In the aftermath of the Moore tornadoes

It occurred to me that as much as we (OK, I, at least) suck at disaster preparedness, or at least as far as having a kit ready with medications and supplies, we're probably even less prepared with our pets. I know this because lots of people aren't taking care of a few pet basics day-to-day, mostly out of ignorance that they need to be done, but hey, that's what I'm here for (*huffs on knuckles, brushes said knuckles against shirt*). Here's a brief and likely incomplete list of disaster preparations that need to be made for pets:

1) Get your pet a good set of legible tags, include several options for contacting you, and replace the tags when they wear out.

2) IN ADDITION to the tags, get your pet microchipped, and keep the microchip information up-to-date with the company who provided the chip. Find a chip company that allows lifetime subscription at one price, like AVID. Even if your home address and phone number no longer exist after a storm, rescuers will be able to scan your pet's chip, see that the info is up-to-date when they contact the chip company, and know that your pet has a loving home and needs to be cared for until you can get there.

3) Keep your pets vaccinated, even if they live entirely indoors, because they could get out or end up out in the elements without you despite your best efforts.

4) Don't declaw cats or otherwise impede your pet's natural defenses, in case they end up outside and having to fend for themselves.

5) Keep their food, supplies, and medication handy just like you would your own, for disaster preparedness.

6) Take them with you, in their carriers or on leashes, to the shelter you seek during the storm, if you are home with them when it hits. Provide them with good shelter when you're not home, in case a storm hits (preferably inside your house). They will instinctively seek the best shelter in a tornado-- under something, away from wind.

There are probably many other things that need to be added to this list. If I think of them, I will. Can you think of anything I didn't list here? Let me know!

By Way Of Introduction

By Way Of Introduction

I can't get away from animals-- specifically dogs and cats. I loved them as a kid, even though my family's two forays into dog ownership were brief and not terribly central to our lives. Fast forward to 2008 (which is long after my childhood, suffice it to say) and I get an email sent via my running group that a local no-kill animal shelter is looking for runner volunteers to run and walk their dogs. The shelter dogs need exercise, time out of their pens, and socialization with people so that they can begin to understand how they ought to act with adoptive families. I have no pets at this time, and haven't since those two childhood dogs, but I'm an avid pet sitter and would love the challenge of hyper, lonely dogs forcing me to up my running game.

In 2011 a friend's family would, due to a series of unfortunate circumstances, need to give up their thirteen-year-old German Shepherd/ Red Heeler/ who-knows-what-else mix, who'd been with them since the age of about four months, and whom they loved dearly. I had known S'mores that whole time, too, and didn't want to see her relegated to the public shelter (i.e., the dog pound) where she would almost certainly be euthanized. Three out of five animals at my local pound are euthanized, and that's about the national average. Compounding S'mores's woes were a series of poor health conditions, including a tumor bigger than a grapefruit extending from her left shoulder.

So I begged. My mom and dad lived on a lot of land, and so I asked if they could take her in. They reluctantly agreed, since S'mores was mostly an outdoor dog and just needed, basically, a nice place to die. They were determined not to get attached to her, but that dog possessed an usually high level of charisma, and by her first morning in their house, Mom had scrambled some eggs for her (yes, yes, I know about dogs and people food, but a dog in that shape must not have much time left and should live it up-- right?). In the second week of June in Oklahoma, it was already too hot to leave an old girl like that outside, so she moved into the tiled kitchen area, camping on an old sleeping bag of mine.

A little over a month later, I was driving toward my parents' house, where I spend about half my week despite having an apartment a forty-five minute drive away, and which is in the countryside west of the small town in which they work. It was after 7 p.m. in July, and I was driving toward the bright setting summer sun. On the four-lane highway, just past the city limits, I saw a dead skunk in the road. Not an unusual sight along our roads, unfortunately, so I took no note of it-- that is, until it stood up, separated into two tiny kittens, and raced toward the center of the road. Shocked, I pulled over and got out to see that they had, thankfully, run onto the grass on my side of the road. I kept repeating "It's okay, guys," in what I hoped was a soothing tone. It seems to have worked, because they stood stock still and mewed loudly while I scooped up first one and then the other.

I got back into the car and the kittens took up positions on my person that would indicate the personalities I'd see in them later. The black and white (I call him a "white-tie tuxedo") kitten I now call Rudy began impishly hopping from one spot on my lap to another through a tiny hole in the bottom of my steering wheel. The orange tabby I now know as Otis climbed up to the back of my neck, grabbed the collar of my dress with his tiny claws, and hung on for dear life. I knew my mom would kill me for bringing them into the house, especially since S'mores had barely settled in, but I also knew I couldn't let them die. They were less than a foot long from nose to rump, and I later found out they were about eight or nine weeks old, which would mean that they were just then at proper weaning age, and must have been dumped after being cared for by people, because ferals wouldn't have allowed me to pick them up. I planned to get them vetted and foster them until they were adopted. Almost two years later, they are snuggled up in a chair together in my kitchen as I write this. I call them my cat sons.

The point is, I've been involved in rescue somehow since 2008, and I've only become even more immersed now that I have lived with and loved three rescued animals in my adulthood (although S'mores died on January 11 of this year, at age fifteen and a half, and we still miss her terribly). I care about animals of all shapes, sizes, and species, but cats and dogs have been my family, and saving them has become my passion. I'm well known for this among friends now-- my Facebook page isn't much more than a listing of available pets around the U.S. and occasionally in other countries, and when anyone in my circle of loved ones, or in an adjacent circle, wants a pet, they come to me for advice, listings, insider tips, etc. I somehow became an accidental expert, and I'm usually bursting with things I want to share with the world about rescue and pet ownership.

That doesn't, by any means, mean that I know everything or even most things that there are to know about the subject. I have strong opinions based on what I've seen, but that doesn't mean that since 2008 I haven't changed my opinions on certain subjects. I also know and love many people who have made what I would consider to be bad choices about their companion animals, but I try to remember several things: A) that until recently, I might have done the same thing; B) that when I look at things from their point of view and with the information (or misinformation) that they had at the time, they did the best they could; C) that most people, even those who have pets, don't get the real scoop on what adoption is, what adopted pets are capable of, and many of the inside baseball details that you only get by diving into animal rescue on a level that most people never will, even if they love animals; D) that shrill hissy fits rarely if ever bring a listener over to the hissy-thrower's way of thinking; and E) perhaps other notions that haven't yet occurred to me, which is why I try to favor caution and an even tone (even if I feel as if my head is about to explode when in rescue-related conversation with people who disagree with me and are obviously uninformed about the subject, which happens more often than I'd like).

Because no other venue has the capacity to say everything I'd like to say about cat and dog rescue, I've started this blog. I'm fairly bursting with opinions, thoughts, feelings, information, and so forth on the subject. I'd welcome any politely delivered feedback on this project, and I know I have plenty to learn. Because the subject of our beloved companion animals, and the extreme emotional rollercoaster of animal rescue, can cause people to get animated, I'm going to try to be cool and encourage any dear readers I may get to do the same. I double-rescue-dog dare you.