Monday, March 14, 2011


About fifteen years ago I had a cat named Mad Max.  He was a crazy black cat who was a riot.  I went to the pound to get a kitten for my dog, Chelsea, (a hyper toy poodle) who needed a playful companion.

When I looked around the cat enclosures at the pound there were several cats but none caught my fancy.  As I was walking out, two little black legs shot out of a bottom cage and snagged my jeans.  Most of the bottom cages were empty and I hadn't seen the little squirt.

I asked the caretaker if I could see the attention seeking cat and she opened the cage.  At that very moment this kitten sprinted out of the cage, jumped up onto her desk, swatted at a ball on top of the desk and sent the ball flying across the room.  He took off after the ball (which had caromed into another room) and disappeared.  All of this took only a matter of seconds.  With a big smile on my face I said to the lady, "If you can catch him, that's the one I want!"

Well, hyper Chelsey and Mad Max were a match made in heaven.  The wrestled and tussled and played their way into my heart.  Several years later, I had to give Chelsey to my Aunt Zelda (who had just lost her dog of 15 years).  I had let Chelsey stay with her while I was on vacation and Aunt Zelda started to cry when I came to pick Chelsey up.  I just couldn't leave with my dog so Chelsey became Aunt Zelda's dog.

Max was lonely and ended up having to cope with a new dog, Luke, my German Shepherd.  But I have yet to get to the story I wanted to tell you about Mad Max.

About 8 years ago I was keeping my son's Rhodesian Ridgeback, Simon, and trying to find him a home.  He was way too rough for the young children in my son's home so the dog had to go.

Max had made friends with Luke, but  Simon was another matter.  Simon wanted to EAT Max (you see, Ridgebacks were originally bread to hunt lions).

Simon had only been here for a few days when I heard a terrible ruckus out in the back yard.  I looked out to see that Simon had Max down on the ground and it looked as though he was killing him.  Max was screaming and putting up a valiant fight while Luke looked on, confused by Simon's attack.

I thundered through the house and out the back door.  I yelled Simon, NO!  But, Simon ignored me.  The only thing I could think of to do was to pull ALPHA on Simon.  I attacked him growling and snarling.  I bit him hard, he yelped and he let go of Max.  I snatched Max up immediately and Max was not out of his defense mode yet, as Max bit and clawed me on the arm.  Awhhhh $#:!.

First I wrapped Max up in a large towel and put him in a carrier, in the car.  Then I cleaned the bite and scratch wound as best I could and headed for the vet. (about 40 minutes away).  I had neglected to check to see if I had enough gas, and yes, you guessed it, I didn't.  Half way there I ran out of gas and had to call for roadside assistance.

After an hour by the side of the road,  several complaints by my father (who had accompanied me) and feline vocalizations (of the worst kind) we were on our way again.  When I arrived at the vets. I explained the situation (he broke into a big grin when I told him about biting Simon).  Incidentally the vet. did (jokingly) suggest that I might need to bring Simon by for shots, too.   I left max with the comedic vet. and headed for the hospital emergency room to have the bite taken care of.

Well, the emergency staff cleaned up the bite (which took two stitches), gave me a shot and shared the story throughout the hospital.

Max was OK, I was OK, and Simon was a little cowed when he saw me,  Luke was wondering if we were going to play that fun game again and Dad just shook his head.
kt 3/2011


  1. I keep finding myself thinking, "How do you get yourself into these situations?' and saying, "It can only happen to Karen!' but I've now come to realise...whereas I tend to try to forget/blot anything 'unpleasant' as soon as it's over, you remember, look at the funny side of it all and then set about writing up a great story! You truly have a gift for seeing humour in every situation, Karen and you're a tremendously talented story-teller :)

  2. That reminds me of a time when my adult son came home after having a few drinks. He took our 110 lb dog Brandy (half Golden, half German Shepherd) outside to go to the bathroom. The dog saw a squirrel and off he ran, dragging my son behind him. I told my son it was his punishment for drinking too much!