Junior and the new toy

There is no dog on earth that appreciates a new toy like my Dachshund Junior.
I had bought a whole bunch of squeaktoys at the Dollar store.
Tonight I finally had time to pass some of them out and play a while. Junior claimed a soft rubber squeaky thing that looks like a weight. He has been squeaking for the last 3 hours! I had to sit on the kitchen floor and throw toys and balls and all seven dogs mobbed me! Molly and Sparky don't play with toys. Sparky used to but now he prefers to be pet. Molly has never played. Very, very seldom has she tried to play with Dibbs, NEVER with any of the other dogs. I don't know what happened to her before she came here, but play was not part of it.
So, picture it: Me, on my knees on a pillow, Junior squeaking the pink toy and bringing it to be thrown to the porch, Sheria doing the same with a tennis ball. Sparky trying to climb into my lap and demanding pet-me's.
Lissa claimed a soft plush bunny with a squeaker in it. She doesn't really bring it back, she wants to play tug with it. OK. Suddenly Daisy found the little lamb and wanted me to play with that. This consists of me holding the toy and kind of pushing it against her chest. She then tries to grab the toy and wrestle it away from me. I have to be mighty careful not to hurt her, she is 16 years old and has some backtrouble.
In the midst of all of that Molly wants to be pet. Now all the little ones have to try to get to me around the big one. And here comes Dibbs! She stole Daisy's toy and flipped on her back and played like a little puppy dog. Holding the toy in her frontpaws and biting it, trying to make it squeak. Not bad for an old lady!
They do not take turns, they all want all those things done at the same time. Sure makes a person wish for more hands.
All that fun came to an end when it was supper time. Well, almost....Junior didn't even want to eat, he wanted to keep squeaking. We had to take the toy away and even then it was heck trying to get him to go outside after dinner. As soon as he came back in, he found the toy and has been playing with it non-stop.
I already know it will go to bed with us....

Yeah - I got balls!

The other day I got ready to hang up two comforters I had washed. The housedogs had been out, Polly was taken care of and it was time to let the three frontyard dogs help me.
So, carrying two large comforters in my arms, I marched out of the backdoor, over to the sidegate and opened the two gates for the girls to come into the backyard. In case you haven't read about the girls, they are lab mixes. Each at least 50 lbs. The have lived in my frontyard since I found them by the side of the road. Because there are three of them and only one of me, they have never been introduced to the housedogs - there is a point where even I chicken out.
So, out they come, happy to see me. Scooter smiling and singing, Mickey racing around and Squirt trying to get as close to me as possible.
Suddenly I heard this unmistakable bark - yap, yap, yap from between my feet. Here is 8 lb Sparky telling the girls where to go! He had scooted out between my feet without me noticing and now was checking out the girls. My girls are very friendly, so they tried to return the favor. You smell my butt, I smell yours - "Oh no!" Sparky was standing on his tippytoes trying to smell Squirt's tail and when Mickey tried to return the favor - he growled at her! And then at the other two as well! Mind you, he only has 3 teeth left, he is at least 15 years old - but that doesn't mean he isn't a man anymore!
The girls seemed to giggle a bit and kept advancing. That's when I scooped him up and put him in Grover's run. The rest of the "getting to know you" session was conducted through a fence. He never backed away from the fence and growled at them the whole time.
Yeah, maybe he was neutered along time ago, but he still got balls!

My Joy is gone

11 and a half years ago, a lady had to have heart surgery. She entrusted her daughters to take care of her little dog and find her a good home. Well, they didn't do that. They took the little dog to the county shelter. There the little dog became sick and couldn't understand what was going on. She just knew that, for the fourth time in her little life, people had let her down. She would cower in the corner and just look out at people who came in to look for a new dog. The tag on her door said "Bites, not housebroken". My partner went to the shelter every night to look for a few puppies that had gotten out (not from us) and he fell for the little dog. The day that her time was up - he brought her home. Straight from the shelter into my bed. Yuck! The poor little thing had colitis (that's why she wasn't house broken - she was sick!) and she stank to high heaven. That is where the biting comes in. Joy did not tolerate grooming without a fight. She turned into a double headed monster once you tried to brush her tail or legs - and forget messing with her feet! We did it though, got her cleaned up and taken care of.

I helped her over the colitis with meds and chicken and rice. Then added a special food I had researched until I felt very comfortable feeding it.
It wasn't very long before the little ShihTzu started trusting us. She was a cuddly, patient person. Loved men! If a couple came to visit, Joy would make a bee-line to the man. It was kind of funny, I used to call her my little floozy.
She trained me to sleep on my left side and not move the entire night. I would lay down and she would cuddle up with her butt against mine. If I moved, she'd nip my butt!
She NEVER showed any signs of aggression and so I started taking her to Nursing Homes etc. She loved it. No matter what the person being visited did, Joy never flinched, growled or reacted in any but a loving way. Once, at the Adult Care Center, a person with involuntary movement was holding her. Nothing unusual about that. But then the patients muscles contracted and he was squeezing the breath out of the little dog. Her eyes started bulging but she never moved. I had to pry the man's arms apart to get her relief.
Her weak point were children. She was afraid of them. When kids came to visit, Joy would hide under the bed. We found out that she had been with a family and the boys used her for a football - that would make me scared too. So we kept her away from children and all was well.
When new fosterdogs came into the house, she would sniff them up and down and then let them know that she was in charge here. And they all (even the really big ones) accepted it with no questions asked. Joy was the only dog that could get into anybody's foodbowl and not be growled at. I wish I had her self esteem!
Over the years, many people fell in love with the friendly little ShihTzu that was always by our side. She walked for Hospice, against child abuse and every other cause I wanted to contribute to. Spectators were always going "aaahhh" when we came around a corner. The first 8 Christmas parades she walked under her own steam, then she got carried or rode in the float. It will not be the same without her, that's for sure.
For years Joy visited Kevin's mother (and various other residents) every night at the Nursing Home. Even after she was almost blind and by then 19 years old, she would wake up at 6 pm and be ready to boggy. Granny passed away before the little dog that brought her so much joy.
Then the visits became more sporadic, but when she realized what was going on, she would be ready - no leaving her behind!
When it came time to groom her, she still - after all that time - would fight like a banshee. Many times she threw her back out and we had to see the doggy chiropractor who patiently put things back where they belonged. Thank God for the Pamplin Animal Wellness Services!
Joy had trouble with arthritis - and at PAWS was treated with acupuncture - always with great success. And I didn't have to try to give her pills - what a relief.
In her later years, my little Joy became very picky about her food and it became increasingly difficult to sneak a pill into a foodthing. But once a dog is 18 years old - heck, as far as I am concerned, I'll feed them whatever they want. So she got Braunschweiger to coat her med's, or a mix of creamcheese and peanutbutter, or ground beef carefully blended with little oregano - whatever the flavor of the day was.
Her last day on earth she spent with her favorite person - Kevin - and when I came home from an adoption event, he told me about her rolling on the ground and not being able to stop. Later that evening this happened again. She had never had a seizure before and now two in one day. We drove to the Emergency Vet and they convinced Kevin that his little dog had no chance of getting any better. We had her put down in his arms.
I miss the little crap like you wouldn't believe. For so long she had been always under my feet, always beside me on the couch, always to be taken care of, she was like my little time piece. The rhythm is gone out of my day. Even after several months, I still turn around and look for her. I still pick the best part of the meat out for her - until I catch myself. And then I'm sad.
Miss Joy had a presence. Something not to be put into words, but unmistakably hers alone. She could have been in a crowd of dogs and still would have stood out. Her sense of "I" was never in doubt. Life had not been kind to her until she came here, but it certainly did not beat her down.
Rest in peace my little boss woman!

Whispy day

Today is beautiful, even if it is a bit windy. My Whispy's want to be outside, so do Dibbs and Molly. Sparky and Junior would rather play ball in the house. The wind still makes them shiver.

I am cheap - I don't use my dryer unless I absolutely have to. With the sun and the wind, today is a perfect clothes on the line day. So, I have done two and a half tons of laundry and taken them out to dry. This sounds easy enough, but the reality is a bit different. The washer beeps, I take the clothes out and load it anew. Climb over the divider, take Molly to her run. Now Tippy, Tylor and Lissa are at the divider and barking and jumping. From inside the house answering barks can be heard. Open the divider, open the door - out they go. Now go back in the house and round up those who should go but don't want to. Sheria needs her leash to be convinced. Daisy and Sparky get carried. Junior has to be lifted off the bed or couch and then chased. Joy has to be woke up and carried out. When I put her down, I keep my hands on her for a minute, making sure she'll not fall over. She has gotten so frail over the last year.

One more trip in the house for the clothesbasket and we are ready - off to the clothesline we go.

The Whispy's in the lead - excitement up ahead! There is a loose plastic roof that is waving in the breeze - "Boy, I haven't seen that before - there is something moving!" Tylor is barking and growling and stomping her frontfeet on the ground. Like a little blond groundhog - how cute can you be? Tippy, in typical bossbitch manner, charges right up to the piece of plastic, ready to defend her daughter if need be. She hasn't made a sound yet. Once there, she decides that Tylor is a whimp and turns around to go look for better fun. "That mean woman fixed all the holes in the fence yesterday, I can't get in there now. Let's see, should I go dig under the birdfeeder or under the tarp?" She decides on the birdfeeder and soon is mighty busy. Dirt is flying and I get concerned that she will get under the fence. But so far, we are safe.

In the meantime, a car passes by the fence on the driveway. Everybody but Tippy is racing along the fence to make the most of this barking opportunity. Tylor is in the lead - she is faster then most of mine. Sheria kind of hangs back, she is too snooty to actually compete with anybody. The car passes and the dogs are looking for something else to bark at. And wouldn't you know it, obligingly a turkey vulture appears in the sky. Rather close to our house. The barking starts. Even Tippy stops digging for a minute, she doesn't get to see too many of these big birds. They run around the yard, in whatever direction the bird decides to fly. He finally has enough and leaves. Sometimes I think the birds do that on purpose. They fly just low enough to get the dogs attention and then circle around the yard a while to see what the dogs will do. Well, the dogs go nuts, that's what they do.

By now, the clothes are on the line and we can go back in the house. That means everybody gets a treat. My Whispy's are greedy little piglets, they push themselves in front of the other dogs and jump and just can't wait. Sparky only has three teeth left, so I have to break his treats in lots of little pieces. He races to the stack of clean underpads I keep in the bedroom - one has to be prepared, you know. There, on his throne, he patiently waits for me. I stumble over dogbodies on my way to give him his treat and on the way back. Next is Daisy. Her treats don't need to be as small, but she only has molars left and so I do break her treats up and throw them into her crate. Next - everybody else. Tylor is like Daisy - a stomach on four legs. She will take her treat, swallow it hole and try for another. "Oh no no no, no you don't!" Sheria is in the living room, she does not push and shove, she knows I will get to her.

By the time I have concocted something that Joy will drink, the blaming washer beeps again.......

The Whispy dogs are here

The Whispy dogs are Yorkie mixes. They are adorable and have been coming to my house for "vacation" for over 7 years. They are part of my pack - no matter how long they haven't been here. I named them Whispy dogs because of the layer of rough hair that covers them sparsely. Their names are Tippy and Tylor. Tippy is Tylors Mom. Tylor is at least twice as big as Tippy but doesn't have half Tippy's personality. They are all around Terriers, They hunt, they dig, Tippy is the one that will find the hole in the fence. Tippy is what I call a bossbitch. She lifts one leg to pee, she marks, she doesn't take crap from anybody. Tippy comes in my house, jumps on my bed and tells my dogs they are not allowed up there anymore. We have had a few go arounds about that, but I can't seem to win this one. Tippy weighs maybe 14 lbs. My Molly is 50 lbs easy. Molly doesn't take crap from anybody either. So, when they met, we very nearly had a dogfight. Since then, Molly has to be separated when the Whispy's come to stay. Molly must stay on the backporch (yes, heated and cooled). I have to take her out into the big run and close the gate before I can let the rest of them out in the yard. She isn't offended and walks right in, always wagging her tail.

The other day it was beautiful outside and I took the opportunity to cut styrofoam to line shipping boxes with. I had my back turned to the yard. When I turned around to get something, I nearly had a heartattack. There was Tippy, pretty as you please, walking around in Molly's run. Molly was just laying there. Not even looking at her. I ran in there, grabbed Tippy and ran back out. 10 minutes later, she was back in there! So, in the house we went. I spent the next hour fixing holes in the fence, I had not even known existed! Gotta love a Terrier!

Murder!

My desk is in front of the window - looking out on the frontporch. Today, I was working on the computer and for a good 30 minutes I heared
waugh...waugh...waugh...waugh...on and on. No change in tone, the same break in between, just waugh. So I looked out the window, I saw no dog. Mind you, it was snowing at the time. I went to the other window, still no dog. Still it went on - waugh...waugh. It was Scooters voice but I could not see her. "She is in the doghouse, barking her butt off!" is what I thought. Trying to ascertain that, I leaned over the desk and really looked out. There, between the two doghouses, was a dead squirrel. It had no tail. Scooter, the little witchbitch, was in the doghouse, telling her much bigger sisters to keep their paws off her prize. So, I put my boots and coat on, got some treats and went to retrieve the poor thing. She came out of the house like a shot, got her squirrel and took off with it. It took some doing to get her to lay it down and accept a treat in it's stead. As I bent to pick it up, I could now see that she had eaten the legs off it as well. It's eyes were closed and those sharp incisors were visible. I don't feel bad for the squirrel, it had a good life and a swift death.

I am one of those people who feed all things around them. Squirrels included. In the fall I collected black walnuts and since the first deep snow, I have been laying out a handful of them every day. Of course, the squirrels help themselves to all the sunflower seeds they can get away from the birds. So, this little guy was fat - for a squirrel. He must have gotten complacent if the girls were able to catch him. Or maybe he was sick. Or just careless. Carelessness doesn't pay for squirrel.

This isn't the first time they got one.

One year there was one that would sit up on the lowest branch of the oak and chatter at them. It would throw little sticks and in the fall acorns at them. The three dogs would go nuts under that tree. Dancing on their hindlegs, trying to jump up to the branch and trying their darndest to climb up the trunk. The little squirrel was having a blast directing the movement of the three big dogs under it.

I would go out to be with the girls and it would chatter at me. "You better watch your step, they always get them in the end!" I would call up to it. And they did. One morning, I found it's little body beside the tree. Not as eaten up as today's, but dead none the less.

The girls will tolerate me hurting them. I give them shots, I clip their nails, I do many things they do not understand but I deem necessary. Some things involve pain. None of them have ever bared their teeth at me or growled in my direction. They roll over on their backs and want their tummies rubbed.

Yet, left to their own devises, they are wild things. Their instinct is to hunt and and then to kill.

So, my frontyard - enter at your own risk!

Stay well and warm.

That's my Scooter

Scooter is one of the frontyard dogs. She is the smallest but has the loudest voice. And she makes use of it - all the time. When you look at her it is easy to see that she is a Boston Terrier - black Lab mix. Scooter was born without a tail. Her little butt is round, no stump or anything. Where normally a tail would be are three little white hairs, that's it. And because she can not wag a tail in greeting, Scooter smiles. Out of all the dogs that have come through here, Scooter is the only one ever to have done that. If you don't know her and if you have never seen this before, you might mistake it for baring her teeth in an attempt to warn you off. But the rest of her body soon gives it away. She sort of wiggles and just looks happy. There is that smile. It cracks me up every time she does it and I wished I could get it on camera, but she isn't a good model. And, of course, she will not smile on command.
Scooter is an instigator. If there is trouble in the frontyard, I'll bet you 50$ she started it. She is always egging the other two on and getting them to fight. Then she sneaks back to where it all started and steals that toy or whatever it was she wanted. Very much like kids!
Her voice is a kind of sharp, medium high, go through your ears into your bones voice. When this on barks, everybody takes note. Any movement outside the fence, unusual noises, pedestrians - you name it and she will bark at it. Not always pleasant if you are trying to sleep. Once she has everyone's attention, she can stop and go back to sleep - even if I can't.
I am always sad that nobody ever adopted her. She would have been a great companion. She is smart and funny, figures things out for herself and keeps herself very busy. Due to her Terrier ancestry, she digs and chews. There are two doghouses on the frontporch. Scooter has enlarged the entrance to the one closest to the frontdoor to where there is no wall left. When I sit at the computer and it is dark outside, I can hear this grating noise - Scooter working on the house. The next morning I will find all sorts of woodshavings in front of the house and all three dogs in the other one. One has to keep oneself busy!
As I told you before, I let the girls come in the backyard with me in the morning. We visit and do chores. If I am too late (God forbid), Scooter will stand by the gate and bark, bark, bark, bark....It never varies, it is the same tone of voice, the same loudness - her calling me. I would know that bark in my sleep. The other two don't do anything like that. It seems out of this bunch, Miss Scooter has all the brains. And a sense of timing and routine. I don't think that the other two don't know that I am late, they just don't know what to do about it. Scooter does!
She is also the one that will crawl in my lap and let me cuddle her. When she has instigated a fight between the other two, and they have figured it out and turned on her together, she will come to me and hold her paw up. And cry. That's all I need to see to know what happened. Usually I can't even find a mark on her but I know that they let her have it. So then I baby her a bit, lots of pet-me's and bellyrubs, and then the world is OK again. Sooo smart, the little bugger.
Stay warm and safe!