Nowhere Particular

And she was crazy. And she jumped off the bank into the lake-y**.

(*not a lake, actually a pond
*I know it doesn’t really rhyme)

It was summer-time hot this weekend, like standing-around-sweating-and-complaining-that-it’s-so-hot hot. So of course we went swimming. It appears that the property behind us, with the pond, is being turned into a large-scale grow op, so we’re mostly just hoping to not get, you know, shot.

Her Royal Emo-ness was in a mood today, and didn’t want to fetch the ball, didn’t want to swim really, didn’t want to do anything except sit around looking mopey. It might be because I’ve changed her name to FatFat – because she is a CHONK. Her diet is like 80% green beans, but somehow she is still packing on lbs. She kinda reminds me of me, TBH (except not the green bean thing, and also my diet is 80% chips, Twizzlers and ice cream sandwiches, so at least I have an excuse. I eat my feelings, as it turns out).

I did finally convince her to go swimming by promising her cookies, which I know is counter-intuitive, but at least they are 3 calorie Charley Bears so IN THEORY they aren’t contributing (much) to her weight gain.

She even looked angry while swimming.

The one who SHOULD be mad is Addypants…I had to go buy new windshield wipers today (according to the guy at the oil change place: ‘this one is going to fly right off if you try to use it!’) and I brought The Pants because the store is dog friendly and it’s one of her favourite places to visit because it’s full of PEOPLE and in the warm weather those people are often wearing SHORTS which means Tiny Dog can lick their bare legs in greeting. Once she had firemen (they were all men, so I can call them that) down on the floor playing with her, because she is full of charm. So imagine my surprise when we’d been in the store for all of about 45 seconds when some twatwaffle masquerading as a a human woman walked by and looked at her and said “What is THAT thing doing in here?”

I shrugged and said “I was just going to ask the same thing about you.” That stopped her in her tracks and she just stood and stared at me. I like to think her mouth was agape (typical of morons and mouthbreathers) but as we were all wearing masks it’s impossible to say for sure. I said “She’s here because she’s allowed to be, asshole” and then Addy and I wandered off the find the windshield wipers. Because I tell you, dear readers, I am about UP TO HERE with bullshit, since my life right now is basically just me swimming in a tank of the stuff, and there is no room for any more.

Anyhoo. Several people in the store who were not assholes wanted to stop and pet “the greyhound” and the cashier gave her a chewy milkbone the size of her head, and Addy doesn’t hold a grudge, because she is a better little person than I am. I’m still holding a grudge.

Thing. Hmph.

Other than that little blip, the rest of the day was just fine and enjoyed by all. Let Wootie demonstrate.

I honestly didn’t think it was possible to love Wootie more than I have for 16 years, but it turns out that it IS in fact possible, and all it takes it shaving him down. I love me a shaved Wootie so much. And I think Wootie loves himself more when he’s nekkid too. He’s so much lighter and free-er, he runs around more, he’s less reluctant to swim … he’s just an all around happier Noodles. Oodles of Noodles Happy. In fact he is so light/free/happy sometimes I think maybe my wish will come true and he will actually live forever. I mean, how many 16 year old dogs do you know that are running around like this?

He did a two hour walkies on Saturday and had no problems at all keeping up with the gang and it’s not like he was down for the count afterward either. He’s my little machine!

Whereas THIS is my cross to bear.

I think she was dropped on her head as a puppy, bless her. I want to say she tries so hard but … she, like, doesn’t. She’s just her, in all her vacant glory. At least she’s snuggly. And she’s not humping my leg as I type this MAISIE. Why does my otherwise perfect girlie insist on humping my leg every time I sit down? I just shooed her off my leg and she wandered off, walked back over to me and said “UHHH UH UH,” sighed and laid back down. She is so delightfully ODD.

But she is not hiding behind 3 blades of grass like her big brother, who is the oddest of them all.

And I can’t believe this guy is almost 12. And not just because of all the “where did the time go” feelings that go along with it, but because he is still a goofy, dorky too-much-legs puppy bebopping around like a lunatic. He’s got a permanently bum shoulder, but otherwise I swear he hasn’t changed at all in years and years. I remember when I worked at the shelter and we’d have these old decrepit dogs come in and when their people came to collect them, we’d mention things like how their dog’s nails are so long, or they were very arthritic, and they’d say “oh well he’s very old, you know, he’s 10 now” (or 11 sometimes) and I look at Dexter trying to convince me to play fetch with a yogurt container and I think how’s that now? I guess I did something right with my gang of merry idiots, that they are slow to find old age and that they basically secrete youth out of their pores everywhere they go. It makes me feel a little better about the pickle we’re in now, where I feel every minute like I am letting them down, because we can’t find a home together.

There are no photos of The Seasons because there are RABBITS and rabbits make The Seasons both deaf AND capable of vanishing into thin air and reappearing full of pokies and mud and looking a lot less hungrier than they did when we started on our adventure.

Instead, enjoy this photo of 7 one week old kelpie puppies that I got to snuggle this afternoon, because the other gal who lives on the property is smarter than me and got cute dogs that can make copies of themselves (mine just make a mess, and sometimes lots of noise). How cute is this conga line of little future shit machines?

I’m partial to the little feller that decided to go his own way, because I appreciate a contrary doggo :)

Not the war of Fae and The Geese, although that one was rife with sharp barks that rang through the meadows, and guttural HONKS.

Fae doesn’t think the geese should be in HER pond, even though she doesn’t actually want to go in it herself, because she’s a fastidious little princess who doesn’t like to get her delicates wet.

I mean after TWoo, that funny, strange, sometimes angry little dog who had so much life for so many years. He’s the dog I had to use a GPS tracker on lest I lose him on his hunting escapades. The one who got himself locked in the old abandoned mobile home while hunting rats. The dog who spent two whole days ignoring foster dog Keiren before he realized Keiren wasn’t actually just Dexter being twice as busy as usual (and then, to make up for lost time, thought he might try to kill him). TWooie was such an odd duck because almost everything he felt (except rage) he kept inside himself; he was never pushy about affection, he didn’t like to cuddle, he never got on the furniture and he slept by himself in the other room … it was like living with half a dog, compared to all the pushy, Big Personality dogs that make up the rest of the Crew. Yet somehow he was also a lot of personality. It was hard to watch him fade away to a ghost of his former dogness. At the end, he could barely walk and mostly he just laid (or stood) around staring into space or sleeping – except at mealtime, when he became very animated. Until the very last Sausage McMuffin I gave him in the parking lot at the vet’s, he was moved by food.

I guess I thought that because TWooie and I never did anything together, really – we didn’t snuggle or cuddle much, he didn’t play fetch or tug or interact with toys at all; I only ever taught him a few behaviours, and he only did them for food … I guess I thought he wouldn’t leave much more than a brief ripple of sadness on my soul and then he’d be gone on the wind, just a fond memory. But he was a much harder loss. Every time I open the freezer and see his last frozen baggie of the pasta and mackerel I used to make for him every week, I feel a little gut punch all over again. I still wait for him to catch up when I’m walking the WooCrew. When I pull out bed time cookies, I still count out 9, every night.

I hope I gave him a life he enjoyed. I hope he got to be the dog he wanted to be.

But with his absence also comes a serenity in our home that wasn’t there before and I guess had not been for many years.

Dexter, whom TWooie always hated, is so much more relaxed. He can walk around inside without baring his teeth at his nemesis. He has stopped jumping from chair to couch barking at the little 30lbs of Aussie who used to pull his hair. The near constant huffing and growling and almost silent snarling that was the background music to much of the last 11 years is missing from our day to day. Right after meal times I can open the babygate and let Dexter out of his private dining room (AKA the bedroom).

Wootie doesn’t seem to miss him – he seems to have come to terms with his brutha being gone long before I did. Addy still finishes her food and then runs to where TWooie used to eat to try and steal some of his meal (I used to keep an arsenal of stuffies on the counter so I could peg her with them to shoo her away from his bowl while I was trying to clean up the kitchen after food prep). But otherwise nobody seems to notice he’s gone; it breaks my heart a little, but when I see Dexter walking around without looking over his shoulder, I feel a little guilt too. Sometimes it’s hard to share my life with all these dogs and try to make all of them happy.

Although it’s pretty easy to make Maisie happy – give her a stick and she’s good to go.

Except for whatever is making her eat her own legs. You can see the damage she has done to herself. I have spent a fortune on vet wrap; every time I manage to keep her away from one self-inflicted wound to give it time to heal, she starts another one. I haven’t taken her to the vet yet because a) WHY does is always have to the holy trinity of expensive vet visits at once? and b) thanks to Covid, we still can’t go inside with our dogs (well, except TWoo, they let me for that) and since I don’t know if she’s cannibalizing herself from something physical or something mental, I am afraid sending her into a building with Strangers who well then Touch Her (I mean we are talking about a dog who still won’t go outside with Auntie Fiona when she lets them out midday while I’m at work) will cause her to eat any part of herself she can reach.

Any idea what it could be? She doesn’t limp or favour any legs and she doesn’t seem to be in any kind of pain; it’s a weird ass place for allergies to manifest – I can’t figure out why she’s chewing herself up. I wish she would stop. She’s such an odd little duck.

I also love that she has one ear from her labby heritage and one from her border collie side.

I am relieved that TWoo has gone on before Wootie, because I think if the reverse were true I’d be left with a very upset TWoo. He was always more attached to Woo than Noodles was to him. Wootie is doing great, considering he is hovering somewhere around 16 years old. He still plays fetch from time to time, though I notice his bunny hunting days are over – when the other dogs take off after a bunny, he just watches like an indulgent grandpa.

He even swims a little sometimes, though he picks his way into the pond very carefully, and if the ball is too far out in the water he yells at me and won’t go get it.

It’s almost time for his annual shave down, as he is one shaggy mess!

Everyone is else is business-as-usual …I basically never see The Seasons, all they do is hunt All The Things that are waking up and moving around in the long grasses. Every time I think about having to give them up, and them living a different kind of life, I get a little more depressed. I am now looking at jobs in other parts of the province, and other provinces altogether, where I might be able to afford to live on a little piece of land we could call our own.

It’s weird to be down to eight dogs. It’s strange how one less dog can feel like I’m missing so much.

For more than 16 years I’ve been blogging for you all, though I fell off the wagon there for a bit. But your love is bringing me back – I have launched a Patreon where you’ll be able to find the photos, stories and weirdness that you love to see from The Food Lady. I will still be posting on FB from time to time, but I’ll be saving the best of us for the rest of you on Patreon. Join us!

On March 27, 2010, a fat little wide eyed demon joined the WooCrew and made himself if not exactly at home, at least known to all. He was Harley, and he was gnarly and he Flambed his way into the hearts of many, including me.

And today, 11 years and a month later, he was TWooie and he went out with the same minimal fanfare in which he arrived, and he’s Getting The Bunnies in the big farm in the sky.

He enjoyed many adventures during his time on this earthly plane. Wherever so went his “brutha” Woo, so TWoo did he.

He ate Terrible things for breakfast whenever he could.

He braved the scary waters of the pacific ocean so he could go fishing.

And to Get The Bunny he fully committed and became the bunny.

He challenged us all in many ways. He was independent minded and I was never sure if he loved me or even liked me, but he was a big fan of the cookies I always carry. He made Dexter’s life if not miserable, at least difficult. It took a lot of work and learning to teach him to ignore other dogs, because doG knows he Did Not Like dogs who were not in his Gang. When I first got him and I reprimanded him for being a dink he chased me across the yard to bite me in the pants. It was not an auspicious start.

But over the years we reached an understanding and a mutual respect. He was not my favourite dog (sorry fans) but I loved him and today when I set him free, I was – and am – far, far sadder than I ever thought I’d be.

Tonight the dogs will enjoy the canned mackerel I optimistically bought for him this weekend, because old age and his body betrayed us both. And wherever it is that not-actually-very-good-dogs-but-very-good-bois go when they leave us, I hope Snarly TWooie is there already, and that he gets to be as crabby as he wants.

I miss you little buddy.

On this day a mere 11 years ago – a blip in time, really, this magnificent dog was born. And on that day I looked at his face and said “Whoa, this is one is gonna be ugggggly.”

And how wrong I was. He grew and grew and grew.

And so did his ears

And before long he was a magnificent beast.

He tested my patience. He tested my mettle. He even tested a variety of surfaces that are not for dogs (tabletops, cars etc). In agility he lost his mind. In life, he lost his hearing. But throughout it all, he has been my bestest buddy.

So today, at the ripe old age of eleven, with 8 of our closest pals, we celebrate his life.

And we do it with CAKE!

(That’s supposed be an “11” with a heart above it, made out of bacon bits, but I never said I was a cake decorator. Fortunately, Dexter and the other dogs are not discerning).

Yes my good boy, I baked that for you!

Yes, all for you!

Go ahead and enjoy.

That’s my very good boy.

I love you so much, Happy Birthday.

Nice to see you feel the same way.

Some of you may remember this merry rag tag gang of misfits and the insane woman who runs herself ragged trying to keep up with them.

If you remember us, you probably wonder where the heck we’ve been, and why the radio silence in Blog Land. Well The Food Lady has been real busy, inventing The Hover Dog(tm).

Har har har.

I wish that’s what I was doing. I got a new “actual” job a couple months ago, because as much as I love photography, it does not bring home the bacon for me. Which makes me sad, because I like it a lot. And my new job leaves basically zero time to do it. At all. The hours are disgustingly terrible, the commute is brutal and the job itself hovers (har har har) somewhere between mindnumbingly boring and horrifically horrible with respect to how it’s managed (I mean above me, as I’m the manager). It pokes little holes in the fabric of my animal-welfare-background heart every day. But I have many things to feed, so I drag myself out of bed (sometimes at 3:45AM, sometimes at 6AM, depending which shift I’m on) and go, and I HATE IT WITH EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING.

And speaking of Things, I managed to find a home for this one last week.

Never been so happy to see the backend of a red dog in my life. That puppy plum wore me out with her constant nonsense. She craned her evil giraffe neck over a babygate while I was in the shower and pulled down my favourite Bench jacket and chewed up the zipper, on both sides. It wasn’t even a dog coat, it didn’t even have tasty cookie smells in the pockets. She pissed on my dogs beds and I had to buy all new ones. There is not a blanket in the house without several holes in it. That dog is at LEAST a two person job, so I went to visit her potential home and hopped into my van and drove away while they were (foolishly) oohing and ahhing over her adorableness. SUCKERS!!!

Even my dogs breathed a collective sigh of relief when they realized she wasn’t coming back home with us. The Thing made Maisie look laid back!

Maisie, who will play fetch with literally anything.

Whenever I think of the people who passed on this smart girlie, I hug her just a little more tightly (which she objects to, LOUDLY, because it’s not playing fetch). I am so lucky to have her, she is just oodles of fun, and such a good girl. The other day we were playing ball in the off leash area and her ball (like her Best Dog Ever predecessor Tweed, she has A Ball that she will play with, and if it goes missing, she will not play with another ball without some serious pre-game pouting.)(It’s not the same as playing fetch with Literally Anything, these are two different games) bounced over the fence into a hard-to-reach place.

The off leash area is entirely fenced. The ball bounced over the fence as far away from the gate as possible. She knows she is not allowed to go out the *property* gate on the road (plus it was closed anyway), so damned if my smart girl didn’t go out the gates, run all the way along the outside of the off leash area in the parking lot, bushwhack through the blackberries and then run through the neighbour’s field and find her ball.

Then, like the shining star that she is, she retraced her steps and came back the same way she went and resumed our game of fetch. How brilliant is she? When she was about 7 months old I offered her to Canines for Conservation because she will do anything to find and retrieve her ball and has a work ethic that just won’t quit, but they felt she was too young (they like them 10 months and up). I am so glad they refused her, because my life would be a lot less shiny without her in it. Aside from her ear piercing bark (and her literal ear piercing of Dexter when she chases him down), she is just awesome. I love her so.

She can even get Winter to play with her, and Winter is far too weird and full of social anxiety to play with anyone other than his sister (or maybe she’s not his sister; doG knows the Woo “not-related-even-a-tiny-bit” TWoo fooled us all for years!).

And speaking of the Dastardly Duo…they’re both doing great, given they are old as dirt and I have effectively abandoned them for 11 hours a day in their old age. I bring Dexter and the two Littles to work, the rest of the dogs stay home. We try to play some fetch either before work or after I get home, depending on the shift, but the WooTWoo don’t play fetch, so they find life rather boring these days. So yesterday, my day off, Auntie Michelle and I piled them all in my van and took them to our old stomping grounds where I used to walk dogs, and we spent two hours decompressing in the cranberry fields. This is where Wootie’s resurrected Flamboyance(tm) chose to shine.

Look at that thing! It has fully recovered from its brush with shaving over a year ago thanks to that nasty infection he got. I am so glad to see it again. I am, however, not allowed to touch it still. Woo had gotten cantankerous in his old age and gets all snarly when I try to brush him (which is ironic, because without brushing, he is ALSO all snarly).

TWooie was having a good time too (lots of gross dead things to roll in, apparently) until he snagged and tore his front dew claw (AGAIN. Dog has the most feeble dewies in the world) and had to be carried out to solid ground because the cranberry plants kept snagging on the mangled claw. He was sad. I was also sad, because he’s heavy and super awkward to carry.

But we all needed the exercise and the time out in nature. It was so nice to see my crew running around being deliriously happy. It almost makes me regret giving up the dog walking gig, even though I was dead broke all the time.

This is a photo of Peetie. She’s still dumb as a sack of hammers. However, she was a godsend when we had The Thing…she entertained her for hours at a time, taught her to play tug with toys and wrestled patiently with her when the other dogs were all hiding from the Thing Tornado, even when The Thing got snappy and overstimulated…Peetie is truly awesome with annoying foster puppies.

Dexter is awesome at work … he stays behind a gate on the stairs behind my desk and he lures all of our clients over to pet him through the gate and tell him how handsome he is. He of course cannot hear them, but he knows what they’re saying. He knows how handsome he is.

He has a lump in his back along his spine so we went to visit Dr. Erica to have it checked out as it has recently gotten bigger. She examined it and said “It looks like a cyst. Ooooh, I want to squeeze it so bad!” What is it with you vet/tech types and your all encompassing urge to squeeze fluids out of dog lumps? The techs at the shelter LIVED for that shit too. You’re all disgusting!

Anyway, she did a needle thingie and cytology and it was indeed full of cyst material, but not the gooey kind, so she recommended we leave it alone until he’s under for something else … “like when you get his teeth cleaned!” she said, as she flipped up his lip to look at his teeth. “….or not,” she then said, because his teeth are fantastic (*chuffed*). So lumpy will remain lumpy unless the cyst gets too big to be ignored.

This is also the only photo of Spring you will see in this post, as she was too busy hunting all the imaginary critters out there. She ran so much that she slept all afternoon and evening.

No photos of Fae either, because she was too itty bitty to be seen in the cranberry fields … she was just some hair and floppy ears bouncing in and out of focus.

How come whenever I take a group photo, everyone looks very serious except for Dexter? How come he only has two facial expressions?? (this one and Mad Teeth(tm))

Anyway, it’s my last day off and I have 400 million things to do before work tomorrow, because I have no time to do anything on the days I am working. Maisie says we better get some ball time in before that happens (or any time, ever, why am I not a millionaire so I can spend all my time playing with her etc.)

Tell me what you think I should do for an actual living, because I can’t seem to come up with anything I want to do, and doG knows I don’t want to do what I am doing right now. You are smart peoples, help a sad, grouchy, tired sistah out.

ETA – oh I forgot, I was supposed to add this!

When I had the WooTWoo DNA tested, and learned they weren’t even a teensy bit the same breed(s) make up, they ran a “relatedness” test on them to see if maybe they had, like, same mom but different dad. Turns out they did not. It’s more sciencey than my pithy little grey matter can comprehend, but some of you s-m-r-t people might be interested to learn more about it on their blog post here.