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.