Most of you have heard Baylie’s rescue story but may not be aware of how Baylie’s feline sister, Smoki, became a member of our family.
Smoki came into our lives on June 15, 2001. She is a Southern Belle born in Mobile, Alabama, to a cat of a family acquaintance. Obviously, they knew no more about cats than we as they misjudged her age as being much older. When Smoki was brought to us, I knew right away she was very young; probably no more than four weeks old and not yet weaned. We knew she should not have been taken from her mother at such a young age but were determined to make sure she was healthy, well fed and happy.
My name is Baylie and I’m a Great Pyrenees and Border Collie mix. My mom rescued me from an awful situation when I was 5-6 weeks old. I was found by a nice man who scooped me up when my canine mom dropped me from her mouth while running. What made it super scary was we were running along the side of a busy highway and there was a bad dog chasing us. My canine mom tried her best to hold on to me really tight, but I was just too heavy. But that’s okay, she did the best she could. A nice man driving along in his truck saw her drop me, stopped his truck and scooped me up really fast so the mean dog couldn’t get me. He tried to help my canine mom too, but she ran. The nice man couldn’t keep me so he took me to where my human mom works to see if anyone would be willing to take me in.
Well, it’s that time of year again. Not because it’s the end of Summer, or onslaught of the cold Winter months, or even the beginning of the school year I’ve come to dread, it’s my kitty, Smoki’s, annual vet visit. Really, it’s much more intense than performing a sneak attack to capture her when the ever so dreaded cat carrier comes out of hiding each year. That I can handle. This is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I even took my sister along once just to prove my point. Her first words were: “I didn’t know that cats could growl” followed by the Vet telling her she needed to either remain in the exam room or shut the door. You see, every time Smoki growled and banged the side of the carrier, my sister made a mad dash into the hall. I don’t know which behavior was more disturbing, my sister or my cat.