Flea Circus

I’m typing this while enjoying a world class headache. Fucker. I’m blaming the headache on the very reason for this post.

Shelter puppies (yes, this is another post about the new puppy. Because I can, that’s why) come with the occasional baggage. Ours came with fleas. Not such a big deal in the grand scheme of things. Unless the treatment ends up poisoning the very rescued dog in question.

There is nothing quite like realizing you are the reason your new cute faced puppy is sick as two hells.

We discovered fleas on the dogs shortly after bringing the puppy home last month. We’ve been trying, unsuccessfully, to get rid of them ever since. Baths, garlic in the food, sprayed the house, etc etc.

On Tuesday night, we sprayed the Dasher with Adam’s Flea & Tick Mist as my husband had found a few fleas on her when he was combing her. He had just bought this stuff the day before because he had seen fleabites on her and our other dog was going bat shit bonkers from the dermatitis she gets whenever she’s bitten by fleas. Scratchscratchscratchbitebitebite and rash breaking out all over the poor thing. The older dog has some issues.

We used less than the suggested amount because PUPPY and icky chemical sprays that we hate to use but since we were losing the flea infestation battle decided must be tried.

The next day SuperHubby and Ace saw a couple more fleas on her and sprayed a little more on her thinking that we had not used enough.

That night she was not herself. I got home from work and she was retching and the kids said she had vomited earlier and was peeing a lot. Her energy level was nil and she just wanted to curl up on the couch in someone’s lap.

I checked her ears, which were cold and pale. Her gums were pale and slightly dry.

I called the vet and we both agreed that the spray was probably making her ill. The plan was to bathe off the nasty crap, keep her warm and get fluids into her to flush the toxins from her system.

After the bath, we bundled her into blankets and she cuddled with my husband and the kids, wrapped up in a down quilt. I made ground beef and rice and mixed it liberally with water. Luckily her appetite was not affected and the prospect of people food was more than enough to have her cobble up the well watered meal.

The puppy that had housetrained in less than a week, has gone without an accident for almost a month, was having some incontinence issues and peed on the floor several times. I began to panic. Another call to the vet who felt that if  we kept her hydrated and she peed frequently the flush of the toxins would fix that in a day or so but to watch her closely over night. We did, sleeping on the sofa in turns, cuddling the very sleepy puppy and taking her out whenever she stirred. We fed her frequent small serving of the beef/rice mixture with lots of water to keep fluids running.

The next morning she was still having bladder control issues but showed a little more energy. She was eager for her morning meal as in HURRY UP AND FEED ME THE GOOD SHIT WOMAN what are you standing around for?? While I was getting her bowl, the Most Royal Demanding Imperiousness barked at me several times in impatience YOU ARE TAKING TOO LONG. I know she would trade me in for paid help any minute.
She continued to have mild lethargy and incontinence issues Wednesday and on Thursday morning. By the time I got home yesterday, she was back to normal energy levels, hadn’t had an accident in hours and was bright eyed and eager to play and go for her nightly walk. During her walk all she wanted to do was play tug of war with the leash and bite our older dog's tail in an effort to get a rumble started.

There were no accidents over night and she woke me up demanding to go out. While I stumbled around getting my caffeine fix going, she sat in front of her bowl looking from it, to me, and back again with increasingly accusing eyes. THE YUMMY FOOD NOW

By the time I got it warmed up enough – oh please like you wouldn’t warm up the cold food/water before feeding it to a just recovering from poison puppy- she was dancing in place and practically eviscerating me with her intent little eyeballs.

So that’s how we poisoned our puppy and she is better now and I will never forgive myself and if anyone ever suggests that we should use one of those flea spray chemicals again I may hurt them. Adams Flea & Tick Mist nearly killed my dog.

If anyone has successful natural flea treatment/repellent ideas please share.

Just Because

There can never be enough cute puppy photos whilefinishing this interminable week of work, crazy situations, and meetings that must be attended.

So in lieu of the college search post that is drafted and waiting to have the brain dump organized into something moderately cohesive to share, here's some puppies. Puppies make the college bound process more tolerable when one has to confront the reality that their first born will be in COLLEGE next year. I still don't know how that happened.

Arrggg! FACE CHEWING.

                                     

This face chewing is exhausting. You eat the toy while I rest.

What? I was so not going to steal that toy right out of her mouth. I SWEAR.

Why yes, I did destroy the tennis ball. And No, you can't have it.

And a random waterfall picture because imma gonna hold onto the tranquility of this place in my head all day. 

No Willpower

This face?
The cuteness just slays me.

This is the result of viewing available dogs on the local Humane Society facebook page.

Meet Dasher. 4.5 months old of we-don't-have-a-clue breed. She already thinks she owns the sofa, your lap, your food, and has completely stolen the hearts of the entire household. Even the old dog had no defenses against that level of cute.

It's her priviledge, thank you very much, to drape herself across your body to take a much needed snooze. If you're not comfortable enough, she'll move on to the next lap.

This may be a problem later when she outgrows the availabel lap space.

Those ears? Just completely win.

Beware: Gratuitous Puppy Photos ahead

time well wasted

The past couple of weekends I've stolen time for myself. Time I don't normally carve from the endless cycle of running and doing that constantly demands attention. It's just how it is, kids need to be here or there, dishes need doing, laundry needs washing, house needs cleaning. The next minute I look up from the task in front of me and suddenly it's closing in on the next day and another round of schedule humping.

With the arrival of slightly warmer weather last weekend, I gathered the dog and a daypack and headed off to explore an area of my town that I knew about but have never bothered to visit in the almost eighteen years of living within a ten minute drive.

A forestry resource center, with trails, trees and quiet. I used to spend many many hours exploring up in the South Mountain and Watchung reservations in good weather, and bad, because the woods have always been a place that offers me solitude, peace, and the openess to think, or not, should that be the inclination of the moment. But over time, despite having several acceptable parks close at hand, I stopped finding the time for leisurely walks in the woods unless it was on vacation.

I missed it.

Somehow I had forgotten how much my time in the woods nurtured my spirit until I was deep into my walk, sipping some water, the dog at my side and felt myself breathe, just breathe, and absorb the silence of a pine forest trail. It was wonderful.

                             

So I went back Sunday, and my daughter went with me. And the dog, of course, because she has some bizarre radar that zeroes in on a person who might even be thinking of going for a walk and leaving the house for such a venture without the canine companion is just not tolerable to her mind.

This weekend the weather was even more gentle so I headed back to explore further and found hints of spring in wild rhododendren shoots pushing through the fallen leaves.

In tender leaf buds on swaying branches.

And in the murmuring of the river, flush from the recent rains.

A nice long stroll in the woods reminds me to breathe, to take the time to notice the details in the world around me. During these walks, where pine needles carpet the path, I can put aside the day to day frets and focus on bigger things.

Like which path will lead me to the next discovery.
              

          

it's so white out there

It's been snowing a lot on the east coast. Being an ardent lover of the changing seasons and weather extremes, I'm usually as thrilled as the kids when the white flakes start to fall, but the constant storms have even shoved me toward the "it's getting a little ridiculous" camp. As I type this, it's raining ice chips. Driving to work tomorrow is going to be exhilirating! Like a winter slip and slide!

If this keeps up through February, the kid's won't finish with school until July. I'm in favor of a longer school year but can we plan it please?

The dog likes the snow. Because where this is snow, there are, inevitably, snowballs. She thinks that if she barks long enough and loud enough, someone will give in and throw her snowballs until their arms fall off. She's usually right.

Play? Play? Please? Play?

Thunder will also shove her face up to her ears into random piles to chomp on mouthful after mouthful of nature's snowcone. I figure she has permanent brain freeze at this point and doesn't even feel it anymore. Later in the evening she will whimper and whine to be let out several dozen times to pee because all that snow has to go somewhere, now doesn't it?  

Giggles likes the snow more than the dog and will willingly bundle up to spend hours outside playing in the cold and wet, so much so that I get concerned she's been outside long engough for hypothermia to set in.

I figure the dog will let me know if I need to worry.

 

These days, I prefer to watch the snow from the inside, with a hot drink and only venture outside for the occassional picture. Or to shovel out the driveway so I can get to work. My husband has taken this winter's snow dump as a good reason to go skiing and introducing Ace to the art of sliding down a mountain on sticks. I waved goodbye as they headed out of the house. They came home hours and hours later completely exhausted, cold, achy and absolutely thrilled with themselves.

The way the weather has been I imagine it will be mid-summer before we find the outside Christmas lights we put up this year. By then it will really almost be Christmas again and honestly? Why bother taking them down when we're just going to have to turn around and put them right back up again. Besides, who says you can't enjoy pretty sparkly lights in August? You know, when the temp is 95 degrees with 210% humidity and the very act of thinking causes one to break out in a sweat. Everywhere. We'll all be wishing for winter's pleasure right about then, won't we?

Maybe I'll freeze a few icicles for those hot summer days.



what up there?

Wanna know what’s on the top of my house?

A new roof! All sparkly and pristine to replace the ragged and deteriorating shingles that have probably been up there for a good twenty years. Of course now the faded blue paint and yellow trim that we slapped on the house back in 2001 look old and worn, but I can ignore that for a while because painting the house just sucks and we are too cheap frugal to pay someone to do it for us.

The roofers were blessedly efficient and good at what they do and got 92% of the job finished in one day. Their presence on that one day pushed the dog a little closer to the edge of a nervous breakdown though. With every thump and bump from the faceless nameless demons prowling above her head, threatening to demolish her very universe, she quaked and whimpered and tried to fit all 70 lbs of her shivering body onto my husband’s head. There were a couple of really loud moments when the roofers were replacing a few damaged sheathing boards, she tried to crawl up my body because, to the dog I’m sure, it sounded like the very gates of hell were opening above her and she was about to be sucked into the maw of the salivating vengeful giant gopher bound on retribution for her slaughter of the species throughout the years. Or maybe that’s just what her claws digging for purchase into my stomach felt like. Note to self – trim dog’s nails before contractors arrive.

Oddly enough, while the ominous sounds from above sent her into a spiral of neurotic crazy, the sight of a any of the guys walking past the window or door would transform her instantaneously into SUPER GUARDIAN DOG and she would lunge at them with deep ferocious barks and guttural growls emanating from her snarling mouth, teeth bared and ready to sink into whoever dared get close to HER territory.

And then another thump on the roof would send her scuttling back to cower under the desk.

To her credit, the snarly side of her personality totally freaked the roof guys so much that they nervously asked us to please keep the vicious dog away from them. Score one for bat shit crazy dog.

It was a fun day.

Replacing a roof is dirty nasty work, I discovered. Especially in 27 degree weather three days after 8 inches of snow fall, where it just becomes a cold wet slippery job. My husband must have made 30 cups of coffee to keep those guys warm from the inside out. Me? I tried to stay out of everyone’s way and escaped by offering to run all the necessary Saturday errands. I picked up the pizza. It’s safer and less annoying. I’m sure the roofers didn’t need some anxiety ridden nutball homeowner hovering outside reminding them to be careful and watch the snow and DON’T SLIP FOR GOD’S SAKE! Because people standing up on a dry roof (Why is the plural of hoof hooves, but the plural of roof is roofs?) make me nervous, when it’s all wet and slippery, they could you know slide right off and then there could be broken legs or arms and ambulances and that shit is such a hassle, and I so don’t want my roof responsible for breaking people.

Hmmm. Guess the dog is not the only neurotic one in the house.

here pussy pussy

There's a few stray cats that live around my neighborhood. I think one or two of my neighbors feed them and that's all well and good, because stray cats that other people feed don't bother me any as long as they provide effective rodent control for the privilege of using my back yard for their hedonistic nighttime forays.

I've been noticing recently that there's one cat in particular that likes to hang around my yard, on my deck, under my deck, under the garden shed and most importantly, right near the back door.

I hear it at night, making outdoor cat noises, skulking about in the unmowed grass (the kid is out of commission for another few weeks and who has time for lawn maintenance?) and prowling the perimeter.

Every so often I get a glimpse of this cat as I let the dog out so she can add another pile of shit on the grass or go have a barkfest with the dog next door. The cat hears us coming, I know it does, and then it just slinks out of sight, around the corner of the shed at the last possible moment, providing a glimpse of its tail, which drives my dog fucking bonkers. With the scent of cat still fresh in her nostrils she goes hauling ass off the deck trying to chase down the interloper, who has already disappeared into the overgrown garden or under the shed, probably chuckling its evil cat heart out at the futile pursuit by the inane canine.

My dog continues to frantically smell every inch of grass and dirt around the shed, looking at me with those big brown eyes that clearly ask "Which way did it go, which way did it go?"

For the next ten minutes the dog will pace and sniff, pace and sniff, trying to locate the damn cat that is, as I discover, sitting just out of reach under the shed, close enough to drive the damn dog insane with the scent.

This process occurs an average of three times a week. I can almost envision the scenario.

Several cats lounging near the neighbor's garage.

Orange tabby licks her front paw and yawns. I think I'll go chase down the mouse that's taken up residence in the abandoned camper two streets over. I like to hear it squeak when it sees me.

Gray cat stretches and flicks its tail. Hmm, there's a small nest in the bushes next to the deck of the red house that leaves the dried kibble out. There's a few hatchlings in it that keep me awake in the early morning. It's time to shut them up now, they're big enough to make it challenging.

Black cat with white tipped tail finishes grooming tail and smiles. I'm going to sit by the back door of the blue house and let that black dog get a good whiff of me. When it finally convinces its human to let it out, I'm going to let it chase me, get really close and then dive under the shed. That stupid dog will circle me for hours. I tease it by poking my nose out just before it gets to the opening I use to get in. You should see the drool run down its mouth when it sticks its muzzle in. Sometimes I scratch it. It never gets boring.

One of these days, the dog will close enough to take a big health bite. And I will laugh.

bird in the hand

Recently I've gone to the birds. Specifically the the birds that have made our backyard their playground. It started with the Cardinal, which has to be my favorite bird ever and one I consider my animal totem. Whenever I was struggling emotionally after my parents died and I slipped outside into the backyard to breathe or think, or not think, there always seemed to a cardinal sitting on the fence, or flying past me with a quick chirp. That flash of color, the beautiful sight of those cardinals always made me feel a bit lighter of spirit, brighter in my heart.

As with anything like this, I became obsessed, so I read up about cardinals, put cardinal figures in my office, in my car. I tend to over obsess when I'm interested in something. Whenever I saw one through the kitchen window, I would stop and just watch as it surveyed its surroundings and sang away. Seeing the male & female pair flit about the grass looking for food together never failed to make me smile.

My family gave me a bird feeder and a bag of Cardinal food for Christmas and it was one of the best presents ever. To compliment that bird feeder gift, Giggles made a clay Cardinal figurine for me. I keep that in my office, on my desk, where I see it everyday, remembering the pride in her eyes when I opened it, seeing evidence of the love in the crafting of the detail.

With the weather being more hospitable to sitting outside with a morning cup of tea, I've been spending considerable time plopped in a patio chair, with the camera and a pair of binoculars. Bird Watching. Who knew it would be so incredibly fascinating?

The Cardinal has been camera shy, or is just fucking with me, and I suspect that latter, since this morning I got off one shot before he flew away and the minute I went back into the house both the male and female were hanging out at the feeder. I swear they were laughing at me.

I get an unbelievable amount of pleasure from just watching the birds swoop in, nibble on some seed and zip away. It's peaceful and fun. There is an amazing level of social dynamics going on in my little bird neighborhood. Currently there is a territorial scuffle going on among the Morning Doves, as it appears a new single guy is trying to move into the hood. I watched the male of another pair repeatedly chase him off, but the new guys persistent.

The variety of birds I see seems to differ minute by minute, I suspect the chirp about food readily available is being shared from nest to nest and I'll continue to be amazed by the colors and song as new birds make their way to the community. I mean I knew they were there, I just didn't know how many different ones were there. And now they all like to come and hang out, eat some food and make some noise.

The birdsong that filters through windows in the early morning is a great way to begin my day. Happy, uplifting and sweet. I'm starting to identify the cardinal, from the woodpecker, from the nut thatch. I think. But these are the sounds of the morning hours as I make tea, shake the web of dreams from my brain and get ready for the day. All in all not a bad start upon waking.

Thunder has decided she's guarding the feeder against the squirrels. She was very disappointed to learn the feeder is squirrel proof, a fact that really pisses the squirrels off as I see them, sitting on the edge of the deck, trying to figure out a way to get to the seed inside. But the weight of the squirrel on the feeder triggers the outside cage to slide down and block the access holes, preventing squirrel raids. I like to think they've given up, but those squirrels are crafty and determined. I'm expecting a full on assault any day now.

Thunder is convinced  too, so she's keeping a vigilant eye on things, just in case it gets out of hand. 

Me? I'm going to get another cup of tea and hang out and listen to some bird song.

thunking in the new year, Kerbanger style

For the past several years I‘ve kept looking toward the last day of December as a milestone. ‘05 will be better, of course ’06 will be better, certainly ’07 will be better, absolutely ’08 will be better, oh for fuck’s sake ’09 has to be better!

I’m tired of putting this horrible pressure on the flip of a calendar page, resting the rescue of my psyche on a manufactured date and a time. None of that cajoling, pleading and planning worked. Each of those years brought mind-numbing stress and grief and fear. Those ugly days were also mixed with love, learning, laughter and the acceptance that life hands out trials and it’s what you do with them that shows the mettle of the person inside of yourself. I’ve masterfully triumphed over some of those trials and miserably failed at others. That’s okay, as I know a little more of who I truly am and know that I’m that much stronger for what came before.

I decided that I would not put too much stake in expectation for ’10 and let the last day of ‘09 year pass quietly with family watching one of the dumbest movies ever made, yes G-Force I am looking right at you, eating chocolate and drinking good bourbon.

Instead, ’09 ended with a bang. Literally. Our dog got thunked by a car; she must have chased a critter from the yard. When we realized she was not safely monitoring her own backyard, we all ventured out into the frigid air to holler for her. Minutes later she dashed into the front yard looking a little out of sorts. Once we got her inside we saw that one eye was completely dilated while the other pupil was barely a pinprick and there was slight swelling along that side of her face. She was bleeding from a puncture under her tongue and from a few small scrapes along her left side and paws. We got her settled, cleaned her up, took closer stock using my rusty EMT skills, recognized that nothing was broken or dislocated, and then we had a family meeting. It was New Year's Eve, the vet offices were closed and the only emergency animal hospital was 45 minutes away. And the family budget was not flexible enough to accommodate what was, as sure as there were student veterinary school loans, going to easily cost more than a grand to examine. The decision we made was to watch and see if her condition changed through the night that might warrant a vet’s care.

SuperHubby and I took shifts, napping on the sofa with Thunder sleeping on her dogbed next to us. After a night of whining and comfort seeking, by both the dog and adults, spent keeping a close eye on her, she seemed stable. Her eyes responded to light by mid-morning, she was up, albeit moving gingerly, scarfed down breakfast, she took care of her outdoor needs and went back to sleep. Thunder had to be escorted outside for her personal business, to reassure ourselves that she was indeed okay walking, and to observe that there was no blood in her urine or other bodily waste and that task is exactly as disgusting as it reads. I don’t know that I have ever been this concerned about the condition of my dog’s ass. When SuperHubby came in from one such supervised outside excursion, he lamented that it was so damn cold his balls were chattering. I asked him if they sounded like Kerbangers when he walked. Poor Kerbanger Boy.

We decided to forgo a vet visit completely. I’m sure there are many opinions on our decision, such as what horrible pet owners we are, how we don’t deserve to have a dog, that we don’t love our dog, would we not take our kids to the ER because of the cost, blah, blah, blah. I’ve heard all of those criticisms because I am my own worst troll and they ran around in my brain like pinballs on speed even as we made this decision, except the kids and the ER one, because OF COURSE! we would take out kids to the ER if they got hit by a car, I’m not completely unfeeling.

The short of it is the dog probably had a concussion, definitely some bruising and scraping. I’m grateful that she is built like a tank and is no worse off than she is, truly, because when my daughter came over and burrowed into my arms, tears tracking down her cheeks, whispering she didn’t want to loose another dog, I just about caved in and hauled that damn dog off to the emergency hospital just so I didn’t feel like such a shit for being concerned about money. If I'm lucky, the brain rattle she took might realign some of her gray matter and she'll stop eating her own feces for appetizers and start bringing me slippers when she inevitable wakes me up in the morning with shitbreath because she has to pee.

SuperHubby has been out of work, on disability since April ’09, and had back surgery in July after three years of unceasing debilitating back pain. He’s still recovering and not able to go back to work until the doctors release him. He wants to get back as soon as possible, because frankly, he is bored, BORED, BORED beyond belief and just about going bonkers from being cooped up and forced to remain relatively low key. SuperHubby is not the couch potato type.

The whole out of work thing has had a not so positive effect on our income and frankly, if I have to choose between making certain there is money in the bank to cover possible personal family kid type emergencies over taking the dog to the vet, I must confess the dog gets the shaft. It is what it is. I remain grateful that I am employed and we remain financially secure while all of this is going on, but a line must be drawn to stay that way. I'm not apologizing for that stance.

As a matter of fact, I think I’ll expend my energies this year on reclaiming my life from the overhanging clouds of the past few years. I can’t change them, nor ignore their significance. I can continue to grow from those experiences and be a better person. More loving, more tolerant, rebuild my self-confidence, remember who I am inside, because when I do that, myself and the ones I love benefit from those positive feelings and vibes. I will still snarl at you if you try so speak with me before caffeine, some things remain immutable.

So, the dog is fine. She’s been a bit low key, resting, moving slower than usual and demanding attention for the past couple of days. This morning, she woke me up bitching to get out to pee and raced over to the fence line to bark ferociously at the neighbors annoying shepherd, who never stops barking. When we trudged back inside, she demanded her breakfast and then proceeded to take up residence on the sofa as if she owned it, watching me move about getting ready for the day. We made the right decision, we gave her care and love, nursed her wounds and received love and comfort in return.

One Dog, sucking up the sickbed attention.

I guess that’s the heart of what I hope for in ‘10, living with love and care and making the right decisions.

a girl, a slushie and a guard dog

Taken on a sunny before the recent great flood. They certainly enjoy the wam weather days together. Where to girl goes, so goeth the dog.

taste of sea on tongue

The jetty? Not her favorite place to be. When we got to a point where she had to jump from one rock to another to cross a gap, she would stand there and whine at me to GET HER OFF THE ROCKS. NOW, Please!

We all know I coaxed her further out onto the jetty just to add to her neuroses.

"Please take me home? Please? The water, it is big and noisy."

This Dog

This is our dog .

Her name is Thunder. Which she is terrified of.

She's strong, fast, and has a shit your pants scary deep bark that has made grown men jump back in fear while squeaking like a girl. Which is a damn funny thing to witness.

For some odd reason, we have never taken this dog to the beach, even though we only live about 25 minutes away. Alright, it's really because we're lazy and the beach is 25 minutes away and not like, across the street.

Last weekend, Giggles and I thought it was be tons of fun for all of us to run in the sand and avoid the very cold NJ water. We asked Thunder if she wanted to go for a ride. One thing this dog loves is being in the car. Her obsession with being in the car almost requires medication. She will, at every opportunity, jump into what ever car has doors, or windows, that are open. Or ones that she thinks are open. A few weeks ago we took her on some errands and she was out of the car for a short time just after sunset. When she wanted to get back in the car, she tried to jump through the window. Except it was closed. She smashed snout first right into the window, falling back with a solid Whoof. Hopefully, we've learned a lesson here. Given her drooling desire to be in the car, getting her to leave one can sometimes involve lots of swearing and threatening.

So we drove to the beach and when I was certain the coast was clear of any other person that she would jump on, or dog that she would try to eat, I let her off the leash. She was so excited to hit the sand her whole body was flailing back and forth from the force of her wagging and attempts to smell EVERYTHING, all at once.

Unrestrained excitement was in every movement as she took in this new place, with the new scents. It was hysterical. She kept bounding back to me and Giggles as if to exclaim "Do you SMELL that? What is THAT? Oh, did you SMELL THAT? What's THIS?"

We wandered closer to the water's edge and a wave caught her front paws. Shock. Compete visceral shock was the only way to describe the look on the goofy dog face. She froze for a nanosecond and then literally jumped 4 feet sideways to escape the wave.

"What the HELL was THAT?"

You could see the total bafflement as she stared and then started barking viciously at the water. Deep guttural barks that shook her body from head to tail tip. If she hadn't been so scared, I think she would have tried to bite it.

I almost pissed my pants, right there. I couldn't keep the camera from shaking long enough to take a photo of this big black dog, practically shouting at the water for scaring her silly. It was hard enough not to fall down laughing. Because after she was done barking, she ran over to my legs and hid behind them so I was between her and the water.

It should be pointed out that this is the same dog that quakes in fear and tries to climb onto my head when the cell phone battery indicator beeps.

Big Scary Moron.

Shadow Rover - Border Collie Extraodinaire

We had to put our Shadow to sleep last night. Her arthritis had gotten so bad, she could only bear light weight on one of her front paws and her hips made it difficult to get up some mornings. The mammary tumors kept getting bigger.

Her spirit was always desirous of playing her favorite version of soccer with her kids. Despite the discomfort I knew she felt, she always wanted to chase the ball and bounce it back to who ever would play. So we all played with her for a few last minutes and then took her to the vet's office.

All four of us were petting her and giving her Shadow love when she stopped breathing. The kids wanted to be there and I respected that decision. The Vet was a bit disapproving of their presence but when faced with collective stoney stares he backed off. This is a new Vet to the practice we've been going to for years and we don't like him much.

Thunder, our other dog, is very confused as to why her Mama is not here and has been walking around whining this morning. I feel like whining myself.

When the stink is fierce, light a candle

Where ever I go in the house, there is usually a dog by my feet. I like to train them early to stick close because I get cold feet and what's better than a warm dog laying over your toes on a chilly evening, I ask you?

SuperHubby called earlier today to tell me he caught Thunder snacking on some critter in the yard. He discovered this when he noticed she was very intently focused on something in the grass and as he went to investigate, she gobbled it down very swiftly, mostly because she saw him coming and knew he would not approve of her snacking choices and take it away.

That's when he saw the feathers sticking out of her mouth and all other evidence destroyed.

It would not be the first time she has snatched some poor feathered creature from the air.

She takes her role as property manager very seriously.

I don't think fresh bird digests very well in the gullet of a pampered border collie/lab mix.

While browsing the internet, with dog draped over my feet, the stink of dog farts rose up to smother me in a cloud of noxious fumes. I think my nose hairs are burning. I'm going to light some candles now. And maybe change my clothes.

Wash yer face??

This is George. He's my sister's very large, very loveable St. Bernard. See that tongue? It's the size of a dinner platter and can clean yer face in one swift slobbery swipe. I know this to be true.

Outlining the predicament

Just the other day a friend oh so casually asked me if I knew of any reliable dog sitters that would come to the house and care for their dog while they were on vacation. Before she could take a breath between that sentence and the next I whipped the card for the boarding kennel we use out of my wallet so fast it made her hair flutter in the air current of my movements.

"NO, I DO NOT", I stated emphatically as I forced her fingers around the bright yellow card. "Call these people. They are excellent and your dog will never want to come home." Then I hastily excused myself from her company as fast as I could using false pretenses because I could see where this conversation was heading and there wasn't a chance in a deep frozen hell I was going for that ride.

Dog sitting is dangerous business best left to the professionals. Caring for someones pet is akin to being blindfolded in a labyrinth of hidden landmines with a deadline to get through it. Trust me on this, I KNOW OF WHICH I SPEAK.

Not far enough in the past that I can claim vague recollections, SuperHubby and I were guilted into taking care of our neighbor's four month old puppy while they traveled to Florida for 10 days. Why anyone would take possession of a four month old puppy knowing they are about to go away is a question I still toss up to the universe when the memories come back to torment me. The universe, I fear, cannot adequately answer this question except to state that people are often stupid in the extreme. I say guilted into this action because the same neighbors decided to bring their new puppy into our backyard, despite being warned that one of our dogs is unfriendly to her kind and is always a complete bitch about encroachment of her territory. Of course the inevitable occurred when the puppy was left unsupervised for a few brief moments and she wandered too close to Shadow and the puppy got a bloody lip and ear for her transgression. The neighbors were horrified and being the saps we are, we agreed to take care of the dog, at their house, so her lip and ear could heal properly while they went sunbathing. Can anyone say "I smell a set up?"

SuperHubby and I split the schedule, he would take the afternoons and post-dinner shifts. This left me with the early morning and late night visits with the dog. The puppy was crated, which was probably a good thing considering, but she was so excited to get out when she could, that she went bat shit crazy and ran around like a loon, jumping all over the furniture, ripping around the yard, bounding up and down the stairs and trying to crawl into my skin looking for affection. It's hard to resist that kind of over the top puppy goofiness and as I mentioned I'm a sap so I spent extra time to play with her every day and clearly she was not to be allowed into our yard with the crazy attack dog. The mornings were the toughest, as I had to stumble out of the house earlier than usual and mornings just suck major balls when faced at 5 am. I would make the coffee, grab a to-go cup and stumble across the yard, eyes barely open and brain still not chugging on all gears. When I opened the door one morning the smell, OH MY HOLY FUCKING GODS THE SMELL hit me like a bat in the face. What horrible thing happened in here, I wondered stumbling through the fog of stench. And there it was. The puppy had had a major case of the shits all over herself, the crate, the floor outside the crate and somehow on the wall. And it had been there a while as some of it was cement dry on the carpet.

Now, there is not enough coffee or goodwill in the world that makes facing this kind of mess easier at that unholy hour of the morning. None, Nada, Zilch. The really mean nasty part of me that lives not that far below the surface wanted to call this neighbor on his cell phone and tell him to get his fucking ass on a plane to come deal with his dog as this is a deal breaker. I don't like to clean up my own dog's messes and this was waaaaayyyy over the line of neighborly favors. But the damn dog was looking at me with those stupid puppy eyes, covered in shit and trembling with eagerness to get out of her crate. Well Hell, who could blame her? I wanted out of the shit infested house too. Out she came and I shoved her filthy body out the door to do whatever business she had left in her so I could begin to clean up, cursing and bitching at every step. I dismantled the crate and cleaned it off, washed down the walls, sprayed about three cans of Lysol in the house because THE STINK WOULD NOT GO AWAY and continued to turn the air blue with very inventive expletives. Then the dog finally got bathed, which just made a bigger mess. As we two, one now clean and the other now filthy, stood there viewing the dried shit remnants sticking to the carpet I realized a vacuum was needed and went to hunt one up.

This was no easy clean up with the vacuum being old and not so reliable. It started to smoke and whine. Only the whine turned out to be the smoke alarm. It was part of a fancy wall unit and the only way I could find to stop the shrill fucking sound coming from the box was to hit the off button. It's worth noting that my caffeine intake at this point was not adequate with one cup and I was mad, dirty and bordering on homicidal. Back to vacuuming I went. And then the phone rang. Turns out the fancy wall unit was a security system and when the fire alarm went off, someone somewhere else in the world knew it. And when the alarm was turned off they knew that too and they wanted to know if everything was okay.

Yes, I said, and succinctly outlined the predicament.

Can you rearm the security system, they asked suspiciously.

No, I don't have the codes, said I.

Hmm, they said and off the phone we went.

A moment later I heard the distinctive sound of police car sirens and noticed the police car in front of the house. I closed my eyes and opened the door. There's been a fire reported here, he says.

No fire, I say through smiling through gritted teeth. the vacuum overheated and the alarm went off. He strolls through the door, eying me up and down and asked if I'm the home owner.

No, I say, waving my hand toward the back yard, I'm the neighbor, caring for the dog and outlined the predicament. Your name? he asks suspiciously, pulling out his notebook. I close my eyes and tell him my name, address and phone. Can I finish cleaning up, I ask? Sure he says, petting the happy puppy who clearly thinks the policeman came to see her.

As I headed back to the vacuum, because thieving arsonists always answer the door for the police and clean up after themselves, I heard the distinctive sound of fire truck alarms and saw not one, but two, fire trucks out front. I closed my eyes and counted to ten before I glanced at the policeman. He says, All fire alarms have to be investigated. I opened the door, really really wishing for more coffee. There's been a fire reported at this address, says the fireman.

NO FIRE, I forcefully respond. That thing, pointing to the vacuum, overheated and outlined the predicament one more time. They stroll through the door and begin to wave some sci-fi heat sensor thingy over the vacuum. Yep, it's hot, one of them says. Somehow I restrained myself from yelling, "Of course it is you fuckhead morons, it overheated. Can't you see and smell the dried shit it's been trying to suck from the carpet?" I just closed my eyes and waited while they checked the rest of the house. And then I heard the distinctive sound of an ambulance alarm, saw it pull up in front of the house and heard the officer say it had been too late to call them off.

And so it was at 6:00 am one morning, the entire emergency response team showed up because a dog shit all over the house, a vacuum overheated and a neighbor agreed to dog sit.

Shadow, Border Collie Extraordinaire

This is Shadow. She's our super Border Collie. When we got Shadow she was 4 months old, didn't know how to walk up or down stairs. Was afraid of putting her feet in the grass or on the carpet. If I raised my voice, to anyone at all, she would pee right on the spot. It took us almost 8 months to help her overcome her panic of loud noises. The first night we had her home, she was so terrified and whined whenever the lights went out I ended up sleeping on the floor next to her so she wouldn't freak.

Now? Now, at 10 years old she is the sweetest, most loving dog in the world. As long as you are not another animal (see groundhog posts). She really hates other animals, including her own daughter. Well, maybe not hates, but display clear apathy for her presence. The only relationship they have is the one where Shadow shows her dominance with a few growls and periodic snarls for emphasis and Thunder stays out of her way, because it's just safer that way.

Shadow has some issues, which make her all the more special in our house. She hates it when people she doesn't know reach over her head to rub the top of her head and ears. Her body goes completely still and she gets that intent look in her eyes that means if you move one inch she'll rip you to shreds with no regret and she rumbles a bit in the chest. We warn everyone that comes in the house that they should never ever touch her there. She's allowed her space. She doesn't like to cuddle when she sleeps. As a matter of fact, she doesn't like to be touched when she sleeps. That action elicits some serious grumbling from her and a relocation of her body, where she can't be touched by annoying humans.

We came home one day and Shadow had eaten 3 pieces of a 5 piece sectional sofa. Eaten, not just ripped and tossed about. I think she shit foam for a month. We had a long talk about furniture destruction and why it's completely not acceptable behavior and she looked up at me with those adoring serious brown eyes which made me I decide that I really couldn't drop her off at the shelter for bad miserable dogs that eat couches. She doesn't like the camera so much for some reason. Whenever she sees it pointed in her direction, her ears go down and she turns away. It makes it difficult getting some great face shots. We respect her phobia's as she's come so far.

She's obsessed with anything that flies through the air that she might be able to catch. If she even thinks you might throw an object that is in your hand, she locks her eyes on it (the face in the picture) and intensely stares at it until it gets thrown, and then she handily snatches it from the air or you put it down clearly indicating it won't be in the air. In most cases, she's so intent on the possibility that the item in question might get thrown that she drools some.

She herds the kids in the backyard when they go out to play. If there is a soccer ball in the activity and it gets tossed her way, chances are she'll bounce it right back to you. She likes to lay at our feet and get foot rubs all over her chest and head. If she doesn't know you, don't try this as you might not have all of your toes when you are done.

There is one thing Shadow loves to do for hours and that is catch water shooting out of a hose. Any hose. She used to leap ass over head to catch the arching water. Jump to grab a stream shot over her head. Stalk the sprinkler and then growl and attack it when the spray came back around. She doesn't jump as much now with the arthritis but she'll still attack and swallow water from the hose as long as someone stands there and sprays it at her. And then she'll have to pee every hour on the hour because she drank so much of it. This applied to snow shovelling as well. It makes it so much fun to shovel snow that I like to do it.

Shadow sleeps on a soft bed located next to my side of the bed and if I accidentally nudge her with my toes when I come in to bed, she grumbles at me like a cranky old fart for disturbing her sleep.

These days Shadow is a bit slower. She has terrible arthritis in her legs and hips. She also has mammary tumors. We've decided not to treat her with ridiculous medicine as she's still very playful, alert and active. She'll continue to get love, play and snacks until she tells us otherwise. I just thought everyone should know what a damn wonderful dog she is.