WESTERN BLACK RHINOS ARE EXTINCT!

On Thursday, November 10, 2011, the Western Black Rhino was officially declared extinct.  This was a sad thing to happen, even though rhinos are very weird-looking animals, if you ask me.  But it's not their fault if they look weird, and it's definitely not nice for this type of rhino to have to go extinct.  If fleas went extinct, that would be a different matter because I don't think many people or animals would miss fleas very much.  But rhinos are nicer than fleas because they don't bite you and make you itch all the time.  On the other hand, you would not want to get stepped on by a rhinoceros because that would make you all squished and flat.

The last place that anybody saw Western Black Rhinos or any signs of them, such as their poop, was in 2006 in Cameroon.  In 2000, there might have still been 10 of these animals left in Cameroon, but now there is no trace of them anywhere.

The reason for the Western Black Rhino's going extinct is that for years poachers have been killing them  to get their horns.  These horns are made out of something called keratin, which is the same stuff that fingernails and toenails and hair is made of.  There is a belief in Eastern medicine that rhinoceros horn will cure cancer and do other good stuff like that.  Western scientists say there is no proof that this is true, but a lot of people are willing to pay Big Bucks for rhino horns on the black market.  I think these people should just pull out their own fingernails and use that keratin instead, but as usual, nobody asked for my opinion!

Since poachers can make a whole bunch of money selling the horns, they keep killing rhinos.  And the poachers haven't been punished very much for doing this mean illegal stuff, so that's another reason that they keep doing it.

Western Black Rhinos were between 4.6 and 5.6 feet tall and weighed 1,800--2,900 pounds.  They had two horns, just like other African rhinos.  Asian rhinos (except for Sumatran rhinos) only have one horn.  And the bigger horn of the Western Black Rhino could be as long as 4.3 feet.

Another type of rhinoceros is the Eastern Black Rhino, and it is not extinct yet.  We have one of them at the Kansas City Zoo, and she had a baby last spring.  Luckily, the baby rhinos don't have horns when they are born, because if they did, it would be kind of painful for the mama rhino.  Anyway, back in 1900 or so, there were about 100,000 Eastern Black Rhinos in Africa, but by the 1960s, only 1,500 were left.  Of course, this was because of the big, bad poachers.  But since then, a lot of people have tried to save the Eastern Black Rhino, so today there are about 4,500 of them.



Sadly, the situation of the Northern White Rhino is not as good.  There are only 4 of them left for sure. These 4 used to be in a zoo in the Czech Republic, but now they live on a ranch in Kenya.  There might also be a few wild ones left in Congo and South Sudan, but no one has seen them for sure.  So the Northern White Rhino is said to be "possibly extinct."

The Javan Rhino is in even worse shape, at least in Vietnam, where it is "probably extinct."  There are a few Javan Rhinos left on the island of Java, but not very many, and there are getting to be fewer of them all the time.

And now for some good news, which is about the Southern White Rhinos.  At the end of the 19th century, only about 100 of there were left, but now there are over 20,000.  This is because of special efforts to stop the poaching and to breed more of these rhinos.  In my opinion, this is what people should be doing all over the world with their wild animals, but sometimes people are poor and hungry and desperate to make a little money, so they don't care too much about conservation.  Which is sad, but that's the way things are.  If I were Queen of the World, I would make sure everyone had enough food to eat so that nobody had to cut down rainforests or kill wild animals for bush meat or to get their horns or tusks.

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A FINE DOGGY POEM THAT I WROTE MYSELF

Recently, Mom showed me a poem that was written by a famous poet named Robert Frost.  This poem is called Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.  It is one of Mom's favorite poems, and she said maybe I could write one sort of like it.  Well, I thought the poem was pretty good, but it doesn't have any dogs in it, only a horse.  Also it is about snow, which I don't want to think about, since it will be here soon enough.  So I decided I could make Mr. Frost's poem quite a bit better by writing it from a dog's point of view.  But I do want to thank him for providing me with such nice poetic inspiration.

PROWLING THROUGH TOWN 
ON A SUMMER EVENING

Whose bone this is I think I know.

He does not guard it closely, though,

And will not see me sneak away,

My juicy, stolen loot to stow.

And thus, with bone in mouth, I race,

Right to my favorite hiding place.

I dig a hole that’s nice and deep,

Then shake the dirt clods off my face.

My bone is safe there; it will keep,

While off to find more treats I leap,

With miles to go before I sleep,

With miles to go before I sleep.

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I'M A CALENDAR BOY! by Nicky

Guess what!  I am now famous because I am in a calendar that REGAP made!  I am the October Dog, and I am very handsome in my photo.  This photo was taken in June at Dog-n-Jog, by a woman named Gina, of Spirare Photography.  And everybody who sees my photo immediately wants to buy the calendar, which is good, because that is how REGAP can make money to rescue more greyhounds from the racetracks.

Yesterday there was a big calendar-launching party at Pooches' Paradise, so Mom and I walked over there.   Lots of people came to the party, and more importantly, so did lots of greyhounds.  I got to sniff a whole bunch of greyhound butts, and I liked doing that, so I was very happy.  Also I put my "pawtograph" on anybody's calendar who wanted me to.

In this picture, you can just barely see my head and front legs,
at the right-hand side of the photo.  I'm wearing a yellow muzzle.

Mom bought 3 calendars and also a fleece sweatshirt sort of thing that says REGAP on it.  Then Mom and I got our picture taken together, but we won't be able to see the pictures until Thursday, when they will be online.  Mom wanted me to prick my ears up, but I just can't do that when I'm nervous, and being in a whole gang of strange people makes me sort of nervous.

In this photo, you can see Mom, with the doorway behind her.
You can't see me, but I was there, probably pawtographing a calendar.

Anyway, Mom ate some chocolate chip cookies, but she didn't give me any of them because chocolate isn't good for dogs.  But we brought home some dog treats because they were giving them away for free.  I have to share them with my brothers and sister, which doesn't seem fair since they didn't get to be in a calendar.  Mom says I will be lucky if she lets me eat any of the treats at all because I am not supposed to be eating anything besides my regular dog food.  Lately I have had a little diarrhea problem, and supposedly this happens when I eat treats and stuff like that.  But Mom is afraid that maybe the answer to why I have diarrhea is not quite that simple.  In other words, it might be something more expensive to diagnose and fix!

Yesterday morning I was out in the yard, digging in one of my favorite holes, and when Mom came out to get me, she caught me eating dirt.  Also I had mud all over my nose.  So she griped about having to clean that off before we went to the calendar party.  And she said it was no wonder I was having diarrhea, if I was eating dirt.  But I think it's better to eat dirt than poop, which is what Mel and Barry and Piper eat.  Mom just really needs to put these things in perspective.

This one of the greyhound puppies that somebody is fostering.
There are two of these puppies (or maybe three--I lost count).
Of course, everybody thinks puppies are adorable, so they got lots of attention.

When the party was mostly over, Mom and I walked back home.  Then we both took naps, and so did all the other dogs and cats, even though they didn't go to the calendar party, so there was no reason for them to be tired.  Mom showed everybody my picture in the calendar, and I think they were all jealous, even though they were polite enough not to say so.

And before I quit writing, I want to especially thank Aunt Glenda, because she and Uncle Bob took pictures at the calendar party yesterday, and she told Mom it was okay to use some of the photos when I wrote in Piper's blog.

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IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! I'M 9 TODAY!

Hooray!  It's my very special day, so I'm expecting a whole bunch of extra attention and pampering!

I couldn't think of any birthday-related topics to write about, so I guess maybe I will just write about ME!  You are probably wondering how I am doing with my Cushing's Disease, and I will tell you:  I'm doing fine!  On Tuesday I had to get another blood test, so that meant I stayed at Dr. Griswald's office most of the day, and I didn't get any breakfast before I went there, so it was not a fun time.

Anyway, what we found out from the blood test was that my cortisol levels are getting higher again, but right now I'm still in the Addisonian range, instead of being Cushingoid like I was before.  Don't you like that word, Cushingoid?  I think it looks really funny and sounds even funnier.  So for now I have to keep taking my little dose of prednisone every day, and Mom is supposed to watch for any symptoms like I had before from the Cushing's.  Which would be things like my hair getting thin, and not being able to jump on the bed, and wanting to drink water all the time.  And when Mom sees anything like this, she is supposed to let Dr. Griswald know right away, so I can start to take those really expensive pills again.  But this time I will just take them in small doses to keep me "normal."

At least I think that's how it's all supposed to happen, but it's complicated, so I will just let Mom worry about it.

Okay, let's see.  What else can I tell you?  I guess I can say that a whole bunch of leaves fell off the trees, and now Mom has to rake them up.  She started doing this yesterday, and she already has five bags full, but that is only the beginning.  By the time Mom gets rid of all the leaves, she usually has filled up 40 bags or so.  I like the leaves, and I especially like peeing in them.  Also I like to lie in the sun on a nice fall day, which we have had several of lately.

Nicky also likes to lie out in the sun in the yard.  But sometimes he decides to dig holes instead of just lying in the sun.  Of course, Mom doesn't like this very much.  I think she is just lucky that the rest of us dogs don't do much digging.  All we do is chew up dog beds and swallow the pieces!

Well, that's about all I have to say today, which I know will surprise you.  But in honor of my birthday, I will share a couple of nice quotes, and here they are:

Folks will know how large your soul is by the way you treat a dog.  

--Charles F. Duran

If your dog doesn't like someone, you probably shouldn't either.   

--Unknown

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YORK: A CIVIL WAR DOG

Veterans Day wasn't even invented until after World War I, but I don't care, because today I want to tell you about a doggy veteran of the Civil War.  A few months ago, Mom bought a book called Civil War Dogs and the Men Who Loved Them, by Anne Palagruto.  This is a very interesting book, so I will be sure to tell you a bunch of the stories that are in it.

Anyway, there were lots of dogs in the Civil War because the soldiers liked having pets, even though they weren't supposed to have them.  This is kind of the same situation as in Iraq and Afghanistan today, where soldiers sneak puppies or kitties into their barracks.  A lot of times, the officers pretend not to notice because it makes the soldiers happier to have an animal around to play with and love on.  During the Civil War, the fighting men didn't just have dogs, but they also made pets out of cats, squirrels, raccoons, possums, and other wildlife.

Some of the Civil War dogs were strays that came into the camps, but other times, a soldier would bring his dog to war with him.  Sometimes these dogs did helpful things such as carrying messages or guarding the camp, but other times they were just companions to the troops.  And when there was a battle, they might go out and bark fiercely at the enemy.

But now I will tell you about one particular dog, and his name was York.  He belonged to Brigadier General Alexander Asboth, of the Union Army.  General Asboth was born in Hungary in 1810, and he grew up wanting to be a soldier.  But his father made him study engineering.  Then after he learned to be an engineer, Mr. Asboth finally got to go to military school, and he joined the Hungarian Army in 1836.  He fought in several battles, and then he joined a revolution in 1848, but it failed.

In 1851, Mr. Asboth came to the U.S.  When the war started, he joined the Union Army.  He became a brigadier general in 1862, after he was nominated by President Lincoln and approved by the Senate.  Gen. Asboth led troops into battle in Arkansas, Missouri, Mississippi, and Florida.

People described the general as brave, kind, noble, and courteous.  Also he liked all kinds of animals.  A historian named William Watson Davis said, "When not engaged in the barbarous practice of pillaging, Asboth was a refined yet amusing fellow with a great love for flowers and a keen interest in dogs and fine horses."  He was easy to recognize because he had a really humongous, long mustache.  And he liked to wear a blanket made out of camel hair instead of an overcoat.

General Asboth's dog, York, went with him everywhere.  The general would let York sit at his feet during meals, and he would feed York from his dinner plate.  The book by Ms. Palagruto says that York was a St. Bernard, but one site I found on the internet said that York was a setter.  There aren't many pictures of York, but he doesn't exactly look like a St. Bernard to me.  Anyway, the point is that General Asboth and York were devoted to each other.  When the general was fighting in the Battle of Pea Ridge, in Arkansas, on March 6-8, 1862, York ran alongside his master's horse the whole time and never left him.


Later in the war, General Asboth got some bad wounds in the Battle of Marianna, in Florida.  This happened on September 27, 1864.  The general got hit in the left cheek-bone and in his left arm.  He was able to get well enough so that he could command his troops again, but the wounds never healed up completely.

After the war, in 1866, General Asboth became the U.S. Minister to Argentina and Uruguay.  He died in Argentina in 1868 because of an infection in the war wounds that never healed up.  I don't know what happened to York.  He wasn't mentioned after the Battle of Pea Ridge.  I hope he didn't get shot or anything like that.  I like to think of him lying in the sun in South America beside General Asboth's chair, getting fed yummy food from the table.

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AFRICAN CRESTED PORCUPINES

Not long ago, the zoo here in Kansas City got two African Crested Porcupines.  One of them is named Titon, and he is 1-1/2 years old.  His brother is named Bic, and he is one year old.  Mom went to the zoo to see these porcupines, and also to see a bunch of other animals.  When she saw the two porcupines, they were taking a nap, all snuggled up together.  You might wonder how a porcupine can snuggle, and I will tell you:  very carefully!  Hahahaha!  Anyway, Titon and Bic were sleeping close together, side by side, so I guess you could call that snuggling.  Personally, I think there are a lot of things I would snuggle with before I would snuggle with a porcupine!

Anyway, I decided that since this type of porcupine comes from Africa, where my distant cousins, the basenjis live, maybe I should learn more about them.  So I did some research, and I found out that the scientific name for crested porcupines is Hystrix cristata.  The North African crested porcupine is the largest porcupine on earth and one of the largest rodents.  It is between 25 and 29 inches long, and weighs from 18 to 51 pounds.

The reason this porcupine is called "crested" is because it can raise up the quills on its back to make a crest if it feels threatened.  Also it can rattle its tail, kind of like a rattlesnake does, and all the quills on its tail will make a noise to warn everybody to stay away.

There are crested porcupines in Italy, North Africa, and sub-Saharan Africa.  They can adapt to almost any kind of area, including deserts, forests, plantations, and mountains.  They like to live in places like caves, holes in the rocks, or burrows that they dig.  A female crested porcupine usually has one litter a year.  She has one or two babies, and they weigh only 3% of what she does.  The babies' spines are soft at first, but by one week of age, they have started hardening, which is when the baby porcupines leave the den.

The mom and dad porcupines raise the babies together, and everybody lives in a little family group.  Porcupines go out at night to look for food, and what they like to eat is mostly plant stuff such as roots, bulbs, and crops.  But sometimes they also eat insects, small vertebrates, and carrion.  Porcupines like to collect bones and carry them back to their den.  Then they chew on the bones to sharpen their incisors and to get calcium.

If a crested porcupine feels threatened, like for instance by a lion who is looking for a porcupine lunch, the porcupine will stamp its feet, raise its crest, and run backwards at its attackers.  Some people think that porcupines can shoot their quills, but this is not true.  What they do is run the quills into the attacker, and then the quills come loose and stick in the other animal.  This can be very bad because the quills are barbed, and they are hard to get out.  So if you get stuck, you might get an infection and die.  Or else you might starve to death because you can't hunt.

There are a lot of crested porcupines still left in the world, so there is no danger that they will go extinct anytime soon.  I think they are kind of weird and interesting to look at, but I definitely want to keep a good, safe distance from them!

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SCARY JOBS

In the Kansas City Star newspaper, right before Halloween, there was a list of all the scariest jobs that people have to do.  And the way this list was made was that a group called Harris Interactive asked 4,300 people which jobs they thought were the most dangerous and frightening.  So here's the list they came up with, starting with the most scary job of all.

Bomb squad technician

High-rise window washer

Member of the military

Underground miner

Police officer

Alaskan crab fisherman

Mortician

Firefighter

High school teacher

Cemetery worker

Exterminator

Stand-up comedian

Animal control officer

Stunt person

Politician





Well, I thought there should also be a list of scary jobs that dogs do, but I guess the Harris Interactive people didn't think that was important, and that's why they didn't do it.  So I decided to make my own list.  And the way I did it was that I took a scientific survey of my doggy brothers to see which jobs they thought were the scariest, and whenever they didn't agree with me, I just used my own opinion.

I did not ask my kitty siblings and foster siblings to help make the list because even though cats know what "scary" means, they usually do not understand the meaning of "job."

So anyway, here's my list:

1.  Military dogs, especially bomb-sniffing dogs, because they can get blown up or shot dead in a gun battle.

2.  Dogs that have to fight in dogfighting rings, because they can get hurt or killed while fighting.  And if they don't fight very well, they will probably just get killed by their people.

3.  Police dogs, because they have to go after bad guys, and sometimes they get stabbed or shot by the bad guys.

4.  Search-and-rescue dogs, because sometimes they have to search in buildings that might fall down on them.  Also they might have to rescue people out of the water or the snow, both of which are scary places where you could die.

5.  Racing dogs, because they can break their legs, and then they will probably just get shot.  And also they might get shot if they can't run very fast.  Which is why people are all the time trying to rescue retired racing dogs.  Nicky wanted to make this the #1 most scary job.  The rest of us outvoted him, but to keep him happy, so that he'll let me snuggle with him at night, I put in a scary picture of dead greyhounds that sadly didn't get rescued.

6.  Sled dogs, like especially the kind that have to run races, because they can get frozen feet or fall through the ice or get eaten by a polar bear.

7.  Herding dogs, because they can get kicked in the head by cattle or sheep.

8.  Hunting dogs, because they can get all cut up running through the brush, not to mention getting bitten by a raccoon or a fox or a boar or whatever they are hunting.  Or they might have a close encounter with a rattlesnake!  Also, if they are a retrieving type of dog, they might have to go swimming in really cold water just to retrieve a dead duck that they aren't even allowed to eat.

Those are all the doggy jobs I could think of that seem dangerous.  I hope I didn't leave anything out.  It's good that there are dogs who are brave enough to do these jobs, but I think I will just stick to my nice, safe blogging job!

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