Drat!! Foiled a Again!

Letting the big group of dogs in en mass this morning, I noted quickly that only one of the young dogs came in. Bug was there, but where was the good puppy, RangoRango???

I put a couple of the loose group in crates to manage the chaos, then quickly popped back outside for a scan and shout for the wayward black bi pup.

"Rango!Rango!"

Silence.

Stillness.

Hmmmm.

Inside I told HM her baby boy was MIA and she quickly went out on the hunt.

"Rango?RAAAAAANGO??"

Silence.

Silence.

"OONA!!!! COME!!!!!!!!!!!"

(Oona? Wait. WHAT?!?!!!)

Quickly counting I see that Oona, too, was MIA. Those appeared to be the only two. Well then!

I opened the door and sure enough. There was Beanie with RangoRango.

It was reported that HM saw Beanie running around up at the barn. Happily there was no livestock loose yet in the back area, so they didn't try to go back there. That just leaves the barn cats to chase and annoy, and those cats well know how to get quickly away from overly-interested unattended dogs, so, the worst they could do was hunt cat poo (which they apparently did very efficiently - grrrrr). Even more happily, Oona's recall is legendary and spectacular (as long as there are no loose cats around) so she promptly came back with RangoRango on her heels.

The escape route was quickly located and blocked off. Ask me not how Oona got thru that little hole, but she did!!! After breakfast they were let back out and OonaBean ran right to the escape route and was annoyed to see it barricaded.

Foiled Again! Drat!

My Bitty

I saw him running along the curb of a 6-lane busy Memphis street in a drizzling rain on a Monday morning. Some dogs just scream "I shouldn't *BE* here!" and that was this little fella. He was clearly frightened, so I stopped to see if he wanted to be caught. He was undecided about me and took off down the road so I hopped in the van and followed him for a 1/2 mile or so. He tired out finally and I found myself squatting in the crosswalk of the less busy street to coerce him to come to me. He would come just within reach but if I tried to touch him, he scurried off about 10 feet and turned and stared to me to see if I could be trusted. After a few minutes of this, in the rain, I decided I was gonna have to nab him unwillingly. He came close and I snatched him up like a kitten. In return for my man-handling, he nipped me. I told him I didn't blame him, and we made friends.

I tried out all sorts of names on him but eventually I hit upon the one he responded to, and he became Bitty the Pomeranian. As far as street urchins go, Bitty was a breeze. He was house-trained, neutered, HW- tho he did have a pronounced heart murmur, he got along with all the big dogs, and when they forgot, he had no problem saying,"Hey! Little dog down here! Watch your feet!". In typical toy dog fashion he picked his friends. He liked you or he didn't. I looked for his owners with no success but didn't try too hard to find a furever home for him. He was easy. And I liked him. But I can tell ya, somebody was missing this little boy!

I have no idea how old he was. I was guessing 5-8 when I found him four years ago, but other friends thought a bit older. No way to tell tho really. It didn't really matter. He slept on my pillow when Stan wasn't hogging it, otherwise he slept on a pillow under the bed. Easy is the word I used to describe him. I wish all dogs were that easy.

About a week ago I noticed he was off his food. Not unusual for him. He self-moderated and often just picked at his food. By Saturday we were at the vet. He was not well. We got some meds and went home and i nursed him, but i don't think any of us had a clue of what was coming. By Sunday night he had quit eating on his own but would eat of I fed him. Monday I started feeding him by syringe every two hours hoping. Tuesday I fed him his breakfast and called the vet while i was out and told him I was going to bring him in, however Bitty had had enough and slept his final sleep.

Bitty was a street dog, but I loved him. He was funny and loving. He went to Missouri to visit my grandpa and great-aunts and was always a gentleman. His horridly undershot jaw and teeth that were at odd angles were always a point of conversation with people, it added to his ugly-cute face and charm! He fancied himself a sheep dog too, like the rest of the gang. He was always itching to get on their side of the fence!

I will miss him in his spot on my pillow at night. :(

Godspeed littlest boy. Tell everyone hello and I'll see you all some day.

Bitty
???? - 11/27/2012

Godspeed Gracie

Just a couple days after Gracie showed back up she disappeared once again. I kept looking every time I drove by. Every time I went in the back yard I glanced over hoping to see her sunning herself in her usual spot.

No such luck.

Friday night I noticed her food and water bowl were gone. I got hopeful that the church people had managed to coax her into the car. This morning I stopped by the church to ask them and got the terrible news that Gracie was dead.

The older lady had come by Wednesday to see her and said she was limping a little and acted like she wasn't feeling well. And most unusually against her normal behavior, she rolled over and allowed the woman to pet her tummy. They came back on Thursday to give her some thanksgiving food and she was not there so they drove around and found her around the corner, dead. We aren't really sure what from. Most likely hit by a car. Whatever the reason I was sad to hear that she never got her forever home. We tried. She just wasn't ever ready to come in.

So. Gracie is at the bridge. I am happy to know that she is, at last, safe. It's not what I had in mind, but it wasn't my decision. Special thanks to Carol for helping me find Brett at DeSoto Animal Rescue Society. And thank you Brett, for being willing to try to help a street dog have a better life.

It's going to take some time for me to get out of the habit if looking over to their yard searching for her. :(. Godspeed Gracie. We tried girl.

Cone of Shame

Haroooooo friends!!! TWIST here!!!!
ROO to you!

Poor me! Poor ROO!!!

Tonite dog-ma noticed I wuz paying speshul attenshen to mah booty. I mean it *IZ* cyoot rite?

Dog-ma sed I haz a hot spot on mah booty. How darez she?!! Mah whole booty iz hotness!! For serious!!!

Mah booty does haz problemness tho. Ouchie. It hurtz!
Dog-ma sez it iz on mah booty an right on mah nub. I haz a nub not a tail. It is part of whut makes mah booty xtra-cyoot! She used teh snippers on mah beyutimus furs an chop chopped it off. (Ah tried to chomp chomp her. It HURTZ!!)

Dog-ma sez the stinky powderyness she sprinkled will help mah whole booty be hotness (tha good kind) again but ah had to lickit off. Yuck!!!

Then dog-ma putted this THING on mah head. She chuckled an sez is teh Cone of Shame. SHAME?!!! Whut did ah do to dezerve such mizzery?!!! It tried to KEEL me! Mah FEETSES don't work. It traps me! Ah knock things an cannot see! Ah cannot MOOVE!!!

Lookit me an this pathetic cone!! Seriousness. One satellite joke an ah will bite yuoz!

Teh good newz iz ah gets ta sleep wif dog-ma tonite! Mah big head fits not in teh crate!!!!

Good nite friends. I sleeps. Finally.

Grace is Back

Last night around 10:00 I drove by the church and saw a dog in the shadows. Actually my first instinct was coyote. We have plenty of them. I pulled into the drive thinking to make sure it kept trotting away from my house (and livestock). After watching for it for a minute, I put my van in reverse and as I cut the wheel I saw her! Deep shadows make it hard for a white dog to hide. And I stopped and got out.

She barked a few times at me and wasn't wagging her tail, but she followed me to the steps. Grace definitely has some trust issues going on. And wherever she has been for two days didn't improve them. I'm wondering if she was caught by someone?

Anyway, this morning she was back in her spot sunning herself. I didn't see her tonight but I know she is around again, so at least can go to sleep without worrying quite as much.

Now the question is how to bring her in.

Someone with the church has been working to gain her trust for three months now. Grace still isn't ready. She will warn if she doesn't want them touching her. But she is a definite project dog. My question is… I don't want grace to have babies. Should I put out a live trap and drug her food, take her in and get her spayed and just see if she can cope with captivity, or spay and release? And wait for her to say she is ready?

Dogs with trust issues are such touchy issues. Guess I will talk with the church folks a bit and see what they are thinking too. Whatever. I'm happy to know she is ok.

Where's Grace???

I have been working for weeks to find a rescue group that could save Grace. Grace is a smaller mixed breed who showed up out here about three or four months ago. Living in the country there are always dogs dumped out here :(

Grace set up residence down the street from me, on the stoop of the church. She slept there. She was always sunning herself out there. I saw her every day and set her good wishes. Every morning as I left my house I would look over and see her sunning and say hi. The church is run down, and has very few members now - probably only about 20, but they are faithful and go every Wednesday and sunday. They and others around have been feeding Grace, making sure she had water. Except for a home of her own, she had a pretty good set up really.

But as winter was approaching and temps were dropping, I knew we needed to get Grace into a more hospitable atmosphere if possible and that's when I found DARS. DeSoto Animal Rescue, and Brett, who said he would take her. We made a plan to catch her except his car went in the shop and it was delayed.

I saw her in her usual morning spot on Saturday sunning herself., and I stopped to tell my neighbor that we were going to catch her tomorrow(Sunday) and get her into a home. He was happy for it. He has been feeding her too, and was concerned about her wintering.

Sunday morning Grace is now missing. She has been there every day for three months. The morning I go to get her and she is gone. I am devastated. If you are at an area shelter please keep an eye out for her. She doesn't trust people and may be having a difficult time if she is in a shelter. I just have a bad feeling about this. Please. Grace slept every day for four months on the stoop of a church, and now she needs our prayers to bring her into safety. If you have any knowledge of this dog, please let me know. I need to find out what happened to Grace.

Important Info - Grace was last seen at Fite road and Rust road just off Hwy 51 north of Memphis, TN. If you know where the DuPont plant is, she was on the other side of the hwy, (north Fite off Watkins, not the other end of Fite by the Motorsports Park ). Please text or call me, Tish, at (901) 628-8474 if you have any information about Grace.

No! Roo!!!! Noooooooooo!!!!!

Haroooooo friends!!! TWIST here!!!! ROO to you!

Mom and I went to the barn this morning with PunkinHead (and you thought I was stuck with a silly name!) and Woo to do extra chores! Rolling a hay bale! Woot Woot! I am the best helper - ever!!! I supervise bale rolling and knot tying. I make sure everything is ship shape!

Then I noticed the sheep. SHEEP!!! And they were being baaaaa-d sheep! They were in the pasture nomnomnom on grass, not right with my mum, as all sheep should be, so i had to remedy that. Quickly! I raced off and brought them home.

When I got back with them mom said ThankRoo, and then had Punkinhead walk them back out!!! (Heeeey. I just brought them TO you!!!).

More knot supervision. More fence patrol and zoom. Off I went to get those baaaad sheep again. My Bo Peep ain't losing our sheep while I'm around!!! Mom isn't really mad at me. It's ok that I want to go get them, and I am nice and bring them all home (my sister is bad and only brings some home). But not me! Not Roo!!!

Another ThankRoo. And again PunkinHead gets to take them back out. Grrrrrr. Then mom puts the leash of shame on me and I have to stay with her. Oh the horrors. A leash!!!

Finally all the knots had been knotted and we were done. The sheep came in on their own! They know better than to try to run from you-know-Roo! (Mon says tho it's because they heard their breakfast being put in their pans). I prefer to think they know I'm gonna go get 'em if they don't behave!

That's what I did this morning.

Yay me! ROO!!!

OUCH!

Perhaps sitting under an oak tree wasn't the best idea on a breezy day during acorn season. I am being pelted!

The Weavers

Together
We weave
A safety net
You and I
Each hand the warp
Each deed the weft
To catch each dog
And bring them to
Safe harbor.
Every dog.
Every time.

Together
We can
Keep these babies safe.
That they never know hunger
Or an unkind face
That their every sleep
Be dreamless
Sweet
That their every waking hour
Be happy
Carefree.

So that no Lappy, Ever,
Sits alone and scared
In a lonely cell
In an overcrowded shelter
Or dies alone
Forgotten
At the hands of a stranger
Because no one came
In time
And said
"I'll take her."

Every dog
Every time
Warp and weft
We are
Powerful strong
Together

Trumpet’s Heart of Glass NA, NAJ, CGC, TT

May 23, 2001 ~ October 24, 2012

Crystal was my dear friend, Becky's, girl, from Beth Blankenship's kennel, Trumpet Keesies. She was one month younger than Lava, so they grew up playing and taking many classes together. She was a princess and a bit of a diva, but she was a sweet girl and devoted to Becky.

Becky called me crying several weeks ago. Crystal was at the vet, she'd just had some sort of stroke while in the yard. This was on the heels of Becky losing her other keesie, Crystal's daughter, Dora, just weeks before that to a freak accident. After some tests, an X-ray showed she had what looked like a snowstorm (on X-rays) in her lungs. Lungs should be very dark on X-rays. The white flecks everywhere spelled trouble and I had my fears of the C word. After blood tests and despite six lung biopsies that couldn't detect any cancer present, snowstorms are just so classically endemic of cancer that the options were few.

I told Becky then that we were going to go on my next day off so I could take some pictures of Crystal for her. Thursday the 18th dawned rainy and overcast. After stopping for a hot breakfast, the sun came out and I told her to come on. We were gonna make it happen.

We had a super nice morning, if a little chilly. I could tell that Crystal was having a hard time. She wanted to walk slower. She was content to sit where we put her and stay, her breathing was more labored. Subtle signs, but present none the less.

Without a definite diagnosis, Becky had hope, but if I've learned anything, I've learned to listen to that inner voice I have, and I had a bad feeling this was going to be far quicker than any of us wanted, diagnosis or not.

On the 23rd Becky called me crying again and said that our vet did an ultrasound and found the problem. Hermangiosarcoma. This is a nasty cancer - a tumor at the heart - and there is nothing to be done.

It's hard to say that at least you have an answer. And it's harder still to see the very small silver lining - the gift she got that most people never get. 99% of owners never get any clue their dog has hermangio until they find the dog gone. Passed in their sleep. Or out in the yard. Crystal's stroke gave Becky a warning that their time together was short. We just didn't know how short. Crystal passed away peacefully in her sleep the next afternoon.

We are going to miss Crystal. My guys all loved to visit her (tho she found them a huge inconvenience on occasion - especially lava who took her spot on the bathroom floor in the summer!).

Below is one of the photos I took that morning. My favorite one. Godspeed Crystal. May the squirrels be stoopid and slow at the rainbow bridge. Say hi to the guys from WooPak when you see them. And the rest of the RiverFox family too.

Roasted

So. I knew a dog was trying to do me in when last year someone kicked my electric blanket up on high and tried to roast me. Last year my dream was that I was on a nice cool tropical island and then suddenly began baking in the sun. After practically roasting alive it woke me up and after my sun-baked brain registered that the room air was crisp, despite my high temperature, I threw off my covers and realized someone had tried to bake me like a Christmas goose. I had my suspicions but I hate to wrongly accuse so I just eyed them all with equal suspicion and made sure the control was out of reach.

I know it's early in the year but we have had some nice cold snaps come thru and I like sleeping with windows open. So, out it came. This morning a dreamed I was walking a path of hot coals. Everyone the tele shows always makes it look so effortless and easy. No one gets fried. No crispy toes. Why couldn't I do this??? My feet felt like I had stuck them in an active volcano. I finally awoke to discover that once again someone had tried to do me in. Luckily the blanket was bunched at my feet but this time the culprit was still on the controller.

It was…

None other than…

BEANIE!!!

And here I thought she held me in affection! :-/

Giveth and Taketh

One thing you learn when you live a great deal closer to nature than "normal" people is that nature has its own balance. The circle of life exists and you cannot always prevent it from… well… circling.

Take for example what happened a few weeks ago.

I had been missing my rain gear for weeks. Months even. Most people don't have rain gear, but I can tell ya that life on a farm doesn't stop for rain. Or sleet. Or snow. Or blazing heat. (Mailmen and farmers. Keepin' it real.)

But for even a little hobby farm like this one, rain gear can make your chores a whooooole lot more comfortable! I am infamous ("We're more than famous, we're INfamous!" Name that movie!) for putting items in a "safe" place and not being able to find them. So went the rain gear. Which, to be honest, was fine. We went for months with nary a drop of water from the skies. It wasn't really missed (the gear. Trust me, everyone missed the rain!!!). And I knew I would happen upon the gear sooner or later. It's not like I live in a mansion.

Then one night I came upon them. I raised my eyes heavenward and said a "thank YOU!" And was a happy camper. I was even happier when, looking at the weather, I noticed rain in the forecast the next evening. When the rains came and I had to go out and do the evening chores, I donned my gear and sent up another thanks for the gift as I headed out with Stan into the gloomy, cold, wet, dark night to gather sheep and do the other nightly chores.

Putting the sheep in their respective stalls, I counted as I went. There are a set number for each stall, and I know how many I *should* have. When it came time to put the lambs up, I only counted five. There should be six. Drat!!! After a quick double check of the other stalls, I knew we had trouble. We were missing a lamb. Double drat!!!

I hate this part.

The only reason a lamb separates or doesn't come home with the group is because it can't. Either it got stuck somewhere, is sickly and just laid down to die, or something got it. None of those scenarios is something I like to witness.

The finding of the rain gear showed itself to be more of a gift than I had expected, and I sent yet another nod upwards of thanks for the reason for the gift of rain gear. I set out with Stan to see if we could find and save this lamb. Hopefully it was just stuck somewhere.

We walked the entire three acres in a downpour. First along the fences, then throughout the middle, trekking through dense brush and growth. I had just about given up. Stan had not alerted to any animals. I hadn't seen anything. I finally went another route and checked an extremely dense area from another angle outside the fence around the dense part and saw the lamb. I couldn't easily get to it but Stan did and when he nudged it I saw that it was, sadly, dead. Nothing to be done for it. Something had brought it down. I told it I was sorry, and went home, sad, wishing I had made a better bargain with the universe. I would've happily done chores in the rain without the gear to have the lamb back.

Life on the farm.

Unsuccessful

Roo loose all night with the big dogs was not a successful venture last night. Shoes survived. They were up high.

Buh-bye $75 bra. Sigh. And after I GAVE him a brand new extra squeaky toy to play with too!!! I gave three dogs a new toy last night. Oona was very keen to have a new one so I gave her one. Lava accepted one. And Twistie got one. (No. Stan doesn't generally like toys in a group setting. He just hoards them)

the problem with that plan could have been Oona. She had all three brad new extra squeaky toys in her bed area this morning. I suspect she stole them all.

The Son

On the heels of my post about the dog who opened my world to the beauty of Siberian huskies, Magnum, it is only fitting that I follow with some of my favorite photos of his son, the dog who is my heart outside my body, my beautiful inside and out, perfect red dog (yes, Tim and Mark, even with a retained testicle he is perfect), Lava. Lava is now heading towards 12, and while I celebrate each milestone birthday, each one also fills me with a little dread. They are going too fast. I am not ready. Thankfully that day is not today. We have more memories to make. Better get to it!

"Hero Worship"

Lava in 2001. He went to work with me every day. 

For everyone who understands about matters of the heart

Everyone can remember that first siberian husky. You know - the one who first took your breath away and made your brain whisper "yessss!"

For me that dog was Magnum, aka CH Solocha's Magnum PI CGC.

I tried to do things the right way. When I decided that I wanted to show a dog, my friend took me to a local show and I watched the siberians enter the ring one by one, class by class. I liked them, I knew I did, but I couldn't tell you to this day a single dog who was there... until him.

I still remember the exact moment I saw "HIM ." He floated in like he owned the place and literally took my breath away.

I still remember what I said. I poked my friend and said "I want *that*" I still remember what she said to me. "Well I guess you do! He's the #1 siberian husky in the country!" (I still joke with my friends that even then my green eye knew a great dog.) You all know there is *nothing* more stunning than a confident male siberian husky in his prime strutting around with a natural proudness. That was Magnum.

I did my best to get Betty to let me offer him a retirement home (grin) but she wasn't having any of that! So, I did the next best thing and waited for a puppy. I waited almost 4 years for him. My Monkey. My Lava. Even though he didn't have all the necessary equipment, I took him anyway, knowing that I had to in some way have a small piece of Magnum. I've never regretted it. Lava is my heart and I've never had another dog who talked with me like he does - so special is our bond.

I received a note today that said that "Chuck and Betty Charlton have lost an old friend. CH Solocha's Magnum PI CGC took his place at the Rainbow Bridge this month. He lived a long and illustrious life and will always be remembered when people talk about great Siberians and great show dogs."

My heart is heavy. I will always remember Magnum as the dog who stole my heart and gave it forever to the world of siberian huskies. I will always remember him as I saw him that day almost 10 years ago - floating into the ring like he owned the place. He did, of course.

I imagine he went over the bridge in the same manner, striding right up like he owned the place as he did in his youth.

Godspeed my friend, Magnum. The world is a little dimmer, the stars a little brighter at your passing.

[reprint from October, 2007]

It's fixing day!

Things were going just fine. My knight came and got me. We played a game of fetch or two with Stan (we had just put the boy sheep away when he got here). And off we went.

Aaaannnd didn't go.

2/3 of the way there his truck quit. Again. He looked at me and said "you didn't trip my little switch with your foot did you?" How the heck do *I* know??? (Apparently I had. Oops)

We need to get a new one of those soon, El Capitain!

Long story short pulled tha alternator. Got a new one and a new serpentine. Put them both back in in short order (in a light rain. Yay) and my van is running like a top!!!

Go! Van! Go!

Thank you to my Captain. I owe you.

I forgot how much I used to know about cars. When I was a teenager I could've done it my own self. Matter of fact I think I did replace my own alternator. Dad wouldn't help. Said I knew how and he didn't wanna. Grrrrr. Anyway. Time enough for a quick cuppa hot tea and lunch before work. What a week I've had!!!

Van woes aka - I drive tha disco van!!!

I've been slacking on my blog… but not on purpose. It's been a busy couple of days!

A couple weeks ago my van apparently started losing radiator fluid. I was just driving along one night and got a warning light. What tha??? First thing ya do is check fluids. Let the van cool for a bit (never open a radiator cap on a hot motor. You will be scalded like all get out!) (Don't worry. I know that rule. I grew up in a "car" family.)

I filled it back up and saw no leaking. Odd. Rechecked my oil. Nope. Not in there! (whew. That would be bad!) So I called my friend and get-me-out-of-messes guy, the Captain, and my sometimes knight in (mostly tarnished) shining armor. We discussed it and he said to keep an eye on water levels. He was heading out of town for arborist convention something or other thingie but would be back Sunday.

Sunday proved to be a good day for him to come home!

Sunday night in the parking lot at work it let go. My girlfriend brought me home (thanks Becky) and the next morning he and I went and looked at the van. Given the age of the van I was worried something major was happening. I couldn't find the source of the leak. He found it. Turns out it is leaking at the water pump gasket to the engine. A can of stop leak fixed that. Or so I thought.

I drove it home but the next night it was leaking again so more stuff goes into the radiator (this time I didn't bother to make my knight come out I just dumped the powder in there myself) and drove it around a while. It was happy. Yay! Go! Van! Go!

Then Wednesday morning I got up to go to work and got 50 feet down the farn road and there on my damn dashboard my CHECK ENGINE light popped on. What tha??? Reallly? Sigh. I stopped and checked the fluids. All fine. (Again. Never open a hot radiator folks.) I called my knight and told him. He assured me I wouldn't kill it driving it to work. Go to work. The worst that would happen is I would lose power and he would come get me. My alternator was about to go. Well. Ok. It's only 6 miles to work and I got there safely.

Getting home proved to be another matter. Just a mile down the road I knew I had a problem. Sigh. Lights dimmed. Then went darj and then… Well. It was kinda cool actually. I think my van was possessed by demons. The lights randomly started flickering really fast all over the van. Inside dome. Radio. Turn signal. Passenger door. Inside dome and dash. It was like driving a rave van!!! How funny!!!

Only problem was I was on a pitch black highway. But I made it to an industrial warehouse parking lot and called my knight again.

No hurry hon. I have a good book.

He came and we did a quick test to see. Charged battery and disconnected cables and the van dies immediate. Yep. Alternator.

We argue about leaving the van there vs the merits of trying to move it 10 spaces. (HE wanted to move it). I decided to straighten the van in the parking spot (my daddy taught me how to be a courteous parker damn it and I had backed into the spot but the van died before I could straighten it. :-/) So. With jumper cables attached to his truck we moved my van straight. Happy me. Good night white van. I'll be back for you in the morning!

Off we go the five miles to my house. My rusty knight turns into my driveway. Or tried to. And HIS truck died. Seriously!!! Half way across the road!!! It's a dark two lane countey road and we had effectively blocked both lanes. Ack!!!

Happily it's a smaller truck. Got it into the driveway with not much effort and after 30 minutes of tinkering and thinking, a trip by Andrea (thank you Andrea!) to the gas station around the corner get a gallon of gas in case his has gas gauge was the problem as he was low anyway - he remembered that his ford has a safety switch to shut fuel off in case of a wreck. A quick nail and drill fixed that and home he went. Tomorrow we will go fix the van!

Stan in the van!

Stan the boy reaaaallly likes to go for rides in the van. If there is a van door open, you can bet your bippy that he is in the van. Mine. Andrea's. he doesn't care. He doesn't like to ride loose tho, preferring to be in a crate.

This afternoon I was grazing sheep. Andrea was packing to head to a trial. The van door opens. In pops Stan. He looks quite happy to give up his sheep-watching duties for the opportunity that might or might not happen in the van crate. Hopeful.

I had to call him three times when I noticed the sneaky sheep heading for the other side of the barn before he responded and came out. As soon as he had them all back, he is back in the van. Silly Stan.

Beauty isn't she?

People often fear what they don't understand. Take for instance this beauty. This is a golden orb spider AKA zipper spiders because their webs always look like there is a zipper in the middle zigging and zagging in a straight line up. They are harmless to people but do their part in keeping bugs and things controlled. No need to smoosh them or kill them!!! If one builds a best in an inconvenient place, just put her in a jar and move her to a less convenient place for you and let her go about her business. Don't kill off things because you're scared. Learn what's safe and what's not. Knowledge is a good thing.

Last year she was in the garden. This year her daughter (?) moved to the other side of the house. (Less traffic?) Happy to have them around. I find them beautiful!

A gentle giant earns his silver harness

It's not often that a Siberian comes along who is so big in every way that God gives him not one special person, but his very own team. God knew what he was doing when he fashioned such a big bodied Siberian - my watermelon head guy. It was the only way to accommodate the sized heart he had gifted Yuri with - the size he was gonna need to share with all of the special people Yuri was going to conquer on his journey in this lifetime.

Yuri came to me in 2003 as an owner surrender. The family was in a transitional stage, the son spreading his wings, the adults retiring to a condo in south Florida, and they cared enough to wanted to make sure Yuri had the kind of life he was used to... Family, house with a yard, the spotlight in someones world. He was well-loved, (got a pig ear every day - much to the detriment of his waist-line!) and came with his favorite soccer ball that he carried everywhere. They did what they thought best for Yuri. Every dog should be so lucky.

I did not judge, i was in a position to support, and so i did. His mom cried buckets when she left, and she and I remained in contact throughout his lifetime - something i never did with owner surrenders, and a fact that would play a major part in Yuri's life. Who knew?!

Yuri was, quite honestly, the biggest siberian I have ever seen. He towered over 21.5" Lava by easily 6-7 inches. For all his size, Yuri was a gentle giant and was big in all the ways that counted in a dog as well. In spirit. In heart. In gentleness and kindness. He quickly stole my heart and almost became my only foster failure, which would've been A-ok with me.

Yuri stayed with me for a year before I found the right family for him. He deserved to be someones universe, and I had more sibes to save - and it was not without tears that I let him go to a young couple who were local, and they adored him. They drove him 45 minutes for check ups to my vet because I said he's the best in Memphis, he went monthly to them for grooming, and he got daily walks downtown. They had an aggressive tumor removed from his thigh during this time as well. A few years later they moved to DC and had a baby, and Yuri was having difficulty dealing with a small apartment and a toddler as a senior with arthritis.

Laurie S., a fellow rescuer in siberians, was Yuri's other angel in life, and stepped in and immediately took possession of Yuri for his safety. What she didn't know was that he would quickly take possession of her heart, too. She and husband, Brian, both also almost became foster failures. They took care of Yuri for several months while plans were made.

Because it was the right thing to do, I contacted Yuri's original owner to let her know of Yuri's situation and Marilyn began making plans. She flew to DC, rented a car and brought her 12 year old boy home to south Florida. Meanwhile that young son who'd spread his wings sold his condo and, during the biggest crash of the millennium, bought a house with a big Yuri-sized yard (even tho Yuri got 2x daily walks!) and Marilyn again made a road trip and delivered Yuri to Kyle in Seattle.

Kyle spoiled Yuri as we all wish our seniors were spoiled and he made up for lost time in every way. He cooked chicken for Yuri every day. He took him on the walks he demanded. Yuri was the center of Kyle's world, and Kyle the center of his.

Yuri surprised everyone by his resilience. At 12, the vet said he wouldn't make it to 13... On her next visit to Seattle, Marilyn tied ballons to Yuri's collar and they waltzed into that vet's office. He was 13.5 and nowhere near ready to go.

After her visit to Kyle and Yuri this past trip, she contacted me about a growth on Yuri's hip - the tumor had returned. At 15 years young and after some specialists and some thought, they decided not to operate, but the growth was fast growing and, as it turned out, Kyle wasn't quite ready to give up on Yuri. On 9/2/10 he took Yuri in for that operation, to give him a chance. He knew Yuri might not make it, but he was at the point that to do nothing at all was no longer an option. With limited choices, neither very good, Kyle made the decision to give him a chance, and they tried.

Yuri, however, had had enough, and slipped gracefully into his giant silver harness, and went peacefully across the bridge while on the table, just a literal 2 months shy of 16. I know Willow was waiting to play, happy to see him again, and I've no doubt that Yuri will be a very busy boy greeting all of the people who loved him here on earth, when their times come.

Yuri
11/1/95 - 9/02/10

Love always from your team.

[Originally published 9/2/10]

Poor Stan the boy

A. told me I shouldn't be telling folks this but it was just too funny - so I am... grin... if i can't laugh at myself and my own dogs antics, who CAN I laugh at?

So this morning I was out early with Stan grazing the sheep. We have three 4 day old lambs (a set of twins, and another), and this was only their second day out in the world, and their first out in the yard grazing with the herd... Did I mention that Stan loves baby animals?

After about an hour, the babies are worn out, and they are now less worried about where mama is than sleeping, so they all start dropping to nap. The boy twin was sleeping soundly when Stan got up and decided to go check him out. Stan is almost a WTCH (Working Trial Champion) now, just a couple cattle legs and we'll be done... he can handle the stubborn ram now, he can handle mean mama, he has confidence now. He's a big boy, right?!!!

Well...

Stan snuck up on and startled the little boy lamb out of his nice, sun-drenched, lazy morning nap and the little thing didn't appreciate it at ALL! He came up fighting, and started bouncing after Stan, who quickly turned tail and was saying "OH CRAP! OH CRAP OH CRAP!" as he ran back to me away from the irate baby.

hehehe

It was darn funny. Poor Stan. He'll never be Stan the Man!

[from April 2009]

Boy Scouts and Ducks

We were contacted a few weeks ago by the local boy scouts to see if we
would do a herding demo for their summer camp - they were studying Australia. We pointed out that Australian shepherds are
an American dog but she didn't care so we said sure!

After working almost 30 hours in 2.5 days i was pretty tired but on
tuesday we packed up some ducks and Lin and Stan and we headed off to
the camp. It was 97 in the shade but we were blessed to have a faint
wind stirring. (whew)

I had no idea til we got there that it was the summer camp for so many
dens. There were 150+ boys there mostly in the 6-12 range plus adults
- over 200 people.

I was a tad nervous because there was no fence and we were in a small-
ish area surrounded by a lot of woods, so if a duck got away, it was
gone, and Stan doesn't really like ducks much. After explaining to the
camp director that the kids needed to be quiet during the demo and not
move about when the dogs were working, we got them set up and spent
about an hour with the kids. We talked about the dogs, ducks did a
demo, and a Q&A. The best question from a kid... Is an australian
shepherd related to a German shepherd. :)

Ok to be fair Lin did a demo. Stan saw the kids and went over to the
crowd of boys and made himself at home pretty much the whole time. He
did no herding. He was hot - and he hates ducks - he blatantly said
no, he was happy amongst the boys. he had 150 boys eager to rub and
scritch him. That's 300 hands or... (Mumbles naught carry tha naught) about 1500 fingers (oh yeah baby!) all
his personal massage!!! Yeah. He's not stupid.

At the end A. took the dogs and I took a duck and we split up so
the kids could come say hi in small groups. I didn't have an eye on
Stan much at all but I figured that when he left me immediately to go
wander among the boys and clean all their ears (his thing) he was
happy with all the kids, so he was around somewhere. I did look over
once and saw him with about 20 kids around him and he was rolled over
getting belly rubs and looked deliriously happy, and another time he
had a boy pinned to the ground giggling himself silly as Stan cleaned
his ears. That was too cute!

It was a good day. The boys got to see some working dogs (ok - mostly
just Lin) and touch a duck, something city kids probably never got to
do, and we had oodles of fun. And the dogs got ice cream on the way
home.

[Note: I originally wrote this on June 17, 2010].

The Easter Bunny...

...may need early retirement. He's apparently confused.

We got a visit from him last night. (well, Rowan says she did, anyway, and at 14, what she says... goes).

Rowan... The little old lady... would like to personally thank the Easter Bunny for the unscheduled, but none the less appreciated, visit last night. She was thrilled to find her treasure. Quite pleased with herself, actually. She's a big fan of the "free egg" holidays in life. The fact that the Easter Bunny is obviously confused if he's visiting on Halloween is no problem for her. She's half the time as confused as he is. Kindred spirits, one could say.

I am unkind, however. Old age brings privileges - one of which is evening chores. Yes. They're a privilege. The dogs all love to go. Usually it's Stan, and one of the kids, and Rowan. She doesn't have to go, but she insists on it. Evening chores are basically a free romp at the barn. Little for a dog to do, so they spend their time sniffing and exploring, generally (and eating sheep poop). Rowan says this is her kinda job.

Last night she got a bonus. A visit from the Easter Bunny. Of course the fact that she stole the fresh egg off the barrel where I'd set it and left us baffled for a good 5 minutes is irrelevant. Finders Keepers! (Easter Bunny. She's a big fan!)

The only thing that gave her away... actually... Was her rather smug look. She was quite pleased with herself. Smiling, actually. Well... Smiling as much as a dog *can* smile while carrying around an egg one has stolen without breaking it and yet concealing it in ones mouth from ones people. Hiding it from ones people who, I might add, who were puzzled about the disappearance of said egg. Yes. She was very pleased with her find. If dogs could actually laugh, she'd be the kid giggling loudly while hiding behind the drapes with their feet sticking out during a game of hide and seek. The thief! And she didn't even crack the egg! (I carried it back to the house. She got it for dinner. Finder's keepers!)

Old dogs crack me up. Seriously.

[Note from the blogger: I originally wrote this on October 30, 2010 and distributed email to several lists I am on. I am going thru my stories and posting ones I think people will enjoy as I come across them. Rowan passed away earlier this year. The photo is of Stan (L) and Rowan this spring.]

It all started with a TWWWISSSTTTTNOOOOOOO!!!!

OK. Actually it all started much earlier than that... with a "woof" not a whisper. (That'd be Twist reminding me as I was leaving the house that I promised him he could go with me and Stan to put the sheep away today.) So, we three trekked to the barn. But first, I put a baggie of grapes in my pocket.

Grapes. See... my next door neighbor - you know, the guy whose back pasture the sheep have so kindly been keeping meticulously mowed for the summer - well... anyway, Jose has a pony. I don't know his name (the pony's. I clearly know Jose's name), so I started calling him (the pony)... well... Pony. Don't judge. He (the equine in question) answers to it. Anywho, Pony the pony and I have become friends of a sort. I bring him goodies. He lets me love on him and pretend that I have a horse... or pony in this case.

Pony... the... uhmmm... pony.

He's a small creature (as ponies most often are), but it brings me great pleasure to see Pony the pony come trotting over nickering to me for his goodies. Usually by the time I'm at the gate between his back pasture and ours, he's trotting over, or, more often than not, already there waiting for me, demanding I pick up the pace. Today Twist, Stan and I made a special trip over to see him because there were no sheep over there nibbling on Jose's grass today. But, I like to bring him something every day or three, and today, being my birthday, seemed like a good day to share the wealth, so to speak. Hence the grapes for Pony.

So, we enter the pasture, and Twist, in a most unusual move, rushes the fence to Pony barking. Twist knows Pony. Pony knows Twist. I've no idea *what* that was all about. I called Twist off, and then gave Pony some grapes and got a snuffle on the nose from him in return. Nothing in the world like exchanging carbon dioxide with a several hundred pound pony named Pony. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw a black dog taking off in a shot.

 (This is where the TWWISSSTTTNOOOOOOO!!!! comes in to play) 

I looked up to see the black dog racing for all he's worth after a Twinkie. (I mentioned grapes. Did I mention Twinkies? Oh. Sorry). Not like a Hostess cream-filled Twinkie though, but like a cute little German Shepherd girl named Twinkie.

 TWWISSSTTTNOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

 I looked down and felt a nip and a nudge and here sits Twist. HARRROOOOO! You need Me? Roo? What No? No WHAT???  WHAAATTTT???

STANNNNNTHEBOOOYYYYYNNNNNOOOOOOOOO!!!!! 

 Poor Twinkie. She was racing around trying to escape the rude STAN THE BOY!!!! Stan really likes Twinkie. Pretty Girl. Cute. Little. Kinda shy. Right up his alley. He's been oogling her from across the fence for a year now. And they being on the other side of the pasture, Well... I was thinking "CRAP! How am I gonna keep Twistie from getting involved in that reindeer game?!!! AND rescue poor Twinkie from the doofus STAN?!"

I reached down and grabbed Twistie by his cheek to keep him from bolting off to join the game and started walking over when...

 Jose to the rescue!!! 

Out from behind a big covered trailer pops Jose, who calls Twinkie, startles Stan, who finally hears me say GET OVER HERE NOW!!!! (which he does), and Twinkie is saved! PHEW!!!!

GRAPES! GIMMEEE!

Jose and Twinkie return to the trailer to finish painting it. Stan and Twist are banished to the other pasture (ours), and the other side of the gate from good dogs named Twinkie and the pon... oh yeah, back to Pony. 

Pony watched it all impatiently and when the hoopla was done, he promptly reminded me that I had not finished giving him his goodies. His nose knew. So he started whinnying to remind me (Woof. Whinny. Reminders are all the same language, right?) Jose laughed when I told him Pony was being quite a pushy boy when it came to his goodies. Apparently Pony *really* likes grapes. :)

 It started with a "woof" and ended in a nicker.

As I was leaving, Pony softly called out to me. Jose chuckled and said "He is saying thanks for the grapes!"

Thanks Jose! I got that one! See ya soon Pony!

I'm a chore dog!

Haroooooo friends!!! TWIST here!!!! ROO to you! I was sooooo excited this morning when mom let me go do CHORES wif my uncle Stan this morning!! I got to RUN. FAAAST. (really. I zoom zoom!) All the way to the barn. Then I visited Peking duck and the quackers to say good morning to them (they're always so chatty in the mornings). But the best part is that I got to play with the white fluffy toys that move!!! I get so excited to see them that my teeth chatter. I cannot HELP myself. Sheep! Sheep! I was BRILL!!! I stayed back (mostly) and kept them from running away. And I escorted them to the pasture to eat for the day.

Yay me! ROO!!!

Tomato / TomAhto

Stan is the only dog to have an upstairs crate. It's really sort of a left over from years ago. He goes in it when we all first go up to bed and stands there until I get settled then joins me, but otherwise he never uses it, and no one else would dare go in HIS crate.

One day I peeked in there and noticed a quite large stash of stuffies. I began pulling them out one by one, counting as I went, out of sheer curiosity. He had 24 toys in there. No wonder the house seemed kind of low on stuffies!!!! I washed them, and took a picture of him with them. (attached) and posted to Facebook that my dog had a hoarding problem and might need an intervention. His co-breeder said no puppy of hers was a hoarder, he was a smart dog and simply saving for his retirement! Hence I could be expecting a visit from the Feds for laundering money at any moment. This wasn't his biggest haul. I am proud to say that he is a good saver. He has had upwards of 30 at once in there.

Living the Cartoon

Ok. I know it's not a Penny original but I swear this is exactly what happened when herding went wrong on the farm today! Those who have herding breeds recognize this cartoon, and we all chuckle, and I'm positive I heard Andrea laughing from the sidelines. See, what happened was…

It started with Twist. (I fear many stories are gonna start with "see, what happened was it started with twist") we were in the back pasture watching the sheep graze. Twist is still reaaaallly excited to do this, which is exactly why I torment myself and expose him to it as often as I can manage. He needs to learn that herding with sheep sometimes really is about letting them meander and munch. So when it's his turn to move them, he's all happy. How can ya get upset at a guy who is so happy to gather sheep? Really?

Well. Twist really wasn't the real problem… this time. This time we had some help. Tripled. Dari, Bug and Rango decided to help out. Dari is Twists sister, and she is further along (helped tremendously by her slightly less enthusiastic drive to bunch them and a good "lie down"). The other two are just babies and are there to romp and play. Get tired (tired pups make for happy owners), and learn from the big dogs what to do (ok this cojldve been a fail today)

I sent twist away and suddenly Dari and thw babies were all playing rig around the handler… and I wound up literally foot bound in a herd of sheep as they all raced in a circle "helping". Oy!!!!! I finally managed to call my dog off and Andrea got up out of her chair after laughing for an hour or so to help gather the rest of the hooligans.

I survived. I hope I survive the rest of Roo's adventures.

Long time!

So, I completely forgot I had a blog hanging out here. Let's see if we shouldn't revise it instead of harassing the world of Facebook for a while!  

So much has changed since October 2008.  The dog list has grown by two. One and a half really. I cannot count a Pomeranian as a whole dog, mighty tho he is. 

Lava is 11. He is in good health for an older dog, tho he now has diabetes insipidus, which is a fancy way of saying he has a hormone issue that means his kidneys don't concentrate his urine. He is on twice daily eye drops for this and is doing well now. Stan is a veteran now at 8. He is still my main man. Always Mr. Dependable. My super-go-to-guy for chores, snuggles, you name it. The newest is Twist. He is now 1.5 years old and is a tornado and kangaroo all wrapped in one. I'll let him introduce himself at some point soon. 

The biggest changes have been with Oona. Finnish Lapphunds were given full status in the AKC. we finished her Championship and began going after her GCh however she had to be spayed for medical reasons, so she is retired. We may work on something else. She is a smart cookie. 

I'll try to bring everything here up to speed slowly. For now, it's nap time for me and mine!