31 August, 2010

The year winds down.

Oh, it might be 95 out there, and due to stay that hot for the next couple days, but you can’t fool me and you can’t fool the crickets. My happy time of year is bracketed by the frogs in the spring, heralding long, warm days, and then the crickets in the late summer/early fall, chirping incessantly about the oncoming cold.

Other signs of fall: the back of Rooney Lee’s neck is going bald again; Zille is engaged in her end of season shed (OH MY GOD THE HAIR); and some days the air conditioning hardly runs at all. The first half of my morning commute is in the dark, now, and it’s pretty well dark when I go to bed at 2000 instead of being maddeningly bright.

The tulip poplars have started to show the occasional gold leaf, although all the other trees remain resolutely green, and the fall flowers have started showing up on roadsides and in ditches, sprays of yellow and white that are probably something to which I am deathly allergic.

Still, there’s four months to go in the year, and probably one more litter of kittens. Yee haw.

30 August, 2010

And Man Made Dog

A friend of mine was gracious enough to record this National Geographic Channel show for me so I could watch it, not having any broadcast TV service out here at the Manor.

Oh, man, where to start? Let me just say, if you are National Geographic and therefore have some resources at your disposal, you could do a LOT better than this. Hell, I could have done better with a hand-held video camera and my own dogs.

1) I spent the first ten minutes giggling hysterically because the “wolves” were clearly Malamutes or Huskies. They did use very wolfy-coated ones for the adults, but when you get to the puppies and you have classic red ones? HAHAHAHAHA No.

2) The old canard about “wolves have a very strict social structure.” Oh dear. No, they don’t, at least not in the wild. Neither do your dogs, at home, if you have more than one.

3) A “dead” wolf breathed and then picked its head up. BAD EDITING FOR THE LOSE.

4) The scenes of the “ancient” Middle East, where to begin? With the Border Collie that was supposed to represent “primitive” herding breeds, that had its white bits muddified so it looked …more ancient? Who knows. Could they not have found someone with an actual Middle Eastern “primitive” herding dog? The breeds do exist. For example, the Canaan Dog, the Belgian Malinois, the Anatolian Shepherd, all of these breeds would have looked like actual primitive dogs better than a muddy Border Collie. Also, the human actors in blackface. Well, brownface. But still, could we not find actual people from the Middle East, or did they not look Middle Eastern enough?

5) Something like 70% of the scenes of modern working dogs were Border Collies, too. Someone on the production team had a damn Border Collie fetish, that is for sure.

6) The German Shepherd: it did not originate as a people-guarding breed like the Doberman. Your first clue is perhaps in the breed’s name: der Deutscher Schaeferhund, which translates to “German Shepherd Dog.” Please note the “SHEPHERD” there, which is an ancient English word meaning “One who moves sheep around.”

7) Dogs other than Golden Retrievers have emotional connections with humans. Trust me on this.

In summation: skip it, that is two hours of your life you will never get back. Unless you want something to giggle at, in which case, have at!

P.S. The tag on this entry is my 100th tag for the blog. Woo hoo!

28 August, 2010

More lazy blogging. Have some puppies!

These pics are a week old and were taken by my friend Christine of Blackthorn Kennel when she brought the O litter and two of the N litter (Nemo and Nora) over for temperament testing, socialization, and snorgling.

In Which I Am Mobbed By Puppies:
A skinny woman wearing blue jeans, an off-white t-shirt (it is my Chickamauga shirt if you must know) and a blue headscarf crouches to get mobbed by German Shepherd puppies. Two try to crawl into her lap, a third crouches under her knees, and others are coming at a run!

Little orange collar dude there has a wet butt because he sat down in the wading pool to cool off, bless him.

In Which Zille Instructs The Next Generation Of Pointy-Eared Fetchy Dogs:
Zille, a sable German Shedder, stands in front of a group of puppies, some sable, some black, and one larger bicolor who came along to visit. Zille is looking slightly dubious, the puppies stare up at her adoringly.

Poor Zille, she saw puppies and got all excited and then they mobbed her and a few bold souls tried to nurse and she decided after a few attempts to convince them to chase her that puppies are not actually as fun as she thought they would be. The puppies, on the other hand, never ceased thinking of her as a wonderful fascinating adult dogbeast to follow around.

27 August, 2010

Lazy posting. Have a kitten!

Life: still insane. So I’m totally cheating and bracketing this week with Zeke, courtesy of his new people, to whom I owe not only a debt of gratitude for taking a kitten, but a debt of gratitude for providing me with pics for two posts this week! Y’all are the bestest.

With that out of the way, here is young Zeke in a sunbeam in his new home.
A longhaired tabby kitten with adorable white tummy, toes, and nose, lies on is back in a sunbeam atop a crocheted comforter in bright colors framed by white.

25 August, 2010

Feline Politics

Who wants an update on the adult manor cats? I really need to get pics of them but it is difficult. Previously I had thought Grace and Briar Rose, the two calicos, were afraid of me, but since Emmaline has moved inside, Grace and Briar Rose have both been up to solicit attention as well as get the gooshyfuds. Seeing how aggressive Emmaline is toward other cats, I have to wonder if they weren’t actually afraid of Emms.

Efforts to integrate Emmaline into the house are still going very poorly. She just will not share food or even food spots with other cats but instead charges them and starts swinging. I have also tried and tried to get new pics of her, but it’s difficult to do because she is so full of love for people that you can’t get far enough away to get a shot. While her sons may have gotten their coats and colors from their fathers, they clearly got their loveable and loving natures (and also the auto-purr on petting) from their mother.

Meanwhile, I still haven’t confirmed Briar Rose is nursing; she’s not quite friendly enough to let me get a look at her tummy. Grace definitely is, and Noodlehead definitely is not. We’ll see if Grace brings her kittens to me when she’s ready to get rid of them, and if I can work my deferalification magic on this batch, too. Fingers crossed!

24 August, 2010

Dog Pimping!

OK, so it’s not an emergency where a dog is going to die horribly if she doesn’t get a home, but it is a dog close to my heart.
A dark sable German Shedder lies on a rug, smiling at the camera and her head slightly cocked.  A ginormous baseball-lookin toy is between her front paws.
Zille’s mama Danca is 8 years old and looking for a retirement home. She is safe and cared for at Blackthorn Kennel but Christine really feels she deserves a cushy retirement gig where she doesn’t have to argue with other dogs about who owns the ball. Because Danca does. Also that ball. And that one. And that bone, and that bone, and that bone… Danca gave her daughter Zille not only incredible sweetness and heart, but a deep desire to own ALL THE TOYS.

She is housebroken and does not try to eat the furniture. She has more obedience on her than you will ever get without spending zillions of dollars, but she speaks German so you may need to take some language lessons if you want things more advanced than “sit” and “down”.

Here’s her page at the kennel. Please don’t be intimidated by the working pics, I will personally vouch for her kindness to humans. Schutzhund dogs are not randomly aggressive, they are tightly focused working dogs who don’t bite unless you ask them to. Don’t ask her to bite, and she won’t. In fact, Christine thinks she would probably look at you funny if you did ask her to bite someone, unless it was a scary someone trying to break into the house.

I could go on for days, and if I thought Danca would fit here at the Manor I wouldn’t even be making this post, I’d be playing with Danca out in the yard. But one bone-hoarding dog (Hi Zille!) and one bitch with a huge ego (Hi Tink!) are enough for any one family, so here I am humbly asking that if you have a spot in your heart for an older Shedder girl who would really like a comfy dog bed, a climate-controlled house, and ALL THE BONES AND BALLS EVER, well, you should get in touch with Christine at info@blackthornkennel.com. Tell her I sent you, and she will probably throw in, AT NO EXTRA CHARGE, some ridiculous story about me trying to steal her puppies.

The ideal home for Danca will feature a person of her very own who will baby-talk to her and give her ridiculous nicknames and smooch her nose and ruffle her ears, at least one cushy dog bed (or maybe she could share yours?), a big pile of bones and balls and toys that she can hoard to her heart’s content, and as many games of fetch as you can reasonably fit into the day. Also periodically you should re-scatter the bones and balls and toys so that she can have fun collecting them all again.

Oh and here’s Christine’s own pitch, which is much less entertaining but probably more helpful than mine:

She’s good with small dogs and cats, neutral and fairly gentle with kids (she likes them just fine but is not “in love” with them), friendly or neutral with people of all sorts. She is not aggressive with humans over food or ball and has a rather gentle mouth when taking treats from you. She’s got basic housetraining and housemanners and doesn’t chew on furniture. She loves her food and her ball and if you have either one she’ll snap into WORKING! mode for you. She’s very good in a crate in the house–quiet and content. In the kennel she gets bored and starts playing hockey with her food bowl or the water bucket and may throw them around and bark at them for entertainment. :)

She’s in great shape and has no known health issues. She’s a small, dark sable female (55 or so pounds). In general she is neutral to other dogs, male or female, but she won’t tolerate another dog trying to push her around. Mostly she just wants to be allowed to carry her ball everywhere. She’s available to a good home after being spayed.

23 August, 2010

Monday Morning Cute

Feast your eyes, gentle reader, on this pic of Zeke (the artist formerly known as Intrepid) that his new Dad sent me. He’s living the good life down by the coast with J and T, and in this picture he has cuddled up to T’s shin for a nap. She has significant mobility impairments, and I understand from J that young Master Zeke has figured out that while he may attack the male-person, with the female-person he must be loving and gentle, and has mostly mastered the art. He also takes great delight in touching noses with T to check in and make sure she has noticed him lately.

Just look at that happy little kitten face, y’all. The magic of the interwebs really came through for this little guy.A long-haired tabby kitten with adorable white nose, toes, and tummy, snuggles up to the sheet-covered leg of his person.

22 August, 2010

In which I am frustrated by life.

So I’ve gone from three pregnant cats hanging around the Manor to zero pregnant cats hanging around the Manor, with no actual reduction in the number of cats, just the number of pregnancies. Grace and Noodlehead show up every morning like clockwork for breakfast, Briar Rose is a more occasional visitor. Noodlehead just gave birth yesterday. Or at least she looked preggers when I gave her breakfast, and around dinner time there she was, significantly thinner and vastly cuddly just like she was LAST time she gave birth.

The fur around Grace’s nipples is definitely stuck down with kitten spit, we’ll see about Noodlehead who either gave birth somewhere in the immediate vicinity of the Manor, had another litter of stillborn kittens, or had live kittens but is ignoring them. She heavily contemplated coming in the house despite dogs and despite the fact that last time I brought her in she tried to go through a wall. Sigh. If I didn’t have resident cats to protect from potential diseases and parasites, I’d let her wander in at her own speed, but as it is I’m defending the Usual Suspects here and feeling slightly overwhelmed with cats.

At least by the time Grace’s kittens are old enough to be brought around (and possibly Briar Rose’s and Noodlehead’s, if there are any) Daniel will be here and I’ll have some help on the love, attention, and deferalification of small fuzzballs. But Jesus, I need to figure out how to get the girls spayed. The primary problem (well, after the part where I don’t want to take them away from potential kittens for a day and a half) being that all the vets want a week’s notice and it’s not like the girls are amenable to me being their social secretary.

But I’ll just have to figure it out, because I can’t keep doing kittens, and neither can they.

21 August, 2010

Never brag on your dogs. Also, epic battle with horse fly.

So the very night after I pen a post saying the Usual Suspects haven’t really done anything all that interesting and have been, and I quote, “shockingly well-behaved”, I go to bed in my bedroom with La Diva Tinkerbella and the Best Mother Ever retires out here on the futon. Sometime around 0200, I am awakened by a Smell. Evidently Tink did not get the time outside she needed to poop, or maybe the rain was just too upsetting for her (she doesn’t like to get wet while she poops) but anyway, the practical upshot of everything is that I owe the Best Mother Ever a new pair of tennis shoes. Tink’s aim is pretty impressive.

This morning, I staggered out of bed, let the dogs out, headed back to the bathroom, went to let the girldogs in, and got buzzed by something that sounded like a very small WW2 fighter aircraft. Being the kind of person who handles these things with grace and aplomb, naturally I shrieked and ducked and flailed my arms, startling the girldogs into skittering into the living room to hunker down, and then slammed the door much too late to keep the invader out. Damn.

Turning, I saw this HUGE INSECT bonking its head repeatedly on a light in the kitchen, watched with deep fascination by the cats. Clearly I had to Take Steps; my compassion for living things ends when GINORMOUS BUGS OF DOOM invade my home, so I groped about for a tool with which to do battle and settled on my heaviest and most compact textbook of the semester, The Woman’s Bible by Elizabeth Cady Stanton. That rumbling sound you hear is generations of dead feminists rolling in their graves at the sacrilege. Luckily horse flies aren’t as flighty as their smaller counterparts, and it only took one mighty blow to knock it dead to the floor, whereupon I had to run interference to stop Roo from trying to eat it. It’s in the trash can now, and I am listening carefully in case it was only stunned and not dead. But I think I slew the mighty beast.

And then I let Beowulf back in, who was sad he had missed all the fun.

20 August, 2010

I aten’t dead yet.

Sorry for the hiatus there, gentle readers, life intervened as it has a way of doing. And really, the Usual Suspects have been shockingly well-behaved, which limits the amount of stuff I have to tell you about. Let’s face it, “Nobody ate anything inappropriate, woke me up at an ungodly hour, or otherwise misbehaved” doesn’t really make for scintillating posting!

Well, Tink did try to steal my bed a couple nights ago, and refuses to sleep nicely in the bed without her own blanket and pillow, but this is par for the course and not actually unusual.

Mostly the Best Mother Ever and I have been up to wedding stuff, like finally getting invitations sorted out so they can go out next week, and renting a venue that allows dogs so that my best buddies who appreciate going out in public can be there for the ceremony, and deciding on a reception menu (traditional southern barbecue fare, if you’re interested) and otherwise getting all that together. Which is not really all that interesting to anyone but those of us directly involved, I suspect.

Noodlehead has yet to give birth and continues to look like she swallowed a cantaloupe, whole, while Grace and Briar Rose have definitely had kittens and Grace is definitely feeding them. Briar Rose is a little too shy yet to let me feel up her nipples and see if the fur around them is all stuck down with kitten spit, so I don’t have confirmation on her as of right now.

Oh. We did pick up shampoo for Roo, who needs a bath. You see, some Cornish Rex produce enough coat oils for a full coat, even though they don’t have one, and occasionally require a little help removing it or they get slightly gross. Roo, bless his heart, falls into this camp, and so soon here he will be wrestled into the bath tub and scrubbed down. He’s thrilled about the very prospect, as you can imagine, and so am I.

Hope you’re all doing well, gentle readers, and I promise to get back to blogging more regularly!

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