this one is for the birds

Somehow, I have taken an active interest in birdwatching over the past year. I credit this interest to all the hunting I did last year. Watching the skies for signs of duck and goose for hours on end will do that, I suppose. My interest for watching birds at home started rather innocently. As a wedding gift, my Aunt from my dads side bought us this beautiful glass bird feeder that I never really bothered to keep full.  Apparently, times are changing. See: little old lady syndrome. At the beginning of spring, I

decided it was pertinent that we feed the wildlife around us. So we bought a new feeder and took the pretty one out onto the back deck and mounted it so we could watch a little more closely. The food we bought must be good because It attracts cardinals, blue jays, doves, robins, chickadees and a variety of wrens and birds I couldn't identify. The cardinals are the most prevalent and there is one in particular I have taken to calling Bully.

Do you see him there on the feeder? He doesn't look it from here that far away, but he is HUGE. When he eats, no other birds are allowed to eat. He even runs the blue jays off and that is saying something because those guys are mean! I so wish I had a better zoom lens, because up close, he is really beautiful. Though he isn't solid red, (which makes me think he may be a juvenile) he has this mottled look to his feathers that is really beautiful. That and he is very funny to watch. Once Bully flies in to eat, the doves form a row on top of the roof and wait for him to leave. (Our doves are so fat, you could get some serious meat off of them.) The wrens are little, but they are brave. They like to swoop in and grab a bite, then dive off. They don't plan on staying when they come in- not that Bully would let them, anyway. The squirrels have also found the feeder. It's a shame I didn't have the camera on me at the time, but Saturday morning Mark called me into the kitchen to look at the feeder. There was a squirrel hanging from the bottom of it, trying desperately to get a few morsels. It's easily a 10 foot drop to the ground from that feeder. The squirrels are brave little soldiers, though.

It seems that I am not the only person in the house who has taken an interest in the bird/squirrel watching. Ryan likes to take his little chair into the bathroom and watch from there. Somehow, I lost the picture proof, but I am sure to have other opportunities to catch him in action. : )

The birds and squirrels aren't the only wildlife teeming around here... yesterday while plating some flowers, I caught this little guy trying to hide in one of the vines I was weeding...

Isn't he lovely? I will say he scared the crap out of me at first. For starters, his tail was hidden from sight and my first thought was, "Shit! A snake!" Upon further inspection, (and a few prods with a twig) I discovered his tail (salamander?) and then his feet, which are admittedly very hard to see because they are black (OK, a lizard of SOME variety) and blend with the soil. I'm guessing this are some sort of defense mechanisms, but what kind I am not sure. : ) Maybe he is supposed to look like a snake... makes him seem more dangerous? I'm not sure, but he is awfully pretty.

Happy Tuesday to you all... : )

*Pawn Shop- Sublime



Saber's Story, part 2

My original thought after writing part one, was to take a week to process our loss and to make a running list of all the funny, happy things I could remember about my sweet girl. Like most things that I 'plan' it didn't work out the way I had hoped and we got a whole other pile of crap dumped on us just before I got busy with it. There are family things that I won't go into BECAUSE THAT WOULD REQUIRE A WHOLE NEW POST. Moving on. One of the big things was Mark's thumb. It was still really bothering him on Monday so he went to the doctor. As it turns out, his thumb was not "totally fine" as I reported before. The bones were actually bruised. Though the doctor did commend us for how clean the wound was, because he had absolutely no infection. (They gave him an antibiotic, anyway.) SO. They actually put him in a half cast (one you can remove so you can clean wounds underneath), wrapped him up in an ace bandage and out him out of work for three days. The man drove me nuts. When Mark is at home, he likes to DO things. (Have you ever seen a post more littered with CAPITOL LETTERS than this one? I think not.) Anyway, he was stir crazy and I felt guilty that I didn't take him to the ER over the weekend. So for three and a half days I tried to entertain him. I had no luck. We mostly watched movies and stayed up late. On Thursday, he went back to the doctor and they told him no work until he had a follow up with our family doc. His follow up was today and they've put him in a NEW brace that looks very Forrest Gump. So Sexy.

With all that, and the family BOMB, the wedding I photographed Friday and a host of other things. I have barely found time to eat and shower let alone mourn my poor dog. I'd like to think it's a good thing, that I'm being shown that life does go on, but I'm a little bitter. Not at Mark of course, but with other things that are once again out of my control. Grrrr.

So here is what I can come up with off of the top of my head about my sweet girl. to be the remedy to the "bad" post...

Mark and I found Saber at East Town Mall. "How much is that doggie in the window?",  I remember asking Mark. We got the guy to get her out for us and we went into that teeny, tiny room with a bench barely big enough for one person, let alone two and a puppy, to play with her. She was so sweet. Still a puppy, she was fuzzy. And she enjoyed chewing on Mark's shoelaces and biting my fingers. She had the most exquisite puppy breath and I remember telling her so. She licked my face and then bit my ear. I was sold. Mark was not. We left without her that day and for several days I bugged him and bugged him to please, please, please go back and get that doggie in the window. At the time, we lived with his parents and he didn't think they would let us get a puppy, but I had other ideas. I talked up her cuteness to his mom and dad. Didn't work. I told them I would pay for her. Didn't work. I was getting discouraged and finally starting to accept defeat when Mark and his dad brought her home the next day. I was so shocked... my window doggie!! Excited didn't cover what I was and it was the total opposite of what Saber was. She was terrified. She crawled under a bench and wouldn't come out for days after we brought her home. I guess living behind glass for part of your life will do that to you. Sensory overload must suck. The first night she was with us, we made her a bed in our room and fell asleep. A little while later we were cleaning up poop. Then pee. Then poop again. How much poop could one dog hold?????? It was a long night, but a bonding one as well. We still laugh when we talk about it.

Another great memory of Saber is when she had a litter of puppies. She had them in the backseat of my car on the way to Kingston. Poor old girl. It was this same litter that we kept Bruiser from. Saber was such a good mother. She was super tolerant of all the crazy fools we brought up to see her and the new puppies. She would corral them when a storm came and curl her self in a circle around them. And when all of the other puppies were gone, she continued to look after Bruiser for the rest of her life. Bruiser still hasn't recovered from losing Saber. She's not eating well and cries to be inside with us all the time. It speaks volumes to the kind of mother Saber was. Saber made a great grandmother, too. When Bruiser had her first litter, Saber laid right next to the whelping box while Bruiser labored. She was older when Magoo was born, but she didn't mind him snuggling her when no one was looking.

Saber loved to run. It was actually a JOY when we bought this house because she was finally going to be able to run free. The two houses we lived in before had no fence she she had to be tied out when she went outside. We made a big deal of it, taking her in on a leash to the yard. When we let her loose she took of like a cannon and wouldn't come in for two whole days. She LOVED it.

Saber also loved cats. Well, kittens really. Twice we kitten-sat for friends and she was happy to let them make biscuits on her belly as long as they were content. She tried giving the kittens a bath too, but was vehemently rejected on both counts.

Saber really loved babies, though. When Mark's cousin Logan was born, his Aunt brought him out to the house. She laid him down on the bed for a nap and Saber laid at the foot of the bed, on the floor, while he slept. Every time one of us would come in to check on the baby, she would inspect us closely while we did it, just to make sure he was alright. When Logan got a little older, we would sit him in his carrier in front of the TV and he would laugh. Saber laid right next to the carrier, watching him carefully. When he cried she would lick his feet. If that didn't cheer him up, she would nervously come find one of us and "woooo" until we came and got him. That is quality babysitting, 'yo.

I could tell so MANY stories about how awesome she was...the memories are really flowing now.

-When Josh Jackson died, she crawled into my lap (she was still small at that time) and licked the tears from my face.
-When my dad died, she spent two days in bed with me. I don't think she even left to eat or pee.
-When Ryan got big enough, She let him roll around on top of her without complaint.
-When Mark got the Flu, she kept a watchful eye on him and alerted me when he moved. : )
-When Mark was in the knee stabilizer, she laid with him for days on end watching movies and eating bits of sandwich and cheeseballs.
-When Mark and I went on vacation and left her with a sitter she didn't like, she peed on our bed. (So sweet.)
-When Mark's dad pissed her off, she would shit IN his shoes. Or right in front of the door to their bedroom.
-When she got up in the mornings, she was very vocal. If you talked to her, she would "wooooo" right back at you. She was so funny.
-She hated a bath. WITH PASSION.
-She LOVED bacon.
-She could shake with both paws, sit and lay down. She learned it all in one day and decided that would be all she learned. I so with I had started with STAY.
-She loved to ride in the car.
-She loved Frosty Paws.
-She LOVED snow. Though we get precious little of it here in East Tennessee, when we did get some, she would act like we had called, had it delivered just for her, and then added bacon flavoring to it. She ate it, she rolled in it, She shoved her nose down into it and threw it into the air. She even SLEPT in it. That dog LOVED snow.
-She was our FIRST everything. Before buying a house, before getting married, before joint checking accounts, before we bought a car. She was the first thing Mark and I ever did together. She was so special to us. So important. So LOVED.

We miss her, but she's here in the backyard anytime we want to visit. I even painted a rock for her graveside to mark it. She was SUCH A GOOD DOG.

Saber's Story Part 1

I'm not even sure where to begin...the good or the bad? I guess I'll start with the bad and finish with the good.

It all started about 3 months ago. Mark and I had noticed before then that Saber had slowed down considerably but at the time, we just attributed that to her age and breed. Then, back at the end of April we noticed she was having a really tough time with the stairs. For instance, when going down the stairs, she would sometimes trip or even fall, plunging down one flight to the landing. So, we made an appointment with the vet thinking she probably had arthritis in her hips. The vet confirmed arthritis not only in her hips but also in her knees which was probably the main culprit of her accidents. We were given a drug called Remedyl and another drug the helped with bladder issues. (Something that we had been battling for a short time as well.) We had to go back a week later for a liver check because Remedyl can damage a dogs liver. The problem was, the Remedyl made little difference whatsoever. It seemed like Saber was actually doing worse and I had begun to notice that she was constantly walking circles, and always turning right. She also seemed indifferent sometimes and did not really want any attention. In fact, she sort of shied away from it all together. Our vet did a few tests. She checked her ears and eyes thoroughly. She mentioned to us that all these things together were starting to sound like a brain tumor. She offered us the holy mother of blood work and thyroid tests, but we needed some time to think and assess at home. A month went by and nothing happened. Saber still acted the same, maybe worsening a little. Everything came to head a week ago, Thursday.

***************************************

Mark and I were hanging out here at home. I was in the office and he was in the living room with all three dogs watching TV. When he called out for me, I just KNEW something was wrong. I am sure you've had this feeling at one time in your life or another, but when he called out for me, the tenor in his voice, the pitch, the way he said it, was all wrong. I threw my book aside and hurried into the living room where I saw him on the floor with my baby, Saber. I could tell she was having some kind of seizure just by looking at her. She was rolled onto her left side and her legs were drawn up, but kicking. Her jaw was clenched down and I could see blood and lots of saliva coming out of her mouth. Her eyes were wide and she looked terrified. I ran to them and Mark moved over to make room so I could assess what was happening. I ran into the kitchen and found a wooden brush we use for basting and slid it in between her teeth. I was really afraid she was going to bite her tongue off. Next, I slid my left arm underneath her neck and around her right leg towards her belly. I took my right arm over her body and pulled her to me. I held her that way for about 5 minutes, until she acted like she wanted to stand. I kept my arms around her firmly, but still held on and talked softly to her until she sort of came around. She was having a hard time walking. Her feet were dragging but she was making it. We gave her water and she seemed better. A little while later, she wanted to go out and we took that as a good sign and went out into the yard with her. Mark kept his eye on her and I called the emergency line at the vet. I remember thinking how weird it was to be calling, as it was a phone number I had never had to use before. The vet on call (not our normal vet) told us to keep an eye on her and to call our regular vet in the morning. If she had another one that night we were to bring her in straight away. I told Mark what was going on and promptly freaked the hell out.

*********************

It was a very long night, to say the least. We gave her 2 Benedryl to calm her down so she could sleep. Mark had training the next day, so my wonderful friend Bill helped me load and take her to the vet.  The situation we were in at this point wasn't good I suspected, but I never realized just how bad it was. Our vet, who is a saint, you'll find out later, told me we better go ahead and run the blood work and the thyroid test. Everything came back beautifully. Saber was healthy. Perfect. This led us back to the conversation about the brain tumor. We could run an MRI and find it definitively, but even if we did, what would we do with that information? Have her remove it? No. We wouldn't. Saber was 10 years old, which is pretty old for a big dog. Less than that, there is just no way we could afford an MRI that would run somewhere in the neighborhood of $1500.00 and then do nothing with the information, save the cost of brain tumor removal surgery. Our vet told us the best thing we could do would be to take care of her and love her as we always have. It was possible that the seizure was a one time thing or at the very least might not happen again for a long time. It was a possibility that we could even still have months of years with our girl. She sent me home with 1 large syringe of Valium in case it did happen again, to be given rectally, since Mark or I neither one knew how to give it to her intravenously. We were also supposed to try and keep track of her good days versus bad days, just in case. So, we brought her home and treated her like the Queen of Sheba. We let her sleep wherever and whenever she wanted. We gave her bacon and all sorts of other things we wouldn't normally let her have. We stayed home with her or came home early to try and keep her safe, happy and comfortable. And I am so glad we did.

*************************************

Flash forward to Friday.   Mark and I were helping with a huge barbecue to take place yesterday. We worked most of the day Friday away from the house getting ready for it. We got home Friday night and something wasn't right. I knew it before I got out of the car. Usually when we arrive home, Bruiser and Magoo are the first to the fence row to greet us. Saber usually gets there a few minutes later, (my poor, old, slow baby) and the wait until we are out of sight to run to the back door to bed let in. Not one of the dogs appeared at the fence row. Ominous. Thinking back, I am sure Mark thought this was bad too, or at the very least weird, though I didn't ask him. We were both hurrying to get inside, at any rate. I heard Bruiser barking. When I opened the door to the back porch, I could tell right away that something had happened. There was a crunch under my feet. Seashells. Our metal tub for beer had been knocked over and there were seashells from all of our beach trips inside of it. The glider I just painted recently was knocked over. Magoo was hiding under the table, and the chairs were splayed out across the deck. Bruiser was on the apron just off of the porch, up against the siding. Barking in cowardice. Saber was nowhere to bed found. I remember asking Mark to get a flashlight but getting it myself instead. (Adrenaline makes you stupid. Focused, but stupid.) We didn't go far to find her. We were calling to her and doing the whistle she knows as ours when we glimpsed her. She was making a wide circle in the yard, but I could instantly tell, even in the dark that something was wrong. It was almost like she was wounded. She would limp and fall, try to get up, shoot forward, and fall again. Something was very wrong. Her collar was also missing. Once we finally got a hold of her, my eyes were able to take in the mess that she really was. She was covered in mud and there were drops of blood here and there. Her fur was wet, sticky with drool. In her eyes she wore a very dazed stare. She did not know our touch, but seemed to recognize our voices. It was awful. We managed to get her up on the deck to clean her up a bit. We used baby wipes and it took forever. There was no way I would let her stay outside, but I am vain enough that I didn't want my carpet destroyed. A bath was completely out of the question. We were sure that another seizure had occurred, but it was too late to give her the Valium. We dosed her with the benedryl again and we all fell into bed around 1AM.

******************

An hour later we woke to a screaming dog. In the short time that had elapsed, she had managed to work her way into Marks closet and had begun seizing when we woke up. Mark rolled out of the bed and into the floor with her. I ran to get the Valium. Somehow, while I was gone, she managed to get turned around and somehow bit him. I had to leave her for about 10 minutes to tend to Mark's wound. It wasn't bad, but bad enough to bleed and HURT. (It's still jacked up, but mending.) After bandaging him up, I went back downstairs to find that she was still seizing and had knocked over both bedside tables, pooped in the floor and had wedged her self in the space between the bed and the wall, about 4 inches wide. Assessing the situation, I thought I would try to give her the Valium. This did not go over well. That syringe was large and me in a panicked state jamming it up her butt was probably not too comfortable for her. She shot the Valium and shit out against the wall so quickly, I don't believe for a minute that very much of it stayed in there. I didn't believe, but I hoped. I took her into the bathroom and pinned her in. After a while she calmed down and I was able to clean the wall, the carpet and put our bedroom back together a little. Next I googled dog bites. Never, never do this at 4AM. Trust me on this. At 4:30AM, I started the Chili for the cookout. I figured we wouldn't be attending, but a promise is a promise. It needed to be ready. At 5:30 She had another seizure. At 6:30 Mark and I switched out watch. At 8AM, he let her outside and called the vet. Our vet told us to bring her on in. We had left the truck at Bill and Beth's to load stuff for the cookout, so we headed over there, borrowed Bill's dog box and headed home. By the time we got back she had obviously seized again because her tongue was bleeding heavily. We loaded her into the dog box and headed for the vet in Sweetwater.

****************************************

She seized at least 3 more times on the way down. The seizures had begun to roll one into another. We could hear her screaming most of the way there. The windows up and music did not drown out her cries. I will be haunted by this for many years. When we were 10 minutes away, Mark called the office to let them know what was going on and that they needed to be ready. The told us not to bring her in, for one of us to come in and let them know we were there. Mark went in and I went around back to my girl. I let the tailgate down and she was laying down in the crate finally. She was panting and honestly, I could barely recognize her. Between the mud, the blood, the drool and the vacant look in her eyes, I knew it was time. Our vet reached me at that time and the first thing she did was put her arms around me and I lost it. She told me how sorry she was that it had come to this so quickly. She held me in that parking lot for a few minutes and Shhhh'd my sobs. Mark came out a few minutes later with the vet tech and our vet asked me if we were ready. My only thought was to please, please make her stop hurting. It took a few minutes for all of us to coax her out of the crate. She was so, so tired but still trying to fight. That's my girl. Fighting until the end. Once we got her out, it took a few sedatives to finally get her calmed down. Laying there in the parking lot of her office, on the tail gate of our truck, our vet ended her suffering. It wasn't until a few minutes later that I realized I could let go of her collar. She wasn't going to run anywhere. Still and quiet for the first time in her exuberant life, my girl was gone. I cried. Of course, I cried. I cried while the last few patients of the day drove in and parked. Got their dogs out, and stared wordlessly at the scene we were causing in the parking lot. I even briefly considered kicking the ass of a beautiful German Shepard that was barking at my dead dog. I buried my face in her still soft, though blood spattered and muddy fur and I cried. Mark was crying too. He had his left arm around me and his right hand on her head. We cried together for a long time. Finally, I looked up into the eyes of my vet. Very softly she said "She's gone." I nodded numbly and then she told us that she and the tech would wrap her up for us and put her back in the box. She said when the tailgate shuts, you guys can leave. I looked up at Mark and he nodded. So we kissed her nose and got into the truck. Mark said "Could they have been any nicer?" I don't think they could have.

**************************************

Coming home, we were very quiet. It wasn't until Mark pulled over that I realized how close to home we were...or how BLACK the sky was. I looked like 7:00 at night. The clock said 12:11. It was going to rain. Mark said we needed to tarp the box. We got out and got it covered just in time. It was pouring. When we pulled in at the house, neither one of us could bear to let her stay in the truck while it rained, even though it was tarped. We unloaded her and took her into the backyard underneath the deck. It was two hours later before was could start digging her grave. We let a very confused Bruiser and nervous Magoo into the back yard. They immediately found the box and laid down next to it in some sort of vigil. While digging, I asked Mark how deep did we need to dig? His answer was a good one. We dig until we feel better. So that we did. When the hole was deep enough, we lined it with honeysuckle. We brought the crate over and very gently lowered her in. She was swathed in a blanket. Our vet had been so careful with her. A simple kindness shown by someone who has done this countless times, but was a gesture so immeasurably wonderful to us.  We placed more honeysuckle on top, and together with Bruiser and Magoo, we said our goodbyes. We covered her up and used a rock as a small headstone. And then we cried some more.

*********************************

today was a sad, sad day.....

It's too painful to talk about today. Maybe I can do it tomorrow, but just so I remember....

Our sweet Saber girl.. February 10, 2001- June 18, 2011.

She's already so missed.

communication

Mark and I were discussing horses on the way home from a friends house the other day when the topic of communication found its way into our conversation. Mark was talking about when he was young, taking care of horses was a sometimes daunting, but mostly fun task. He was telling me that sometimes when you saddle a horse that it will hold its breath- either to mess with you, or because it's uncomfortable being saddled. He went on to say that if the horse did indeed hold its breath, that once you tried to get on the saddle, that it would either wobble to much or swing completely upside down, thus making you start the entire process over. The horse holding its breath made me think about the ways we communicate with one another.... Wouldn't it be so easy if all we had to do is hold our breath to get our way or mess with someone else? Language really tends to slow things down in the communication department sometimes...

Just sayin'.

if I'm not careful...

...blog will turn into a photography blog. (Oh well, that might not be so bad!) Anyway, I recovered pictures from my second hunting excursion and have more to add! This hunting thing has really gotten me off schedule. Waking up at the crack of dawn is not ordinarily my thing (as any of my faithful readers will already know and can easily attest to). It is fun though. Once I am up and out there, it's really quite enjoyable. There were some moments of frustration and I am still learning new things about my camera, but as long as I enjoy what I am doing, I'm gonna take that as a job well done. Being outside makes me really happy. : ) It's gooooood for me... here are a few of my favorite shots...Enjoy!

So much fun, and lots of sweet dog faces! : )  See you next time, duck and geese!

*I'm Waiting on the Man- The Velvet Underground

Duck, duck, goose

I have actually been hunting twice since my last post about it, once with Jake and once with Scout..Bill was there both times, of course. Somehow I deleted the pictures of Scout hunting before I uploaded them. (GRR!)  We are also going back out tomorrow. Sunday was the COLDEST by far. Nine degrees outside when we left, folks. Freaking NINE! BRRRRRR! 

The makeup this times isn't much better than the first. The second time was awesome, and I didn't capture it. Oh well. We also had a missed opportunity (both gun and camera wise) that Bill and I may laugh about forever. Oh well. It's a lot of fun! Except for the nine degrees. That part sucked. : )

Anyway, back out tomorrow, and hoping to get some fantastic photos with snow and geese and dogs and water. I'll update soon.

: )

*Cyndi Lauper- Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

one of those pictures I was talking about

Here's Jake. Isn't he beautiful?

Have I mentioned that I love that camera? Yes? Well let me say it again....I love it.

smelly cat

Oh how I wish this were a post about Phoebe and her guitar.

It's not, though. How do I explain my situation without sounding like a total bitch? OK. So, we have these neighbors...they're colorful. I used to think that I hated them. Now, I think I pity them more than anything. That sounds awful, right?

Originally, there was a mom and like 4 kids living there and they had a dog.AI smaller, annoying dog that kept digging into our yard and knocking my dog up. Twice. That's when I hated them. The kids would let themselves into the back yard, letting our dogs out in the process. When we finally managed to put a stop to that... I seriously felt like Cruella DeVille. I had to get ugly and since then I've tried to keep a low profile and be a little more friendly. That was, until the oldest daughter (I think) moved in with her kids and her 5 cats.

So, I think (by now) you've guessed I'm not a cat person. I never had cats as a kid, I've always thought cats were kind of stuck up and the biggest reason is.. I'm terribly allergic. It's no small allergy either. My eyes bug out like something out of Mad Magazine, they water and turn red, my throat gets scratchy and the sneezing never stops. It's not fun. So, when the cats moved in, I was mostly indifferent. I like animals in general, and it wasn't like they were going to be here at our house to bother my allergies, and we have dogs to keep them away for crying out loud! Well.... for a while, it was really no big deal. We saw them once in a while, but they never came into the yard. About 8 weeks ago, two of the females had kittens. Large litters, I guess. About 2 weeks ago they started using my flower beds as a litter box. (SO GROSS!) So, I put out a mixture of dish washing liquid, red pepper and water. It worked, but it wasn't like I covered my entire yard in this mixture so the cats just peed and pooped a few feet away. We've thrown water on them and tried every other (humane) thing we can think of or has been found on Bing or Google to keep cats away. Nothing is really working. As of Sunday, there were 14 cats (plus the original 5?) living next door.

So, of course we were super relieved on Monday when we came home and the dogs had finally killed one and drug it's limp, lifeless body onto the back porch as though it were on display in the Museum of Natural History. ..... No, of course we weren't. We were sad. And we felt super guilty. That cat must've had a death wish though. Seriously. These cats have been hanging out on the top of the fence that separates our yard from theirs  (picture their tails swishing and my dogs going out of their freakin' minds below; barking, pacing scratching, whining, crying... it's not pretty.) So one finally decides to risk it?!?!?!? Insane.

Anyhow, we have to take this cat (luckily it wasn't a kitten because I might have actually shed tears.) over to the neighbors house. Of course it's the little girl's favorite cat. They are trying to hide it from her. They don't even have a shovel to bury the damn thing. So we wrap the cat up, loan them a shovel and the chick tells us they will be out soon to bury it. So after the cat sits in the sun for a few hours...(no really) they finally bury it.

So now we have 13 feral cats living next door. What is feral? I looked it up, just to be sure. Wikipedia defines it as" A feral organism is one that has escaped from domestication and returned, partly or wholly, to a wild state." Sounds about right. You can't touch these cats. We've tried. Maybe after some time they could be cool again, but for now, they are just crazy. They fight and scratch all night long. And they have death wishes. You'd think from watching the birds they would have figured it out. The birds know there is a 6 foot no fly zone in our back yard. I have seen Bruiser jump 5 feet into the air and catch a bird, no joke. I'm guessing cats are smarter than birds. How can they not see this??

I'm thinking of going ahead and calling the humane society. The smell is getting BAD. If the outside smells that bad, I can only imagine what the inside smells like. I'd be doing them a favor, really. Right?

Zoo Fun

Mark, Me, Holly, Ryan and Grammy- Ryan's First Zoo Trip April 2009

Indeed! My mom wanted to take Ryan to the zoo and since Wayne was working on the weekend they wanted to go, Mark and I went along instead. (I will use any excuse to go to the zoo! I love it!

Here are Mark and myself enroute. (I also love any oppertunity to take pictures of us while he is driving.) He wasn't as excited as I was. Nevertheless, I was out for adventure....

I love ANIMALS!! I LOVE THE ZOO!! What more can I say, really?

When we finally made it to the zoo- it took forever because of the 640 detour- we found parking pretty close because everyone was leaving. Lucky for us! We had a 10 month old, his stroller and my mom and Holly who like to bring everything they might need for a nuclear holocaust along with them, everywhere they go.

Ryan and Grammy. I think Mark was helping to assemble the stroller and baked goods. : )

Mom and I in tortise territory. Only, they weren't out. None of them. No turtles or tortises of any kind. I was a little upset, but I think Mark was actually kind of pissed.

Here are Holly and Ryan at the Zebra Exhibit. They actually had electric fences gaurding these striped beauties. Are they supposed to be dangerous?

Here is Mark having a belly pooching contest with a gorilla. I think Mark might have won, but let's face it. The man has talent!

I could have posted a hundred pictures on here, but decided it was probably better not to bore you with pictures minus people. Ryan's favorite exhibit was the North American River Otter. They really put on a show! He had his hands pressed up to the glass and was laughing! I think he really enjoyed it, and I can't wait to go back when he's a little older and will enjoy it more.

Fixed.

My favorite little slutsicle, Bruisetta Mae got fixed today. She had two litters of puppies back to back, thanks to our neighbors: who can't keep their dog in their own yard. Enough about my neighbors. I took her this morning and the procedure went well. She's still stoned and walking around bumping into various items such as the doorways and tables.


Here's her before shot. Looking alert and excited to be in the car.



Here's an after shot. Groggy and sleepy....



And then she got comfy. Really, I don't know how riding in my backseat, on your back, with your legs in the air -just after having your uterus removed could be comfy, but she slept that way the entire ride home.

So, No more puppies for us for a while. Unless Saber has a litter, and that is unlikely. She's 8.

I think I will miss whelping, to be honest, but I think I am done. For a while, anyway.

10 ways your animals will tell you how COLD it is:

10. Not even your dogs want to go outside.
9. Their bowls of water are now large chunks of ice.
8. They begin to play with the large chunks of ice, that were once lap fuls of water, busting
them up: all over your porch.
7. Nursing bitches would rather sleep with you instead of their pups.
6. Nursing Bitch tries bringing pups into your room, so you can all sleep together warmly.
5. Leaving the warmth of the floor space next to the heater is no longer an option.
4. Your dog may believe that now is the time for couch privileges, because the hardwood is
rather cool, and has always been "hard".
3. Your dog may get excited at the sound of hot running bath water and decide that they want
one too.
2. Your dog may chew on matches, looking at you with eyes that say, "hint, hint."


and the number one reason I KNOW it's freaking COLD outside:

1. You may find your Siberian Husky with you in bed in the morning. UNDER THE COVERS.

What's cuter than a basket full of puppies?

A pile of puppies in Mark's arms, that's what! Who doesn't love a cuddle from 3 puppies?

But wait, you were looking for a basket of puppies, right? Well here it is.. These are our little ones, just minutes after their first bath. They were cold, shivering and probably a little pissed off that I was taking their picture, but I just couldn't resist!
As you can see, a basket full of puppies is pretty darn cute. Saturday they hit the 3 week mark, and here they are! A little puppy trivia for you: It's not good to give puppies a bath until they are at least 3 weeks old, and some people will tell you 4 or 5 weeks, just to be safe- because they cannot regulate their own body temp- just like infants! They come out gross and you immediate thought is "oh my God, when I can I wash them off????" But the bitch (a mother dog) will take care of all of that and all of their other needs for you in the first few weeks. No mess (and I do mean tinkle and poo) to clean except the whelping box bottom, daily. So, I used an organic oatmeal puppy shampoo on them because they are winter pups and have to stay inside because of the cold January weather. They didn't really "stink" but they aren't pros at puppy pads yet, so they are still having accidents while sleeping. Which means the pups smell like tinkle. So into the warm bath they went, followed by vigorous drying and cuddle time in a pile on Mark's chest. Believe me when I say, they weren't cold or shivering in the least once he got a hold of them. The four of them (Mark included) fell asleep on the sofa for about two hours, sleeping peacefully until one of them peed on Mark. Sigh. It was only a matter of time before it happened again. Oh well. They were clean for a whopping 2 hours.

Why don't I have a picture of this, you ask? Well, I tried, but when I ran to get the camera, I realized it had died while they were dozing and I was stuck cleaning out the pen.

Dang!

Ah-Choo! at least I have some funnies while I'm sick.

I really need to preface this post with a picture of my beloved Fatty "Magoo". He doesn't look big here, but I assure you, he is. He has grown since I took this picture. He was 4 months then.

It has been a sneezy couple of days for me around the house. It started on Sunday and is still going strong. On Tuesday I had two appointments scheduled and I had to leave the room twice during the second one because I could not stop sneezing. What a relaxing way to get a massage! My poor client is so good hearted, she tried to force cold pills on me after the session. Bless her heart, if she only knew what sudafed does to my body! Anyway, that night when I came home, I wanted to finish up the office project I have been working on. (we painted the office.) Mark was working on it and asked me if I would go and get dinner for us and Jackson. Sure, Why not?

Somewhere in the haze of my sneezing, I decided to take Magoo (my 65 pound, 8 month old dog) with me. Why I did this, I have no idea, but the story gets really funny at this point. Off we go, to Taco Bell. Magoo is normally a very good, sweet natured dog. He insists on getting his paws up on the console and drooling onto my shoulders as we go along. Fine. It doesn't really matter now anyway because I am covered in sneeze dust and snot because he ate my tissue as soon as we got into the car. I arrive at Taco Bell in one piece and pull up to the window. The conversation went as follows:

Drive Thru Lady: "May I take your order?"

Me: "Yes. I'd like (insert lots of howling and a very strange look on the dogs face) a Grande (more howling) meal and a Mexican (growling) pizza."

DTL: "Excuse me?"

Me: (howling, Barking, whining) "Grande meal... (howl) and a Mexi- (howl) -can pizza. "

DTL: "A Grande Meal and a what?"

Me: "MEXICANPIZZA" (as fast as I can say it and then more howling.)

DTL: "Pull around." (her tone was slightly annoyed)

So I pull around. I guess Magoo was freaking out because there was someone talking to me, but no one was there? I don't know. When I get to the window, the aroma of beef, beans, cheese and sauce hits the mongrel's nose. He is now trying to climb over me and through the window. "Bad dog! Magoo! Get back!" When I finally get out of the drive thru, the entire staff is snickering at me through the window. Oh well, at least they got a laugh out of it.

Well, that's not the end of my story, right after leaving the drive thru, I need to pick up Cokes and water at the gas station. I knew there was no way I was going to be able to leave the Taco Smell in the car, so I decided I was going to lock it in the trunk. Well, the dog, sensing defeat, tried to DIG into my trunk while I was making my purchases. I could see him from inside the store wreaking havoc in my backseat. I come out. Rescue the food (and possibly my backseat) from the trunk. Magoo is so excited that the food was back in the car, crushing me with his hairy crazy ass, I did the only thing I could think of to do after he started mauling me, I beat him into submission with a two liter of Coke.

He was good until we got home. Then he chewed up my shoes. Just for spite, I do believe.

No Alpo for Knox's Picasso

Today, Mark and I ventured over to the Holiday Inn Express off of Cedar Bluff to attend the Annual Starving Artists Sale. The Sale is for artists in Knoxville to get their work out to the public and make a little money in the process. There were TONS of paintings there. The smallest sizes they had were 8x10"s! As I am no Picasso, it is hard for me to say weather or not these paintings were really "good." But I liked them, so I guess that doesn't really matter.

Courtney stayed the night with us last night and as she was leaving this morning she was asking me about the show and if the artists were indeed starving. I told her I wasn't sure, but as all artists who aren't making mega bucks usually are, they probably weren't rolling in dough. To which she replied, "humph." My retort was "perhaps they aren't starving but their dogs are! Maybe they will use this money to buy dog food!" She was still laughing about that when she left. Ha!

Anyway, I found a painting that I LOVED. Of, course as my luck would have it, it was already framed and safely of the arms of it's new owner. I actually tried to talk the woman out of the painting, but had no luck. We also found a painting of the Moulin Rouge, but it just wasn't exactly what I was looking for. They are having another show next weekend, so hopefully I will return and find another one!

No, we didn't buy anything this weekend. Picasso's dog will just have to hold out one more week.

Storm, Shadow and Bob

We have three new, cute and wriggly puppies! They were born a week ago Saturday, which makes them 10 days old today! we have dubbed them as follows: Storm: She came first in the middle of a terrible thunderstorm. One so bad, it actually flooded in our basement! Shadow: Shadow is actually Storm's shadow. She wants to be right next to her all the time and she followed quickly after storm in the birth process. They are never far apart. And lastly, Bob. He is our little rebel. He stays on his own, has grown very fat and is very sweet. Bob is also the oddball of the group, being the only pup born at birth who was already brown. Kind of like Bob in "What about Bob?" Ha!

This litter of puppies makes 12 puppies between our two girls, Saber and Bruiser. Which makes a total of 13 dogs that Mark and I have had under our roof at one time or another. (Bruiser is Saber's pup, and Fatty, our other dog, is Bruisers pup from the last litter. )

We LOVE dogs. Can't you tell?

My Marley.

Today I took my beloved Beth to see Marley and Me for her Birthday. (Her birthday is actually January First, but she's not fond of hungover people celebrating her birthday so she usually opts not to celebrate at all- therefore I took her to the movies a week early.)
Beth had read the book and naturally passed it along to me because I LOVE DOGS. Plain and simple. Anyway, After I read it, (and I LOVVVVVEEEDD it) I heard the movie was coming out, so I decided to take her to see it. Oh it was wonderful. A story about the worlds worst Dog. See the movie, but read the book, too. Its so wonderful and yes. You will cry. If you don't then that means that you have no soul. Plain and simple. Below is a picture of 'my Marley"- Saber. She's been my baby for a long time now and I don't know what I would ever do without her. I love you, boo....





Saber in Daddy's tie. August 25, 2008. My Happy Girl, Shibbs. :)