Kimberly A. Cook

Military Romance Author

animals

Of Pumpkins, Pachyderms And Mayhem

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Sometimes you just need to self-medicate with candy. Today would be that day. I declare today calorie free for everybody! My big decision is whether to eat a box of Goobers or go Trick or Treating at Mom’s house for chocolate covered biscotti. I will be her only customer and I know what is in her pantry. I have wicked chocolate RECON skills.

I try to limit myself to one treat on Halloween, adult size, but maybe I get both today. Because I can. Now to hunt down my Snoopy Halloween plastic treats bucket. Maybe I can talk her out of two biscotti! One for backup.

Let’s be careful out there, to quote the tv show Hill Street Blues. Watch for little and big trick or treaters, keep warm and hug someone you care about – no calories in that!

On to the pumpkin smashing, elephant style at the Oregon Zoo.

Ever Been Kissed By An Alpaca?

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So this is what the alpacas were doing outside my window at 5:41 a.m.; cuddling. Moms and babies. Took picture through glass window, but how cute are they?

Bugged out last week and took off on a research vacation. Stayed at Alpaca Country Estates Ranch and B&B in Terrebonne, Oregon. More than a thousand alpacas. And new babies. I know. So exciting!

Needless to say, I used two cameras, the video camera and the video on one of my cameras. I have so many pictures and digital video I don’t know where to start. Learned so much about alpacas from our airbnb hosts Nancy and Art.

Check out the morning view. Alpacas and the mountains.

This one-hundred-thirty-four acre working alpaca ranch is one of the largest in the United States. We got to see the alpacas up close and personal. We even got kisses from one of the alpha males, Classy. Yes, I have pictures taken by Gate Girl.

Our room was on the second floor almost directly over the barn and right across from the nursery. I actually bounced out of bed at dawn to take alpaca pictures and watch them rotate the alpacas from pasture to pasture. Breakfast was at a civilized 8:30 a.m. Pumpkin pancakes!

Many of the alpaca facts I learned are going into one of the fiction books I’m working on right now. While I write fiction, I want to make sure my facts are correct. Never a good idea to upset the alpacas. Or readers.

These fine ladies were waiting to see if they were among the few selected to be bred that morning. They also looked like they might wonder who the heck I was taking their picture.

Spent two nights on the ranch, then headed into Sisters to stay, shop and eat. What I do best. Also hiked along the Metolius River, a favorite walk, due to the eating thing I mentioned earlier. (Peach pie, bread pudding)

Of course, any trip has its hiccups, which included the check engine light coming on as I started the drive over the Santiam Pass. At 4,600 feet elevation and no cell service, we pulled over and I reset the gas cap, a common Subaru cause. Decided to go for it and keep driving until we got cell bars, then called the Bend Subaru dealer.

They said we should be okay to keep driving to Bend since the check engine light wasn’t flashing. Good to know. Would have been nice to have that in the manual instead of having an ongoing pre-stroke waiting for the engine to blow up on me.

So we tacked on an extra twenty-two mile drive at the beginning of the trip to the dealer and it turned out to be the gas cap as I suspected. It was fine then, but I didn’t trust it. So the first thing I bought on vacation was a new gas cap, just in case. Every girl’s dream is to buy a gas cap on vacation.

So we arrived at the ranch later than expected but all was well when we saw the baby alpacas. Gate Girl and I were trying to figure out how many we could stuff in the back of the Subaru, but we would need to take their mom’s too, so that became a logistics packing problem. We took pictures instead.

Wanted to take baby 324 home to become Spec Ops Cat’s sister. But, not enough room in Subie and her mom and a few buddies would have to come too. Sigh. Love at first sight!

Later when we couldn’t visit Suttle Lake due to an algae bloom and the hotel hot tub broke, we were still good. Cranky, but good. We’d been up close and personal with baby alpacas. That beats gas caps, algae bloom and broken hot tubs any day.

Make the most of the last days of summer here in Oregon! 

 

Check out the ranch:

https://www.alpacacountryestates.com/

 

Beware Of Handsome Marine Biologists

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Think this was my overnight guest. As soon as said pup was put with the other three, could not tell them apart!

I’ve done some stupid things in my life for handsome men. I’m a sucker for a pretty face and biceps. (Lordy, there were men with amazing biceps in the Army!) But, last Friday’s harbor seal video reminded me of an adventure in my newspaper days.

While working as a reporter and photographer at the Newport News Times in 1984-85, two of my favorite (very handsome) marine biologists asked me to deliver something to Portland. I was driving to my parents house after work on Friday night. They did not tell me what it was.

I figured papers or something that needed to go to the big city. Showed up at the Hatfield Marine Science Center to find the guys tube-feeding a baby harbor seal who needed a ride to the Oregon Zoo for rehab. Surprise!

“Since the zoo will be closed when you get there, you can keep him overnight in the bathtub and take him up in the morning.”

Right. A quick call to Mom and Dad to see if that was okay. God Bless my suffering parents, they never knew what the next adventure might entail. They said fine.

Baby seal was put in a largo red Igloo cooler with the lid propped open for air and stowed in the front seat of my 1974 maroon Nova. We seat belted the cooler in and I was instructed to drive carefully.

“What if I get stopped by the cops?” I asked. “Don’t I need papers?”  I knew it was a federal offense to handle or transport marine mammals due to the Marine Mammal Protection Act.

“It’ll be fine,” they said. “Just give us a call if you get stopped.”

From my jail cell no doubt.

Another possibility of foster pup.

It’s a two to three-hour trip to Portland from Newport given the weekend traffic. My memories of the trip are fleeting incidents.

The smell of seal poop. Can’t really describe it. Think of eating only fish and then it being poop. Baby poop. Killer light yellow-greenish baby poop.

Baby seal did not like riding in the cooler. He especially did not like railroad crossings and curves in the road. He called for his mother. “Ma, ma!” That is exactly what it sounds like.

It was summer, so luckily I had the windows rolled down. Remember seal poop. This was fine until I stopped at a red light in McMinnville. Folks next to me had their windows down too. “Ma, ma!” kept coming from the cooler. I knew they were looking at me. I stared straight ahead. Ignore the seal in the front seat.

The drive seemed to take forever and I worried about him the entire time. The guys told me he should be okay, but it’s always iffy with stressed marine life. I was now his foster mom.

When I got to my parent’s house, Dad took the cooler into the backyard followed by a  group of neighbor kids. We washed the little guy off with the hose to clean him up; seal poop marinade. Then Dad airlifted him into the bathtub, complete with the non-skid pink shells on the porcelain surface.

By this time, he was hungry. I had nothing to give him or any way to feed him. We opened the bathroom window to the backyard for cool fresh air and in case of incoming or outgoing seal poop. “Ma, ma!”

Nobody slept that night.  The constant “Ma, ma” broke our hearts. The little guy also had a damn good set of lungs. Since the main bathroom was surrounded by the three bedrooms, we all felt his pain.

About 7:30 the next morning the front doorbell rang. I was getting ready to take pup up to the zoo. I answered the door. It was the neighbor who lived behind my parent’s house.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“We heard odd noises during the night.”

We’d never been huge friends with our backyard neighbors. “It’s the seal in the bathtub,” I said.

He looked at me. A confused expression on his face.

“We’re going to the zoo,” I added. It took everything in my soul not to say, and then shopping and a movie. I did not elaborate.

He stared at me a bit longer. “Oh, okay,” he said and then left the front porch, shaking his head.

I delivered my “Ma, ma” package to the zoo staff and took some pictures. I couldn’t bring myself to take his picture while he was in the bathtub. I felt it would be exploiting his situation.

Minor damage to the bathtub included repairing the shell non-skids he had managed to loosen the edges of during the night. Which was then followed by a thorough washing with bleach.

My handsome marine biologists, who got out of driving to Portland that weekend, let me know my foster pup did make it through rehab and was released back into the wild. Think that is one reason I take so many harbor seal pictures. It’s personal. Might be great-grand kids of my overnight guest.

Beware of handsome marine biologists.  Trust me.

Pup visitor is one of these four guys. Notice the 80s gear on the zoo staff. The quest to find these pics was epic.

 

 

 

 

Celebrate National Pet Day?

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This is how Spec Ops Cat trained for National Pet Day. This was grueling training on March 31st. Full on nap maneuvers. Very impressive skill level.

by Kimberly A. Cook

I’m behind in my writing duties since I was waiting on Spec Ops Cat hand and paw for yesterday’s National Pet Day. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Part of his present included me spending a long lunch with family having chai tea, chicken cranberry walnut salad on a croissant and a huge cookie.

Such sacrifice on my part. Leaving home so he could nap in silence was really his gift. (I write fiction for a reason.)

He celebrated his special day by waking me up with a 5:20 a.m. hairball. Always providing me with gifts. Such a giver. But he is my roommate, buddy and vice president of security operations, so he earns his keep.

Did you celebrate your pet yesterday? Feel free to do it today and every day. Make sure to ration those treats; no matter how much they beg.

Spec Ops Cat thinks he has a magic food bowl. Since he will chow down his wet gravy food too fast, I give him a tablespoon at a time in the morning to slow his gobbling. Works great.

But he tries to use “bowl patrol” during the rest of the day before dinner. If he stares at the bowl long enough, then looks at me, maybe more food will appear out of the heavens.

Know that feeling when you’re watching tv and you feel target lock? Turn my head into the kitchen and yup, bowl patrol. He’s giving me “the look.” He has plenty of dry food, but he’s a gravy guy.

Hug your pets and treasure them while you can. I’ve had four friends lose their loving buddies in the past five months.  Heart breaking. I’ve informed Spec Ops Cat he is not to go along with that crowd. As usual, he wasn’t listening to me, but napping in a sun spot.

Hug your fur babies today and every day!