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.]