Dog Blog

Raccoons don't usually come around my place, for obvious reasons, but late one night in August my intrepid coon hounds (naturally) alerted me to the presence of a masked bandit high up in the tree behind our camper. I assumed she'd got chased up there by (take your pick) one or more of the dogs after having gotten too close to our living area. As is typical with most assumptions, I was wrong. Her appearance forced me to become nocturnal as well for the next two weeks as this wild visitor came every night after midnight to create a chaotic cacophony among the dogs. What I failed to realize immediately was that she was coming specifically for the bird food I tossed onto my camper roof, deeming it tasty enough to risk the wrath of my pack. I was beginning to go mad without even two hours together of good sleep so the "bird" food offerings ceased. Three days later, a bit past sunrise, the "coon alert" sounded again. It seems she decided to adapt herself to our schedule and try her luck in the day time...

One and half months later, she is at this moment on the roof of our camper enjoying the first of her three daily meals. This morning she's having dry dog food and half of my banana. I'm calling her "Tillie". Once she finishes eating she will either go back into the woods, via the tree tops, or curl up for a nap on her little blankie I put out for her under the dense pine tree branches that shade our roof. She is well aware that the manic barking that greets her from the dogs is not an invitation but rather an amplified warning to stay smartly "on high". Tillie has created a regular schedule for all of us: me, the dogs and most importantly, herself.

Every morning when I get up, ALL of the dogs bark, bark, bark their "good mornings" to me. It's a trip, let alone noisy but it's a fact of life here and I'm used to it. If I were to respond (angrily, happily or loudly) to them, it would only provoke more excitement so I start my day (and coffee) soundlessly. Tillie has figured out that the canine melee is her cue to breakfast. Within ten minutes, the dogs begin barking crazily again only this time they're all outside, looking skyward. I go out and sure enough, peering over the edge of the roof of our camper, is she, the implacable Tillie. Some of the dogs go wild, standing on their hind legs in an attempt to get closer to her, some clawing at and trying to climb the ladder I use to get Tillie's food and water up to her, while others stand directly beneath the roof, licking their chops, seemingly willing her to fall into their clutches. Fortunately after about five minutes of this nuttiness, all the dogs calm down and go back to their inter-pack inter-actions.

Two days ago, after Tillie finished eating her applesauce and whole wheat bread, she watched me working outside, cleaning her face with a fresh bowl of water while I tidied up after the dog's nightly newspaper/stuffed toys/blanket shredding carnage. She's curious and fearless like all raccoons and while I don't consider myself careless with wildlife, I am intrigued by her attention and tenacity. I started to talk directly to her from the yard below but when she leaned over the precipice of the roof, and fearing that she might fall off, I went straight to the porch. I got a Milk-Bone from the dog stash and instead of just tossing it up to her, I climbed the ladder and held out the treat to her, coaxing her away from the edge. She approached cautiously, making some clicking sounds, bobbing to and fro a bit and then, gently, took the bone from my hand. I have no desire to "pet" let alone "tame" her and obviously she is aware that I'm no threat to her. Yesterday it was sunny and 70* and around 3pm, despite the fact that she had water on her roof top lair, I noticed that she was panting. I got a Popsicle from the freezer and after eating half of it, I offered Tillie the rest. Again she took it directly from me. She sat on her hind legs, started licking it and finally bit into it just like a little kid, thoroughly enjoying her treat...Man, dog or coon--if you feed it, they adore you.

All kinds of good things happening here at the Sanctuary...Teddy the Mastiff got adopted by a wonderful family and all are easily and happily adapting. Of course, one dog leaves and another (at least one) comes in. The day after Teddy went to his new home, I rescued a beautiful black Labrador I'm calling "James". He's about a year old, very sleek, muscular and super smart. I need to get him neutered but have already heart worm tested him ("negative") and am using this time to evaluate his temperament so I can place him in a home best suited for all. I've had to drastically curtail my intakes, generally speaking, but James literally found me all on his own. Once I'm no longer financially mired, I can begin to reach out again. I really want to build a kennel area for my newly rescued dogs that require being separated from my main untethered pack, whether due to illness, lack of socialization or safety (i.e., moms and pups, surgical recovery, etc.). It'll happen...I NEED A BOOK DEAL! "The Dog Lady Diaries", a series of books that chronicle life with The Pack, their escapades and the solace that this Sanctuary provides for them--and Me.

On the Financial Front: I met a very nice man named "William" who made a very generous donation to Save That Dog that enabled us to meet our bankruptcy payment on the day the payment was due! I love Eleventh Hour gestures. They rejuvenate my faith in humankind each time they occur. William was September's "Save That Dog's Super Hero".

Then there's "Luis" from Peru--yes, Peru the South American country, not Peru, Indiana--who sent Save That Dog Sanctuary two generous donations within two weeks of one another, and in doing so has almost beat William's one (?) endowment. And while I haven't met Luis personally, he sent me a photo of his beautiful rescued Pit Bull that is his boon companion. Now that's sweet stuff! His dog looks a lot like Molly, my red "Pet" Bull. The only "Pit" she knows of is the one in her tummy that is never empty! I have known and loved this breed since I was four years old, where I grew up eighty acres from a veterinarian, Dr. Carroll Roll (a Peruvian!! I just remembered! He was terribly handsome and as a little girl I wanted to grow up and marry him...he died when I was sixteen and I cried hard at his funeral.). "Doc" raised American Staffordshire Terriers, akin to the Pit Bull, and I played with them throughout my childhood, never in fear and never in danger. I remember napping one spring afternoon under the big elm tree, on an open sleeping bag when I was eight years old, at the front wellspring of Doc's farm while my dad helped him with some horse fencing. Missy, Charlie and Mary, three of Doc's twelve AmStaffs, were snoozing with me. When my dad came to get me, Mary whined at my dad and put her front legs over my legs in attempt to keep our little "pack" intact. I groggily got up and took my dad's hand. The three dogs followed us to the truck and when I kneeled down to hug them good bye, they gave me kisses, kisses, kisses. So much for "scary". Anyone who has ever had the pleasure of a "bully" breed knows that kisses are de rigeur--an endless and well planted display of affection.

This is a beautiful, loving, intelligent, respectful breed that is completely undeserving of the stigma attached to them due to the psychopathic humans who torment, torture, exploit and blight them deviantly. PS: Michael Vick is a no different from a terrorist. Sociopathic, perversely self-entitled, cold souled, remorselessly cruel and far more vicious a creature than any of the dogs he terrorized, in total, could ever be. There is wretched man named Bob Stevens in Virginia who, at this moment, is challenging the United States Supreme Court as to his right to sell gruesome, violently heart breaking dog fighting videos for profit. In my opinion, anyone who does anything that exploits the innocent, voiceless and vulnerable members of our society, regardless of species, should be stopped by any means necessary. Dog fighting is as repulsive as child pornography; as elder abuse; as rape. Allowing one group to be abused while another profits from it will certainly blur the boundaries of decency and kindness even further than they are today--and that scares and sickens me.

A big thank you as well to Eileen Crowther (and her computer building spouse) who sent me a laptop to replace my previously donated one that finally died after a slow demise. It's death rattle was clear as it's screen read: "SYSTEM CORRUPTED". All fruit rots, all dogs go to heaven and all computers ultimately croak. Especially computers that fall into my peasant hands.

We've got a fund raiser scheduled at The Melting Pot restaurant in Louisville on Wednesday, October 14, from 6-9pm. Go to http://www.meltingpot.com/ or telephone 502.491.3125 for more information. Come have a glass of something, eat decadent food and meet and greet with yours truly. Those of you who know me are well aware of my reclusive inclinations but I have to admit I'm looking very forward to this event. I hope I'll see you there.

I worked out in my garden until just a little while ago and worked up quite a sweat. Picked four watermelons and six cantaloupes along with a ton of cucumbers. By 10:30 the Corn Moon is glowing like a big round fluorescent meringue in the sky. After rinsing off, I got into my 3ft. deep x 6ft diameter galvanized steel 'pool' I had filled to capacity this morning which the clear sunny daylight obligingly warmed. I floated on my back, holding onto the rim of the pool and suddenly I felt little licks on my knuckles...it was Hank, Max and Nash, doling out kisses to me. There were a few others but the moonlight seemed to illuminate the "blondes".

Now we're all tucked in; me typing on my laptop, Franklin curled under my arm making his little snoring/'schnorkle' sounds, Norman at my head with his baby gorilla as an ersatz pillow tucked beneath his chin, Emily to my right up against my hip prancing in her sleep, Parker passed out at my knees, Molly at the foot of the bed, legs akimbo and Clapton at my left hip, a small but truly mighty guardian. Everyone else has secured their spots on favorite blankies throughout the camper and even though we have a colossal full moon, all are calm, relaxed and ready to dream. Even the whippoorwills are quiet tonight...I love the serenity of this very moment. I'm going to lay here, quite still, and savor it.

At 6:45 we finally got some needed rain for about 30 minutes. The dogs and I had just returned
from our evening walk and the timing couldn't have been better. I decided to take advantage of the "shower" and I used to downpour to get wet and lather up. I used some of my reservoir water to expedite rinsing and it was actually warmer than the rain. Instead of drying off, I fully slathered baby oil gel all over my bod and weeded around the plethora of sunflowers in the continuing shower for another ten minutes. There wasn't any lightening, just big juicy rain drops.

Some of the dogs followed me around while I was weeding, getting their own "bath" as well. They needed a good rinse because it's been awfully dusty lately. Now I'm preparing to tear through the camper, cleaning out cabinets, closets and cubbies, vacuuming layers of dust from everything. The rain tonight has settled the dust. I really will appreciate having a separate living quarters from the dogs when I have it. I love them, I do, but I've been living with at least twenty dogs for almost twenty years. The Alpha Dog needs her own Dog House.

Things have been going quite well lately. A few adoptions and a lot of support. I love the pure randomness of generosity, being surprised by the kindness and understanding of people. I've met some new people who might be able to help in more profound ways but time will tell. Those of you who know me are well aware of the myriad of disappointments I've received from some "benefactors". Anymore I never count my chickens until the eggs have hatched so when there's news fit to print, I'll do so here.

Paulette K. bought a brand new fridge for us! Now I can make ice for the dogs myself and I can actually buy ice cream and it will remain frozen. Best of all, I don't have to keep an old heavy cobblestone in front of it's door in order to keep it from falling off it's hinge like the former one. Of course it's on the porch, like a good redneck homestead. The tiny built-in fridge inside the camper petered out about two years ago--it's freezer part is now a tool chest and the fridge part is my airtight cereal pantry. My pragmatism knows no bounds: I work with what I am given. Or left with.

FYI: Teddy the Mastiff has become one of the pack, acts as if he's been here forever. A true love addict, he is. Soon I'll put him on my petfinder page. I love him. He was playing with a stuffed toy this morning by himself, tossing it in the air, pouncing on it when it landed, being all floppy, silly puppy and it couldn't have been more precious. I love my dogs, even if I can't keep them but then that's the true definition of love: Letting go when you should.

There's a new boy in town, name of Theodore, "Teddy" to his many new friends here. 140 pounds of English Mastiff Love Machine. He's a Big 'Un! Handsome, friendly and mellow. All the things a woman wants, be it in a man or in a dog--and both species share many fundamental similiarites. Molly the "Pet Bull" thinks Teddy is ever so handsome yet Rocco the bassett hound thinks the new boy must be from hell.

Three hours in and Teddy has cooled off by alternating between a couple of the dog/baby pools, then nibbling a bit of kibble and finally enjoyed a (but of course) humongous poo. Now he's napping inside our nicely chilled camper on a fluffy comforter. All is well in his world. I'm wilting myself. I've been outside all morning, until about 1pm and I'm bushed. The sun was scorching, the air thick with humidity and while it's not my favorite weather, hiking with the dogs and followed by my doing chores leads into a hard sweat that feels mighty therapeutic. My simple reward: I climb into a six foot oblong by 1.5 feet deep galvanized stock tank filled with crisp, clean, cool water. Mr. Bagshaw was out here yesterday delivering my 1500 gallons of H2O. Most people take clean water for granted but let me tell you I get very excited when I know Mr. B is coming and then feel so sated and secure when he leaves me with sparkling fresh water (see July 11, 2008 post in archives located at ottom of page). $45.00 is all it costs and I feel like a woman who wants for naught.

As all the dogs find their spot for resting, time now for a siesta for me, too. I was going to try to read but my eyes are itchy from outside. I thought about a dvd but I don't feel like laying in my hammock. I ate a sandwich of benedictine I made from scratch with sliced tomato from the garden and a big glass of ice cold milk. I think Theodore has the right idea: an afternoon nap seems in order. I've been up since 5am; wild dreams precipitated by last night's dinner of roasted garlic, french bread and Havarti cheese with lots of blackberries for dessert. Wild dreams. In my dream I knew I was dreaming so I kept changing everything within the dreams like I was magic. I wanted snow so it began to snow; I wanted chocolate ice cream and suddenly I had it. It was fun. Even a man I wanted materialized. I love dreams. Summertime and the livin' is easy.

The weather has become oppressive. The Ohio Valley heat and humidity comes together and makes my garden wilt. Too much rain these past six weeks have made for less-than-great tomatoes but my berries and melons are luscious and prolific. I spent part of my week picking all kinds of blackberries, gallons and gallons, thus providing parts of my body, namely my ankles and arms, as a tasty meal for the chiggers and mosquitoes. Coupled with the blackberry briar scratches all over my hands and running up and down the inside of my forearms (steeped in prickly persperation)and I now suffer in a constant state of itchiness. I take Benadryl capsules and spray Dermoplast on my afflicted parts, vacillating between a diphenhydramine semi-stupor and numb appendages. I'm not complaining, though, since I'm living in blackberry heaven, purple fingers and all. I'm a sight!

Life is good. I'm still in a financial brouhaha but I'm flailing about less because every month I just make my ends meet.

Since August 9 I've been taking care--good care--of my neighbors house and animals. They get back August 16 and I've baked, cooked and cleaned like Martha Stewart. In all honestly I've really enjoyed it. I haven't had a real home to take care of since 1998 and despite my outdoorsy,
tomboy-ish inclinations, I do love a tidy, fresh home filled with the aromas of good food. The potential for such domestic pursuits keeps me in their home for extended periods of time which their animals love. At just a half mile from my place, it's totally feasible for me to zip back and forth with ease. Plus they've got wi-fi, a bitchin' home theatre system with cable and super cold air conditioning so I'm living large, wondering what the "poor" folks are doing tonight...I'll know soon enough for myself when they come home and I go back to my full-time-amenity-free life. Trust me, though, I'm not complaining. They pay me extraordinarily well. And I love my land. I wake up happy, go to bed serene. All in all I really want for nothing, though if I could teach the dogs how to brush my hair, massage my feet & hands and rub my neck, I'd be light as day.

Middle July and my garden is growing like mad! I've got a bounty of vegetables and fruits: eight varieties of tomatoes, four different cucumbers, three cantaloupes, three watermelon, two eggplant, ten lettuces, two beets, three Swiss chard, three spinach, two potatoes, three peas, four beans, two raspberries, two strawberries, four different corn.

Then there are the four varieties of lavender, three basil, two sage, two oregano, one tarragon, three chives, one cilantro, peppermint and catnip, all started from seed. Adding "Super Thrive" vegetation vitamins/hormones three years ago to my plant fertilizers took my previous humble patch to a whole new level--now I'm like an advertisement for "The Victory Garden". Now if I could get fruit trees to start an orchard and build a dog-proof coop for laying hens, I'd be the happiest woman in the world.

My goal is complete self-sufficiency--and a cruelty free world, of course. I'll start with the garden, so let "old peasant hands" go weed now.