• Wordless Wednesday: August 29, 2012

• Wordless Wednesday: August 22, 2012

"Let's keep this walk going!" says Scamper.

• Wordless Wednesday: August 15, 2012

• Wordless Wednesday: August 1, 2012

* Wordless Wednesday: July 18, 2012

• Photos from BlogPaws

Norman the Scooter Dog

Flying home from BlogPaws (I have Internet on the plane!!), I'm cocooned in the warmth of three days with like-minded people. Officially, BlogPaws is described as a social media conference for pet bloggers, but it's equal part love fest. And did I mention the pets?

My lord, the pets.

A shimmering white pit bull named Zoey. A teensy, soft-haired white dog with shoe-button eyes whose name I forgot. Tango the Fire Safety Dog. Tillman, the Bulldog built like a linebacker on steroids, who skateboarded into our hearts. And shaggy Norman, the first Briard I'd seen up close and personal, the only scootering dog I know.

God bless Sheraton for letting us overrun their nice Salt Lake City hotel. I shared a room with a Pomeranian, Pepper, a.k.a. @PepperPom. She is the bark-tender for many Twitter pawties, so I can honestly say that I slept with the bark-tender!

More later, but for now, check out my photographs.

• Bound for BlogPaws

Say what? is the response of most people when I tell them about BlogPaws. It's a pet blogging and social media conference, I tell them. They try not to look blank.

Basically, it's a place where people who are over-the-moon crazy about pets—theirs and everyone else's—promote a cause or a business, dispense information, or act silly (picture a miniature poodle in hair ribbons and a tutu, with everyone thinking that's perfectly normal). It's one of the few places I can talk about how much I love Maggie, my hamster, and nobody looks at me funny.

I'm writing this blog not because I have anything special to say, but because I'm on a plane, and I think it's so damn cool to be on a plane with Internet. You won't hear me say this often, but God bless technology.

Next post: Something more meaningful and useful.

• Wordless Wednesday: June 13, 2012

• Animal Disaster Preparedness

My hamster's regular & traveling cages

On August 23, 2011, as I worked on my computer at home, I felt my high rise sway. I heard what I thought was wind rushing by my windows. Then, as if the building had two feet, one "foot" stepped down an inch. Thunk. Terrified, I packed my computer and my hamster, Maggie.

California people can start laughing now, because it was "just" an earthquake, and only 5.8, at that. Centered in Mineral, Virginia, it was more than 85 miles from my home. But my terror was real.

Luckily, it was easy to evacuate Maggie. I keep a traveling hamster cage filled with bedding and seeds on a shelf beneath his main cage (yes, Maggie's a boy). I grabbed a piece of watermelon from the fridge to keep him hydrated and a small bowl for water, in case we were gone more than a few hours. The traveling cage worked for a short evacuation, but I hadn't prepared an evacuation kit in case we need to be away overnight.

All pets owners (including me!) should have an evacuation plan and evacuation kit. The goal is to keep your pet safe in a disaster. You think it won't happen to your family. You think you'll have time to prepare. But you don't know.

After the earthquake with friends

Information in the links below overlaps; some sites are exhaustive, some are basic. Use what suits your style or pet.

•  Use the Pet ID Form to record information on each of your pets; add microchip number.
• The Emergency Planning Guide for Pet Owners is a 19-page all-inclusive guide that addresses all scenarios.
• Preparing Your Pets for Emergencies covers crucial steps for preparation.
• Red Cross Dog: Disaster Preparedness explains how to keep pets, horses, and livestock safe in natural disasters.
• Making Sure Your Dog is Evacuated if You're Not Home

If you hire a pet sitter, make sure he or she has a copy of your evacuation plan and knows the location of your emergency kit.

• Happy Fur-Mother's Day

Yesterday I spent the day switching up my closet for the upcoming season. I've gained a few pounds since last summer and expected some outfits to be a little tight. As I pulled on shorts, zipped skirts, and wiggled into shirts, the news was worse. Everything was tight, as in, "Can-I-wear-this-without-embarrassment?" tight.

I was in my hamster's room (which doubles as my bedroom), and I kept staring at the entrance to his hut. Maggie (who, despite his name, is a boy) had blocked it with bedding, which means either that he is cold or objects to light I've let into the room. As I tossed clothes that would never fit into a giveaway pile, I looked forward to night, when he would wake.

Maggie never asks if I've put on a few pounds. He doesn't look askance as I try—as it turned out yesterday, unsuccessfully, yesterday—to zip my navy shorts. He doesn't talk about studies that show the correlation between a woman's extra pounds and diminished salary.

When he sees me, Maggie comes to the side of his cage. He's probably looking for food, but I think it's also because he loves me. When we hang out in the area I set up for him, he sniffs my feet, scampers over my arms, and tickles me with his whiskers. Maggie was shy at first, and it's taken a while to get to this point. He was born in August 2010, so he's an older boy. Hamsters only live two to three years, which makes our good times now more poignant.

Animals don't judge. The only thing they care about is what's inside a person. Earning and keeping Maggie's trust was the most important component to our relationship. The same is true of the animals I pet sit. I practice patience and kindness, and try to make sure my actions always fall within the comfort level of the animal.

And fun. I love to watch animals have fun. So Maggie won't be bored, I regularly add new boxes or other objects to crawl through, around, or over. Last night I delighted in seeing my baby boy clamber over mountains of clothes from the giveaway pile. I'd turned my misery into fun for him, and Maggie was healthy and happy—the best fur-Mother's Day gift of all.