropical Storm Ida was barreling towards the Gulf Coast. It had downgraded from a hurricane, but still packed heavy rains and gale-force winds as it approached. On the morning it was to make landfall, my wife and I were frantically placing all our outdoor furniture and decoration into the garage as the rain and wind grew stronger. As we were putting the last of our things into secure storage, my wife suddenly looked at me with a distressed face. “What about Charlotte?” she said. Such is the woman I married: her concern, in the face of an approaching tropical storm, extended even to a spider clinging to the side of our home. Of course, neither of us wanted to have to discuss Charlotte’s death with the kids, at least until we had figured out how to approach it, but my wife was genuinely fearful of Charlotte being harmed or killed by the storm. Such was the depth of her entry into our lives.

I went to the web to check on her. The wind was beginning to whip, and the rain was coming harder and harder, with the worst still to come in the evening. She had left her usual position at the center of the web to huddle up under the overhang in a net of silk. I confess, I had no idea what to do if she looked in danger. Capture her? Put her in a container of some sort and bring her inside? All options at that point seemed as likely to injure or kill her as to protect her. Fortunately, she looked quite comfortable and protected where she was. As the storm lashed at us over the evening, I went out with a flashlight to check on her a couple of more times. There she was, cuddled up in her little “hammock”, swinging in the howling winds, as safe as we were inside the house.

The following day, she was back in her usual place in the web, which itself had weathered the storm without any damage I could discern.

Think about that…a creature the size of your palm, with a body the size of a Sharpie cap, using only biological silk, and with no training whatsoever, constructed a web capable of remaining unnoticed by potential prey; capturing and holding that prey; supporting both its own and her weight; lasting for months; and easily surviving tropical storm winds and thunderstorms. There is a reason the arachnids are so very interesting creatures.

Charlotte’s pleasant and edifying effects on our family ended one day when my little girl, again on her changing table one morning, said words that my wife says caused her heart to sink to her feet…”Mommy, where’s Charlotte?” The great web was empty, and Charlotte was nowhere to be seen. My wife searched the area she could see through the window and saw no trace of our friendly spider. Then she came and found me.

In my researches of Golden Silk Spiders, I had learned some facts about their life cycle. Mating takes place in late Summer to early Fall, and the female lays her eggs in late Fall. She places the eggs in a spun gold silk case, which is then attached to a secure, safe location. The female remains with the egg case until she dies, usually within a few days. Her act of reproduction is the last act of her life. Given the time of year, I had to assume that Charlotte had gone off to lay her eggs.

I went outside and, after a brief search, located Charlotte at the far end of the house, up under the overhang at the corner. She was busily weaving a structure against the roof and a flood light attached thereto. The pictures of Golden Silk Spiders and their egg cases I’d seen online left no doubt as to what she was building. Incredibly, and as testament to the human capacity for forming attachments, I found myself experiencing both joy at her impending motherhood and sadness that she would be leaving us. I had literally come to think of this spider, this bug, this creature that probably had little if any consciousness of my very existence, as part of our family. How foolish! How silly! And yet, how…human.

Silly and foolish and emotional my feelings might have been, but the alternative…to remain so cold and callous regarding nature’s occupants that I might have ignored Charlotte at best or killed her and destroyed her web at worst; was unthinkable. To simply exterminate something as sublime and interesting as she was, without even investigating her, without learning about her life and ways? Never. So what if, in that process of observation and education, over the months and events, attachment grows? The fact that, in humans, interest, observation, and investigation can lead to protectiveness and affection, even of a species so very different from our own; is not something we should so willingly seek to disparage or eliminate. In fact, this capacity that exists in all decent, intelligent humans is something that comforts me greatly.

“Congratulations, Sweetheart!” I said. “We’ll be sorry to see you go.” The final words came out, not without a bit of choking. “Whether you know it or not, whether you care or not, you were loved”.

I went inside to sit down with my wife and think about how we would tell the children. They had watched “Charlotte’s Web”. They knew that when a spider has its babies, it dies. The death of a creature that they are attached to is something that all children must someday face.

Deep breaths, Dad. Be honest, be truthful, but do not be too sad or remorseful. Explain the cycle of life playing out, stress that new spiders will be born. And when the inevitable tears come, hug them tightly and let them hug you. Don’t let them see your own tears.

It’s a few days later now as I write this. Charlotte has laid her eggs in their golden case, which is now secure under the eaves. She’s still alive as of this writing, but is obviously fading. Still, she tends to the eggs as best she can, moving only when absolutely necessary. She’s thinner, her body having gone without food for a week now, but still having expended all its energy. Her great golden web, even without her maintaining it, still hangs in the window frame, still glistening in the morning Sun. The weather forecast is for sunny skies and crisp, cool weather for the next week or so. I’m happy that she will pass from this world in good weather.

My son insists on checking on her each morning before he leaves for school. He has accepted the inevitable, and now can’t wait for the babies to come. My wife, as a mom herself, watches Charlotte with admiration, admiration of what a mother will do to preserve her young. My daughter, in that way of three-year-olds, has moved on, her life a whirlwind of activity in which nothing is dwelt upon for too long. She seems at peace with the whole thing.

As for me, well…writing this is how I cope. I set down in words what I saw and felt and experienced, so that I won’t forget, and so that someday my children might reread it, or that possibly, someday, someone else might.

And go outside and look at what’s there…and learn about it.

Contributed by my dear husband, Pete.

Proof You Love Your Pet$

This is a bit of a follow up to my last post, since I know you have been holding your breath waiting to hear how my animals are all faring.

Omen's remaining teeth are all nice and clean for a mere $195. Yes, you caught that - remaining. When the vet called to tell me that Omen's dental cleaning had gone well, she said, "We didn't have to remove any more teeth." Um, we never had any of his teeth removed. "Oh, um, maybe he just lost them. You know, of old age." Great. Can anyone say foreshadowing?

Callie's appointment was less productive. We waited, remarkably calmly, if the truth be told, for almost 2 hours to see the animal opthamologist. I tatted (lace) and Callie dozed in her crate. We met a swan who had been abused by teenagers and been in rehab for 18 months. She was just getting some sight back in one eye. We met a 3 year old mastiff who had suddenly gone blind 2 months earlier for no apparent reason. There were numerous other dogs of various ages and conditions, universally loved and doted upon by their owners. It turned out the same vet tech from the vet clinic on base worked at this office as well. We see that all the time here. There seems to be a small circle of devout animal lovers who work themselves to the bone in multiple clinics, shelters and other animal services. Somehow this overworked woman recognized me and her demeanor changed immediately. I had followed up! She had obviously never expected us to take Callie to a specialist for care, but there we were, mere days after the first visit, so we must have acted immediately! I really think I earned her respect and perhaps gave her a little hope that day. Not only was she great at the appointment, but followed up with me over the phone, too. The doctor was nice enough, too, and competent, I'm sure. Everyone at the specialty clinic was. Unfortunately, they confirmed the Horner's diagnosis, and there's not much else to do about it. 3 hours of my life and $150 later (only 10 of which was the appointment), we'd gained nothing. In fact, we were just in time to pick Omen up at the other vet and pay them. Ugh.

Oh, and out of the blue today the dog decided to eat another child at the bus stop. I should stop saying that. He's never actually bitten anyone. But he snaps at people sometimes, and worse, sometimes he goes after people as if he would bite them if we weren't holding him back. We always keep him on a leash, except in dog parks and places like that, and 99% of the time, he's a calm, loving, submissive dog. We have no idea what sets him off sometimes! It's always men, or boys, we know that. But that's it so far. Regardless of why he freaks, it's never acceptable. If you have a Chihuahua and it attacks someone, they can fend it off. Yes, they can draw blood, but it will not be a major injury. If Orion attacks someone, he will cause some serious damage. We're talking court-order-to-kill-the-dog-immediately damage. So we can't risk even one grouchy, bad day. It's a real problem for owners of large dogs. The general opinion among all of the experts we've consulted so far is that I'm not a good alpha. Yes, apparently my rescued dog eats people sometimes and it's my fault. Like a mom needs more guilt. So the goal is to increase his exercise and dramatically increase my time training him one-on-one. And maybe get us both D.A.P. collars! But more on that later...

For now, rest assured the cats are well and the dog is well-fed.

Pets Are for Life

8:10 am on a Tuesday. The annual routine checkup for the pets. I triple wrap a "sample" from the litter box before throwing it into my bag and wrestle both cats into their crates. Omen settles in mildly annoyed, but calm. Callie turns into a furry octopus, using all her limbs, and even her ears, to resist the cage. But I'm bigger, I've done this before, and I have the scars to prove it. I turn her around and slide her in tail first before she knows what's happening. The dog foolishly thinks we're going somewhere fun. He jumps around like a 100-lb JRT until we open the door and he bolts for the car, wagging with his whole body and looking back at us as if to say, "Let me in! Let me in!" 2 cats, the dog, our (human) toddler daughter, my husband and I finally set off to see the vet.

For routine care, we visit the vet clinic on base. The facilities are tiny and old, but the staff are as caring as any around. We start with the cats. Omen weighs in at 14.9 lbs, which is normal for him. He tolerates the exam well, growling a bit at the booster shots, but otherwise remarkably patient. He's great, except he needs his teeth cleaned. As any cat owner knows, that's a $200+ full anesthesia event.

Callie is a slender 11.9 lbs. Since last Thursday, one of her eyes isn't working properly, and it's obviously my primary concern. I tell the vet tech that from my (layman's) online research, it appears to be Horner's Syndrome. I'm pretty sure they hear owners declaring things like that all the time, and I'm equally sure she thinks I'm an idiot. Still, she can see the cat's eye is weird and calls in the vet. Callie's eye isn't dilating properly, and her third eyelid is partially closed. The vet suggests it looks like Horner's Syndrome (told ya!). There are several possible causes of Horner's, from head injuries to simple earaches. After an hour of consideration and discussion, we have a referral to an animal opthamologist. The only one in the state will be in our area on Friday. For one day. I think we're seeing him long enough to get an estimate.

Orion has already had all his shots. We brought him in primarily to establish his medical record on base and get his tags. Oh, and the daycare people reminded me he's due for a Bordetella booster. I accidentally called it a "Bordello" booster, which would be a great name for a fundraiser for poodles of ill repute, but did nothing to convince the vet tech of my intelligence. We're also out of one of his two medications. I write we "are" out because by the time all this happened I couldn't remember what we were out of, so I couldn't buy any more of it.

So one routine appointment and $100 later, we have 3 irritated animals, 2 more appointments to make to further annoy them, and at least one trip back to the vet to get the medication we couldn't remember. While all this was going on, I heard a staff member explaining the procedure for getting rid of heartworms to another pet owner. Apparently her newly rescued cat was plagued with them. The instructions weren't too awfully long so much as dire, and I watched the woman's face fall. I could only hope that she was so sad about her cat's condition, rather than overwhelmed to the point of abandoning the cat. In our case, the vet tech used the words, "if you choose to see the specialist" repeatedly, even after I assured her we would. I suspect she's seen more than a few humans give up on their animals. Well, not these humans. And not you, either, if you've read this far. My husband and I didn't even have to discuss it; of course the appointments were made, immediately. In the back of my mind there's an old bumper sticker I saw years ago... Pets are for life, not just for Christmas. The quality of their lives is our gift to them, a small repayment for all they do for us.

Pet Hair Vacuums Reviewed

We have 2 cats and a dog, a fairly common collection of pets (don't tell them I called them "common"). One of the cats is fluffy, the other is a Maine Coon, and the dog is a Yellow Lab/Wolfhound mix. So we have long soft hair and short wiry hair. My hair is actually several feet long, so I probably do more damage than the pets, but they don't make vacuums for hippy chicks. They do, however, make vacuums designed specifically to combat pet hair. We own two of them, a Dyson Animal, and a Bissell Healthy Home. Here's what we've experienced with these two vacuums.

The Dyson Animal is pretty much the gold standard in vacuums for pet hair. We got ours from Amazon.com about 6 years ago for about $600. It has a ball pivot, so it steers easily around corners and under furniture. It's very lightweight, but powerful, and 6 years later, we still love it. I've seen a few companies copying the Dyson design in recent years, but I'll in the 3rd party reviews I've seen, Dyson always comes out on top. In our home, it's been wonderful. I've lent it out a few times and everyone is amazed how much better it is than their regular vacuum. Overall, we love it. However, six bills is a lot of cash, and we have had to do some maintenance on it. All of our previous vacuums just got chucked out when something went wrong (including the one I got for Christmas from an ex the year I was expecting a ring instead), but perhaps once you invest so much in a tool you find a way to repair rather than replace it. Just last year, when the Dyson was about 5 years old, we had to replace the electrical switch. Cost for the part and the labor was all of $35. More recently, we had to replace the beater bar. That was a pain in the butt because the part had to be ordered (read: we had to wait forever) and it was more expensive - about $60, I recall. Still, our local vacuum repair shop is fantastic and is also a professional cleaning supply store, so I'm glad to have found it. I also can't complain about having to make some minor repairs after so many years of hard labor.

Our second vacuum, which we bought while the aforementioned beater bar was being replaced, is a Bissell Healthy Home. After an evening of online research (probably like you're doing right now), it seemed a reasonable option and was in stock at my local Target for a few hundred bucks - on sale, even! The suction is great; it really deep cleans well. The next best feature is the attachment hose with its various attachments. I didn't realize the Dyson hose was such a pain in the neck to use until we got the Bissell. The Bissell hose is very easy to access, the attachments are truly useful, and the suction stays strong. The only problem with the Bissell is, I shouldn't have been surprised to discover, exactly what everyone said it was: the thing weighs a ton. It's not a big deal on some carpeting, but on others it's almost impossible to move. Even my husband, who works out 5 days a week, has to wrestle with it. Still, it cleans well.

So which is better? Overall the Dyson Animal is my preference. However, I can count on the Bissell when the Dyson is on the fritz, and for a lot less money. Hopefully our FURminator will arrive soon, and that may change everything. Well, almost everything. I'm not cutting my hair quite yet.

The Power of the Purr

My Maine Coon cat predates my husband. Our Tourtie predates our kids. Yet somehow, when the kids started arriving, the cats took a back seat. Well, of course they did. Two mature, indoor cats in good health with each other for company are naturally going to come after a newborn human in terms of needs. And being the animal lovers we are, the step down in terms of care was from 5-star to 4-star accommodations. They still get Christmas stockings full of toys and catnip. They're allowed anywhere they like, and are given 2 different kinds of food and fresh water daily. They sleep on us at night.

That's actually where most of the chance occurred - the sleeping on us part. Once babies arrived, my lap was full. So were my arms, so was my bed. The only thing that was empty was my reserve of patience. When I did sit down without a kid attached to me, I wanted to enjoy the space. Just S.P.A.C.E. No cats allowed right now, thank you very much. So the cats got the majority of their loving at the foot of the bed each night. It's been like that for so long now that I'd forgotten there had been another way.

Our Tourtie had two litters before we rescued her at a year old and had her spayed. She has a large, soft Buddha-belly like many of us moms, only hers is covered with fur as soft as a bunny's. She also has one of the loudest purrs I've ever heard, and I've known a lot of cats. She has a deep, enduring purr that you can hear from the next room, or that will vibrate right through whatever surface on which she's sleeping. A few weeks ago, she started sleeping on top of me, like she used to do years ago. Whether it's my back or my tummy makes no difference to her, she's just happy to play King-of-the-Human. I can tell she likes it, because that motor is always going whenever she's on top of me like that. At first I "allowed" her to climb up, just to be nice. it didn't take me long to remember how wonderful that warm, soft purring machine feels on my back or stomach. Sore back? Just let her knead for a few minutes, then curl up and purr. Tummy troubles? Monthly issues? Either way, just let her purr them away. She even purred away my insomnia.

Now she's got me trained again. Now I look for her, bring her to bed, and hope she'll stay. Now I pay more attention to her during the day, and share my lap more often. Now I try to start that purr motor as often as I can. It's hard to tell what a cat is thinking, but as long as she keeps putting up with me, I'm pretty sure she likes these renewed arrangements too.

Recycling What?

I maintain a few blogs, each with a specific focus or interest. I'm not one of those people who hosts a ton of them for profit or anything like that, but I found that I was digressing from my topic in my original blog, so I added a couple more. You might have noticed the ads from Google along the sides of my blogs, or you might not have, since many of us tune those out automatically. I pay more attention to them than most people since I'm ultimately responsible for whatever shows up on my pages.

Last week I wrote a post on my Organizational Management for Moms blog about recycling, yea! Recycling is good for the Earth, good for you, and, as I pointed out in the post, good for your wallet. Nothing but love, happiness and warm fuzzies, right? Well, fuzzy was right! Imagine my shock when I see... Beaver Recycling! Could it be that someone, somewhere is not only dispatching beavers, but recycling them? As a dedicated fan of the now-defunct Nickelodeon cartoon The Angry Beavers, all I could think of was Daggett saying, "That was nuts!"

It turns out that Beaver Recycling is the name of a large scrap metal recycling facility in South Florida. In fact, they look like a state-of-the-art recycling facility, and probably do a lot of good for the Earth, the environment, and ultimately, beavers. But from now on, I'm definitely watching those ads more closely. What's next? Turtle wax?

W.T.FURminator?

While visiting frugal friends over the Fourth of July, we finally got to try a FURminator. FURminators are pet grooming tools designed to remove that downy undercoat so many dogs and cats have beneath the fur we see. Some breeds have amazingly thick undercoats, especially over the winter. In fact, this spring Orion changed color from almost white to wheat just by shedding so much of his winter coat. The dog killed our Dyson Animal with this spring's shedding, just to put it in perspective. (The Dyson was taken to a local vacuum hospital where it was lovingly nursed back to health, and has returned to work in our home with no restrictions.) Anyway, we tried the FURminator on all the dogs and it worked wonderfully. I knew that it's an expensive tool, but if our financially savvy friends deemed it worth the money, we knew it would be a good buy - especially if it saves us from repairing the Dyson again.

When we got home from our trip, there was a flyer from PetSmart in the mail with, GASP!, a coupon for $ 3 off the FURminator! How did they know? In my head I figured the tool itself would be $25, maybe $30, so $ 3 off was a reasonable deal. After dropping Orion off at daycare one morning, the kids and I headed off to PetSmart. There, in the back of the store, across from the professional groomers, were the FURminators. At sixty bucks each. I put back each of the packages my enthusiastic son had thrown in our cart and announced in utter disbelief, "We can't afford this!". A few of the people dropping off their pets for grooming stared, but the PetSmart employees at least had the good sense and decency to be embarrassed.

When our cat needed emergency dental care, we found the money. We've never hesitated to provide our rescued pets with preventative medicine, and we donate regularly to the local Humane Society. Our pets even enjoy toys and fancy bedding (Orion has his crate bed, his cedar bed, and a special bed for the SUV - talk about spoiled!). But $ 60 for a comb? I could feed my family for a week on sixty bucks. Including Orion. I've since seen the FURminator for less on some websites, and the reviews are consistently great, but even people who love this tool can't understand why it's so expensive. And, it turns out, you have to buy replacement blades! So for us, sadly, unless I find one at a yard sale or the Pet Santa puts Orion on his "Nice" list, our dreams of a FURminator have been terminated.

Doggie Daycare

I used to think that doggie daycare was just for yuppie puppies in urban high-rise condos. That was before we adopted Orion. He's 100+ pounds of love. And neediness. And separation anxiety. Orion was abandoned as a young dog, and there's no way to tell how long he was alone before being brought to the Humane Society. The wonderful people at the shelter here gave him food and love and after about two months with them, Orion found a home with us. We love him, and we try to work around his issues as much as we can. The problem is that he cannot be left alone. Ever. We can't kennel or crate him, or he rubs his nose and paws raw trying to find us. We hope with time and training he will learn to trust that we'll never leave him, but right now, he's simply too scared of being abandoned again to leave him at all.

I realize most people reading this are probably thinking, "Oh for Pete's sake! He's a dog. Let him bark or cry, eventually he'll get used to it." Worse, I've had people tell me to my face, "Forget that! I would have just returned him by now!". That mentality always ticks me off, since it was selfish people who made him neurotic in the first place! We're just trying to make up for the mistakes of others, since neither Orion, nor any other dog (or animal, for that matter), ever deserves to be mistreated, neglected, abandoned or abused. Even if you don't agree with me, or perhaps especially if you don't, but you have a pet, please keep reading.

We found a solution in a local doggie daycare. Our daycare lets us drop off Orion any day of the week. We bought a package of 20 days, so each day only costs us $9. He has constant companionship, a small pack of friends he plays with once a week, and humans we trust to watch over him. This daycare and boarding facility is part of a pet complex run by a vet, so in case of an emergency, Orion would get immediate medical care. It is also a regular sponsor of the local Humane Society where we got Orion, and some of the employees work at both places. They know about his individual needs and have worked with us week after week to make Orion more relaxed and happy with us and with them.

Each Thursday, Orion can't wait to go to his "puppy playdate", and I can run all my errands or go on outings I couldn't do with the dog. I've noticed that I get more done and spend less money when I plan ahead for my Thursday shopping. In fact, I'm usually so organized that I can do several weeks worth of errands in the one day, and enjoy the next few Thursdays at the beach or the bookstore or anywhere else I want to go. This time apart is an important part of Orion's therapy, learning that we'll always come back for him. It's also some breathing space for me, as if my toddler was at Grandma's for a few hours. The socialization he gains playing with other dogs helps boost his confidence, and he simply loves it. To be honest, he's socializing us, too, since we've met some wonderful people because of Orion. If we ever do leave Orion for a few days, we know he'll be safe and happy with people he loves in a familiar environment.

No matter where you live, or what you've heard about doggie daycare in the past, I encourage you to consider if it's a resource that could improve the quality of your life and your dog's. Most people aren't dealing with the severe emotional challenges we see in Orion, but as you can see, there are lots of benefits to finding good canine care, both for the dogs and their people.

*** Update: Although we are still fans of doggie daycare, we experienced a number of issues with "Play N Stay", resulting in a sudden falling out, as it were. I would no longer recommend their daycare (nor anything else to do with them, for that matter). I've also seen some so called "daycares" that were worse facilities than the animal shelter. Be very, very careful whom you choose to watch your pets, and change plans if anything doesn't seem on the up & up.

Mom's Secret Weapons

Last night our whole family "camped in". That means we unfurled the sleeping bags and lanterns in the living room, fired up the fireplace DVD (hey, it was pouring here and real fires are against neighborhood bylaws), and settled in together. My kids are little, 5 and 2, so they snuggle down in my double bag with me (hubby gets the air mattress). The cats curl up at our feet, and the dog passes out at our heads. It's a little goofy but really, how often do we moms get to enjoy the whole family snuggling up and sleeping in our arms? I treasure it all the more knowing each time may be the last time as the kids grow older and more independent every day.

Of course, being mom, it was up to me to turn off the "fire" after everyone fell asleep, and settle down the restless sleepers and nightmares one by one. At one point I even checked to make sure our old Maine Coon cat was still breathing (he was, rather huffily after I disturbed him, actually). So it wasn't surprising that at dawn, it was also me who heard the dreaded, "Voopa, Voopa, Voopa..." of a pet about to barf. With appropriately cat-like reflexes, I located said pet, our Tortie cat, Callie, and scrambled to intervene. The urge to purge had apparently stricken her while she was reclining on my ecru chenille rocker, because it was from this perch that she was presently heaving. I tried desperately to grab a nearby baby blanket to throw in front of her, but I was pinned down on both sides by sleeping kids, and the dog, sensing my panic, thrust his gigantic head in my face, blocking any forward movement. Callie, 1, chair, floor, two pillows, and my arm, 0.

Fortunately, I have a few weapons on hand for just these kinds of messes. After washing off my arm, I removed the pillow cases and threw them in the washer with OxyClean on the auto rinse & soak cycle. For the chair and the pillows themselves, I grabbed the Folex carpet cleaner. A few years ago I tried it on a rust stain nothing else had been able to remove. Folex got it out with almost no effort at all. Now I find myself reaching for it whenever I've got a soft surface crisis on my hands. The floor was the easy part, since she missed the carpet. For hard surfaces I use Simple Green, quick and easy.

By about quarter past dawn, the crisis was over. My toddler slept through the whole thing, right there in the middle of the floor. That's just fine with me, because all those products I reach for time and again are non-toxic. In spite of their more annoying attributes (like bulimia), we love our pets. Putting up with their messes is one way to show them, cleaning up with eco-friendly products is another. It's a good thing Mom's arsenal holds some great (not-so) secret weapons.

Avoid Anything That Eats

Avoid anything that eats. Have you heard that old adage? If you never have a plant, a pet, or a kid, you'll save yourself lots of money and headaches. It costs $16,000 to own a medium-sized dog over his lifetime, and hundreds of thousands of dollars to raise a child from birth to 18 - college not included! Think those cute kittens are free? How about $80 at the vet, or $ 18 of cat food every few weeks. Even the plants will cost you. First you have to put them in something, then something bigger, and bigger, and in the meantime you have to water them, too. At some point, your cat will eat and barf up your plant, so you'll be shucking out more cash for carpet cleaner, too. Right now our $ 600 Dyson "Animal" vacuum is in the shop (again) so we had to spend another $300 for a "back-up" vacuum. I'm no neat freak, I confess, but even I can't go more than a few days without a vacuum in a house with 2 cats, a dog and 2 kids under six. I'll be using said back-up vacuum to clean up the shards and splinters of my bedroom door, which my "free" rescued dog just mauled. He just missed me (aw, isn't that sweet?). I can't imagine what it will cost to replace the door frame, since the cats have always focused more on destroying soft surfaces. I think I've curbed the spending for today at least. I put the dog outside, next to the cheap furniture. I'm almost certain he won't destroy that. Uh-oh. I think I see him eying the door frame there, too. I may have to intervene soon.

Of course, if you're reading this, you're probably already a mom. You're thinking, "Oh Great! Now what do I do with these kids? If only I'd known!" No worries. Although kids and other things that eat do cost us a lot of money, and time, and patience (and money, if I hadn't already mentioned that), they do bring something to the table. Love, fulfillment, purpose, and fun, just to name a few perks. It's sometimes hard to remember the intangibles when you're staring down the bills or cleaning up yet another mess, but if you stop and just take a moment to appreciate how much they add to our lives, I think you'll find the benefits outweigh the costs. Even big dumb dogs are worth it.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to call the dog trainer about his bill and learn how to install replacement moulding around a door. Oh, $%$#@!, he's going for the window now, and I don't do windows!