Airborne

This is the sort of rustic scene I see on my morning walk. A chicken getting ready to fly the coop. A rusty old truck in the background--so New Mexico. A dead tree. And...wait, a goat? A goat in the tree?

This is the goat who entertained us by teetering on the top of the fence the other day (Morning Glories). I've been waiting for a chance to catch him/her resting in the tree. Forgive the blur--Beany was trying to help me focus by pulling on his leash. 

Dweezil's Christmas Miracle

My little foundling pup, now named Dweezil, was just snuggling in my lap and reminding me that some stories have happy endings and that we sometimes cry tears of joy. Here is the re-posted story of how he came to us, just one year ago:

***

A weary stranger on the road, seeking shelter and warmth and safety. It sounds like a Christmas story to me.

He was cold. Cold and very hungry, and so thirsty. The days were long and dangerous enough with all the honking cars, but the nights seemed to last forever. He didn't know where to go, but he knew he had to get away from those mad singing coyotes and the big owls hunting in the orchard. He wasn't sure how to deal with the huge roaring monster of a train that came through every few hours, and he had crossed the track several times.

But, oh, he was so cold and lost and afraid.

***

We live on a road that runs between two heavily traveled streets. Although our place in the orchard is fairly quiet, there is a railroad track about half a mile away.We first saw the little dog when we were on our way out to breakfast and were worried that he was so near the road, but then he headed off toward a fenced yard and we figured that he had just been out for a little stroll.

Many hours later, I spotted the little guy once again. This time he was outside our fence, visiting with our dogs. I was worried about the traffic, and enlisted Beez's help. Grabbing a package of string cheese, I went out to see if I could get him to come in to safety.

It took over an hour of signalling cars and trucks to slow down and go around, and calling softly to Beez for more cheese. We learned early on that he was frightened of people, but terrified of men; so Beez stayed way back. Remembering the lost pup's lack of fear of other dogs, I got Little Pete to help. That did the trick: The little wanderer came into the yard to see Pete and to get another bite of cheese, and Beez materialized behind us and closed the gate.

Little Pete is always willing to help out

People began arriving for supper. My sister almost wept when she realized that this was the same dog she had tried to call to safety two days before. She had been haunted by the thought of him out there on his own, but he had been too frightened to come near. Now he seemed to remember her voice.

My husband, that good Beez, spent another hour out in the yard, getting the little guy to trust him enough to come into the house before nightfall's below-freezing temperatures. This is the man who earlier had put together his rightly-famous white lasagna and got it into the oven, while still managing to work patiently with the little wildling. Our dozen dinner guests quietly cheered him on from the living room until he arrived with the cold, tired pup cradled in his arms.

Once inside, with access to plenty of food, water, warmth, and comfy laps, the terrified and exhausted little pup underwent a pretty amazing change. He asked Helen to lift him up and hold him. He snuggled right down and fell asleep, safe at last. He was sleeping so hard, that first Jeff and then Jean took over the pup-holding duties, and he didn't even stir.

Around the big table, we smiled at each other and talked quietly of Christmas miracles.

Safe at last

Little Dog Clothes

I wake up in the morning

wearing little dog clothes

little dog above me, keeping my head warm

little dog below me, keeping my feet warm

little dog before me

and little dog behind me

it wasn't always this way

I don't even like little dogs

but someone had to save them 

from under car wheels

and cages of doom

and loveless situations

now they repay me

by telling me when someone stops at the gate

or when the coyotes pass by in the night

or when my hair needs rearranging as I sleep

and by giving me little dog clothes to wear

starting my day with a chuckle

and ending it with laughter

little dog clothes

and

little dog love

Dweezil and Little Pete

Now, About That Pup

When I told the miraculous Christmas story of how we rescued that little pup from the road, some of you asked about what happened next. Did we keep him or did we take him to the animal shelter? Did he get a name?

Even though we are full up with pups, of course we decided to just fold him into the dog pack and give him a forever home. The poor animal shelter here is overwhelmed with foundlings and surrendered dogs and dogs rescued from abusive situations. Most of them don't find a home, alas, and the hardworking shelter folks have terrible statistics to report about how many dogs and cats are put down every month.

We figured we could do better than that. After checking the lost and found ads in the paper and on Craigslist, we named him Dweezil, which goes well with our almost-fictional last name of Zee. We dug out a collar from our vast store of puppy stuff, and prepared to love him forever. He was such a little cuddler. We were getting ready to make an appointment with the vet for an exam, shots, and the Necessary Operation.

And then--he dug out of the yard and scampered down the road again, straight for the railroad tracks. Beez followed in the car and talked with people who had seen him and who had tried to catch him, with no luck. Those short little legs had hit the road again and that seemed to be that.

I struggled to make this fit into my Bluebirdian Philosophy, where everything always has a happy ending. I worried that he had a home somewhere and that we had just interrupted his journey. Yes, we worried and we paced and we called and we looked out the window and--there he was, hours later, attempting to dig his way back in.

He was exhausted and muddy and just wanted to cuddle and sleep. Later he woke to eat and to drink some water, then he was ready for more cuddling and sleeping.

Here's the thing: He did the same thing two more times--two more digging escapes and two more digging returns. We decided that he really did want to live with us, but just needed time to bond. Beez cemented around the most popular digging spots, and we kept a close eye on him, day after day. He snuggled, he made friends with Petey, and he bonded.

Here he is now. He loves us and we love him. He is finally allowed out in the fenced yard by himself and when he gets there, he does NOT head for the fence. He just waits for his best friend, Pete, and they chase each other around and around the yard, doing chest bumps. I tried to capture that for you, but the little guys were way too fast for me.

After the chest bumping subsides, they play tug of war with any old stick. I think our little Dweezil has chosen, and he has decided to stay with us.

By the way, he has been to our vet and the big news is that Dweezil is just a baby, only around 8 months old. Two other pups who seem to be the same age were found in our neighborhood on the same weekend; there is a little Dweezil twin up at the sad shelter. I think someone just dumped a litter, hoping that someone would find them and do the right thing.

I'm pretty sure we did the right thing for our little guy.

Christmas Story

A weary stranger on the road, seeking shelter and warmth and safety. It sounds like a Christmas story to me.


He was cold. Cold and very hungry, and so thirsty. The days were long and dangerous enough with all the honking cars, but the nights seemed to last forever. He didn't know where to go, but he knew he had to get away from those mad singing coyotes and the big owls hunting in the orchard. He wasn't sure how to deal with the huge roaring monster of a train that came through every few hours, and he had crossed the track several times.

But, oh, he was so cold and lost and afraid.

***

We live on a road that runs between two heavily traveled streets. Although our place in the orchard is fairly quiet, there is a railroad track about half a mile away.We first saw the little dog when we were on our way out to breakfast and were worried that he was so near the road, but then he headed off toward a fenced yard and we figured that he had just been out for a little stroll.

Many hours later, I spotted the little guy once again. This time he was outside our fence, visiting with our dogs. I was worried about the traffic, and enlisted Beez's help. Grabbing a package of string cheese, I went out to see if I could get him to come in to safety.

It took over an hour of signalling cars and trucks to slow down and go around, and calling softly to Beez for more cheese. We learned early on that he was frightened of people, but terrified of men; so Beez stayed way back. Remembering the lost pup's lack of fear of other dogs, I got Little Pete to help. That did the trick: The little wanderer came into the yard to see Pete and to get another bite of cheese, and Beez materialized behind us and closed the gate.

Little Pete is always willing to help out

People began arriving for supper. My sister almost wept when she realized that this was the same dog she had tried to call to safety two days before. She had been haunted by the thought of him out there on his own, but he had been too frightened to come near. Now he seemed to remember her voice.

My husband, that good Beez, spent another hour out in the yard, getting the little guy to trust him enough to come into the house before nightfall's below-freezing temperatures. This is the man who earlier had put together his rightly-famous white lasagna and got it into the oven, while still managing to work patiently with the little wildling. Our dozen dinner guests quietly cheered him on from the living room until he arrived with the cold, tired pup cradled in his arms.

Once inside, with access to plenty of food, water, warmth, and comfy laps, the terrified and exhausted little pup underwent a pretty amazing change. He asked Helen to lift him up and hold him. He snuggled right down and fell asleep, safe at last. He was sleeping so hard, that first Jeff and then Jean took over the pup-holding duties, and he didn't even stir.

Around the big table, we smiled at each other and talked quietly of Christmas miracles.

Safe at last

Weetzie Love

Blurry Weetzie adoring Beez

There is probably a life lesson here: Wonderful, loving moments may happen too fast for us to focus on them properly.

Let's Hear It For the Underdog

This is Weetzie. 

I found her at a kill shelter; it was to have been her last day. 

After seeing her crouched in her cage, I promised her that I would take her home. 

I had to leave her for a few minutes to fill out the paperwork, but I kept my promise and went back to the cage. 

When I reached for her, she growled at me. 

I'll always be glad that I didn't let that change my mind. 

The attendant lifted her into my arms and I took her home, wrapped in a little blanket. I bathed her and wrapped her in a towel and sat with her for a while in the rocking chair. 

She is a loving member of our family and we can't imagine not having her with us. 

She still growls when she is picked up and when she first wakes up in the morning.

We have had so many laughs with her, because those growls are so at odds with her loving nature and sweet personality. 

I guess I am asking you to give these abandoned shelter dogs a chance. 

Scary things have happened to them, and sometimes they just need a little peace and quiet to show you who they are. 

New Discovery: Dogs Can Listen, Appreciate Science, and Salivate Concurrently

As you might expect, our dogs are quite interested in matters pertaining to veterinary science. Beez was recently reading an article to them from The Economist (Hot Spots; How Changing Farming Habits Threaten Human Health) about livestock-to-human transmission of diseases, and they were absolutely riveted by his description of Crimean-Congo haemorrhagic fever. 

... Or were they?

Hint: Look closely (click to enlarge) and you will see the plate of bread and cheese balanced on Beez's chest.
Everyone in our house can multitask, even the recently-retired guy.

Adopt a Pet!

Rescued dogs come in all shapes and sizes (and facial expressions)

	Did you know that approximately 4 million adoptable dogs & cats are killed each year due mainly to overpopulation? Did you know that 25-30% of dogs for adoption in animal shelters are purebred? The other 70-75%, of course, are lovable, wonderful mixed-breed pets, just waiting for a chance to be your perfect new friend.
	In an effort to help people make good choices when they adopt a dog or cat, many humane societies, SPCAs and pet rescues provide adoption counseling to help match you up with a pet for adoption.
	If you have your heart set on a specific breed, before you check out a dog breeder or pet store, why not adopt a pet from a breed rescue organization? Breed rescues are groups that specialize in a particular breed of dog or cat.
	Don't be fooled into thinking that animal shelters and pet rescues are filled with dog or cats that were discarded because they're "bad". Shelter pets for adoption are wonderful companions who became the victims of family tragedy, unlucky circumstances or irresponsible owners.
	Did you know that many backyard dog breeders and pet stores who supply the majority of purebreds simply are selling inbred pets without care for preventing genetic problems? Mixed breed pets have less inbreeding, generally less inherited genetic disease, and therefore overall lower vet bills and happier pets! And the best place to find a mixed breed dog or cat is at an SPCA, a humane society or an animal shelter. (from Adopt a Pet.com)

Wordless Wednesday: Kitties, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Min Pins

Please?

Please get this thing off me...

Little Pete has been very patient. In spite of a tiny glitch (the name of this peculiar recipe will make everything clear), his recent Necessary Operation was a success. His stitches are out and he is free of the awful lampshade hat he wore and used as a weapon against pushy pack members and unwary human shins.

I just had to post one last photo of his dirty little face framed in that awful thing. Note the ever-wagging tail. He's a good boy.

Contest Winner!

As I mentioned last week, I won a contest and was just waiting to receive the prize. It arrived, and here it is: A Hungry Hound Handcrafted Feeder from Pam of Life on a Southern Farm.

The feeder is beautifully made by Pam's husband, FarmMan, and it holds 15 lbs. of dry dog food. You can order one for your dog and several more for gifts--just scroll down on the right side of Pam's home page and click on the picture of Jill, FarmDog Extraordinaire, modeling her own feeder.

Thank you, Pam and FarmMan!

Our dogs love their new feeder, as you will see.

Leny loved the feeder at first sight

So did Little Pete, but he was hampered by that pesky lampshade thing he has worn since his recent Necessary Operation. He tried and tried, but couldn't manage to get a single mouthful.

Poor Pete, what could he do? Not one to admit defeat, he thought about the problem for a bit...

... then ate a piece of rug instead.

Little Pete Comes Home

If you have been reading this blog lately, you will know that we have been grieving the loss of Bertie Pierre (see Gone Away), a tiny pup with a huge personality packed into five pounds of love and good humor. Bertie is the reason that the blog itself is in a kind of mourning with those dark gray edges.

Last Saturday Beez and I went to the Farmer's Market and saw one of the animal shelter dog walker volunteers carrying a small pup who was too shy to go for a walk in the busy, noisy market. We stopped to chat and she turned so we could see his face.

I believe that time actually stopped there, for a moment. We each took a deep, shaky breath because the little guy's eyes were so much like Bertie's.

Long story short, Little Pete has come home:

No more noisy, overcrowded shelter (The staff and volunteers try so hard but the city needs to reorder some of its priorities, really). 

No more sense of impending doom (a very large percentage of the dogs in the shelter go unadopted and are put down).

No more loneliness for the little guy, because he is already getting integrated into our pack of rescue dogs. He snuggles, he plays, and he romps in spite of what looks to be a previously injured and poorly healed leg. 

Did we really need another dog? No. Did we really need to have Little Pete to join our family? Yes. 

Little Pete (full name: Pedro Martinez "Little Pete" Zee). I had a hard time getting him in focus because he was romping and had just paused for a second

Exploring the yard with big Leny

Help Me!

Continuing from yesterday's post: The storm was still raging and the broken gas pipe still hissing...

Since you already know about my problem with magical thinking, you won't be surprised to learn that I convinced myself that the gas somehow wouldn't explode if it couldn't see me while I used the phone. I rushed to the other side of the house and turned my back toward all the chaos and called 911 (see why you shouldn't use a phone in the vicinity of a gas leak). I don't think that I have ever been in such a state of fear (As I learned in my public speaking class, my mouth goes totally dry when I'm really scared and I find it hard to talk), but I managed to make myself understood and was even able to remember my name and address. The operator told me to grab the animals and get away from the house.

Getting the animals out felt a lot like this

I found two leashes and the snapped them on the big dogs. Telling the two little dogs that I would be right back (I hoped), I closed the door behind me and took off for the neighbor's house across the road. Although I'm normally a quiet person, not given to much shouting, I started screaming, "Joe, help me!" at the top of my lungs when I got near the house.

Joe's wife, Wanda, peeked out the door as we came barreling toward her, all of us soaked and some of us terrified and me still screaming. She started to say something like, "No, no dogs in the house..." when a part of me that I didn't even know I had in there told her to take the dogs, put them in the bathroom, stay inside because there was going to be an explosion, and that I was coming back in a minute (I hoped) with more dogs. This is a woman I hardly knew, and I was moving our acquaintance up several notches all at once, but she saw my terror and grabbed the leashes.

Sloshing pretty fast for a lady my age back over the road and through the puddles in an outfit meant for hanging around alone on a hot day in front of a fan with no witnesses, I got back to the house. I had a moment where I thought I might be able to gather up the cats and stuff them into a carrier, but they were all hiding. It felt terrible to leave them behind, but I was betting on their resourcefulness and left a door open for them to get out when the house blew up. It wasn't a great plan for their immediate future, but it was the best I had.

The two little dogs were most willing to be scooped up and tucked under my arms. I almost left without my cell phone (I will never wear shorts without pockets again), but grabbed it on the way out the door and went back through the puddles and away from the house, this time noticing that the emergency guys had already gotten there in record time and were blocking off the road. Scared as I was, I had a big fashion realization: Their hazmat outfits were a lot more suitable for the occasion than mine.

I got back into Joe's house, dropped the dogs, and begged for a glass of water so I could talk and explain myself. My poor neighbors. Their house doesn't have much of a view in my direction and they had no idea what was going on.

*****

You know, other people might be able to tell this story in 25 words or less, but I guess that's just not in my nature. There will probably be more tomorrow. And lots of pictures, of course.

Bertie's outfit was also a lot cuter than mine

Bertie and Spike Play Dentist

Little Bertie's cousin Spike has been working on his flossing.

Here he shows Bertie the results of his improved dental hygiene.

Bertie has to show Spike how to open really WIDE.

Very nice, boys. I think that the dog dentist will be quite pleased with both of you.

(Seriously now, isn't that last one the funniest photo ever? Thanks to Auntie Bucksnort for this marvelous series of scary looking shots).

For more about Bertie, see The Adventures of Bertie Pierre.

Dogs in the Market

I've been showing you some photos from the Las Cruces Farmers Market over the last couple of days and I wanted to end the series with some dog photos. They were really taken as an afterthought last Saturday because I was mainly there to shoot food as part of a Digital Photography class assignment. Next time I think I'll find a better vantage point to shoot from--something low and stationery, so I can really do these doggy personalities justice.

For now, here are some shots caught on the fly.

Some of the dogs at the market are there because they are available for adoption from the local shelter; this dog walker wears a sign that says "ask me about this dog"

Some dogs come dressed in their favorite outfits; some come sporting their best beards and mustaches!

Not all the dogs have to walk; some come in strollers or, in the case of this little fellow, a wagon that will also carry home his family's purchases

This natty guy is getting famous; he always shows up with his scarf and sunglasses

I'll end with this picture of one of the mariachi bands that give such an air of fiesta to the market

Bertie Says: No!

If there were Terrible Twos around, he couldn’t see them. Later that night, wearing his pajamas with teddy bears, after his light was out, he peeked out from under the covers to see if the Terrible Twos were out there. They sounded scary. They weren’t anywhere around, and he was quite certain his mother had been wrong. But he put his pillow over his head, just in case.

~Lois Lowry: All About Sam

Lately, our little Bertie Pierre has been experiencing the Terrible Twos. Now, I know this must be confusing for you, as I was just recently telling you about Bertie's adolescent behavior, and now we're back to the Terrible Twos. What can I say? Life with a small chihuahua boy runs the gamut of emotions as we swing madly from one developmental stage to another, and then back again.

Bertie shows his emotional immaturity just as a two year old does--He says NO. Sometimes he says NO NO NO, in no uncertain terms. He does this by running as far from the authority figure as he can get, rolling over on his back, and covering his eyes. He figures if he can't see you, you will just go away. Let me show you what I mean...

Bertie, it's time to go outside for a little bathroom break!

Bertie says NO!

Bertie, do you know who might have unrolled the toilet paper and dragged it all over the living room?

Bertie says NO!

Bertie, have you and Gracie been playing Knitting Lessons again with my yarn?

Bertie says NO!

Bertie, would you know anything about this little wet spot on the carpet?

Bertie says NO NO NO!

*****

Be sure to see the Complete Adventures of Bertie Pierre

Shirty Pierre: The Slippery Slope

We are NOT the kind of people who talk to their pets, referring to each other as "Mommy" and "Daddy."

We do not call the dogs "our kids," although Beez does refer to them as his little Pirate Band.

We never, never dress our dogs up in clothes. Well, hardly ever, if you insist on counting those darling little Halloween costumes that Dadd.. oops, I mean Beez bought last year.

Leny the Pirate

However, little Bertie Pierre has an underarm itchy thing going on that he insists on scratching. The only thing that stops him is an antibiotic ointment that he finds soothing, but tasty. To keep him from eating the stuff, the vet's office (forgetting his diminutive size) suggested having him wear one of our tee shirts. We did better than that--I found some baby onesies at Walmart and cut off the bottom half of each one. With a bit of tailoring, we had ourselves a wardrobe, @ 5 for $10, and Bert is leaving his itches alone.

Introducing Shirty Bert in his finest midshipman attire

Oh no you don't, I draw the line at midshipman pants!!

Sorry, got to run

Can we go to Gap Kids next time, please?

*****

Be sure to see the Complete Adventures of Bertie Pierre