First snow of the season.

Wet, sloppy snow today... Essentially no accumulation, as anything that built up was so wet that it washed away in short order. But for a short while, there was some slushy snow on the grass. It was coming down so fast that for a while the rain mixed in with the snow couldn't quite wash it away as fast as it was falling. Only for a while, mind you. :-p

That was enough for The Girls - Much running about, mixing the scant snow liberally with mud, rolling in the slush, and stuffing their faces into the deeper spots. Dakota, especially, made a point of plowing snow with her face... She's undoubtely been missing the white stuff!

Sorry, no pics - Between the rather heavy rain admixed with the snow, and muddy slush being flung about, I didn't dare chance the camera outside. *shrug* It was a dark grey overcast day anyway. I doubt any pics would've turned out well.

Still, The Girls got a good workout just prancing about in the cold and wet. :-)

Let sleeping dogs lie...

One on my left foot, and one on my right.

Not quite snuggling up with each other, but darn close.
:-)

Not Poetry

Note: These events are a bit old - I've been waiting to see how things fall out before posting.

So The Girls settled in togther in a satisfactory manner - Not quite closest of friends, but tollerant of each other, and somewhat social, with occasional bursts of play. Life was good!

Then the wheels come off...
Dakota went counter-surfing, and got caught (I knew she was doing this, it was just a question of catching her in the act), and so was corrected. This seems to have set of a social reaction of disturbing proportions. At least, I believe this is the proximate cause. About an hour after being corrected, Dakota jumped Suka from behind, right at my feet. OK, Rule #1 for breaking up a dog fight: DO NOT GET BETWEEN THE COMBATANTS! Fortunately, I was immediately behind the combatants, and in place to use my favorite (and maybe only safe) tool for breaking up fights: Grab one of the dogs by the hind legs, and back up - fast. Turn as you do, to force the dog to side-step to keep on her feet - this keeps her too off-balance to turn and try to bite you, if she's so inclined.

Ideally, you should have two or more people - one for each combatant - to prevent one dog from following and continuing the fight. If you don't have enough people, isolate the dogs in seperate rooms, behind fences, or if not that, then take a lead, hook it to a collar, loop it once around the dogs waist, and tie it off to something solid. Then you go after the other dog... Ideally, you want to get the dogs out of sight and sound of each other.

Within a second, Dakota had Suka pressed to the floor, still upright. Suka had twisted her magnificently flexible neck around to engage, but was still at a terrible disadvantage. When I grabbed Dakota's legs and jerked her backwards, Suka was off like a shot - headed for her crate. One combatant I needn't worry about following up! Dakota whipped her head up to look at me - I daresay she'd forgotten I was present at all, and I literally hiked her like a football back between my legs, grabbing her scruff on either side of her head, just behind her jaws. That's 100 pounds of dog, all four paws on the ground, going backwards like a pigskin at the snap... Adrenalin is potent stuff! With her head immobilized, and her attention suddenly and totally focused on me, it was clear the fight had completely gone out her. I must've roared, too, at some point, as people came running from all corners of the house. (My wife says I'm scary when I roar. Go figure.)

Dakota's head still immobilized, I frog-marched her to her crate and shut her in. Suka, I had to literally haul from her crate, so I could inspect her for injuries... And there were some. A pressure cut to her lower right eyelid, and a minor puncture about an inch below that. Messy, but minor. She allowed me to give her a complete and thorough checking, though it was clear she wanted back to the safety of her crate. Put her back to her crate, then hauled Dakota out to inspect her, too. Again, I had to haul her out - She was clearly reluctant to face me, but put up with her inspection with proper manners. No blood, but a LOT of saliva on her throat - Suka hadn't been screwing around in defense - Any better angle, and Dakota'd have taken a serious injury.

A couple stitches, and everything is well, health-wise. I became the Fun Nazi - Only one dog out of their crate at a time except when I'm immediately present, and extremely close supervision even then.

Two days later, came a near-exact repeat, dispite the close supervision, only this time with Suka getting a solid piece of Dakota in return - A seriously bloody lip - with Dakota actually doing no damage to speak of. I was now the Fun Gestapo. No more than one dog out of their crate at a time, period, no matter who is present. Both dogs sleeping in their latched crates at night. Both dogs on-lead in the house.


Since that time, some time back, Dakota has been much more obedient. She apparently had some reservations about who was in charge. Not any more - Getting man-handled like she was a puppy seems to have made an impression. Since that time, she and Suka are both at once more snarky with each other, and more tollerant of each other, if that makes any sense - They express their opinions, but also seem to get along better. Certainly the 'play' aspect of their lives has improved. I suspect that the clashes, and my immediate and very dominant response, have sorted out the relative relationships.

In retrospect, I should've gone all 'Fun Gestapo' right out the gate. Lesson learned - they're both good dogs, but dog society and people society do not correspond exactly. I need to think like a dog, and I still watch them closely. People wonder why I don't let the dogs oiut into the back yard unsupervised. I don't, because I'm thinking like a dog - I'm The Boss, and I want to make damn sure that The Girls know The Boss is watching. Dakota is huge, powerful, and fast. Suka is if anything, even faster, and has very sharp teeth. They don't get the chance to get at each other without someone responsible and capable to stop them if they forget their places again. They can play, and run and pace, and bark, and all the rest, but they also know that if they step out of line, The Boss is right there to put them back in their place. It means less screwing-off time for me, but if I wanted my time all to myself, I would've never married, much less brought dogs into the house... :-p

And now for something just a little different...

Pale clouds float
betwixt silv'ry moon
and silvered earth,
the breath of life
whisp-etched icy wakes
hang in the still air.

Orbit and counter,
the shadows pace
their appointed rounds.

Dark and light,
Yin and Yang,
greater and lesser
spirit and soul
boldness and caution
each within their heart
mirrors the other.


I don't often write blatent poetry - It usualy sucks rather nastily. Not, perhaps, today.

Awakened in the very early hours by invading chill, the girls decided that, seeing as I was up, it was a good time to see about their business. Under an immaculate clear sky, the full moon flooded the neighborhood with a clear silver light, bringing to ghostly life the frost-gilt landscape. The girls left pale breath-cloud wakes in the still air. The magical illumination gave substance to their forms, whilst redacting inconsequential detail. All I witnessed were two kindred spirits, the same yet different, dark and light, large and small, bold and shy, dominant and submissive, as they orbited; checking their perimeters, each other, me.


In perhaps-related news, Suka came to me this morning, and dropped a ball at my feet, backed off, and barked - tail wagging and eyes bright. In the nearly fifteen months I've known her, this is a first.

Putting my hand to the cart...

Down at The Farm this past weekend - a 'command performance,' if you'll allow me the license. HBIC needed the feed shed cleaned out, rather seriously, and I'm one of the go-to guys, it seems, for that sort of work. I don't flinch at rats, need little supervision, and am strong enough to make light of the lifting and toting.

The economy reaches into all manner of corners, and hard times mean fewer volunteer hours. The Farm is running on necessary minimums right now, those being the health, safety, and care of the dogs and other animals resident. That means that other things must give, like the cleaning and maintenace of unoccupied structures, like the feed shed. Oh, wait... Did I say "unoccupied?" I meant unoccupied by any animals that people care for. Rats had obviously been there, and had themselves a party. Spiders and grubs were in plentiful evidence, too - Grubs feeding on food spilled by the rats, and the spiders feeding on the grubs. Yes, the rats spilled food - a lot of it. Well, rats thrive on clutter, and that was what I was there to fix!

OMG! Clutter!

Clearly, there was some work to be done.

The HBIC was busy elsewhere (so busy I didn't realize until much later she was even at the farm), and it was a pleasnt day - a break in the recent rains, so I turned to and cleared the shed, tossing away what needed to be tossed, salvaging what I could, and reorganizing as I went. Sadly, a lot of food had been spoilt - hidden behind the clutter, the rats had been at it until the bags were sieves, and food once contained therein was thoroughly spoiled by rat feces and urine. Also hidden were cans of wet food that had become compromised - some had literally exploded, spraying high-velocity food into the damnest places.

Food - and money - literally down a rat-hole...

Unsalvageable - rats urinate and defecate all over what they eat, leaving it dangerous to eat by most any other animal.

One of the resident rescuees - Mickey, perhaps? - was there to supervise in the HBIC's abscence. Such a well-mannered guy! He was constantly nearby, but mostly not directly underfoot. He obeyed so well, and stayed out of the shed, even when clearly perplexed by what I was doing with that mound of spoilt food. He's going to make someone a wonderful companion - I hope he finds a home soon! If I'd so much as an inch of spare space at home, I'd take him in, in a heartbeat! Even knowing my wife would smack me a hard one (and correctly so). He's that good a dog.

Whatcha doing ..?
Da man supervises as I get down to some serious organizing.

Anyway, to make short of the tale, things much improved now, with room to move around and places to put everything. What could be slavaged was, and the rest disposed of. I'm not done - more work needed, but there's only so much time in a day. I'll be back to The Farm again soon, to finish up in the feed shed, and do more catching up on those things that have gone by the wayside in these tight times. At least now, all the food can be seen, and reached. There's space, too, for more feed to be brought in, and the rat holes can be blocked - Something more perminant will be needed, but for now the food is safe.

Improvement...

Space to work now - And to actually store food.

Think about your charities and causes. Times are hard, and money is in short supply, but if you can spare a few hours, that may be worth far more than money. Not every task needs a speciallst - sometimes, all that's needed is a willing pair of hands. Look about, and see if there's a place you can put your hands on the cart, and give it a push.

Simple pleasures...

Dawn is yet to color the sky, nor even a hint of twilight yet shows. The grass crackles crisply under my feet... Frost is hard upon the ground, and early hints of winter's chill sting tease at my nostrils.

Moans and grunts and sighs... eight paws flail frantically in the still morning air. Suka and Dakota roll in orgiastic delight, back-scratching on the frosted lawn. The distant city glow, dimly cloud-reflected, reveals flashes of teeth and gleams of eye, but their ecstatic wriggling is defined more by hint and occlusion than by sight.

My morning is complete.

Why I love my dogs (and cats)

Not the only reason, mind you. Not even remotely. But still a big one; they keep me sane.

It's Saturday evening. I'm at work. Probably until midnight. I'll be at work tomorrow, too. I should be working this very instant, as a matter of fact, but my eyes have gone cross-ways, and I can't see clearly to do what I need to do. So I'll post here, and get a soda, and visit the head, and then stick my shoulder back to the wheel.

I've Quality-Control checked nearly ten thousand pages of clinical data today - I've another nearly seven thousand to go before I'm done today. Tomorrow will be the same, I'm sure. Nor am I alone - The boss is in, and so are many of my cow-orkers. By the time I'm done, my brain will be fried.

But when I get home, the dogs will not care. Suka will be flying about shoulder high, as she always does when I come home - no matter how long I've been gone. Dakota will wheel and prance and moan with delight, as she always does. They will make demands - Attention, a trip to the back yard, more attention. But these demands never ease, never increase - These are demands of love and they are constant. The document awaiting my attention does not love me, nor do I love it. When I get home, the dogs will make their demands, and will force me to push this never-to-be-sufficiently damned document out of my head. I will be home, and work will be sent back to where it belongs, out of mind until I actually need to face it again. Just me, and the dogs. No time, no plans, no meetings; just us doing what needs to be done in the time it takes to do it. Like no one else, Suka and Dakota can take me out of my head and pull me into the now.

Max and Tuxedo, too, will make their presence felt. Not quite as in-your-face as the girls, but every bit as insistent and relentless in their own rights. Max will creak his way to where I sit, and painfully climb to his throne of power (that being wherever he choses to plant his massive, muscular butt), and casually demand his due - a back scratch. He'll reward loyal rendition of his due with purrs and the random head-butt, and maybe a lick or two. Attending to his imperial demands is a kind of command performance zen - you must sit, and you must scritch, and you must do it until His Imperial Majesty is satisfied you've done it properly, else... The PAW! IOW, there's no end in sight until you've reached the end. Tux is less blunt, but every bit as pushy in his way. He will climb on my shoulder and purr and poke his claws into my beard, try to steal anything I have that is even remotely edible, and will sit or strop his back on anything I'm holding. At least, until I literally knock him on his side and give him a quick and vigorous whole-body rub.

But as demanding as the cats are, they too take me out of my day, and bring me mentally home, to rejoin my body already there present.

Dogs alone might not be enough. Cats alone, certainly not enough. But together, they consipire to return me to my refuge of relaxation and recuperation. Whilst they are there, work may not trouble me - I'm too busy taking care of the immediate, and being loved. I bet this document wishes it had pets. :-p