Wootube!

Dolittle's got nothin' on me

Mr. Woo

I’m Nuts, You’re Nuts

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We’re all nuts for walnuts!

Addy plays with exactly 4 things – water spray, dirt tossed in her direction, a tiny little stuffed sheep I find hidden around the house in various places when she is finished playing with it, and walnuts.

I don’t really understand the appeal.  I mean, it’s not like they can *eat* the walnuts … the walnuts are in their shell, wrapped in this weirdly aromatic / fragrant green husk, and all the dogs do is throw them around and/or guard them from other dogs.  But for some reason, they are the best toys going on the farm.  Very popular with dogs under 15lbs.  I need to find a way to market this.

But as much as these nuts love their walnuts, their attention span for them is extremely short, so I’ve taken to stalking them with my camera, hoping to catch them in the act, because it’s pretty hit or miss if I try to entice them with a walnut.  Maybe I’m just picking the wrong walnuts because I don’t understand the system.  But I was doing this exact thing (stalking Fae, who had a walnut) and because of that I missed ADDY GETTING INTO A FIST FIGHT WITH THE ROOSTER OVER A DEAD MOLE.  I cannot tell you how upset I am that I missed photographing this, because no matter how funny you *think* it sounds, I guarantee you it was a million times more hilarious to actually see it.  She was boxing him like she was a kangaroo, and he was flying at her sideways, feet first, like a feathery little ninja.  But they were in the shade, and I was shooting in full sun, so by the time I turned around and adjusted my settings, the fight was over and Addy was running away with the mole.  I’m so disappointed.

Wootie was not though, because he ended up stealing the mole.  Wootie does not eat moles, but he does like to possess them and bury them somewhere so nobody else can have them (like, his version of a walnut I guess). So I waited until he’d buried the mole in a pile of mushroom manure, then I hid behind a tree and screamed “I’M GONNA GET THE WOOTIE MOLE!” and he lost his tiny little walnut sized brain and started freaking out, trying to figure out where the disembodied voice of mole-theft-threats was coming from, and that’s how I got this picture.

And this is him about 10 minutes later … now he’s at the other end of the orchard, so quite far from his hidden mole, but he’s still worried someone is going to find it.

I love the orchard and all it has to offer when taking photos, but I wish it was carpeted with something other than dead leaves and grass.  Of course, with the summer we had, everything is dead grass, everywhere, all the time.  This is what the entire goat pasture looks like.

But the front yard – oh my!  Though from a landscaping perspective it would probably be considered an eyesore, it has very lovely Fall colours going on that are awesome when the sun shines through the leaves and plants (aka weeds).

But if there is dirt *anywhere* Alfie will find it, and he will drool in it, and then he will lay in the soothing droolmud he has created.  I’m sure his mom thinks I’m just chucking mud at him for entertainment when she comes to visit him.

His little sister Betty came to stay with me for a week earlier this month.  They are HILARIOUS when they play.  Actually, Alfie is just hilarious when he plays no matter who he’s playing with.  He thought he was playing with Peetie the other day, which was so charming because Peetie didn’t realize they were playing (she was waiting for me to throw the ball) and he was bouncing all around her and play bowing and he had no idea she wasn’t actually in the same game as him.  But Betty knows what’s what and he grabs her by the … well basically the whole body, because she’s the size of his mouth, and he pins her down for a minute, then he lets her go and she takes off like a bullet while he lopes along eagerly after her.  It’s pretty hilarious.

While my personal preference is for pointy dogs (I mean, I do have Addy, the pointiest of pointy dogs) there’s no denying Betty takes a pretty picture!  Here she is modeling my new tiny, dog sized divan that a friend salvaged for me from a movie set.

My cat Cyrus also takes a nice picture.  Here HE is, modeling the tiny dog sized chair I bought off Craigslist.  New, tiny, animal sized furniture is my latest obsession.  Cyrus looks shocked, but he actually really enjoys hanging out in front of the studio lights.  Because he’s weird.  But he’s a cat, and cats are weird, so that makes sense.

Here’s Dexter looking mildly perplexed, which is is pretty much his Life Motto summed up in one word (“Huh?”) since the deafness set in.  But he’s still having fun … mostly because he doesn’t know how to do anything else.

And then there’s my awesome girlie, who is doing so SO much better than I thought possible!  Those of you who follow us on Facebook know that about two weeks ago she was on one of our client hikes when she lost the ability to use her hind end shortly after we started our outing.  I ended up carrying her in a fireman lift her for the remainder of the walk because it was too hot to leave her in the car, and I had playing clients that needed their exercise.  It was pretty sad to watch her trying to get around without the use of her hind legs, and I was not looking forward to the news from the vet.

It turns out that she suffered an FCE (a fibrocartilaginous embolism, which is basically a blockage in a blood vessel in the spinal cord).  This is basically diagnosed by ruling out other things, and there’s nothing you can really do for it other than physical therapy.  Lots of dogs have partial to full recovery beginning in about 2-6 weeks after the event.  Piper, because she is ornery, has decided she will have 100% recovery and it also that it would start within 3 days of developing the FCE.  Within 48 hours she was getting around again and here we are two weeks later and she is walking – even running, sorta! – around like nothing happened at all.  She only has difficulty at one end of the living room because it’s laminate and it slopes, so sometimes she falls down, but she has learned to avoid this by walking on dog beds and the area rug (which SOMEONE *coughADDYcough*) keeps peeing on that I put down in front of the sofa.  She is one TOUGH cookie, this dog!!  She is going to be 15 in about two months and she is determined she is going to be in shape to party when that day comes.

I just admire her tenacity so much.  She has a ton of heart, this little dog.  Looks like we’ll have to get Mia to make us another cake with bacon rosettes for Piper’s birthday!

There are no photos of the Wondertwins, because they are never anywhere to be found!!  Turns out out little squirrel friend from the last blog entry has about … ummm … 77 squirrel friends.  And all of them are partying with the walnuts in the orchards – the one beside me and the one by my landlord’s house – so Spring and Winter spend all their free time hunting squirrels.  I’m not sure how they actually get any exercise, because as far as I can tell they just pick a spot in an orchard and stand motionless staring up into the trees for upwards of 45 minutes at a stretch.  They seem to be waiting for the squirrels to forget they are there, and come down to the ground where they will be available for eating, but the squirrels, though stupid, are not THAT stupid. And yet the terriers are TIRED when they come inside after all that being motionless.  Maybe their necks are sore from staring up.

I asked Spring if she would maybe stop squirrel hunting and pose for a photo and she gave me this face, which can only be interpreted as her “fuck you” face.

What a sweet thing she is.

And here’s a turkey face.  Literally.  This is one of my juveniles from this Spring and he’s going to rival his dad in the handsome department (not evident from this photo, I know).  I now have 7 turkeys, so next year the ones I hatch will be sold for eatin’.  Although if this feller keeps hopping the fence, running across the road and eating my neighbour’s berries, I might eat him and start fresh next year.  I had no idea turkeys were such a pain in the ass!  They get into more trouble than my goats and that’s saying something!

Have You Ever

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wanted to be friends with someone real, real bad, for reasons you can’t even really articulate, but everything you do or say seems to cause a greater rift between you and them and you have no earthly idea how to close that massive chasm of simultaneous hope and dread?

Spring is experiencing this existential crisis right now with the goats.

She keeps making overtures to Harvey, Bonky, Nibbles and Moe (AKA “The Firm”) but always, somehow, she makes a misstep and the fragile tendershoots of friendship crumble to dust beneath her pawtips and like The Phoenix rising from the ashes, the cycle begins anew.

To be honest, I don’t know if she wants to meet them or MEAT them … and I don’t think they know either, which is probably why after she makes some friendly bum-and-nose-sniffing overtures, the terrier wailing begins, The Firm gets panicky and the chaos ensues.  She’s gonna get the daylights headbutted right out of her if she doesn’t figure it out.

(Not to worry, goat-field time is always supervised because I don’t want her to get ruined by litigious goats).

She’d probably have better luck making friends with the squirrel that likes to taunt my dogs from the walnut orchard.  I like the squirrel; it exercises my dogs for me every day.  It has this nifty little path from the orchard on the one side, across the power lines in the front yard and into the pear and apple trees in the goat field and it leads the dogs on a merry chase back and forth, chattering away while it harvests walnuts.

Climbing the trees to make “friends” with the squirrel is not as successful as it sounds, actually.

This tree climbing dog does not want to befriend the squirrel, it wants to murder the squirrel, for the squirrel is stealing walnuts.  Fae, like a feudal lord, believes that all the bounty in her forests belong to her, and that harvesting any of it by lowly fluffy tailed serfs is punishable by death.  Preferably beheading.

For though there be thousands of walnuts with which to play, and to make weird faces at …

… Fae is hunting for That Elusive Magical Walnut, the Special Walnut, the Walnut That Will Change Her Life.  The power of the walnuts can be found in their bland uniformity, that they are indistinguishable, one from the next, so the Special Walnut could be hidden anywhere, amongst any of its nutty comrades, and therefore, All Walnuts Are Precious.

If you ask me, *Fae* is the “Special Walnut” around here.  This is her face when she is guarding *A* walnut from everything.

When it comes to friendships some creatures are simply antisocial.  My blue turkey hen, for example, has a serious hate-on for my small dogs.  She will take any opportunity to chase them around the yard (also good, free exercise, IMO).  But lately Peetie has decided to become the champion of small dogs pursued by rabid turkeys and has taken to bodyguarding The Littles so they can in turn guard walnuts in peace.

This turkey has only herself to blame.  I had no idea Peetie was a superhero, but at least we’ve finally found a use for her!

(She doesn’t want me to tell you that right now she is sporting a pair of boy-cut lady’s underpants with a hole cut out for her tail, and a belly band wrapped around her waist to keep it in place, because she is in season and Winter wants to “help her out” in the worst way and we are trying to foil his efforts)

Addy, friend to everything except ducks and newborn poultry, is currently making woo (not Woo) with the water droplets from the dog pool, as tossed by the Food Lady with the help of the Chuck it.  I’m going to have to recruit a friend to help me though, because my camera/lens combo is way too heavy to manipulate with one hand/arm – especially my chronically injured elbow arm – and it’s nearly impossible to get photos of her doing her water ballet as she chases the airborne droplets.  I did manage to snap a couple:

This one pleases me.  She wears the same expression I imagine I do when someone offers me pie.

But when it comes to friendship, nobody holds a candle to these two.  They look like a buddy-comedy pilot advertisement.

And then there is Gemma.  Who refuses to make friends with the Grim Reaper.  Do you guys realize that Gemma has outlived her PROGNOSIS VERY POOR diagnosis by THREE AND A HALF FREAKING YEARS???  She is the most ornery creature on the planet.  She guards her life force harder than Fae guards a walnut.

After a brief (read: exhausted) hiatus I’ve embarked on another home improvement streak.  In part this involved installing baseboards in my living room, rather than leaving them artfully leaned up against the wall in a precarious and bendy fashion in the kitchen.  I first had to scrub the daylights out of the entire living room, because a) this house is old and therefore slanty and b) Gemma likes to leave pee bombs strewn randomly around the house, often in the wee hours of the morning when my pee-radar is off duty (and dreaming of clean floors) which then meander fore and aft around the floor like lazy midwestern rivers of piss, pooling in corners and leaving trails of cold urine for my unsuspecting feet to slosh through when I get out of bed.  Although I spend a pathetically inordinate amount of time wiping up pee trails, some of them are sneaky and escape my notice.  So the entire living room had surprise old dried puddles of pee under sofas and collecting around the bottoms of my curtains.  I took everything out, washed it all, scrubbed the floors and walls and installed the fresh white (and slightly bendy) baseboards.  And when I finally sat down in a sweaty pool of Food Lady to admire my handiwork, I realized that all I had effectively accomplished was to supply Gemma with a 6 inch tall bulls-eye at which to aim her piss efforts.

So I then installed a small xpen in my office, where Gemma spends 99.92% of her time sleeping, and in that Gemma is now confined at all times.  She hasn’t really noticed, because as I say, she spends almost all her time sleeping, with brief forays into wakefulness to eat anything you put in front of her nose (which is the only one of her senses that actually function now) and to pee on my floor.  But *I* feel bad about it, because what kind of life is life in an xpen 24/7?  Thus I have now made a point of making her come outside with us for at least 10 minutes a day so she can experience a different environment … kind of like a prison warden.  And like a prisoner, Gemma spends her allotted exercise time shuffling around in a big circle because she can neither hear nor see and let’s face it, Gemma never liked being outside anyway.

I sometimes really do think she is going to outlast everyone.  Including me.

The other task I accomplished was to fence the poultry off from the rest of the yard, for so very many reasons.  There’s the reason where I am tired of tracking bird shit into the house on the bottom of my shoes.  The reason where I am sometimes inadvertently terrified by the sight of 50 damn farm birds standing on my porch screaming at me to bring them more food, because they are voracious and insatiable velociraptors who KNOW the bird food lives in the kitchen.  The reason where twice in one week Addy jumped out of my truck on our return home from a hike and killed a baby bird, and the one where Winter killed a duck and stashed it under my house and has been pulling out disgusting gooey rotting duck bits to snack on for the last couple of weeks.  But mostly I did it because Old Lady Dog Piper has developed a phobia of the poultry in her senile years, and is scared to go outside if they are milling around.

I feel like, having reached the ripe old age of almost-15, Piper deserves to go outside to relieve herself (are you listening Gemma?  No wait, of course you’re not, you’re deaf) without creeping around in terror of turkeys and other assorted poultry.  So I spent another hot, sweaty weekend pounding metal posts and putting up fencing so that the borders between Chickens and Dogs are safeguarded.  A wall, if you will.

She is so much happier now!

And on the topic of aging … in three days, Dexter is going to be EIGHT YEARS OLD.  Eight insane, powered-by-adrenaline, years old.

Piper barely looks like she has aged a day, but Dexter is half her age and twice as grey.  With his giant bushy Einstein eyebrows and everything.  And still batshit crazy (why is that expression even a thing?  What’s so crazy about batshit?  Someone enlighten me.)

Still love him though. He will get something delicious for his birthday celebration.  Although what he should really get is a vibrating collar so I can teach him not to vanish whilst we are out hiking.  I’ve had a few scares with him recently – he must go far, far away to poop (this is a family trait, weird as it is – but what about Dexter and his family is NOT weird??) and then sometimes he has no idea where we are when he’s finished taking care of business.  He can hear certain pitches, but can hear almost nothing at a distance.  Between him and Piper, I feel like I spend half my life screaming their names at the top of my lungs in a variety of pitches – kind of like a poor man’s Pentatonix – as I try to find the perfect harmonizing that reverberates properly in their broken ear canals!

Anyhoo, this had been a snippet of life in Turkey Territory with my band of Very Special Walnuts.  Now back to photographing other people’s dogs for the rest of the month.  But here’s a photo of TWooie being extraordinarily happy, because he chased the squirrel and found some goat poopies to roll in, and because despite the fact that he is an evil little shit, I love the butterball and I love when he looks happy.

 

“I Used To Read This Blog

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…by someone named “The Food Lady” but she stopped blogging like a month ago for some reason.”

*waves*  Hello!  Remember me?  I know some of you remember me, because at Nationals last weekend I had no fewer than three different incidents of perfect strangers walking up to me and saying “Hey, aren’t you The Food Lady?  I read your blog!”  This made me feel guilty, because there has been no blog to read since early July.  Worst (extremely) minor dog-related celebrity EVER.

I have had a real busy month!!  Between clients, shooting trials, competing and the extreme heat and weird orange haze that hangs over us all here due to the history-making apocalyptic wildfires that are consuming my province, not to mention my Very Angry elbow, opportunities to take photos of my motley crew are few and far between.

So let’s get down to business and I’ll tell you what’s been happenin’ ’round these parts.

My Springalingaling went to the AAC Nationals and did WAY better than I could ever have imagined!  As you all know, Spring and the venue Thunderbird are not good friends.  For the past several years, Spring has “eliminated” in the ring due to some unknown stressor that causes her to fear Thunderbird in all its white sand glory.  So when we went to Regionals this year, our goals were simple and minimal:
– eat lots of cheese
– have lots of fun 

We were successful in both of these endeavors, and even though Spring did not hit a single contact or get a single clean run all weekend, she was pretty happy to be there, did not befoul any of the rings, and managed to qualify for Nationals.  On the basis of this success, our goals for Nationals, though still simple, were:
– eat lots of cheese                            
– have lots of fun                              
– try to hit at least some contacts

And once again, my happy, narrow little doggie pulled through!  She ate all the cheese.  She was having a good time out there.  She hit EVERY SINGLE CONTACT and she managed to pull out three clean runs out of six.  She had one bobble at the weave poles in Standard 1 and I sent her off course into the wrong tunnel mouth in Jumpers 2 (totally my bad) and in Gamblers 2, which she absolutely could have run clean, in the closing I was too tired from the heat and smoke and early mornings/long days and accidentally sent her over an off course jump.  Again, totally my bad.

BUT let’s recap – my nervous little doggie found her Brave and ran at Nationals, despite her multi-year phobia of Thunderbird and despite the fact that since the Sadist stopped teaching we have had no opportunity to train since essentially November of last year.  And despite the air quality index being somewhere between stuck-in-a-coal-mine and trying-to-breathe-on-the-surface-of-the-sun.  I suck, my dog is awesome.  Cheese is god.  And Spring even managed to pull out a podium placement in her Standard 2.  Even Tweed, winner of Regionals, never managed a podium placement at a Nationals!  And to top off what was already an amazing weekend for me, she won an award for the Top Rescue Dog in the Regular division.

I’m literally the proudest of her I have ever been. NOT because she won things (although I *do* enjoy winning things) but because she had such a good time and was so willing to work for me despite all our challenges.  So I took this shitty photo of her with her ribbon.

Such a good girlie!

This is NOT a good girlie.  Her tally for August is: one baby duck eaten, one baby chicken eaten, one homicide with her partner-in-crime Winter perpetrated against an innocent adult duck.  Of course she is happy about it though. She’s an asshole.

(Asshole #2)

All my precious babybabies went back to the rescue headquarters to be neutered and head off to their new homes.  I miss them so much!

Although I will apparently always have the “eau de puppy pee” odor to remember them by.  I took everything out of the dog room this week, scrubbed the whole thing down with the steam mop (parbroiling my arm in the process.  F*ck did that ever hurt!) and liberal vinegar, but still the stink lingers.  Any suggestions for a good, safe odor remover?

We had a houseguest for a little while who got off to a rocky start by jumping out of the car and immediately killing a chicken and putting holes in my beloved turkey Terrence.  We spent the next few days making use of a long line and reminders that killing my poultry is wrong (Addy and Winter have, obviously, still not grasped this concept) and by the end of her stay, she was pretty reliable about following the No Murders On My Property rule.  Peetie, in her innocence, thought the houseguest was wonderfully fun.

Alfie is still with me, until October.  I love him so much.  I DO NOT WANT TO GIVE HIM BACK.  Would it be wrong to flee the country with him tucked into my backpack?

July was full of photo shoots of other people’s doggies, which makes me so happy, because I love doing doggie photo shoots so very much.  Also I like paying my rent :)

This is Stanley and Brunswick, who are besties, as you can see by the way THEY ARE HOLDING PAWS (and no, I did not pose them this way, they did it themselves!)

This is Malcolm and Lila who henceforth shall be referred to only as The Goobers.

This is Texas The Tripod, whom you’ve seen before in my composite, but I love this photo so much I needed to share it.

This is Mia and Kasper, who are so photogenic that I couldn’t pick just one photo to share, so you have to look at two different ones.

(yes they are on railway tracks.  no you shouldn’t lecture me on the perils of shooting on railways tracks)

(yes they are standing in a boat that does not belong to me.  no you shouldn’t lecture me on using someone else’s boat)

This is Robbie, who is crazy-for-tennis-balls!

I have 4 or 5 more shoots lined up for this month, but would love to have more, so feel free to contact me if you want to do a session!

Everything else is 100% normal around here.  Piper is back to her old self, absolutely and completely.  No more wobbles, no more head tilt, hiking three times a week.  She is a remarkable fighter! Not even phased by bears (slash-totally-oblivious-to-the-bear)!

And now for the ultimate in OH MY GOD photos …. but first!  Some kind of blogging law says I am required to advise you all that in exchange for my testimony I received this product free as compensation.  But let me tell you that I would rave about it anyway because JUST LOOK AT IT.  LOOK AT IT!!!

Is this not the most awesome thing you have ever seen??  EVER???

Susannah of Crochet Critter Craft made this for me in the likeness of His Orangeness, Mr. Woo.  It’s a drink holder, though it has never held a drink around here because I keep putting it next to Mr. Woo, laughing until I cry, and photographing it.  It is one of the most awesome things I have ever received in my life!  IT LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE HIM!!  You need one of these in your life, and then you need to take photos of it with its breathing likeness, and then you need to send me photos of that.  So go to her shop on Etsy and buy one immediately!

I mean COME ON!!!

And you know, I am always happy to help promote the products of your creativity (except porn.  Peetie has gone into heat again and I see enough humping every day that I really don’t need to see any more) so if you have something you want featured in my blog (and I promise to blog more often than once a month!) feel free to contact me!  I love to help people promote their awesomeness, so don’t ever be shy about asking!

And now me, Captain Orange and 11 of our closest friends are heading out for an afternoon hike :)

 

 

 

Rotten Eggs

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Farmer Food Lady would like to teach all y’all city folk a little lesson about the perils of non-urban living.  I mean, besides the fact that right now I really want potato chips, and the nearest store is, like, far… and all my Facebook friends are ignoring my pleas for someone to bring me chips.

Anyhoo.  When one free ranges ducks, one runs the risk of ducks laying their eggs anywhere they damn well please, because ducks are assholes.  And not only are they assholes, they are lazy and/or stupid assholes who either forget where they laid their eggs, or grow tired of sitting on them and abandon them for something better, like a piece of corn.

When one has acres of overgrowth and free ranges ducks, and one ALSO has something called A Terrier, one will periodically be called upon to remove stolen-slash-found eggs from said Terrier’s mouth.  Because one does not know when that egg was laid, and what state of decomposition it might be in.

And so begins my cautionary tale.

You know that eggs rot.  You know that rotten eggs “smell like sulphur” and that gas companies use an additive to make dangerous, odourless gas “smell” like rotten eggs. But I am here to tell you that YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT A ROTTEN EGG SMELLS LIKE, ACTUALLY.  Specifically, you have no idea what a fertilized egg that has been roasting in the sun for days or even weeks smells like.  It smells like you murdered it, rolled it in decaying fish, buried it in manure, basted it with goat urine, ate it and then vomited it back up.  Oh and also you’re a rotting animated corpse that has been roaming the country feasting on human flesh for a millennia.

Eggs that go bad like this smell like nothing on earth that you have ever smelled before or will ever smell again.  The mere hint of the smell will trigger your gag reflex.  A whole egg-full of it will cause you to projectile vomit for like 9 straight days because, as an added bonus, the smell adheres to anything it comes into contact with with the tenacity of super glue.  And sometimes, when they are feeling playful, they will randomly explode.  They’re super cheeky that way.

So today when Winter popped out of the underbrush with a blue egg in his mouth I went into Happy Mommy mode and cooed at him to bring me his Precious for which I would offer cheese or gold or my first born child in exchange.  He brought the egg to my feet and dropped it … and it cracked.  And as I bent down to touch it, the delightful aroma reached my nose at the same time my fingers touched it.

So I screamed.

I scooped it up with the Chuck-It as I fought the urge to vomit and I used the Chuck-It to lob it through the air into the goat pasture where it would be safe from dogs.  As it arced gracefully against the sky, backlit by the afternoon sun, it exploded mid air like a Canada Day firework.  That was three hours ago, and if you go outside right now you can actually air scent its path through the cosmos.  I dropped the Chuck-It in the duck pool and ran for the house with my hand held as far away from me as possible and collapsed on the kitchen sink, gagging, as I scrubbed my hand with dish soap, an SOS pad, bleach – whatever was handy.  And when I rose to dry my bloody papery skin bag of a hand I looked out the window to see Spring and Mini Mama taking turns rolling in the egg stink on the gravel that the crack had left behind.

I hate this dog.

And I hate this dog.

And I especially hate this dog.

All these dogs also hate me, because they all got a bath.  Winter didn’t actually smell bad, I just did it out of spite.

For good measure I’m gonna hate this dog too, because I think he was laughing at me.

I don’t hate this dog though, because she’s my good girl.  Those of you on Facebook know that a week ago she had a vestibular attack and scared me half to death because although I am familiar with vestibular, I am not familiar with it in my own dogs as none of mine has ever had it before.  Not even Gemma, and she was born around the same time as Jesus.  So we’ve had a trying week of falling down and eyes darting back and forth and getting stuck between walls and furniture and no appetite.  But she’s improving day by day – she can get up and down the porch stairs on her own now, though sometimes she misses the door and gets stuck on the porch, and she “plays ball” with the other dogs every day. I’m not taking her hiking anymore, and I do have to trick her into eating by putting food on the floor and telling her to “quick!  Get it!”, and she has a wicked head tilt … but she soldiers on.  Thank doG.

So I’ve had my bad run of threes, right?  Cyrus blocking, Dexter trying to break a puppy, and now Piper?  Gosh it would be such a shame if something happened to Peetie.  Boy would I ever be devastated.  It’d be awful if she drowned.

Or jumped face-first into a fence full of blackberries.

Or some other horrible fate I don’t have a photo illustration of.

Actually the dog who is probably going to drown is Miss Chase The Water Droplets.  Can’t keep Addy out of the pool for anything!

Except when she’s standing on guard with Alfie.

Alfie is boarding with me off and on for the next several months.  He’s 120lbs of the nicest dog you’ve ever met in your life.  He’s super easy going, lets the puppies skitter and climb all over him when he’s in the house, which is like, almost never because he spends 99% of his time out in the yard sleeping amongst the poultry and getting up to do a tour of the property perimeter to let everyone know he’s on duty.  Even TWooie only objected to him for about 20 minutes and then decided he was totally cool.  I luff him!  I kinda wish he never had to go back to his real home.

And speaking of going home … the puppies are now EIGHT WEEKS OLD.  I can’t even believe this and have checked the calendar like 7 times to be sure I didn’t suffer a head injury and lose like a month of my life.  Soon they will be leaving for their new foster homes (in singles, rather than as a group, because while I may be talented at several (okay a couple) things, housebreaking 4 puppies simultaneously is not one of my talents.  I mean let’s face it, I had to give up area rugs because I can’t even get Addy to stop peeing on anything soft on the floor.

This little tan boogityboo was my favourite puppy from day one, but as he has grown up, his lung capacity has exceeded his small stature by an alarming amount and he NEVER F*CKING SHUTS UP.  He’s really loud and bossy, hates being left alone and is convinced that near constant shrieking will entice me to let him out of the xpen.  It’s fairly safe to say that he is no longer my favourite, and has slid way down the list to last place on the charts.

Ginormo Girl remains a third or so bigger than all her siblings, and though she started out as one of the shyest puppies, she has blossomed into this super hilarious little dog who gives me the awesome photo ops ever!  She’s absolutely hilarious and launches herself through the air at me every time she sees me.

Her black and tan brother is easily the most middle of the road puppy in the history of puppies.  He’s so average.  Like super sweet and such, just as the rest of them are, but he stands out in no way at all.  He’s just really darn nice!

But this little darlin’ is my hands down favourite now.  She is beyond sweet and cuddly, and gives me full on whole body wiggles when I call her.  She’s snuggly and hilarious and throws herself on her back, wiggling away, with a little neon sign flashing “LOVE ME PLEASE” over her.  She’s the one that will follow me from room to room, and was the first one to learn to go down the porch stairs on her own.  I love her!

The black and tan ones are very long, longer than they are tall, and pretty tube shaped, so I wonder if they have dachshund or beagle or something in them.  The brindle and white female has really long floppy ears.  The tan guy is smaller and taller than the rest, but his ears look like they might one day stand up.  I can’t even begin to guess who the baby daddy(ies) was!

They’re so small it’s easy to forget that they are the age that many puppies go to their news homes at!  So I am going to miss them a ton, but they’re ready to move on and make the transition to adolescents in their new homes.  Also I will not miss the pooping.  So. Much. Pooping.

But so much cute!

Unfortunately, because of timing and the generous folks who donated to brown puppy’s vet bill, we didn’t get a ton of suggestions for the naming fundraiser, but the ones we did get were pretty cool, so it’s time to vote on them!

  • The fairies from A Midsummer Night Dream –  Peaseblossom (big girl), Cobweb (tiny brown puppy), Moth, and Mustardseed (twins)
  • Names from Murdoch Mysteries (Canadian, albeit eastern Canada): William (or Wills), Julia, Thomas, Jonny, Emily (or variations on those names)

I should have started the contest earlier and posted it in more places, but time just gets away from me these days.  Nevertheless, post your favourites in the comments … or if you have other suggestions, why not post them too and we can do a vote at the end of the week?

Here’s a random photo of Fae guarding an egg.  After this afternoon’s escapades, she can just HAVE THE F*CKING THING.

 

And here’s a composite of four photos of puppies being weighed for deworming, which I posted on Facebook a while back.

I’ve been teaching myself to composite because I want to up what I have to offer in the photo department, and also because it’s fun to make something out of something else.  This is my latest one, which I am SUPER proud of, that I did for a client.  She’s finally seen it, so I ca finally share it!

This is the original, straight out of the camera shot, taken in the evening on the mushroom manure pile in the back field:

And this is what I turned it into through the magic of photoshop!

What do you think??

The Great Turkey War of 2017

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Fae has declared war against the poultry, for some reason, and the yard has become a battlefield.

The chickens fear her tiny high-pitched wrath.

But the turkeys … the turkeys fight back.

Look how angry the turkey is!!

But look how angry Fae Fae is!!

The turkeys aren’t too bright though, and they can’t seem to tell Fae from Addy, because they chase Addy around as well, and Addy is super offended and shocked every time.  Although right now I also want to chase Addy around, because she and Winter tag teamed one of my ducks and killed it yesterday (insert angry face here).

There are some adjustments in progress ’round the farm between the farmy animals.  Like, everyone hates the goats (except me).

This is Harvey

And this is Nibbles

Spring also doesn’t hate the goats; she really wants to be friends with them, but Nibbles keeps headbutting her every time she tries to lick him on the nose.  She keeps trying though!

Winter doesn’t much care about the goats one way or another; he just wants their apples and he only gets snarly when they try to eat the apples that he thinks belong to him.

Piper fears the goats; apparently Harvey and Nibbles are no smarter than turkeys, for they too mix up the dogs … and the other day Piper was shuffling through the yard doing her daily routine of semi-senile yard-circling when Nibbles headbutted her for no reason at all and scared the bejesus out of her.  It took all the rest of the day to convince her to go outside again, and now she goes out and does her business and then hides under the front porch stairs until I come rescue her, even when they are locked up in their own pasture.  Nibbles got a spanking for that one!  Nobody is allowed to be mean to Piper!

TWooie was at first confused by goats, and his teeny little pea brain has finally come to the conclusion that they are dogs, or at least, just as bad as dogs, so he now hates them and he will bite them.  And then he gets headbutted and that makes him even angrier.  It’s a bit of a vicious cycle.

Obviously the goats spend most of their time in the pasture, not only because I heavily supervise their yard time around the dogs (I don’t want goaty vet bills, and I don’t want a dog getting gored by goat horns) but because their job is to eat down the weeds, blackberries and knotweed in the field, and not the pots of strawberries on my porch.  So they only get to come out in the yard every other evening or so for a romp.  They quite enjoy a game of tag with me, and they also enjoy standing on my agility equipment.  I like them, even though they smell kinda bad.

Wootie does not like the goats – much like Piper, he is afraid of them (Nibbles also headbutted Wootie for no reason).  In fact, Wootie thinks he is in hell right now, because of Demon Goats, and Demon Puppies.  He can’t find anywhere safe to go.  The puppies are now SUPER mobile and busy, having just turned 6 weeks old, and they run all over the house at will, which drives Wootie crazy as he has a metaphysical restraining order of about 9 feet against all puppies.

This is his “I hate everything about my life” face.  But it’s also like my newest new favouritest photo.

Dexter likes the puppies, surprisingly, and is very gentle with them.  Although he accidentally ran one over this evening and he felt very very bad immediately.  Usually he is very careful about the placement of his feet around the puppies.

That one is the little tan and black female (#1). And this is her twin brother (#2):

This the first born female (#3) – she is like a third bigger than her siblings:

And this is my favourite puppy, the littlest one with the longest legs and the tiniest ears.  He’s a real pistol (#4)!

On Facebook a while back I suggested a naming contest for the puppies to raise money for the rescue, where people could pay like $5.00 per puppy to suggest a name and then all the suggested names would go up on the blog for everyone to vote one and the names with the most votes would win and that’s what they would be called (but NOT Puppy McPupface!)  Do you guys wanna play?  I think it sounds like fun, and also a fun way to raise donations for the rescue.  I guess Paypal would be the best way to do it … so if you want to play, you can send your name suggestions via paypal ([email protected]) and a $5.00 donation and we can collect names through, say, July 15th and then hold a vote!

Here are more adorable puppy photos to inspire you ;-)

And here’s a photo of Addy chasing the splashes she’s making in the pool, because it’s pretty adorable!

 

And This Is Why I Hate You

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Dexter hates Peetie because she doesn’t give him a moment’s peace.

Addy hates Winter …

… because Winter would rather play with Spring, and Addy can’t keep up.

(btw, this is my new favouritest photo EVER)

Dexter hates Winter and Winter hates Dexter because both of them are ornery and weird.

Peetie hates my client dog Diezel, because on land

and at sea (aka the waterin’ hole), Diezel won’t leave her alone.

(What’s that Peetie?  You find it annoying to be pestered constantly and shadowed around?  BOO FREAKIN’ HOO)

My boarding dog Cao hates Peetie

because Peetie climbs out of the water and shakes all over everydog nearby.

Of course, so does Diezel.  And he spends a LOT of time getting in and out of the water!

Mini Mama hates me

because I insist on bringing her puppies outside every afternoon for a romp.

ZOMG right?  So cute?!?!  They turned 4 weeks old on Saturday.  I started feeding them mush meals, which they find very exciting, and which I find adorable.

They’re so FAT.  I love them!

BTW, in the photo up above, Mini Mama is in the crawl space under my house and staring at me through some weird random little window that exists in the crawl space.  I don’t know why she does this – she seems to really like it under there, with what I assume are a multitude of spiders and other creepy crawlies.  She asks to go out often so she can sit in the crawl space.  The window is like the icing on the cake, so she can sit in there but still watch everything.  She’s an odd little dog.

I don’t usually bring my Big Girl Camera on hikes/walks because I feel like it’s more important to keep an eye on dogs that belong to other people than it is to be framing and setting up shots.  Also, my camera hurts me/my neck/my arm, because it’s HEAVY.  Lugging it around for an hour and a half gives me a wicked head/neck ache and lately my right arm has been going numb.  Some people in one of the photography groups I’m in swear by this nifty gadget and I’m thinking I might need one!

I never bring the camera when I do a forest hike, because I think I’d die trying to climb hills with an extra 9 lbs of camera hanging from around my neck, but today was easy terrain and an easy group of dogs (ie, mostly my dogs!).

Also the scenery is very pretty on this walk, which makes for nice dramatic backdrops for portraits.

(This photos makes me like Peetie!  Even though she is not wearing a collar in it because she rolled in cow poop AGAIN)

I also brought my camera to Regionals, but I didn’t take very many photos because there’s a professional photographer for the event, and I don’t think it’s cool to scoop her business.  However, I also don’t have any spare money, so I was unfortunately also not going to pay her to take a photo of Springles with her ribbon for qualifying for Nationals (did you like that slick segue?)

Yeah, we managed to qualify by the skin of our teeth.  Well, actually we had quite a bit of wiggle room, but it was definitely not a podium-worthy performance, or even an impressive-placement-performance.  As I went in with no expectations except to keep it fun for her and keep her stress-level to a minimum to prevent poopage (because she hates Thunderbird, if you recall, and every year she shits or pisses in the ring there, and ONLY there) it was kinda fun to just run for the hell of it.  But it also meant that I had to not take it very seriously, and I have not found that happy compromise between taking it seriously and stressing out my poor overly sensitive terrier, and having a lark and therefore handling like an idiot.  It was interesting to note just *how easy* it is to stress Spring out though … in our second gamble, which she could have gotten (she is a gambling fool), she bounced every so slightly off my foot when I sent her out to the final obstacle, and I’m not even kidding, that slight bounce of her paw off my sneaker was enough to turn her to the right and cause her to take a different obstacle instead.  Because the closing gamble is timed, and one tends to get a little panicky, and that may have been the first time all weekend I showed her any kind of stress and WOW, what an effect that had.

I love my Springaling very much, and she has come a long way from the dog that used to stress pee and poop in the house if I left her alone for as much as 45 seconds, but she’s still super duper sensitive, and I am super duper a spaz, so we are not destined to be a super duper competitive team.

As Dexter is pretty much stone deaf, and Fae is The Most Emo Dog Ever, I guess I’m going to have to start training Peetie if I want a new agility dog.

Oh, I also took a photo of Fiona and Rogue on the podium in first place blah blah blah, I should just recycle the same text every year since they win EVERY YEAR pretty much.

Here’s a photo of Addy that I find adorable, because she is obviously smiling in it!

And here’s a photo of Miss Piper because she’s started having quite a bit of trouble walking lately, and I’m not sure how many more hikes she has left in her :(