Tallulah

The first thing I remember is being in a kiddie pool, squirming around with all my brothers and sisters.

After we had all opened our eyes and grown a bit, lots of people came to look at us. They picked us up and played with us a bit, and sometimes they would point to one of my siblings and say, “That one.” Our mom had to stay outside while the people came, but she jumped against the door the whole time, trying to get in so we wouldn’t be alone with these strangers. Eventually, my family came to look at us. The small one pointed at me and one of her parents picked me up and took me out of the pool. I tried to give them playful nips, but apparently humans don’t like that, especially when you still have all your very sharp baby teeth. They glanced at a few of my siblings, but the small one was adamant that I was the one. After deciding to name me “Tallulah” and promising to come back, they left for a while.

We went home together, and they taught me how to be a good dog. The large male was “Father,” and he was in charge; the large female was “Mother,” next in command; and the smallest one was “Child,” the next-next in command. They taught me not to chew on the furniture, or other humans, and gave me treats when I did things right, like sit or stay when they told me to.

My humans take good care of me, and I take good care of them. I protect them, barking at anything threatening and giving them a soft thing to hug and pet. They used to give me toys to play with and ropes to tug on, and would throw things for me to chase. I am too old for most of that now, but I can still tear the stuffing out of a teddy bear in three seconds flat. They took me to an animal doctor to give me all sorts of shots to make sure I would not get sick. That place still scares me a bit, but when we have to, I go reluctantly because I know it’s for my own good, and then bolt for the door when I know we are done.

They can’t help the cancer I now have, but they’re doing their best to make sure I’m as comfortable as I can be. My leg hurts sometimes, but they give me pills to make it feel better. The best part is that I’ve discovered that if I spit the pills out, they’ll wrap them in all sorts of yummy things like turkey and ham for me! Child and Father see that I will be okay for a while, but I totally have Mother wrapped around my finger.

I can get Mother up at two in the morning to play with me if I make enough noise, and she’s the one who puts the most meat around my pills. I even have not just one bed, but two blankets as well, all of which she’ll move for me whenever I decide to get up and sleep somewhere else! She even gives me extra treats now, but so do Father and Child when I make sure they don’t see Mother giving them to me. They may think they are the ones in charge, but I’ve had them right in my paw this whole time.

I love my family, and they love me. I couldn’t have asked for a better family and my family always tells me every day they couldn’t have asked for a better dog.

– Torrey Cranston

Louie
By Mike Abbate

On Febuary 2, 2011, I was on my lunch break and stopped in the 7-11 on A1A in Cocoa Beach for a caffeine fix.

I came across a homeless couple who looked like they were in their mid-twenties. The homeless man was staring at me, and at first I thought he had a problem or needed money. But he approached me and starting talking about traveling and hitchhiking in Florida. I found out that he and his girlfriend were actually from North Canada, and were purposely hitchhiking and train hopping all through the country.

With them was a very small puppy, who seemed to be about seven-weeks old. I asked the homeless man what the situation was with the dog, and he said he regretted having picked him up in Louisiana and bringing him along. The couple knew nothing about the dog, other than that he was a Catahoula Leopard Hound and was very young. He also told me that they were running out of money and needed to start making their way back home.

I couldn’t believe how young and dirty the dog looked. The homeless man asked me to take him, due to how difficult he made travel for them. I was really skeptical, but I made a promise to find the dog a home or at least a no-kill shelter. I opened up my wallet and had only $3 in cash, which I gave to the couple. I wished them good luck and I was off with a new puppy.

So I took the dog home to my small apartment in Cocoa Beach. I instantly knew he wasn’t your average puppy; he had a very special personality. It was clear he appreciated the care and attention I gave him, but I started trying to find him a home. About a week into the search, I was done, and had decided to keep him for life. I brought him to the vet and had him checked out. All was well for the most part, but the vet informed me that he was still far too young to be away from his mother and that he needed shots and dewormer updates.

I decided to name him Louie. Unfortunately, my landlord was not very understanding about this new tenant, and since I was under a “no pet” rental contract, the eviction notices started coming in. I was given seven days to either get rid of the dog or be homeless myself. Louie was by this time an official member of my family, so I knew giving him away wasn’t an option. It’s hard to convince people who aren’t animal lovers how great pets can be, and I had no such success with my landlord. Luckily, my father is a dog lover, and offered to take Louie in until I figured things out. A month later I managed to buy a house with a yard and pool in Satellite Beach.

He’s a popular dog on the street where I live, and I think he knows he scored when I took him in. We call him “Louie Loose Legs” because he runs so fast he often trips over himself. I’m now happy to have the freedom of owning a pet, and am happy to call Louie my best friend. Above all, I’m happy to make him happy. It was the best $3 I’ve ever spent.

Dewey

Name: Dewey Niblit

Sex: Male

Birthday: April 13, 2011

Hometown: Cocoa Beach

Parents: Michele, Lauren, and Lily

Status: Single. Duh! I’m not even seven in human years yet.

About me: I was born a poor brindle Boston Terrier in Canaveral Groves. I remember the days sittin’ in the backyard with my six brothers, playin’ with palm fronds and howlin’ to the sweet sounds of Toby Keith on K92FM. At the tender age of eight weeks old my new owner came and drove me over a couple of causeways to my new home. As soon as I smelled the salt air and felt the sand under my paws, I knew that beach living was for me. I still like to chew on palm fronds, but we listen to Pandora around here.

Likes:  Chasing peacocks and bicyclists down the street, people watching at Surfinista Café, and belly rubs.

Dislikes: My leash and the vacuum.

Special talents: Stealing socks (I blame it on the dryer), and I can eat an entire queen-size quilt in less than a week!

I don’t want to admit it, but: I don’t know how to walk down stairs yet.

Life’s ambition: To slowly transfer all the mulch from the backyard into the house.

Favorite song: “Bohemian Like You” by the Dandy Warhols and “Darling Buds of May” by Viva Brother. (Best lines of both songs are the “OooOooOoooooo” parts.)

Favorite quote: “You know what they say about dogs with big ears…”

Advice for my human bros: I live in a house full of ladies, so trust me — just keep your muzzle shut and give the puppy face. It works every time.

PET OF THE MONTH: Rebel

Look at me! My name is Rebel, and I am the cutest, most lovable and cuddly longhaired chihuahua you’ll ever meet. I came into the world about seven years ago, and I’m so thankful for the big man who gave me a home. I’ve learned to perform loads of cool tricks and I’m the fastest little dog this side of the Pecos.

I’ve been featured in many magazines, periodicals, and advertisements, and my mug has graced many an office wall. I love meeting new people and they love meeting me. You may have seen me riding shotgun in my Dad’s big black truck, hanging out as close to the window as I can so I can catch all the smells during our many trips. Living at the beach is pretty groovy. Everyone knows everyone and people even remember my name when we’re out and about.

My favorite places to go are the restaurants that allow dogs out on their patios. But riding around is the best of the best, and any ride to anywhere is fine by me. My life is pretty simple: I love to make my Dad happy, I’m house trained, and I’m a very good boy. My Dad thinks that when he spells “T-R-E-A-T-S,” that I don’t understand what he’s saying, but I do. (I don’t mind saying that I’m very smart.)

I only hope that other pet owners are as giving and caring as my Dad. All pets should live as great a life as I do, and I’m here to spread the word to take care of your pets!

Love them as they love you: Unconditionally.

Love,

Rebel

Avalanche

At one time Garrett Kehoe’s beloved Avalanche was set to be a SAR (search and rescue) dog at a ski resort, but her small paws made it difficult for her to get around in the snow… though Kehoe admits it was pretty fun to watch her try.

Now 11 and living with Kehoe, a fireman with the Cocoa Fire Department, Avvy originally came from a family of working dogs who called a Claude, Texas ranch home. Of her unusual, blue-tinged appearance Kehoe explains that she’s the result of a Blue Murrell getting together with an Australian cattle dog. “I just tell people she’s a Blue Heeler,” he says. “The man who owned the ranch thought the breed had been ruined and wouldn’t be any good on the ranch.”

Whether she would have been any use in that environment is immaterial though, because she’s as loyal and loving a friend as one could ever hope to have. Above all, Avvy is mad for the outdoors and accompanies Kehoe whenever he’s jogging, sailing, camping, hiking, mountain biking, or snowboarding, though she prefers keeping to the groomed runs on such frosty excursions. The one thing she won’t do, however, is swim. “She hates the water,” Kehoe says. “She won’t even step in a puddle.”

Despite her relatively advanced age, Avvy still loves to run and chase any critter she comes across, a habit that stems from her innate desire to protect and control her surroundings.

As a firefighter, Kehoe himself keeps very fit with the help of a healthy diet Avvy routinely shares. “She eats what I eat. When I cook I always make her a plate.” This, Kehoe reckons, is the secret to her lively personality and youthful energy. “She can be pretty tough to keep up with though, especially on a hungover day.”

Cuddles

Cuddles is an 18-year-old Moluccan Cockatoo who eight years ago was the first parrot rescued by Pet Priorities, a rescue adoption shelter and training and sitting service that works diligently in the world of animal rescue.

After spending years living in a veterinarian’s office and being bounced between several owners, Cuddles suffered from a life poor diet and lack of attention. She gradually grew so unhappy and mentally distraught that she began self-mutilating, plucking out her own feathers and plunging her beak into her chest. Eventually, Pet Priorities came in to give her a new lease on life.

Cuddles favorite thing to do is be around people, so Sally Peters, owner of Pet Priorities (www.petpriorities.com), began taking her to events to help educate the public about proper animal care and the world of animal rescue. Cuddles thrived in the public spotlight and Sally soon began seeking a sponsor for her. That’s where Michael Schwarz stepped in.

Schwarz, owner and general manager of Fishlips Waterfront Bar & Grill in Port Canaveral, takes Cuddles several days a week and the pair hang out together at various events. People love Cuddles and she talks to everyone. She even has her own Facebook page — “Cuddles Around Brevard County.” Currently, there are about 156 photos of Cuddles posing with admirers on her page as well as 40 “likes” — but we’d love to see her get many more.

Pet Priorities has several birds currently up for adoption, including a special needs Catalina Macaw and an Amazon. Birds come into the rescue quite often, but PP also works with county shelters by rescuing dogs in need of medical attention and they’re always looking for foster care families to help out.

Uhm, Here Kitty Kitty?

By M. Alberto Rivera

Genevieve was picked from her litter in the usual way. She did her best to be cute and offered her would-be adoptive human a glimpse of her affections. In short order she playfully swatted her human’s heart back and forth until Julia had no choice but to take this downy soft, cotton white kitten home.

It wasn’t until Genevieve was already an established part of the household that the family realized something was unique about her. Kicked back in a sunny spot on the sofa alongside Julia’s other cat, Gibson, Genevieve slept through the sounds of a vacuum cleaner while Gibson couldn’t clear out fast enough. After a bit she opened her eyes, sleepily blinked, and eyeballed the vacuum and its operator with a non-committal curiosity before returning to sleep. This was the first indication that something was different about her. And there’s her meow, which is slightly off-key, irregular, and discordant. The first time you hear it, you’ll wonder if she was deep into the catnip the night before.

When the family noticed that anyone could easily sneak up on her and that she didn’t respond to being called or shooed, the diagnosis was in: Genevieve was deaf. Deafness in blue-eyed cats with white fur is not uncommon. Depending on which website you use for reference, this “deafness prevalence” runs from 17-40 % in cats of this type.

Julia would have still picked Genevieve had she known she was deaf. This spirited cat likes to take on the vacuum cleaner, challenging it as Don Quixote confronted the windmills he mistook for giants, fearless and undaunted.

One of the unique challenges that comes with a deaf cat is disciplining her. Fellow feline Gibson has taken it upon himself to correct Genevieve’s behavior when she uses the couch as a scratching post or decides to dig up a potted plant. He jumps on her, as if to say, “Stop!! We’ll both get busted for this!”

Because she can’t hear traffic, Genevieve stays inside and seems to be content with this arrangement, having everything she needs. A typical cat in every other way, she loves to snuggle and purrs loudly when she’s happy. And like most cats, don’t expect her to come when you call.

Happy Jack
(Or How We Barely Managed to Adopt a Death Row Dog)
By M. Alberto Rivera

Admittedly I had gotten things off to a bad start. While waiting to be escorted back to the area where the shelter keeps the dogs available for adoption, I was engaged with a super-friendly cat who swatted at me playfully through the bars of his plastic kennel. After about 3 to 4 minutes of this, I realized this cat had only three legs. And by giving voice to my first thought, I set in motion the sort of scrutiny usually reserved for well-known drug mules at border crossings.

“Would we get a discount for adopting this cat?” I asked. The already annoyed woman knitted her brow and asked, “Why?”

“‘Cuz there’s less of him. He’s only got three legs.” This seemed like a reasonable request.

“It’s a SHE… and she costs the same to adopt as the others,” the woman behind the counter seethed.

The phone rang, and she answered it, no longer staring me down. Mercifully, a volunteer appeared and led us into the kennel area. My wife, Sheenagh, wanted a small dog and I was proactive lest we end up with a really small dog, the kind I generally regard as annoying. Those dogs are great for my friends or relatives. I like bigger dogs.

There were about six dogs that fit the size bill. After playing with a few, we narrowed our choices down to two — one very distracted beagle named Rebel and a Manchester Terrier not yet known as Jack. Jack, we were told, had been found wandering the streets and was due to be euthanized in four days. His skin was a mess, but if he’d been living out of trash cans, as we suspected, this was normal. Jack had an easy demeanor and was attentive to us when we took him outside. His eyes were alight with mischief, which we took as a good sign. So we asked if we could take him home as a foster dog, to see if he would be a good fit for the household. This is where we ran into trouble.

“So you have other pets?” the annoyed counter woman inquired.

“Yes.”

She asked for some pertinent information and entered data into the computer. “This says you have Emma, Gidget, and Tomas.”

“We just have Emma,” Sheenagh said.

‘What happened to Gidget?”

“Gidget passed,” I said simply.

“WHY did Gidget die?”

“Because she was 14 years old.”

“What happened to Tomas?” Annoyed Woman’s tone was the same kind cops use to let you know they know you’re lying.

“I took Tomas to the vet, but he wasn’t mine. He passed too.”

“WHY did he die?”

“Because pets die. He was 17 years old I think,” I said in mild disbelief.

“I’ve NEVER had a pet die on me,” Annoyed Woman said. I imagined a 37-year-old hamster still trudging along on a rusty spinning wheel in cage somewhere in her home. “I’ll have to speak to my supervisor about this.”

My wife was mortified by this sort of close examination. Mind you, she’d never set foot in a principal’s office until she interviewed for a teaching job. After several tense minutes, Annoyed Woman returned with the forms. “She says it’s okay.” Clearly, Annoyed Woman still believed we weren’t capable of such responsibility despite her higher up’s approval.

Jack and our other dog, Emma, got along and are mostly fond of one another. Jack’s skin cleared up, and he has graciously endured being bandaged by a group of enthusiastic girls under the age of six. He never seems to tire of being loved on, and in the final days of Sheenagh’s pregnancy he refused to leave her side. Jack protectively stayed beside her, presumably so she wouldn’t have to wait alone.

What more could you want from a dog?

Hannah & Bailey (aka The Schnoodle Sisters)
By Mary Nolan

The four-year-old Schnoodle (Schnauzer and Poodle) Sisters are half-sisters with just three months between them. Hannah was our chosen one at 10 weeks old, and Bailey completed the family by coming to us at six months old after their breeder called to see if we’d like another just like Hannah.

A woman had brought Bailey back and just couldn’t keep her. I told the breeder I’d come over to get Bailey and keep her for a week until I could find her a good home. Hannah, my neighbor and myself took the drive to Orlando to find Bailey shaggy, matted, and trembling.

Since that time, Bailey and Hannah have become the mascots of the Irish Shop in downtown Melbourne and Nolan’s Irish Shop in Cocoa Beach. Both greet visitors warmly, and some make special trips to both businesses to see if the sisters are in.

Tomboy Hannah is the athlete and Bailey, a true girly girl, is the cheerleader, particularly during the frequent tennis ball games we play on our stairs. Hannah will catch the ball I toss her at the top of the 18-step flight and nudge it back down to myself and the cheering Bailey at the bottom for hours on end. Hannah also tends to mother Bailey and keeps her in line if she wanders off.

We never imagined having two dogs, but have discovered with this inseparable pair that two are easier than one. They do everything together, but spend most of their time melting our hearts. Owning three businesses wears you out at the end of the day, and there’s nothing more wonderful than coming home and snuggling up with the Schnoodle Sisters.

Frankie

I’ve been told by countless reliable sources that Frankie is the best dog that ever existed.

She truly is an ambassador of her breed. Her mother’s name was Princess Something, and from what I remember of our brief meeting, her father was a Duke. Seriously.

Though from a long line of Chihuahua royalty, she keeps it simple with just “Frankie.” I don’t think she believes in titles.

To be honest, she’s really more like a cat, or a gerbil, than a dog. Her favorite thing in the world is to burrow under a blanket and sleep, preferably with another warm body, but if she has to do it alone, she will. She’s sweet, and kind, and wants nothing more than to love and be loved in return. But, more importantly — more sweetly, and kindly, and lovingly than anything she had ever done before — she saved my life.

She lied next to me during six months of cancer treatment. She always gave me space when I needed it, but usually I wanted her right next to me. She would curl up in whatever space she found — on my legs, my belly, or in a nook at my side. And she never complained.

I have no reliable source for this, but I’m pretty sure she sucked every last cancer cell from my body.

So thank you, Lady Frankie, Your Grace. I couldn’t be more indebted.

I wish there were hope for any of you meeting her, as it would certainly be your pleasure. But as strong as her love is for relaxing under a warm blanket is her hatred of stepping outside.

She’s too good for this world.

Raleigh
By Rhett Fischer

After finally finding the Jack Russell ad we were waiting for, my ex-girlfriend and I made the trip to Sebastian to pick up our boy. He was known to his owner as “The Talker,” and we soon found out why. To this day, after two years of life, this dog still talks in strange, cute ways.

This is the pet you look forward to coming home to. Every day, I can’t wait to see him waiting at he door for my arrival. A good friend likes to call him “Chase” (for obvious reasons), but “Raleigh” is what we call him, after the city I love to visit most.

I feel like I hit the lottery with this dog. He’s technically a Hunter Jack, bred from a pure Jack Russell and a Hunt Terrier. I look forward to the day I can get anther one from the same bloodline.

There’s only a few things I love as much as Raleigh: the way he runs next to me as I skate, his habit of jumping out of boats, and all his extended canine family. Between his mom and I and all his extended family, this dog is truly cherished.

Love you, Rara…

Small Dog, Big Personality

By Jessica Iliev

His name is Huli ‘Uli’Uli I’lio, and he’s the best birthday present I’v had so far.

It means “roll over, brown dog” in Hawaiian, but his friends call him Uli for short. Uli is supposed to be a miniature dachshund, but he’s little bit too big to be called miniature. He was born on the Big Island of Hawaii, but Eric found him on Oahu for my birthday two years ago when he was only six-weeks-old.

Uli grew up with two big female pit bull mixes, which explains why he thinks he’s a big guard dog. But his best friend was a stray kitten named Smiley Eric and I took in as well. They would wrestle every morning and Smiley even taught Uli how to hunt. One time, they even caught a bird together and brought it into our apartment. Bird turds and feathers everywhere… What a mess!

After a year of beachgoing and lazy living in Hawaii, Eric and I decided to move to Eric’s hometown of Cocoa Beach, and we couldn’t leave our best friend behind. Once we shipped our car and met it in California, we did a month’s drive across the country — and Uli drove all 3,000 miles in the lap of whomever happened to be in the passenger seat, seeing Hollywood, Death Valley, the Grand Canyon, the Great Salt Lake, the Rockies, the Nashville country scene, and finally the Atlantic Ocean.

We’ve all been living in Cocoa Beach for a year and Uli has fully adjusted to life here. He hopes he can go back to his old beach someday.

Please support Uli and his friends by signing the petition at www.brevardcountydogs.com

Lucky

Words and photos by Kate Flack

Just short of 15 years ago, Mark Longenecker was hanging out at a South Beach diner in Miami when he spotted a spotted dog in need of a new spot to lay his spotty head.

He came with a name and a collar, and seemed to be simply unwanted by his owner. His name was Lucky.

The girl in the diner who knew Mark knew he would be a sucker for the pooch, and so he was. Lucky got lucky that day and Mark accepted responsibility for his first dog ever that day, and stands by that responsibility nearly 15 years later.

Lucky loves life, and for a large breed, he is at the higher end of his life expectancy. The full-blooded Dalmatian lives such a great life that there are no signs of him calling it quits anytime soon. While Dalmatians in earlier days often ran ahead of horse-drawn firefighting carriages, Lucky opts for pulling Mark on his skateboard to the park down the road, or diving into the pool when Mark coerces him to do so.

With a strong local campaign in progress toward making a portion of our beaches dog-friendly, Lucky is hoping to see the day when he can skate down to the beach and frolic in the waves legally. To help his pursuit, please visit www.brevardcountydogs.com for a link to the petition that will be presented to Brevard County Commissioners in early 2011.

In the meantime, we wonder who really did get lucky. Mark and Lucky were both in the right place at the right time a decade and a half ago, their chemistry undeniable, their hides both covered in their own unique patterns.

Long Live “Lucky Longenecker.”

He’s one lucky dog.

Happiness is a Puppy

Words and Photos by Vanessa Bormann

We got Sadie partly out of grief, which I’m not apologetic for; she was almost named “Happy” because that’s what she’s made us again.

A few weeks ago while I was in Wisconsin on a family trip, John called me during a Brewers game to tell me our cat, Foxy, who had been missing for 24 hours, was no longer missing; she was dead. The idea of coming home to an empty apartment, visiting the grave John’s family dug under a willow tree in their backyard, and seeing her chair on the patio without her curled into a soft little ball was just too much. I’ve had and lost many pets throughout my life, but none like this one; the grief was unbearable, with the only small consolations being that she’d lived to 14, had died peacefully in the grass, and had been found, thanks to many kind neighbors. Still, moving through the last bit of summer without her comical, loving, and very dog-like personality lighting our way just plain hurt. Many people told me to “get another one” to make the grief easier, but I’d known for a long time that when she did expire from this world, only a dog could follow her legacy.

Sadie was rescued from a Georgia flea market seller by an anonymous member of the “The Dog Liberator.” She and her three siblings were to be sold that day or taken to a known high-kill shelter in Southern Georgia. Her rescuer, Hope, is aptly named, because that is just what she gave the four fuzzy puppies she’d saved. Transported to Florida and fostered by puppy-extraordinaire, Holly, the “Teddy Bear Puppies” were put up for adoption after a round of shots and being fixed. Lucky for us, this all occurred around the time we were looking for a dog on Petfinder.com. John saw Sadie first and expressed interest. I, admittedly, had my heart set on another dog and wanted to pursue that before meeting Sadie. As fate would have it, I never met the other dog, but I did meet Sadie (then named “Boo”), and on a sunny day in Winter Park, she adopted me — not the other way around.

In the weeks that have passed, I haven’t stopped looking at her. At present, she lays at my feet, as loyal, loving and tender as that first day. Each day also brings a new trick, a new discovery, and a new opportunity to watch her grow. “Happiness,” as a neighbor said, “is a puppy.” Every time she romps through the grass, pink tongue flapping in the end-of-summer heat, bounding to my legs to be praised for doing her “business” properly; every time she sighs and settles her muzzle on the top of my foot, or curls her paw around John’s hand, we feel it: the love she needed and the love we needed to give.

Sadie being a Borgi (Border Collie and Corgi mix), we expected a handful –– an intelligent, herd-orientated, shedding, excitable, and diligent dog. Time will tell exactly what her full personality is, but right now I feel lucky to have been adopted by this particular pup.

I would like our story to urge you to think twice before getting a pet from a store or a breeder. Adopting a shelter/foster pet is like nothing else; it’s as if they know what could have been if it weren’t for you. Organizations like The Dog Liberator and Animal Safehouse of Brevard should be two of your first stops for reasons too many to list here. Contact them, meet their animals and then tell me I wasn’t right.

http://thedogliberator.blogspot.com

www.animalsafehousebrevard.org

www.theshelterpetproject.org

COSMOS
By Courtney Dutson; Photos by Kate Flack

It took Tom Barrett two whole years of hard work to acquire his beloved pet Cosmos.

A Brevard native, Tom has always been in tune with the flora and fauna of our seaside environment. So he was quick to notice when the non-native, Bahamian Curly-Tailed Lizard migrated from South Florida (the site of their initial release on the U.S. mainland in the 1940s) and took up residence in Cocoa Beach within recent years.

He became fascinated with the new lizard, and decided to catch one to make it his pet. Little did he realize the true difficulty of this feat — it took him two years to actually catch one. The Curly Tails are quite elusive, and always run with their tails in their trademark tight curl at the sight of a human.

Tom finally triumphed two months ago in the parking lot behind the Eagle’s Nest, the site of a large Curly Tail colony. He tried his best (and only) technique of chasing after the lizards and attempting to throw his shirt over one. One little guy took a wrong turn and found himself cornered against a ladder. With the flick of a t-shirt, Tom had his new pet at last!

Cosmos was named and brought to his new home. Tom cared for him as “one of the family,” made up of Tom, his best friend and roommate, Clay, their two cats, and their dog. Tom and Clay even built “Cosimoto” his own custom lizard palace out of plywood, screen, a houseplant, a big water bowl, and some rocks.

With all the time spent hunting Curly Tails and hours spent hanging out with his new pet on the back porch, Tom had lots to tell me about his reptilian buddy. The best time for both Cosmos and Tom is feeding time! He eats 24 crickets once every few days. As soon as they are released in his habitat, Cosmos hunts and eats 7 to 12 instantly, one after another. The others disappear gradually throughout the day.

Whenever Tom catches a cockroach in his house or in the yard, Cosmos gets an extra special snack. He rips them apart and can eat an entire large palmetto bug in under 20 seconds! Tom says he never thought he would actually like catching roaches live, but now he kind of does, knowing how happy they make his pet. Interestingly, Cosmos will only eat live bugs; he is a true hunter who likes to chase his prey.

Cosmos’ other talents include jumping (up to one foot vertically), sleeping (up to 48 hours straight after a big meal), sunbathing, lounging in his water bowl, climbing, and burrowing. Once, he disappeared for two days when he burrowed under the potting soil of the houseplant in his enclosure and took a nap, completely baffling Tom and Clay until he came out.

Lizards aren’t known for their affectionate personalities, but Tom says that Cosmos definitely is more bonded to him than others. He is able to handle Cos after some running and head-butting in protest. He loves his pet as part of the family, and is committed to keeping him happy and healthy for the rest of his natural life, which is up to 10 years for Curly Tails.

As they like to say around their house, Tom is definitely “Down with the Cos.”

When your best pal disappears in the wee hours of the night it can be cause for great consternation.

But when your best pal disappears and six days and six nights go by without any sign of him, it can be downright devastating.

It was nearly dawn when I came home from a long trip down to Miami to retrieve two friends on a visit from Australia. It was late and we were tired once we got back to Cocoa Beach where I was house and dog sitting for some friends who live on the Banana River. When I arrived, I simply let my charge, Miles, and Humphrey, my own sneaky beagle, out for their nightly business, just as I’d done daily and nightly for several days prior.

Not two minutes had gone by when we realized that Humphrey, the little bastard, decided to go exploring. We split up to search. I went south down along the river rocks while the Aussies headed north. We searched high and low with flashlights and treats, whistling and yelling, and trying in vain to coax him back. Before long the sun had come up, and still no sign of the elusive beagle. The search was thrust into second gear with a full auto assault driving down every nearby street and hollering his name. When this plan yielded zero results, Plan C went into effect. We printed flyers and set about posting them all along the area where he disappeared. By this time the sun was setting, and it was time to sit back and wait for a call. The next morning brought no calls. Serious panic set in. Where the hell did he go? How could no one have seen him? That part of the island wasn’t so large an area. I started to fear the worst.

We tried everything as the days went by. Every shelter, veterinary clinic, and groomer has been alerted. I even tried one of those “Amber Alerts” for pets, which involves paying out the yingyang for a blanket of calls in the area where you’d last seen your beloved pet. More flyers were made and spread further north into Cocoa Beach and south into Satellite. Signs were made and stuck into the ground at optimal locations. His handsome mug was sent out through Facebook, 2nd Light.com, 16Streets.com, and TheBeachsideResident.com. The news spread quickly and no stone was left unturned. Every night I grew lonelier and more desperate. I just couldn’t understand. How could the little sonofabeagle just disappear with no trace?

Nearly a week later, after friends of friends of friends passed along emails alerting of his situation, I got a call.

It seems that instead of running down the river as we’d assumed, he did the unthinkable and went straight for the road. At 5 a.m. a passing car nearly struck him. The car stopped and averted two other cars from turning him into beagle juice. They quickly coaxed him into their own vehicle. It seems this kind family were embarking on weeklong vacation to Cape Hatteras, NC when they were suddenly encumbered with a wily beagle excited to see new people along with their two female Shelties. They waited and looked around. Since the owner was busy running along the river shouting like an idiot, the rescuers were left hanging. They had a ferry to catch in NC and a decision to make.

And so began Humphrey’s vacation to the Outer Banks. Several attempts to call the Brevard Animal Services went unanswered due to the time of his being found. An attempt to have him scanned for a chip also turned up no results. And as the family crept higher north and well out of cell phone range, they decided they’d just have to figure it out when they returned.

At noon the following Sunday, Humphrey returned in an air-conditioned Ford Excursion back to a heavily postered Cocoa Beach. Marqees and banners welcomed him home as if he were some kind of hero, when in actuality the little cuss had simply taken a vacation without me! It was a joyful reunion, and thankfully, he’d been well taken care of. After a lot of mushy stuff, he took his place at my feet while I sat the office and slept the entire day.

Big thanks to everyone who helped — Jet Press Printing, Colossal Signs, 2nd Light, A1A Signs, 16 Streets, Kim and Larry Walker, Slow & Low BBQ, Surfer’s Sports Pub, Azz and Jojo, Micky, Flavia, the Caldwells, Henry, Deb, Kate, Leandra, Denise Stanton, and so many others. Thanks to all for not giving up and helping me keep my head straight.

Repeat After Me
By M. Alberto Rivera; Photos by Kate Flack

My parents, Dr. Miguel Rivera and his wife Alis, have cared for Koh’lohe and Kui’ipo since 1968. When you’ve lived with an animal for 43 years, what story do you start with?

The best one, of course.

In December 1974, my father answered a knock at the door to discover a police officer and a representative from the Department of Health and Rehabilitative Services, both with stern expressions.

“Sir, we’re here about the children.”

“What about them?”

“We have complaints. Neighbors called. They can hear them being beaten regularly.”

“Who’s being beaten?” My dad asked.

“The children, sir. Your neighbor says he can hear the kids being beat every night.”

“They’re not here. They haven’t been here for a week,” was my dad’s surprised response.

They asked to come in, and my dad obliged. All three kids and my mom were out of the area for Christmas break visiting family. My father was home alone, with a pair of very noisy birds, who sounded a lot like a houseful of little kids. And true to their breed, Amazon parrots are very noisy at sunrise and sunset. In their case, Koh’lohe and Kui’ipo are still really loud at sunset.

And in 1974, in a home with three kids under the age of ten, and the constant coming and going of their friends, the birds sounded like a few more kids. Their ability to mimic is uncanny. “No fair! I’m telling!” “That’s mine!” “It’s not fair!” “I don’t want to!” “Stop it!” — all fairly common phrases in homes with children, they suddenly took on new urgency to some unseen neighbor certain we were being spanked senseless every night.

Once inside, the concerned parties found an empty home and the foot-high, green and yellow culprits acting shy. After a few minutes of getting used to the presence of strangers, the birds became animated with the sun’s waning light and began their nightly tirade of protests.  Relieved, they wished my dad a Merry Christmas, while still clearly hearing the screaming calls of two Amazon yellow heads saying goodbye to the setting sun before turning in for the night.

Seventy is not an uncommon lifespan for these birds. Their claws are arthritic, and they don’t move as quickly as they once did, but they laugh when you laugh. They still sing along with the radio and whistle a greeting or say “Hello” when you come in the door, happy to see you. Now that the house full of children has been replaced with grandkids, we hear certain phrases returning, “Hi, baby!” “That’s mine!” and occasionally, “It’s not fair!” And while it might not always be fair, it is always fun.

Thunder & Cheyenne
• Words and photos by Kate Flack •

Prior to entering the home of Patti and Ryan Spadafora-Wilson, I was admittedly a little nervous.

I was there to photograph and “interview” their two wolves as candidates for “Pet of the Month.” Upon entering, I realized how silly this thought was as one of the sweetest, most gentle fluffy creatures greeted me at the door — all 40 lbs. of her — and I couldn’t help but think just how much this beauty acted like a dog. I was immediately at ease until I was told that she was a dog — their 15-year-old Siberian Husky. Wow, did I feel silly. I then looked out the window and saw Thunder: an 11-year-old Alaskan Interior Timberwolf male in all his statuesque glory.

I stood mesmerized — and scared — and wondered if I could muster the courage to exit the safety of the house to the backyard where Thunder and Cheyenne (a 13-year-old female hybrid who is approximately 60% wolf and 40% sheperd) claimed the territory as their own. I’ve known Patti for years, long before she had the wolves, and knew there was never anything I’d done to deserve being tricked into becoming their dinner. I trusted her judgment, took a deep breath, and just went with it.

She’d told me in advance what to expect. Cheyenne (aptly named) was very shy and retreated to the kennel for the duration of my stay; Thunder greeted me immediately, smelled me all over for 10 minutes, and then get over it. When he first approached me, my biggest fear was that he would sense my fright. My cowardice intensified as he earnestly inhaled my scent, which no doubt carried the scent of my own dog. I knew I had to overcome this if I was ever going to get any photos.

Though he was so much like a dog, there was also something so wild and so different about him that the adrenaline rushed through my body to the point of making me feel high. I made a conscious decision to overcome my apprehension and conquered them about 10 minutes into his getting-to-know-you ritual. If he was going to eat me, he would have done it by now. He relaxed, I relaxed, and it was game on. I was stoked to be welcomed to his pack and took full advantage of capturing the moment with my Nikon while Patti told me their story.

Both wolves were acquired as pups and spent a lot of time living indoors with other family pets until Thunder reached about a year old. It was clear the two connected and wanted their own space in a territory more native. The Spadafora-Wilsons erected a tall, chain link fence with a separate large kennel area complete with their own “house,” an open wooden structure underneath which they burrow.

They howl when they hear sirens and I’ve been told their growl is quite frightening. They eat regular dog food and have been known to make the best of random critters making their way into the yard. They go for walks on leashes, have the most stunning, hypnotizing golden eyes, and in the summer, Thunder sheds his wiry coat which grows thick and full in the winter.

As we went back inside the house to get treats, Cheyenne immediately returned, concentrating on every inch of the yard where I had stood with her keen sense of smell. When we went back outside, she immediately retreated, but returned again when she witnessed the distribution of snacks. She then strolled around the yard more comfortably around me than Patti had ever seen her do with anyone outside of the family. I felt honored to be accepted by this amazing beast. By the time I left, I was 100% comfortable with these domesticated hybrids and totally at ease.

In all, the experience for me was surreal. I was invited back and will definitely go to shoot them again when Thunder has his luxurious winter coat later.

That’s an invitation I simply cannot refuse.

Gizmo
• Words and Photos by Scooter Newell •

For the last few months Esteban Velez has been dog sitting for his mother Rosa in Cape Canaveral. Gizmo, named for his resemblance to “Gizmo” from the movie “Gremlins,” has had quite the life in his short six or so years on earth.

Rosa brought Gizmo in to give him a comfortable life — “rescued” him from an acquaintance, you might say — and Gizmo has been at her side ever since. However, a recent job opportunity sent Rosa out of Florida, and her oldest son took over the daily doggie duties. Gizmo continues to enjoy walks to the beach, bike-basket rides around town, and chasing one his many tennis balls. Unlike his namesake, you can feed this little guy after midnight without incident, but if you mess with Rosa or Esteban, this cute little pooch can turn into “the Cobra” in a heartbeat, fighting off any mongoose that comes near.

Some folks say you don’t pick your pet, but rather your pet picks you. And that is surely the case with Gizmo and Esteban, who’s been a dog lover for many years, though usually of larger breeds. But with some adjustment and time together, the two quickly became best friends. The duo even built a stair set together so Gizmo can climb onto the bed.

This Mother’s Day, Rosa will return to visit her sons and to pick up her Gizmo. She has since settled out of state with a nice comfy place they both can call home. This marks the end of Esteban’s dog sitting chapter and the beginning of Rosa and Gizmo’s next several together.

Good pets and good people — that’s what dog living is all about. Yep, Gizmo sure picked out some good people.

Happy Mother’s Day, Rosa!

LEAH

Even at 84 years of age (people years, folks…for dogs that equals 12), Leah — a Jack Russell terrier — inspires her person, Courtney Dutson, still nearly every day with her adaptability to new surroundings.

Best buds since the fifth week of little Leah’s life, Courtney was 16 when her mom surprised her with the pup for Christmas. An avid competitive equestrian, Courtney grew up on 15 acres surrounded by horses where Jack Russells were as much a requirement as a saddle and reins. Leah fit right in both on and off the farm and made for a more suitable companion at college than a horse. (Last I checked, FSU dorms aren’t exactly horse friendly!)

During Courtney’s college years, Leah became more spoiled than ever, and was rarely left alone. She was smuggled into Publix, Wal-Mart, concerts, and movie theaters. Upon Courtney’s graduation, the pair moved about to Atlanta, Orlando, the Florida Keys, and even North Carolina before settling in Cocoa Beach. Somewhere along the roads traveled, Courtney traded horses for wakeboards, surfboards, and all things water-bound while Leah quickly became accustomed to front-basket bike rides, pulling Court on the long (skate) board, sneaking onto the beach, and playing with big balls. Yes, Leah loves big balls! In fact, the bigger, the better!

After an hour or so of chasing balls on the beach, little Leah lacks the desire to pull her person home on the longboard. Instead, she’s lovingly held under her master’s right arm as the pair navigate downtown Cocoa Beach — Courtney, perfectly agile; Leah, perfectly relaxed.

Yes, folks… this is what the retired life is all about.

Tucker the Almost Famous Party Animal
Words and photos by Kate Flack

If he looks familiar, it’s for a reason: Tucker Wolters gets around.

He’s a social machine and he’s always on the scene. He never misses the hottest events around, so long as he’s permitted. I first ran into him at the Space Coast Art Festival this past Thanksgiving weekend where he made a lasting impression on me and all the other bipeds he mingled with. When I recognized his likeness in a photo at Paddy Cassidy’s Irish Pub in Cocoa Beach, I knew I had a top candidate for “Pet of the Month” on my hands. And what timing!

Tucker celebrates his 11th birthday at the end of February, but since the month was so short, we decided to hold off and honor him for the entire month of March instead. This is appropriate, of course, because if you know Tucker — and everyone knows Tucker — he will be celebrating all month long anyway.

So how does a yellow Labrador retriever celebrate his birthday? With our weather finally warming, he’ll no doubt be swimming in the pool or sneaking off to the beach to frolic in the waves during his days off. (Yes, Tucker works. He is the official PR master for his master’s construction business. Where there is Michel Wolters, there is Tucker.) At night, you will likely see Tucker partying it up on the patio at Paddy’s where his infamous image (seen photo) hangs in the dart room, serving as inspiration for the Proper Houligans Dart Team for whom he is the official mascot.

His fame and notoriety have spread far beyond our small town. When he travels with Michel back to Auburn, AL, people are calling out his name long before acknowledging his master.

There is only one thing that can stop this dog from being a social butterfly: tennis balls. Throw one and nothing else matters. You’ve never seen this much determination. If it could be bottled and sold as an elixir, it would be called “Tucker Tonic” and we could finally achieve world peace.

And its slogan would be: “Saving the world, one tennis ball at a time.”

When we interviewed January’s Boardrider of the Month, it was clear that Jessica Williams is an accomplished surfer. What we later learned is that her cat is as well! (By cat standards, anyway…)

Chloe, a year-and-a-half old Siamese Himalayan mix, lives a more adventurous life than many people I know. She has spent half of her life living on a sailboat at various locations along the Banana and Indian Rivers and includes camping on the infamous Thousand Islands with her favorite people. When the waters are warm enough, you can often spot Chloe riding the nose of one of Jessica’s many surfboards as the two paddle through the waterways taking in the natural beauty of Cocoa Beach’s mangroves.

Chloe and Jessica have been together since she was just a tiny kitten and both share a unique bond. Like mother, like daughter, Chloe enjoys strolls along the beach with her mom and stays right by her side whether on or off leash. At home, she loves attention, but has suffered a bit of cabin fever during the cold winter months. Like most of the hip locals, this cool cat prefers to spend her time outdoors.

Even in the chilly waters, Chloe seemed pleased to be demonstrating her board skills.

We look forward to seeing more of her on the waters by summer.

PET OF THE MONTH : Maggie

When Aaron Netterstrom was in Kindergarten, he — like all his classmates — had the opportunity to take Stanley home for a day. Stanley was the “take-home” bear. A much anticipated privilege held by one 5- or 6-year-old at a time, tales of Stanley’s adventures retold by his hosts and hostesses would put any traveling garden gnome’s to shame.

Aaron was a good host — a great host in fact — and took Stanley to the beach, hosted him at dinner, and played games with him. Then, suddenly, Stanley disappeared.

WHERE DID STANLEY GO?!

The search party began and lasted a full six hours before a single clue was found: an arrangement of sticks resembling that of a bird’s nest atop a mound of fresh dirt in the yard. Sure enough, Stanley the take-home bear had been buried and his grave marked. Now who would do such a thing? The dirt on the nose of the family pet, Maggie, was as much a dead giveaway then as it would be in years to come. In those years to come, over 13 stuffed animals were found on the property!

Maggie, a 10-year-old Saint Bernard, was “dropped off” many years ago at a Cracker Barrel restaurant at the age of just two or three. A breed-specific rescue was alerted and took her in. Lucky for Maggie, there are kind-hearted families like the Netterstrom’s who seek rescues for their family pets.

Having been a family member for nearly 7 years, Maggie has been a great loyal friend to Aaron, now 8, and Seth, 10, from the very beginning. Whether it was pulling them in their wagon or playing in the snow up north, her maternal instincts to nurture were evident from the beginning. They have also come to surface with various puppies, rabbits and cats who have lived under the Netterstrom’s roofs. She loves snuggling with Marbles, the household kitty, and playing with Jenny, the resident Golden Retriever. (Yes, all the animals are rescues!)

Maggie is super friendly with the neighbors and can be seen in the front window daily anticipating their morning walks. In her deep, husky “voice,” she never fails to wish them all a Good Morning. This is definitely one dog whose bark is louder than her bite.

Seth tells it best: “Maggie likes to bark at everything, but is the best dog in the world!”

Skippy the Schipperke!

This little devil certainly lives up to his breed’s reputation. Originating in the 16th century from the Flemish regions of Belgium, the fox-like Schipperke bares a resemblance to and is often a miniature sheepdog, and is often considered one.

Stubborn and mischievous, little Skippy the Schipperke took full advantage of being off-leash during his photo shoot and decided that going for a 3/4-mile run along the shore was more fun than playing supermodel! Similar antics three months back unfortunately led to harm. Skippy often accompanies his master, John Calhoun — owner of Beachside Screens — on local car rides. While stopped at a stop sign, Skippy decided it was a great time to check out the terrain and made a jump for it! He landed poorly, resulting in a severe fracture to his front right leg. With his screening business coming to a near standstill this past year, John didn’t have the money required as a deposit by several local vets to treat Skippy, so he held his little friend all night while he yelped in pain. The next day, he contacted the folks at Aloha Pet Hospital who understood the severity of Skippy’s injuries, and as devoted animal lovers, agreed to treat him in good faith that John would take care of the expense as soon as he could. Skippy has since made a near full recovery and is back to living the beach lifestyle.

Schipperkes are known for being excellent boat dogs and water lovers; at a mere 8-months-old, the 20-lb. Skippy has taken up surfing and has already mastered the sport. In between sessions, he loves to snack on seafood, ice cubes, and frozen grapes. He is especially fond of crab claws. What he doesn’t like is to be left alone. Skippy loves children, his master, and other dogs. He has five siblings throughout Cocoa Beach, all born from the same litter, and loves to spend time with them. Despite his headstrong mindset, he is truly a lover at heart and loves to both give and receive affection with all who cross his path.

Unfortunately, Skippy still has an outstanding vet bill with the good folks at Aloha in excess of $1,000 for surgically treating his broken leg, and Beachside Screens has still not recovered from our struggling economy. Donations towards Skippy’s treatment can be made to Aloha Pet Hospital. If you can help, please call 777-6444.

“There is no such thing as a stupid dog… just stupid people.”

For nearly a year, I have grit my teeth and winced with disgust over the child with the twentysomething-pound mutt who walked past my house almost daily. The kid and his young friends got a kick out of letting the dog stand at the end of his leash, taunting my own dog and the large intact male pit bull across the street with anger and aggression. When I witnessed the behavior I corrected it, but it occurred several times thereafter. I couldn’t help but imagine the tragic headlines of yet another pit bull mauling a child or smaller dog. If something were to happen though, it wouldn’t be the fault of the pit bull but the result of him being antagonized by an ignorant child whose parents never taught him better. Who knows? Even the child could get hurt, the public once again satisfied that pit bulls are the devil incarnate, thanks to media bias.

It took nearly a year after the first taunting for an unfortunate incident to occur, and it was our very own former Pet of the Month who happened to be off-leash. As I opened the door to let my well-trained and socially adjusted dog out to do his business, the young boy skated by with the mutt and Newman ran toward the two. The child released his dog and a one-sided scuffle ensued. I quickly recovered Newman on call-back command, but not before his floppy ear was torn and bleeding all over my driveway. This — my 60-lb. dog — a victim of a smaller beast who was never properly socialized. After a $300 vet bill and multiple stitches in two places, my baby boy, now sporting an uncomfortable Elizabethan collar, spent the next few days in misery, his head wrapped in bandages. Both our lives were altered for over a week while he recuperated.

The fact that the youngster rang my doorbell immediately after the incident asking if we were going to have his dog put to sleep was an admission that his dog had misbehaved. It could be argued that I was in the wrong, as Newman was not on a lead, but he was on my own property.

Very few dogs are born inherently mean. The problem with mean dogs is that they are often the product of poor socialization and owners who don’t spend time either training or playing with their charges. If a dog is known to be aggressive or to have aggressive tendencies, it needs to be handled by someone who is strong enough mentally and physically to control it. I had several neighbors inform me that this particular little dog was “very mean.” So why is an 8-year-old child regularly given control of the animal?

Many people are guilty of breedism. They want to blame the breed and not the deed. I am sad to report that earlier this year, two former Pets of the Month moved on to The Rainbow Bridge. Jedi, a chow mix, lived 13 long years without incident; Daisy, a full-blooded pit bull lived an amazing 17 years. Great owners = great dogs. Jedi, Daisy and their respective owners are prime examples of this equation — and both dogs are greatly missed!

Newman has made a near full recovery, minus some scabbing. I’ve learned my lesson, however. Even though I trust my own dog’s actions wholly, I can’t trust those of another. What’s more, had I previously reported the earlier antagonizing which was no doubt a contributing factor to the aggressive nature of the smaller dog, I might have an extra $300 in my pocket.

If you are witness to any type of animal aggression or behavior promoting aggression, it’s imperative that you report the behavior immediately to Animal Control for the purpose of documentation.

Be good to your dogs, and they will be good to you!

BUOY

Sir “C” Buoy.

Yep, that’s the name I’d chosen to name my new lab pup who was born on September 11, 2002. I ended up just calling him simply “Buoy,” but my friends had their own nicknames for him. He’d just celebrated his 7th birthday less than a week ago, and last week he was taken from me by a careless driver on September 16, 2009 in front of his own house in Cocoa Isles — the same neighborhood Buoy cruised for the better part of his life.

Being a tugboat captain, I knew from the moment I got Buoy that he was going to be my first mate aboard my tug, and his first experience at sea consisted of a round-trip from Key West to Texas with stops in Tampa Bay and Mobile, Alabama. He had more days at sea than some fishermen I know.

He was the coolest salty sea dog, and I was fortunate to have one of God’s creatures fill my life with joy everyday. He was known by just about everyone in Cocoa Beach, because wherever I went, he went too. He kept me company for seven years; my buddy, my best friend, my rock… He’d freely cruise the yards of all the friendly people in Cocoa Isles, accepting a cookie or taking a dip in someone’s pool. He was part of this town and he’ll be missed by many.

We call dogs “man’s best friend,” but to myself and many others, Buoy was more. He was my compadre, my pillow on the floor, my warmth in the cold, a tissue for my eyes, and a partner to play catch or tag with. His was the first face I’d see in the morning — a smile in the eyes of my best friend to start my day. I’ll miss him and I know Cocoa Isles has lost more than just a dog. I’m sorry to all the kids who loved to play with him. He enjoyed your attention and laughter.

Rest in peace, my Buoy Boy. I will greet you again one day in a place just this side of heaven named Rainbow Bridge, a place God reserved for animals awaiting the arrival of their owners, and then we shall cross into heaven together.

I love you, Buoy.

Your buddy,

“Daddy Rip”

Currently residing with a friend of Savannah’s in Cocoa Beach, this golden retriever will likely never give up his pool home and backyard laden with coconuts. It isn’t too often that you’ll see Jupiter dry or without a coconut, ball or stuffed animal in his mouth.

Jupiter was just a puppy when Savannah gifted her son Gage with him nearly 8 years ago. It’s a struggle to be so far away for both people and pooch. Lucky for Jupiter, he was able to catch a glimpse of his mom recently on “The Tonight Show” while she assisted Conan O’Brien and five others with lifting a 365-lb. albino reticulated python. Knowing that California has such creatures gives Jupiter even more reason to stay in Cocoa Beach!

Like many locals, Jupiter hopes his family will come back to join him and eagerly awaits their next visitation. In the meantime, it’s all about long dog days by the pool, swimming and collecting coconuts to his heart’s content. He does have just one question for his mom, though: “Did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?”

When I arrived to meet Romeo, he had the same effect on me. He greeted me with “Hello,” and as I nervously giggled when he climbed up my arm to my shoulder, he joined me with his own cackling laughter. Romeo is definitely a charmer, and his talents and charisma don’t stop there. He dances on command (what woman wouldn’t love such a guy?), he absolutely loves to snuggle and he frequently says “I love you.”

The 6-year-old affectionate cockatoo also has great taste in social activities. He’s been to our beaches, enjoys boating through our local river systems, and has even hosted a short-lived but not-so-long-forgotten monthly parrot social at Fishlips’ outdoor bar. Bird owners would enjoy a free beer while their feathered friends would enjoy mashed potatoes.

Romeo has a long life of love and laughter ahead of him. He is likely to live another 60-plus years and has many in line for his guardianship should Matt make it to the pearly gates before him. Ownership of a Moluccan cockatoo is not just a long-term commitment, it requires at least 4 hours of attention daily to keep such a guy happy. If neglected or just not properly cared for, Romeo would easily become depressed, grow excessively loud and resort to plucking out his feathers.

But we don’t see that happening anytime soon.

One dreary night in a condo in Gainesville, Dr. Larry Wayne Robben’s youngest daughter and her friend were distracted by a painful screeching noise outside their front door.

Confused and curious, the young college students opened the door to find an adorable sick kitten begging to enter. The two animal lovers did their best to find the kitten’s mother, but to no avail. Lucky for the little guy, he was taken in, fed and nursed back to health. For no specific reason, the girls called him Edgar.

Like many college students, the girls had led a rather nomadic life and moved to various places around the country. When Edgar visited Cocoa Beach for the first time, he and Wayne formed a special bond immediately. After several visitations, neither Edgar nor Wayne wanted to say goodbye, and Edgar much preferred the leisurely lifestyle of lounging by the pool and hunting around his new tropical surroundings.

Edgar has spent many afternoons on the desk in Sandy Robben’s office staring at the bird feeder outside the window, waiting for Wayne to come home for work. As soon as the garage door opens, he takes off for the kitty door leading to the garage and darts outside — not to greet Wayne — but to prey upon the birds and whatever else he’d spied all day through the window. He’s kind enough to thank his people with his own catch of the day: squirrels, mice, birds…you name it.

Going on 15, Edgar has slowed down considerably over the past few years and now prefers the chase of lizards over birds and squirrels. An accomplished hunter, he no longer feels the need to impress anyone with his mastery of the sport. Been there, done that. A proven hunter and true companion, he now spends most of his days most just relaxing and getting spoiled.

Edgar, you sure picked the right doorstep to cry on.

Once upon a time, Brandon Campbell was on an extended surf trip in Puerto Rico when he happened upon a limping, mangy and starving puppy on Hobo Beach. He grabbed the pup whom he believed to be approximately 6 months old, threw him in the back of his truck and took him back to the compound where he stayed. Thankful for the grub and TLC, Bruno took immediately to his new master and the two never parted.

Two and a half years later, Bruno and Brandon still enjoy beach life together where they reside at the well-known Spanish House in Melbourne Beach. If you surf, you know the place; and if you know the place, you likely know Bruno. He’s the beautiful shepherd/hound-looking mix patiently waiting near the water for Brandon to finish out his set. Still grateful for the companionship formed, Bruno is quick to notice when his best friend is riding his last wave and promptly arises to greet his master as he comes back to shore.

The ladies love handsome Bruno, which has earned him the nickname “Rico Suave.” When he isn’t charming the babes in bikinis or chilling on shore, Bruno enjoys a great love for the water and often swims an hour at a time near the reef. We’re pretty sure he might even surf if given the opportunity.

Brandon isn’t the only local to have brought back a dog from Puerto Rico, where the government lacks programs for mass sterilization. Strays are abundant and officials are fed up with the overpopulation. Meanwhile, animal rights activists are disgusted by the purported disregard for animal welfare where the issue is so dominant that threats of tourism boycott have been spurred. Changes have begun.

“Save A Sato” (“sato” is slang for street dog) is a non-profit organization based in San Juan dedicated to easing the suffering of Puerto Rico’s homeess and abused animals. For more information on this effort which has rehabilitated and re-homed over 20,000 strays since 1996, please visit www.saveasoto.org. “Manos por Patas,” or Hands for Paws, is another effort. The Florida-based non-profit works with Puerto Rican veterinarians to provide sterilization and vaccinations for strays along with raising public awareness. More info can be found at www.manosporpatas.org.

Just like Bruno, we would love to see as many stray dogs both here and abroad live happily ever after.

Photos by Brandon Campbell unless otherwise noted.