A couple of days ago, there was a big ruckus outside our house and I jumped out of bed to see what was going on. I didn't find the source of the noise, but I did see a falcon standing in the waterfall of our koi pond. I watched him for a long time before opening the door to count the koi. That might seem a little OCD, but a couple of years ago something ate half of our koi, which at the time amounted to about 6 or 7. I think that it was a heron; yes, I did see it out the window but didn't have my cell on me or I would've taken a pic. I didn't see the heron until months after the koi were eaten, however. At any rate, I wanted to make sure the poor koi didn't have more predators hanging around our house. All clear, I went back to bed.
It's the middle of the day and I'm not feeling well and sometimes when I'm sick strange bits of my past float back into my consciousness. I began to think about when I was pregnant with Max and I was so incredibly upset about the burrowing owls. There was an huge article in the paper about these burrowing owls whose habitat was being destroyed by developers. These developers were not paying attention to these nests or having the birds relocated, they were just mowing over their homes and building. A woman who lived in the area described watching these owls come back to their nests, unable to find them, looking lost and terribly confused. I WAS HORRIFIED! Animal stories always get to me, but especially when it deals with moms and their babies. Don't even talk to me about the practice of separating moms from their newly delivered babies or pigs suckling piglets through a grate. To top it off I was hormonal and every story seemed to upset me. I remember telling Jon that night about the story I read in the paper and how awful I thought this was and getting very teary and emotional while relaying it to him. I think he chalked it up to hormones and that was about it. Until the following week...
I went to the front door to let the dogs outside and I saw an owl standing on our water fountain, which at the time was still on our front porch. The owl was looking right at me (we have a window to the right of the front door). Even the dogs stood so very still while we all looked in awe at this oddity which was staring us right in the face. I quietly called Jon. He finally came and wondered what in the world would make the dogs so eerily quiet--they were so seldom quiet. He was amazed by this bird, too. When it finally flew away all I could say is, "It's a sign! It's a sign! Remember that article about the owls, it's a sign! I'm supposed to do something about it." Yes, I finally let the dogs out and yes, Jon thought I was nuts. I was probably 7 months pregnant at the time.
I went as far as to sign up for the Wild at Heart emails, which had info on events when you could offer help either digging new homes for these owls or transporting them. I even offered to transport one when Max was about year old, but they had enough volunteers. That was the end of that for a while because as toddlers they'd get in the way. I still get the emails, but I haven't read them in a while. Lame, I know. I could probably start looking at them because the boys are old enough that I could take both of them with me. Digging and excavating if right up Stuart's alley. Not Max's favorite thing to do, however. We'll see.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Crazy Cleaners
Our friend, Jim, told us the funniest story yesterday. He uses a cleaning service for his rental properties and one day he called them up and had them go to a house that had been vacated. He gave them the address, told them the house was empty and the key was under the mat. The usual procedure is, the scheduler tells Jim when the cleaners can go and one of the cleaners calls Jim to tell him roughly how long the job will take, once they get there. When Jim received the call what he hears is that the job (which normally takes a couple of hours) is going to take at least 4 hours, because the house is so dirty and there's furniture in there and a cat.
Girl: It's taken us an hour and an half to clean the kitchen. You said the house would be empty, but it has furniture and you have a cat.
Jim: Cat?! Furniture?! You're in the wrong house. Get out of there! I'm on my way!
Girl: Do you know these people?
Jim: No, and I'm not about to introduce myself now.
Girl: She (the scheduler) said that the front door would be unlocked.
Jim: No, I said I left the key under the mat at the front door.
As Jim's pulling up to the house all of the cleaning ladies are piling into their car, driving from the one driveway to the driveway next door. They are all laughing hysterically. By the time they are finished cleaning the correct house, the people who live in the house they started to clean had come home.
I wonder if they enjoyed their newly cleaned kitchen or if they are completely freaked out. I also wonder why in the world they'd leave their house without locking the front door.
Girl: It's taken us an hour and an half to clean the kitchen. You said the house would be empty, but it has furniture and you have a cat.
Jim: Cat?! Furniture?! You're in the wrong house. Get out of there! I'm on my way!
Girl: Do you know these people?
Jim: No, and I'm not about to introduce myself now.
Girl: She (the scheduler) said that the front door would be unlocked.
Jim: No, I said I left the key under the mat at the front door.
As Jim's pulling up to the house all of the cleaning ladies are piling into their car, driving from the one driveway to the driveway next door. They are all laughing hysterically. By the time they are finished cleaning the correct house, the people who live in the house they started to clean had come home.
I wonder if they enjoyed their newly cleaned kitchen or if they are completely freaked out. I also wonder why in the world they'd leave their house without locking the front door.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Danger Dog
Stuart had made me a little picnic last Sunday, which was very sweet. We sat on the child-sized bench having our snack (complete with roses he picked from our garden and a big note he wrote for me), when I looked over at the gazebo I remembered the time Buddy managed to get stuck under it. Yes, stuck under the gazebo. So, I told Stuart about yet another caper Buddy was involved in.
There's a path leading to the gazebo and a little garden going around the remaining circumference (see pic below). There are plants and rocks around the plants. There must have been some critter Buddy was trying to get at under the gazebo, because that big dog dug a little and then squeezed under it, making his way completely under the structure. I don't know how he had room to maneuver, much less get under there. We came outside and there Trigger was standing by the gazebo, looking a little concerned, and all sorts of scuffling, bumping and thumping noises coming from below. What the h@#*! Buddy's under there!
There was no pulling that dog out from under--he wasn't having it. By now, he was beginning to panic and wouldn't let us help him. Thrashing and kicking ensued and even more concern on our part. We didn't know what was under there from when the structure was built. There was no way we could reach him the way he got in and even if we did, we probably would've broken something of his pulling him out. Finally, Jon had to pry up a couple of the floorboards, reach under, grab him by the collar (I know!) and pull him out. It was scary. After that, we had chicken wire over wood lattice installed around the bottom. He would still put his nose up to it and sometimes scratch around it, but he knew. For a short period after that, if we caught him fooling around by the gazebo and sternly said his name, he would jump. Eventually, he got over it, just like the oleanders. Both of the dogs learned to climb the oleanders at one point, because they were such thick bush-like trees there was enough footing for them. That's where the term "danger dog" came from. Buddy had no problem throwing himself into the thick of things.
In case you're wondering, it is very strange to go out into the yard and see your dog high up in a tree looking down at you. It's not right. Wish I thought to take a pic of that.
There's a path leading to the gazebo and a little garden going around the remaining circumference (see pic below). There are plants and rocks around the plants. There must have been some critter Buddy was trying to get at under the gazebo, because that big dog dug a little and then squeezed under it, making his way completely under the structure. I don't know how he had room to maneuver, much less get under there. We came outside and there Trigger was standing by the gazebo, looking a little concerned, and all sorts of scuffling, bumping and thumping noises coming from below. What the h@#*! Buddy's under there!
There was no pulling that dog out from under--he wasn't having it. By now, he was beginning to panic and wouldn't let us help him. Thrashing and kicking ensued and even more concern on our part. We didn't know what was under there from when the structure was built. There was no way we could reach him the way he got in and even if we did, we probably would've broken something of his pulling him out. Finally, Jon had to pry up a couple of the floorboards, reach under, grab him by the collar (I know!) and pull him out. It was scary. After that, we had chicken wire over wood lattice installed around the bottom. He would still put his nose up to it and sometimes scratch around it, but he knew. For a short period after that, if we caught him fooling around by the gazebo and sternly said his name, he would jump. Eventually, he got over it, just like the oleanders. Both of the dogs learned to climb the oleanders at one point, because they were such thick bush-like trees there was enough footing for them. That's where the term "danger dog" came from. Buddy had no problem throwing himself into the thick of things.
In case you're wondering, it is very strange to go out into the yard and see your dog high up in a tree looking down at you. It's not right. Wish I thought to take a pic of that.
Here's a shot of Ephali in front of the gazebo. It's hard to tell, but the space between the bottom of the gazebo and the ground is only a few inches, because there's facing around the bottom. Essentially, the space was probably no larger than the wood slat you can see connecting the bottom step and the walkway. The ground is so hard that even for a big, clawed animal like Buddy, there wasn't a lot of give.
I kind of forgot what a trouble maker he could be!
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Buddy, D-O-G
Buddy is the dog we all thought would live "forever," even the vet. He seemed so indestructable. He ate things that would perf a weaker dog's bowels or at least give other dogs a barf or poop-a-thon worthy of Jerry Lewis. He's the dog who seemed to say, "Hey, how's it going?" to us when we saw him at the Humane Society (whereas Trigger was the one who shouted and campaigned hard, "OOH!, Ooh, pick me! Pick me!").
Things changed when I was about 12 weeks pregnant with my oldest son. Buddy, who had a bad case of "I can't heeear you!" the minute he was in the yard, wouldn't consider going outside without me, even when he had been inside all day while I was at work. His protectiveness amped up thereafter. He was always an excellent watch dog, patrolling the perimeter of the yard at good intervals (not too obsessively but enough that even the dimmest human could see that he was protecting the borders). When we walked on the canal and crossed paths with people who were homeless or looked even a little shifty, Buddy would bark at them when they approached and as they passed and would keep looking back at them, giving them a couple of extra barks for good measure. He had mastered the "I'm watching you" and the hairy eyeball look down pat, because he was always on the alert. After Max was born, Buddy rested next to the crib. When Max cried, Buddy alerted Trigger, who would come running to alert us, whining and causing a ruckus. Those dogs were quite a pair and an excellent team. We are so lucky that we meshed so well as a family, even after children came along.
The irony is that Buddy had stomach cancer and he was the dog who was so completely food driven. The only time he rejected food was when he was initially fitted for his hiking pack (Buddy and the Hiking Pack), even then he quickly gobbled up the treat after his initial chagrin and dismay. He ate so many things that we had to put food up high and far, far back because he was big and had a mean right hook. He even ate a stick of butter I had out, waiting to come to room temperature, and an entire giant chocolate bunny. That was the one time I was really worried, because when we came home he was laying on the floor, looking uncomfortable. I know chocolate can be deadly for dogs and we keep it up--in the excitement of the day that one was down a little too low; it was also one thing that remained in that dogs stomach--he didn't get sick after that, he was just a little over-stuffed. The boys automatically held their food up high so that Buddy wouldn't sample it. He wasn't awful about stealing their food, but, occasionally, if they let their guard down he was all over it. He didn't like dog toys they way Trigger did (Trigger really liked to desquawk the toys after loving on them for a little while, but he did love chew toys, in general). Buddy liked to chew and sometimes ingest people things, especially the boys writing instruments and toys. Try as we might to keep them out of Buddy's reach he managed to find things. This meant a lot of barfing. He's a full-body barfer, too, and loud. So, when he first started to show signs of being really sick it didn't seem out of the ordinary. He often eats something he's not supposed to, throws it up and then is all better. For about a month the barfing episodes came closer and closer together. We kept our hairy eyeballs on him, took him to the vet for tests and all the blood work came back fine. Anti-nausea pills and canned food were prescribed and he seemed better--for a few days. His descent came very quickly because after a few days of yummy wet food (he loved it so much that I'm not sure he really chewed it) he started to reject that as well, because now he was throwing up a couple of hours after eating. We took him for an ultrasound and that's when they found he had an awful case of stomach cancer. Besides throwing up, however, he acted perfectly normal. He was patrolling the perimeter and yelling at the UPS guy the day he took his last trip to the vet. I think that's when people try to hold on to the hope that their dogs will get better--everything else seems "fine." It's such a difficult thing to do. We had Buddy for 11 years. He was so loving, protective and comical.
It's very, very quite around here. The silence is deafening, at times. Never thought you'd hear me say that--did you?
I miss his trotting around the house and yard, his barking, snuggling and begging. I miss seeing his sweet face through the window when I come home and his enthusiastic greetings. I miss our geriatric walks and how he would run into the kitchen whenever the fridge, microwave or package was opened. I miss having him by my side while I work at the computer and I expect him to bound around the corner at any given minute. It's also strange to go to bed at night, without saying to Buddy, "Ready to go to bed?" and have him lead the way to his giant pillow that we called his doughnut.
Begging, again. He doesn't look 12 nor does he look ill!
The ultrasound vet said that dog's are so much more stoic and while they may feel the pain, they continue on like normal. To a certain extent, I think humans could take a page from the book of dog--they certainly live in the moment and forgive so easily.
Jon and I have been so fortunate because the 3 dogs we've adopted have all been so wonderful (not to say they don't come with their issues, but who doesn't?). I hope to have continued success in our future adoptions and will always have plenty of space in my heart for all of the dogs I encounter, even if I have to endure such sadness when it's time for them to leave. To paraphrase Milton, you cannot have a heaven without a hell.
Things changed when I was about 12 weeks pregnant with my oldest son. Buddy, who had a bad case of "I can't heeear you!" the minute he was in the yard, wouldn't consider going outside without me, even when he had been inside all day while I was at work. His protectiveness amped up thereafter. He was always an excellent watch dog, patrolling the perimeter of the yard at good intervals (not too obsessively but enough that even the dimmest human could see that he was protecting the borders). When we walked on the canal and crossed paths with people who were homeless or looked even a little shifty, Buddy would bark at them when they approached and as they passed and would keep looking back at them, giving them a couple of extra barks for good measure. He had mastered the "I'm watching you" and the hairy eyeball look down pat, because he was always on the alert. After Max was born, Buddy rested next to the crib. When Max cried, Buddy alerted Trigger, who would come running to alert us, whining and causing a ruckus. Those dogs were quite a pair and an excellent team. We are so lucky that we meshed so well as a family, even after children came along.
The irony is that Buddy had stomach cancer and he was the dog who was so completely food driven. The only time he rejected food was when he was initially fitted for his hiking pack (Buddy and the Hiking Pack), even then he quickly gobbled up the treat after his initial chagrin and dismay. He ate so many things that we had to put food up high and far, far back because he was big and had a mean right hook. He even ate a stick of butter I had out, waiting to come to room temperature, and an entire giant chocolate bunny. That was the one time I was really worried, because when we came home he was laying on the floor, looking uncomfortable. I know chocolate can be deadly for dogs and we keep it up--in the excitement of the day that one was down a little too low; it was also one thing that remained in that dogs stomach--he didn't get sick after that, he was just a little over-stuffed. The boys automatically held their food up high so that Buddy wouldn't sample it. He wasn't awful about stealing their food, but, occasionally, if they let their guard down he was all over it. He didn't like dog toys they way Trigger did (Trigger really liked to desquawk the toys after loving on them for a little while, but he did love chew toys, in general). Buddy liked to chew and sometimes ingest people things, especially the boys writing instruments and toys. Try as we might to keep them out of Buddy's reach he managed to find things. This meant a lot of barfing. He's a full-body barfer, too, and loud. So, when he first started to show signs of being really sick it didn't seem out of the ordinary. He often eats something he's not supposed to, throws it up and then is all better. For about a month the barfing episodes came closer and closer together. We kept our hairy eyeballs on him, took him to the vet for tests and all the blood work came back fine. Anti-nausea pills and canned food were prescribed and he seemed better--for a few days. His descent came very quickly because after a few days of yummy wet food (he loved it so much that I'm not sure he really chewed it) he started to reject that as well, because now he was throwing up a couple of hours after eating. We took him for an ultrasound and that's when they found he had an awful case of stomach cancer. Besides throwing up, however, he acted perfectly normal. He was patrolling the perimeter and yelling at the UPS guy the day he took his last trip to the vet. I think that's when people try to hold on to the hope that their dogs will get better--everything else seems "fine." It's such a difficult thing to do. We had Buddy for 11 years. He was so loving, protective and comical.
It's very, very quite around here. The silence is deafening, at times. Never thought you'd hear me say that--did you?
I miss his trotting around the house and yard, his barking, snuggling and begging. I miss seeing his sweet face through the window when I come home and his enthusiastic greetings. I miss our geriatric walks and how he would run into the kitchen whenever the fridge, microwave or package was opened. I miss having him by my side while I work at the computer and I expect him to bound around the corner at any given minute. It's also strange to go to bed at night, without saying to Buddy, "Ready to go to bed?" and have him lead the way to his giant pillow that we called his doughnut.
The ultrasound vet said that dog's are so much more stoic and while they may feel the pain, they continue on like normal. To a certain extent, I think humans could take a page from the book of dog--they certainly live in the moment and forgive so easily.
Jon and I have been so fortunate because the 3 dogs we've adopted have all been so wonderful (not to say they don't come with their issues, but who doesn't?). I hope to have continued success in our future adoptions and will always have plenty of space in my heart for all of the dogs I encounter, even if I have to endure such sadness when it's time for them to leave. To paraphrase Milton, you cannot have a heaven without a hell.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Happy New Year!
I'm not one for New Year's Resolutions. Somehow, that feels a little false to me. Most people start out the new year with all sorts of excitement and possibility and then mid-February things seem to fizzle, along with their enthusiasm. It also feels like an odd time to be busting out with freshness and change--spring seems more logical to me or the beginning of the school year. Those things say "fresh" and "new" to me, not the beginning of a calendar year. So, try as I might, I don't really come up with my "word" of the new year or things that I want to change or accomplish when everyone else is talking and writing about those things. At some point I do those things, but more when they come to me and not because the calendar says it's time. I do think it's a good time to look at things differently or in a fresh way--reboot my thinking, because I can always use that (it also takes the pressure off of resolutions and whatnot when people press you--barking, "I don't make New Year's Resolutions!" at them and delivering a soapbox speech about the falseness of it all makes me seem more of a curmudgeon than I am, no really!). So, how could I reboot or reframe?
Well, yesterday Stuart bought a little camera with some of his Christmas money and was just pleased as punch about it. He's always using my camera or the one on my cell. I have to say that he has a pretty good eye. However, there's one funny shot from the back seat of my Mini (which he was sharing with Buddy yesterday) that made me think: "different perspective." I also thought, "Oh, that's what it looks like to him from back there!"
This is what he saw:
and this:
Tell me that kid doesn't need a camera of his own! It's interesting how people take photos and what their focal points are. Sometimes it's just inexperience with the camera (as in my case) or it's a really unique look into their view of their surroundings. At any rate, that's my New Year's bit. It's fun to watch Stuart with the camera and the excitement that goes along with it. Today we will spend taking bird photos--per his request.
Best wishes for a New Year and all that newness and freshness. If your resolutions don't work, then just reboot your perspective/thinking! Throw yourself a ticker tape parade and have yourself a little chuckle--don't take yourself too seriously. Life's too short for that.
Well, yesterday Stuart bought a little camera with some of his Christmas money and was just pleased as punch about it. He's always using my camera or the one on my cell. I have to say that he has a pretty good eye. However, there's one funny shot from the back seat of my Mini (which he was sharing with Buddy yesterday) that made me think: "different perspective." I also thought, "Oh, that's what it looks like to him from back there!"
This is what he saw:
and this:
(he's playing with the zoom and spent the entire coffee run trying to get a good pic of Buddy)
This is a pic of him at Max's school music performance just before Christmas:
Tell me that kid doesn't need a camera of his own! It's interesting how people take photos and what their focal points are. Sometimes it's just inexperience with the camera (as in my case) or it's a really unique look into their view of their surroundings. At any rate, that's my New Year's bit. It's fun to watch Stuart with the camera and the excitement that goes along with it. Today we will spend taking bird photos--per his request.
Best wishes for a New Year and all that newness and freshness. If your resolutions don't work, then just reboot your perspective/thinking! Throw yourself a ticker tape parade and have yourself a little chuckle--don't take yourself too seriously. Life's too short for that.
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