Donation Instructions!
Category: Blogathon Notes/News
Hi, all you wonderful sponsors! Here's how to donate, to make sure your donation gets credited to Pam's memorial tile!
1) You can mail your check directly to the Denver Dumb Friends League - Make check out to: "Denver Dumb Friends League"
- Include a note that says something like, "Pledge from the Blogathon (Rant-O-Rama), in memory of Pam Goodman"
- Mail to:
Denver Dumb Friends League
ATTENTION: Susan Allard
2080 S. Quebec St.
Denver, CO 80231-3298
2) You can donate online using your charge card.
Go to this page on the DDFL website and click on the graphic that looks like this:
Enter your info; however, please be sure to specify the donation "dedication", like so:
You will also have a chance to donate a bit extra to defray the cost that the evil credit card companies charge for the transaction (which, IMHO is a bunch of crap for them to do that to charities, but I digress).
3) Voila! You're done!
Thanks so much for your donation!
(( hugs! )) Mary
Written by BeerMary on Jul 29, 2003 - 8:59 am (mountain time)
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Sssshhh!
Category: By Mary
Written by BeerMary on Jul 27, 2003 - 7:17 am (mountain time)
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The End!
Category: By Mary
SO TIRED!
From all of us here at Casa De La MariaCerveza ...
Thanks to all my sponsors and all the people who stopped by to support me during the Blogathon! The blogworld really is full of wonderful people!
Special thanks to B² for designing this kickass layout!
It's been hella-fun! But Moose can hardly keep his eyes open ...
People can sign up as sponsors throughout today (Sunday). I only need $20 to make it an even $1300 that was raised for the animal shelter, the Denver Dumb Friends League. Remember, if your donations to B² and I combined equal $50, you can get a free blog template from B!
I think my typing is interfering with Moose's sleep ...
I'm signing off! Thanks so much for everyone who pledged, submitted stories, and gave moral support!
Check back here in a day or two for detailed instructions on how to make sure the donations you send to the Denver Dumb Friends League gets credited to us, so we can earn Pam's memorial tile, to be placed at the new animal shelter.
Have a great day! Love and hugs to you!
 Mary
Written by BeerMary on Jul 27, 2003 - 7:00 am (mountain time)
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MedicMom's Menagerie
Category: By A Rant-O-Rama Sponsor
Author: Sonia at Medic Mom's, who is also a SPONSOR! Besides her life-saving talents as a paramedic, Sonia is also a wonderful photographer. Bookmark her blog, or you'll regret it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday, and for the rest of your life. 
I know Mary will probably be getting tired in the wee hours of the morning so I will help fill some entries. Besides, you guys and gals have inspired me to write about two of the best dogs I have ever owned.
***************************************************
Purdie is a female stray mutt dog that I rescued about 6 years ago. She was skinny and I could tell that she had just had pups because her teats were full. She wandered around at my work for 3 days looking lost and worried with no sign of any pups around. When I first adopted her off the street, I was in the process of moving so my mom kept her for me for about a week. My mom is a softie too and had just rescued some kittens from behind the grocery store whose mother had gotten hit by a car.
Mom called me at work one day and said, "You are not going to believe this but Purdie is letting those kittens nurse." Mom said Purdie would just lay there like a good mom until they finished and then she would clean them up by licking them. I guess her urge to be a mom was stronger than the face that her new babies were felines.
Purdie is still with us. She is spoiled to the max and is the most humble dog I have ever had. She loves to play and will run real fast in a figure eight when she gets excited. She stays inside most every night and loves people food. She is extremely jealous of my husband and I when we show affection towards each other. We still haven't figured out if it is him or me that she is jealous of.
My husband "acquired" a red heeler puppy while I was working a 24 hour shift back in January. He called me later that night and asked me if I wanted a puppy. I adamantly said, "No! We do not need a puppy right now." He proceeded to try and convince me how cute he was and that he would take care of him, etc. Yeah, right.
When I came home the next morning, I was greeted at the door by this incredibly cute ball of redness. His name was instantly, "Lil' Red". And you know, once you give a dog a name, it is yours. Lil' Red quickly grew on me. As a matter of fact, it didn't take but about 30 seconds for me to realize this little fella wasn't going anywhere. He quickly became "my" dog because we spent day in and day out together except for when I was working my shift. Red followed me everywhere. He was my companion and stayed by my side constantly. He had a mean streak and didn't like anyone besides my daughter, husband any myself. I loved this about him. Such is the way of a heeler dog.
On February 10th, 2003, Red rode with me to the school to pick up my daughter like he always did. In my lap. Something told me to grab my camera before I went out the door and I spent about 20 minutes snapping pictures of him while we waited for the bell to ring.
I had groceries in the car so when we got home, I was in a hurry to get the cold stuff in the refrigerator. Red was right there with us. We walked in the house and were putting things away when all of a sudden my daughter came running through the house and said, "Mom, I think Red just got hit by a car". She had heard him yelp. I ran out the front door and saw him lying on the other side of the road. He died about one minute after I got to him.
We were all devastated. I don't think I have ever cried so many tears over a pet and believe me, I have shed a many over my 37 years. I still miss him so. Now I am really sad and I want another Lil' Red heeler.
Note from Mary: I was reading Sonia's blog when Red died. It was awful! I just couldn't believe he was here one minute, and gone so fast! So everyone, give your furkids hugs every chance you get!
Written by BeerMary on Jul 27, 2003 - 6:57 am (mountain time)
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Dawgs
Category: By A Rant-O-Rama Sponsor
Submitted by Betsy, a coworker and a SPONSOR. (Author unknown).
DOG OR DAWG?
To all you dog lovers out there, and those who understand the difference between Yankees and Southerners...
A Translation Of Yankee Dogs To Southern Dawgs:
(Yankee) German Shepherd Dog
(Southern) Poh-leece Dawg
(Yankee) Poodle
(Southern) Circus Dawg
(Yankee) St. Bernard
(Southern) "Thank Gawd, Here Comes The Whiskey Dawg"
(Yankee) Doberman Pinscher
(Southern-2 versions) Bad Dawg, or Dobimin Pinches
(Yankee) Beagle
(Southern) Rabbit Dawg
(Yankee) Rottweiler
(Southern) Bad Dawg AND Mean As Heck Dawg. Good dawg to guard the still.
(Yankee) Yellow Lab
(Southern) Ol' Yeller Dawg
(Yankee) Black Lab
(Southern) Duck fetchin' Dawg
(Yankee) Greyhound
(Southern) Greased Lightnin' Dawg
(Yankee) Malinois
(Southern) Another kind of Poh-leece Dawg
(Yankee) Blue Ticks, Red Bones, etc.
(Southern) Prize Coon Dawgs
(Yankee) Pekinese
(Southern) Mop Dawg
(Yankee) Chinese Crested
(Southern) Nekkid Dawg
(Yankee) Dachshund
(Southern) Wienie Dawg
(Yankee) Siberian Husky
(Southern) Sled-Pullin' Dawg
(Yankee) Bouvier, Komondor
(Southern) "What The Heck Kinda Dawg Is That?"
(Yankee) Great Dane, Mastiff
(Southern) Danged BIG Dawg
(Yankee) Any dog that raids the hen house
(Southern) Egg-Suckin' Dawg
(Yankee) Any lazy dog
(Southern) Good fer nothin' Dawg
(Yankee) Any dog that's dead & buried & gone to dog heaven.
(Southern) Best danged Dawg I ever had.
Written by BeerMary on Jul 27, 2003 - 6:45 am (mountain time)
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Dogs save us in so many ways!
Category: By Mary
Originally posted Nov. 16, 2002.
Moose, me, and Harley, before we all fell over in a dogpile:
I have a great boss. Her family's dog died this week. I felt so sorry for her.
Harley, the german shepard in the above pic, is my heart and soul. She'll be 11 in May. She has bad hips and cataracts. I dread the day that dog dies. Even thinking about it makes me cry.
My mom is retired, so Harley lives in the lap of luxury at their house in Wichita. She is truly leading the idyllic doggie life.
I told my dad that:
- When Harley dies, no one is to tell me until a Friday night, so I can have all weekend to go mental.
- She is to be creamated, and when I die I want her ashes buried with me.
To the second item, my dad said:
"Oh my God. You are NOT SERIOUS." Then he laughed at me.
I said, that dog has been a member of our family for over a decade. What, you think the thanks she deserves should be a mass incineration with pound dogs and to go to a landfill?
"Is that what they do?" Um... yes.
I worked as a vet assistant at an emergency clinic for one year, as just a fun part-time gig. I cried as much (if not more) working there than I did when I was a Hospice nurse.
Animals are blameless. When they love us, that's all they want to do. They don't stop loving you if you gain weight, go gray, lose your job, don't have fancy clothes.
The love of an animal (no not in THAT way you disgusting pervs! You know what I mean!) is so pure, that rare is the human love on this earth that can match it.
Ten years ago, when I was in an abusive marriage, my husband had me convinced I was a piece of shit. Not worth anything. I was so depressed I could barely move. But WHEN I SAW THAT MAN THROW MY PUPPY HARLEY ACROSS THE ROOM FOR NO REASON, I realized that Harley didn't deserve that, and neither did I. Harley and I left. In the divorce, I had written in that the ex could have all our properties and our house, everything EXCEPT for my car that I had before we were married, and HARLEY.
That dog saved my life. That dog deserves more than ending up in a landfill.
So yes Dad, seriously. I don't ask for much. When I kick off, you will be rich with my $300,000 worth of life insurance. You can go to the tiny bit of trouble to take care of my dog and make sure she gets a proper burial. Of course, that means, with me.
Written by BeerMary on Jul 27, 2003 - 6:30 am (mountain time)
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Twenty BUCKS
Category: Blogathon Notes/News
All I need is $20 more, and I'll have $1300 in pledges!
Someone?
Beuhler?
Does that sponsor button still work?
Written by BeerMary on Jul 27, 2003 - 6:15 am (mountain time)
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The broom handle of DEATH!
Category: By A Rant-O-Rama Sponsor
Author: Spencer of "Call Me Blogslave", who is also a SPONSOR! He has a brand new blog, so go check him out!
My girlfriend, Lois, has a small assortment of pets...two dogs...four birds...and numerous freshwater fish. Lately, it has become difficult to sweep the floor near the parakeet cage. It seems that every time I walk in with a broom, the budgies just freak. It appears that their crazed behavior stems from an incident that occurred last month.
June was a harried month for Lois. Her twelve year-old Yorkshire terrier, Coco, was battling acute pancreatitis and was in extreme pain for about a week. Her symptoms were severe enough to land her in the vet's office twice within a week, which resulted in overnight stays as well.
Coco and her 'sister', Annie, an eleven year-old Silky terrier, have rarely been apart since day one. Usually if one has to be away from the house, the other is a bit miserable; the separation is hard on both of them...Annie is the more frantic of the two.
Hoping to ease Annie's anxiety, Lois asked me to watch her one day while Coco was being examined. Everything went smoothly at first. Annie is always happy to see me and will lie next to me for a little comfort. We played a bit and had treats...
While we sat on the loveseat in Lois' den, I watched the finches flit from one end of their cage to another and listened to the budgies bicker in their symphonic cacophony. I stroked Annie's hair and leaned back for a few minutes...it was a nice calm...until I noticed something.
Lois usually sets her finch cage on a board that sits on top of her hot water radiator and the parakeet cage on an old wooden trunk. However, I had noticed that the placement of the cages were reversed. She had also placed a towel under the parakeet cage, which looked precariously balanced on that board...so dangerously close to teetering and falling off.
Just as I was about to stand up from the loveseat and reach to adjust the placement of the cage, it slid off the board and crashed to the floor. Naturally, a sound like that sent Annie scurrying for the kitchen. As for me, I was frantically trying to shut both doors to prevent the birds from taking flight into the other rooms.
Lois had three parakeets: one yellow and green; two blue and white. I set out to look for them behind the computer desk and near the bookcases. I did see the yellow budgie take refuge near a bookcase and one of the baby blues was perching on the computer desk; I just could not find the other blue, who was older and fatter than his cage mates.
After about ten minutes of sweeping, mopping, and reconstructing their cage, I was ready to place them back in their metal abode. Still, Mr. Fatty was still at-large somewhere in the room, or so I figured. I ended up looking for him in the other rooms, hoping to eye him on a curtain rod or bookcase. Unfortunately, I found his limp body near the front door. Apparently, he had gotten a talon caught in the carpet. And in his panic, he alerted Annie to his whereabouts. Annie, being the loyal watchdog, ran up to Mr. Fatty and squeezed him like her innumerable squeak toys. The bad thing is that he only squeaked once and voided his squeaker warranty.
When Lois got home a few minutes later, we went out to the back and gave Mr. Fatty a proper burial in her mini pet cemetery. He now is in a better place, where the millet is ubiquitous and the flying territory, endless.
There were two ironic twists to this chaotic incident. Prior to my showing up at the house to watch Annie, Lois was joking about (Annie) possibly freaking out and eating one of the birds in her bout of loneliness. And the broom will now be the disciplinary 'piece de resistance.' Ever since the birds witnessed me sweeping up the mess, they cannot bear seeing a broom, for they relate it to Mr. Fatty not coming back to the cage. Therefore, that yellow and green handled O'Cedar broom has now garnered the notorious distinction of being the 'Broom Of Death.' You birds better be good...don't make me get that broom!
Written by BeerMary on Jul 27, 2003 - 6:10 am (mountain time)
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Oolong, my favorite internet bunny
Category: Misc.
Stacy sent me a link to this Japanese website. It must be the website of a photographer because there are some photos there that are amazing! I haven't made it through all the photos yet. The website is about Oolong the bunny. Oolong had a particular talent for balancing things on his head.
Once on the website, scroll down for links to the pictures. There's nothing cuter than bunny pics!
** Sadness alert! Oolong is no longer with us, but he lived a wonderfully spoiled life.
Written by BeerMary on Jul 27, 2003 - 5:55 am (mountain time)
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Sick dog
Category: By Mary
This was originally posted 5/29/03. However, last week Moose had diarrhea problems again, so it is always something I guess!
So, Moose had an accident in the house yesterday when I was at work. It was so big, I swear to God that I thought a 450 pound man (or possibly, cattle) had broken into my house and taken a dump on my carpet. I'm so seriously.
Then Moose had diarrhea all night last night.
It's so hot today, and I worry about Moose being at home, ruining my carpet, and becoming dehydrated. I want to leave work early.
So, I sent my boss (Kathy) this email:
"How Hot Art Thou, Un-airconditioned
And Diarrhea-Plagued Canine?"
a performance in interpretive dance and haiku
by Moose
Accompanying haiku from Moose:
Nice Kathy lady
I am at home at this time
Crapping my weight in poo
Have you not yet heard?
That a carpet, like the mind:
Terrible to waste?
See what happens when
Mary gets no sleep because
I need walks all night?
She drinks large Starbucks
Adds coffee throughout the day
Then writes bad haiku!
Nice Kathy lady
Are you not now very glad
I am not your dog?
Think she'll let me go home early? It's not looking good so far!
Written by BeerMary on Jul 27, 2003 - 5:48 am (mountain time)
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RodentMedic
Category: By Blogathon Participant
B² submits another hamster story! (Click here to read his first one.)
I had a hamster once that got out of its cage and promptly disappeared. We kept our doors open all the time, so I figured he probably left the house and was roaming the shrubs thinking, "Why did my cage get so big and bushy all of a sudden? Where's my food dish? Where's my water bottle? Maybe I shouldn't have escaped after all? Waaah!"
Well, a day or so later, I was out in the backyard when I saw something floating in the pool. It was my hamster! I fished him out at once and brought him inside. I figured he was gone, but when I held him in my hand, I could still feel some slight movement. There was a chance! However, he wasn't breathing. So I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a straw.
My sister was like, "What the hell are you doing?"
"CPR!!!"
I stuck one end of the straw into his mouth and blew gently into it, just enough to make his belly fill up. Meanwhile, I held him between my thumb and forefinger and pressed into his chest, right where they taught me to do it in Cub Scouts. I did this for about two or three minutes.
Then, what do you know -- he started breathing! I had a heartbeat! I stopped the artificial respiration, and the little fella started breathing on his own. His eyes were still closed, but he was alive. I wrapped him up in pieces of Kleenex and laid him in his cage in a warm part of the house. Later that evening, he was stumbling around his cage, dazed but conscious. Phew!
Now the sad part: unfortunately, he still didn't live very long after that incident. I guess the trauma and everything had pushed him beyond the point of return, because even though he dried off and everything, his strength never fully returned. He weakened and eventually passed on. I wondered if I had done the right thing in resuscitating him. Finally I decided it was at least something that he died warm in his house instead of drowning in some chilly swimming pool.
If nothing else, I'm glad that I was finally able to use those first aid skills I learned in the Scouts for something!
- B
Note from Mary: By the powers vested in me by the Kansas State Board of Emergency Medical Services (and also revolked when I failed to pay my $50 paramedic license renewal a few years ago), I hearby dub thee, B², an honorary rodentmedic! 
Use your powers for good, not evil!
Written by BeerMary on Jul 27, 2003 - 5:40 am (mountain time)
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Moose the skydiving puppy
Category: By Mary
Originally posted 10/14/02
Kingston, my neighbor, and Moose
So, Moose and I are out walking today. He wants to go over to the "pooing fields", so I take off his leash and let him meander over there (saving me from "tiptoeing thru the tulips"). Down below, on the bike path walks my neighbor (who Moose loves) and the neighbor's dog (who Moose loves even more). My neighbor didn't know I didn't have the leash on and says, "Hi, Moose!"
Before I could get to him, that dumbshit dog jumps off the ledge. He fell over 7 1/2 feet onto rocks below!
The rest of the "tail" »
I didn't see him land. I just heard him cry.
I literally could not move. I've never felt anything like it. I willed myself to "do something" but I DID NOT MOVE for at least 7 or 8 seconds. I just kept thinking, "this is not happening, this is NOT happening!"
Then Moose hobbles over to my neighbor and his dog, limping horribly and crying all the way.
My neighbor's girlfriend saw the whole thing from inside the house and comes running out. She looked as bad as I must have. The dude kept saying, "He's fine, he's fine!" And I kept saying, "His leg is broke! I can see it from here!" (with my x-ray eyes, of course).
So, I climb the fence (that Moose crawled under to jump), sit my fat ass on the ledge as the neighbor lifts 40 pound Moose up over his head to me. Another neighbor out walking his dog (both of whom also love Moose) came over to make sure everything was OK, but all I knew was my dog couldn't walk without limping. So, carrying the crying dog, I ran to the house to get my purse (vets don't work for free) and drove him next door to the vets.
By the time I got there I was crying hysterically and praying to God for a miracle. I believe God CAN do miracles, and I said, "Look God dude, I have no husband and no family. All I have is this dog, two rabbits, and a nearby liquor store that accepts charge cards. Please let this dog be OK."
The vet saw the dog within five minutes of my arrival. By the time he came in, Moose wasn't limping any more. The vet didn't take xrays or even feel down his legs or anything. "Nothing broken!" Thank God!
Those two words, a shot and some eye drops cost me $200.
But now I'm home with Moose, and with a wicked case of heartburn. At least my hands have stopped shaking.
Not to recite my resume, but over the past 13 years I have worked as an EMT, a paramedic, a trauma/ICU RN, and a vet assistant. You'd THINK I'D BE BETTER IN A FUCKING CRISIS, wouldn't you? Geez!!!
But there I was, freaking at the vets and crying my way through a whole box of kleenex. (Never underestimate the amount of snot a hysterical woman can produce. I think I'm dehydrated!)
I felt so guilty! I still do. It was my fault. I'm supposed to protect this sweet, innocent, (and very expensive) puppy who has become my lil' honey. And what do I do within 3 weeks of getting him? I "allow" him to practice skydiving without a parachute! What will I pull next, a game of frisbee on the freeway?
It's no wonder God never gave me any children to care for. First of all, I'm obviously not responsible enough. Second, I couldn't stand the stress! The stress of what they MIGHT do to maim themselves, and the stress of when they actually do get hurt. I even said to the vet, "Thank God I don't have children, because I couldn't handle this with a person!"
Moose is sleeping but doing OK. I feel like crying every time think of him that split second before he jumped to the rocks below. I also feel like crying when I think of the $200 that's coming on the next charge card bill!
God really blessed me by having Moose be OK. I don't see how he made it through OK, but he did and I am SO THANKFUL!
Oh, and the place where I thought his paw was broken and just hanging on by a few tendons? That was his KNEE, dumbshit BeerMary. Dog's legs do BEND in the middle.
GEEZ! I am such a moron.
« Done with the whole doggone thing
Written by BeerMary on Jul 27, 2003 - 5:32 am (mountain time)
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