Your Questions About Dog Care

Looking for a reputable doggie day care in Austin TX.?

I am looking for a reputable “doggie day care” around the Austin, TX area. I live in Leander and need to have someone watch my dog for about 11 nights in September. Has anyone taken their dog to one of these types of facilities? I don’t have a lot of money to spend so that is another thing to consider. Any advice would be very helpful. Thank you.

Is there ANY free or cheap veternarian care in Austin TX? (NEED HELP NOW!)?

There is a stray that wandered up to our house about 3-4 weeks ago. We went on a trip a few days ago and our freind stayed to feed and care for him. Well about 2 days befor we came back, he went missing, and came back the next day with what looks like a bullet hole in the top part of his back left leg. We do not know how he got it but we love this dog and would really like to get him help. The problem is we do not have a extra $800 dollors (just a estament of how much surgary to get the bullet removed will cost) to spend on him. So PLEASE if you know ANY vet in Austin or close to Austin (tx) that will preform surgary on him for cheep, or free, please contact me at:
Lopey_Luv@yahoo.com

Thankyou I will be extreemly greatful,

vet care on the cheaper side in Austin?

so my dog has been acting a little funny and sick, i’ll spare you the details since i’m going to take him to the vet regardless. i need to know about anyone’s experience with pretty decent pricing vets around the Austin, TX area. i’m a student so i definitely can’t afford dramatic prices for an exam to tell me what’s wrong with my pup. and i cannot take him to animal trustees of austin or emancipet because those are clinic offering only surgery and vaccinations. and please no “well if you can’t afford your pet” business, there are too many animals in shelters that would rather be in a home where they can get love and moderately priced food and toys than spend 240 days in a cage or even euthanized, animals aren’t as stingy as people and the fact is not many people can even afford medical care for their kids so bare with me. any help is really appreciated because i don’t want him in any discomfort! thank you for your time

HELP! Baby bird (barn swallow) keeps falling out of nest! 10 PTS for your help : )?

This may be a little long, but you may enjoy my bird story that I need help on asap! haha

My mom’s house is home to a family of barn swallows every year. They just built a nest and they had their babies. They are very high up over the door (about 40 feet) and 3 days ago my mom came home and found a tiny baby swallow on the porch and it was still alive. My dad went up on the ladder and put the baby bird back in the nest. The next day, same thing happened and he was lucky we didn’t accidentally step on him since he was so tiny. He barely grew his feathers and he still survived his 2nd fall from way up high.

My stepdad said that sometimes birds in the wild will push the runt out of the nest (survival of the fittest I guess). So we got a small cardboard box with high edges so he doesn’t fall out and securely put the box on top of the ladder and he is still alive and moving and pooping, but they are getting runnier. My mom said she has seen the mother bird fly to the box so it seems like she is feeding it.

My stepdad said he saw 3 other baby birds in the nest when he put the bird back in the nest but the other babies are almost twice his size. The mother stays perched next to the nest at night and doesn’t move at all.

So far it has been 3 days since he fell out of his nest and my mom is worried that its going to die because it is so small, but I think if he has made it this far that he has luck on living.

At night we put him in a small bird cage on our bench since the neighbors cat is always finding mice and bunnies—-we don’t want him to get the bird! We never move him out of his mothers view and we NEVER take him inside the house. During the day, he goes in his other box that is taped to the top of the ladder for the mother to care for him. My mom keeps an eye on the bird family everyday.

The only time we touch the bird is when we are transfering him into the small cage so he is safe at night from the cat. At night the mother doesn’t budge from her spot which is about 5 feet away from the nest so we know she doesn’t feed the babies at night.

I’m no bird expert but he seems like a fighter and he walks around the bottom of the box and stretches his wings often. He does not look injured or doesn’t seem to have anything broken.

If this helps, we live in Austin, TX and its right now its hitting 100 degrees or more everyday.

My questions are:

How do we know he is being fed by his mother? Can I tell by how much he poops?

My mom read that you can take dog food and grind it into a powder, add some water to soften it up and feed it to the baby with a straw.

I just want to make sure that we are doing everything we can to help him live.

Today is a sad day for our family and my mom said that if the bird somehow dies today, she would be pretty upset. I just want to make sure we can do all we can and hopefully watch it fly away healthy.

It is for sure a barn swallow, about a couple weeks ago they hatched.

Any advice that I can get and any success stories about saving a bird like this will be very appreciated!!!!

He looks just like this as of now:

http://www.new-jersey-birds.com/uploaded_images/BabyBarnSwallows-762564.JPG

2) Give an example of dialogue from the story:?

2) Give an example of dialogue from the story:

3) What is the literary conflict in this story

I do not understand what that is.
Can you please explain? Here is the story if you need it.

Brown Glass Windows
by Devorah Major

Dawa, whose mother had named her Cheryl after her great-aunt, had been the youngest of four when her parents had packed her, along with her two brothers and her older sister, into the back of their Rambler station wagon and driven, suitcases piled on top of the car, and haul trailer full of furniture at the back, through the heavy dry heat of that Texas summer to the cool fog-filled wonders of the Golden Gate.
She should have known that it was all a fake. Two nights after they got there, Dawa’s father had loaded the family back into the car to go and see the Golden Gate Bridge. In retrospect, Dawa thought, when she first saw that the bridge wasn’t gold at all, but a bright garish orange, it should have told her something. But the way the waves glistened across the water, and the small sailboats sat like little puffs of cotton drifting across the water, and the hills everywhere, big hills, and steep hills, and round soft cloud hills rose out from everywhere ringing the Bay made her ignore all the early warnings. It was just like the picture postcards her Aunt Joline had sent to her three and four times a year since she had learned how to read. Just like the postcards, only better, cleaner, clearer, and full of sounds. There were fog horns that would push into your dreams in the middle of the night, cutting wedges in the walls of fog for the ships seeking safe harbor. And when Dawa stood on the edge of the Pacific Ocean for the first time, she thought that she was going to be swept up into the smooth waves in their thickness of blue, quietly lapping her toes with icy foam and seeming as close to peaceful as she ever again knew it to be. When Dawa saw the white-tipped waves, she was sure that if she rode out on a boat to the place where the sky curved around the water, and they touched each other, she would just fall off the edge of the world into an outer space of stars and comets and never stop floating. She didn’t care that the Golden Gate wasn’t golden. She didn’t care that there was no backyard, and only steep steps leading up to a porch you couldn’t really sit on. She even stopped caring that they had left their setter, Griff, with the neighbors, because San Francisco wasn’t really a good place for a dog like Griff that needed to run free.
From the beginning, Dawa loved the place as much as her sister Elise hated it. She thought it so much prettier than Texas. She loved the hills her mother always complained about. When her sister Elise took her to the park, she would go to the top of the hill and then lie down and roll to the bottom, arms stretched high overhead, the corners of grass and dandelion spurs catching on her lips. Then she would pull herself back up to the top, just to lie down on her side and roll down again, laughing and giggling at each bump in the long grassy expanse. But she should have known, she kept repeating to Ruben that night two months before, that night when she finally agreed to leave, she should have known from that first summer when instead of the dry still heat of Austin, and the pale blue sky, there was a morning and evening gray painted with a thick fl at brush across the sky, she should have known that there wasn’t really enough room in the city for her and hers.
She spent her first five summers in San Francisco wrapped in sweaters and thick socks. On the rare sunny two or three days they called a heat wave in the city, she would laugh as her friends complained about the heat, “You ain’t never seen hot. Why, in Texas it gets so hot the cows sweat, and the people have to wear ice packs just to keep working. Why, in Texas it gets, oh a hundred and ten, a hundred and twenty almost every day. Why, in Texas . . .”
Whenever she’d start lying, although Dawa never called it lying, she always called it explaining so you get it all the way, her friend Sara would pinch her arm real hard. “Wake up, girl. We ain’t in Texas and it don’t get that hot there. I know cause my grandma comes from there, and she told me.”
“Well, you ain’t never been there, so you don’t know!” Dawa would sass back and walk away mumbling to herself, “At least it was a real summer instead of the beginning of winter on the Fourth of July.”
Yes, she should have known that whatever her parents came here to find wasn’t inside San Francisco. Her mother always swore it was better here, that it had been a good move. Her father and mother had followed Uncle Lester and Aunt Lynette, who had come to work in the shipyards. Her Aunt Joline had come separately and worked as a stock clerk in one of the major department stores. All of them had spent years writing and calling Dawa’s parents to tell them to come out to California where the living was easier and the opportunity broader. F