This is My Story And I’m Stick’n With It.

Well, after weeks, even months of planning, I finally make a clean break out the gate taking Jezz and Jack-Jack with me. That bloody do-gooder, Jezz, goes back as soon as she is called, but J-J and I get a good trip around the neighborhood. Finally, to our joy, the Mom figures out we want her to open the vegetable garden gate. (It only took two laps of it this time) We bound in with glee to romp in the corn stalk high weeds that fill most of the space confined by the fences. (Might say the weeds got away from Mom too)

After what seems like 1 ½ seconds, Mom is pulling me from deep in the compost pile and is hauling my furry short tail back to the dreaded fenced yard in which I belong. I don’t care too much ‘cause I smell good! That dumb half-Jack Russell, actually comes when he is called and follows us in. That must be the Toy-Fox half of him. We full JRT’s would at least hold off for a cookie.

I’m greeting the other dogs and let the sniff how much better I smell than they. I’m heading for my private door that I let the others use too (most of the time), when I get picked up and petted and carried in the house. Dog! I am the queen! No squirrel will sniff me out now.

I finally am smell’n great and what happens? Well someone whom shall go nameless, but whose initials are M.O.M. jumps in the shower with me and WASHES IT ALL OFF with stinky canine shampoo. And she wonders why I like POPO better. The indignity, the shame, THE SMELL!!!

Well, that’s my story and I’m stuck with it.
Ms Nipsy JTR knasel

What?

The days are still cold.
The sky is still crying frozen tears,
But the oven warms the kitchen.
I've nothing to fear.

Hans and Snow

Hans has to wear that E-collar to keep him from licking his stitches. Poor Hans! However, it is too funny watching him try to sniff out a "place" when the snow is up to his belly. He scoops up part of the snow leaving smiley faces behind. Then, having discerned that that "place" is not adequate, he lifts his head up and the show slides down to the shaved spot on his neck, giving him a big chill. He gives himself a shake to get rid of the snow, holding up his bad leg. Having removed the cold wet stuff he starts the procedure all over again, for a mutt must muse over the "space" before he uses it for waste.

John AKA: Hans

Meet John. Because there are so many Johns in our lives we call him Hans. We have had several animals come through the our home from the shelter lately. Mainly pups from some local hoarders. There was three from one hoarded, then a mom and pup from another. I don't yet know the story on this cutie other that he waited at the shelter a month to get his surgery and now he is with us until he gets better. Don't it just make you mad that people will damage an animal and just leave it? Poor Hans will be better cared for now.

Puppies and Memories.

Upon coming home from the Walmart with some groceries, I was greeted by 8 sets of canine eyes and waggly tails. All wanting to go out and run in the snow. I walked through the early dusk, knee deep in snow, with pups nipping at the tabs on my muck boots. The yard being fenced we did not wonder far but in circles. Suddenly I was a child again making the circle and pie wedges for the game The Fox and the Hens. I was the only hen and 6 of the 8 dogs were the foxes. It turns out they cheat! They did not stay on the paths for long. The mutts cut across the wedges to get at me and did not care if I was safe in the "Hen House" center. I got mugged anyway. As I was the youngest of the 5 children in our family, I never did win, it seems I still won't. Not if I play with 3 puppies and 3 grown dogs. Oh well, fun is fun.
Pax Christi.

Feckless, Just feckless

Here I sit aggravated with my hopeless attempts to be creative with my digitizing for the embroidery machine, particularly because, after an hour’s work, my new printer refused to work. It sends an error message that there is paper jammed in the back. There is, of course nothing there, not even dust, as we blew it all out with compressed air. Now I have to drive all the way to Mentor, to Best Buy to ask for another on.

May be it is I who has no feck. May be it is a test of my patience. May be I’ll just go take a shower after I check of the three foster pups who are residing in my basement laundry room. Too much foot patter is coming from the basement, indicating they pint size canines have made the great escape from behind out barrier.

Poor old Peanut Butter

Peanut butter the Pit still resides at the ACAPL. Her old foster dad sometimes takes her for a ride in the truck and she gets a run in the fields, but she still has to go back to the shelter.

We now foster a lovely beagle who was part of a rescue of 12 beagles from a hoarder. Fiona is 8 years old but you should see her play in the yard. She and the Amer. mix have a great time.

Peanut Butter and Fiona want a forever home and look at you with sad dogie eyes. It breaks our tiny little hearts.