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!
Thursday, September 27, 2012
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!
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!
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
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]
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]
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].
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.]
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.]
Monday, September 24, 2012
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.
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!!!!
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!
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.
.JPG) |
| 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! |
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!
Thursday, September 20, 2012
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!!!
Yay me! ROO!!!
Monday, September 17, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Living the Cartoon
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!
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