The Dog Lady Blog

"...a day so beautiful, an affront to the typical holiday snowy visage..."

2011-12-25T20:23:00.000-08:00

Look what we saw on our hike today:

"...would it be better to not know you're going to die, like every other species?..."

2011-12-25T16:42:00.000-08:00

I have received a few new requests to take in more dogs in need. One person is offering $500.00 if I take her now-institutionalized father's two dogs. I simply cannot take in any more dogs, despite knowing I might be their last chance, until I relocate my Sanctuary or find an Angel Investor. Certainly there is someone who believes in my work--as a rescuer, rehabilitating and rehoming, or offering true sanctuary to the Misfits.

Many times I've watched the dogs I've taken in/rescued/given sanctuary to--whatever--sleeping peacefully on cushions, covered in blankets, finally relaxed into the moment. For almost twenty years I've taken in dogs that were out of options. If they hadn't made their way to me, they were screwed. That's why I'm adding "retirement" to my mission statement regarding animal rescue; old dogs in new digs! It hits every rescuer when they are faced with an old (therefore typically) unadoptable dog. He or She might be a fantastic dog but often with elderly animals we're dealing with dental/ear/heart/occular/renal issues. Often, though, all an old dog needs is caring attention. Some dogs, like "Papi", experience a rebirth of sorts:

This is my Love, Papi.

Ensconced on deep cusions, blankies and as he relishes now.

He's O-L-D but is spry, alert and engaged.

Papi has a very mysterious story which I'm writing as an essay.

Nothing fancy needed here (even in veterinary terms, Papi

proved easy to treat) but the obvious. The day he was rescued I

thought I'd be euthanizing him the next day, but I wanted him to eat,

and most especially enjoy, a last meal so I gave him 40 mg of

Prednisone. What the hell? I know it's a super-human dose

but Papi could barely stand, let alone walk

and if a non-prescribed megadose of a base

steroid boosts his blood pressure/eases his pain/increases his appetite,

well...THAT'S the way to go out, right? Feeling good, enjoing a nosh,

WALKING along a peaceful path. It's how I hope to go out.

However, 24 hours later, Papi decided he felt SOOOOOO good

(that Pred bump pumping through his system!),

he was going to stick around afterall!

Today was not a good day to die.

15 months later...

Papi is my Prince Consort, or at least my John Brown

He hates it when I leave on errands.

He waits for my return at the top of our steep drive

and as I descend, chases my truck all the way home

to our camper! When I get on the roof of the camper

(to resecure the tarp covering the holes!), he paces back and

forth at the foot of my ladder, fussing all the while.

Is he actually "grateful" to me for helping him recover, to heal?

Or does the sort of separation anxiety that Papi experiences, spur him

forward, adding an element of physicality to his neurosis,

actually keeping him healthy and moving?

"...one step forward, two steps back--but at least i'm moving..."

2011-11-30T13:22:00.001-08:00

Our energy bill--it's brutal--with a "message":

"DISCONNECT NOTICE".

We received a bit over $700.00 in donations after

WHAS ran their story on Save That Dog.

Only $9,300 we need to borrow, until the Raffle

gains momentum. Then there was the phone bill,

Dr. Loftus' bill, Mr. Bagshaw's H2o delivery,

dog food and laundry, $215.00 is left and Donnie

needs a dental. I still owe Shively Animal Clinic $427.00.

I'm sending them a monthly payment of

(at least) $50.00

Starting...NOW:

November.

The bill originated May 31.

Donnie warming his toes on the radiant heater

The very first day of artificial heat source.

I hate to do it but it does have a magical impact,

especially coupled with blankets and big cushions!

A place for older dogs...

Faithful companion Harvey.

He belonged (?) to someone for 14 years.

Then he came to me (do the circumstances really

matter?) and within two months he preferred me to his

people of 14 years. I always warn people that 9 out of 10

dogs do this and not to take it personally.

I know how to talk to dogs--

--if they let me!

A place for different dogs...

I am a lightening rod for antagonists.

I am an Outsider and Outlier and I cannot

apologize for something I am grateful to understand

and live amidst.

A place for the forgotten...

Pops.

This is my Miracle Dog. He loves living here so much

that he refuses to become infirmed again!

Look at him, lounging on velvety fleece over deep

foam sofa cushions. They were a gift from the Cloud Family

after they bought new furniture. A better dog bed?

There is none! They're at least 5 inches deep and despite

being 20 years old, they are LUSH.

Mr. Big here is a connoisseur of LUSH.

I hope his fast adaption of the good life is because that's

what he had before staggering (literally) into my life...

...where he now, still, thrives.

"...i hate ticks..."

2011-11-15T13:51:00.001-08:00

It's blurry but who wants to see an engorged tick in HD?

I found this parasite earlier today, lolling on the floor.

Into a bottle of Isopropyl alcohol it went, a quick demise.

The Frontline TopSpot wannabe is scandalous.

Obviously, it does not work.

Regardless, NEVER smash these fat ticks;

they are full of eggs and all you're doing is releasing them.

They're very hardy and true parasites. Dispose of them as

directed, in alcohol, treating as a biohazard because the little

bastards are disgusting carriers. Bloodsuckers.

The rains are going on forever

But I love the rain and for the most part, it makes for

quiet dogs and better writing. Unfortunately, the ticks LOVE

the rain and 74* days in November. The cold spells make them

aggressive in their search for a warm host.

They're much more lethargic, though, than in Spring/Summer.

They take a lot longer to blow up.

Sid didn't get out of bed until 3:30pm

Why? Because it poured rain all morning and what sane

creature would want to go out in that?

Siddy savored the coziness of my bed and probably the

only reason he got up this afternoon was because he had to tinkle.

Amy

She always has something to add to the conversation.

"...when you're in the trenches rescue work never ends..."

2011-11-11T11:11:00.000-08:00

People often ask me where the dogs I rescue come from. Everywhere. They also ask me how I take a bath if I don't have running water. Outside. And if I'm ever lonely living only with dogs. Never.

Rescue boots donated by J.P

and, of course, my socks are tucked in my pants because

THERE ARE STILL TICKS!

John Kemple, Woodworker, hand initialed

These are "scratchers", for humans but also for dogs.

John made these by hand for me to offer them to people who

donate to Save That Dog Sanctuary!

How was YOUR bath tonight?

I heated a 20 quart pot of water on my camper stove.

Then I sat on a step outside in this lovely 35mph wind,

with a 16oz SOLO cup as my "dipper".

I've lived without running water for over 14years

but I've saved over 2,500 animals!

Those lives have been worth the sacrifice of indoor plumbing.

Percy and Siddy

Everyone needs a friendly smooch sometime!

Percy congratulating Siddy for his on camera work today

when the news station came to do a story on us.

One of my quotes on a Save That Dog Sanctuary t-shirt

Also:

"We become responsible for what we have tamed."

"No act of kindness is ever too small."

"If you need a friend, get a dog."

"...who doesn't love dogs?..."

2011-10-31T13:13:00.000-07:00

I love when they sit quietly, mutually absorbed in whatever it is they see...

Amy Jo and Donnie, on the steps of the porch attached to the camper.

I don't remember what they were looking at but these are two of the more "vocal"

dogs. Seeing them sitting there, so pensive and precious and for a

change, so completely QUIET.

I held out the choices: toaster waffle or Pop-Tart.

He chose the waffle--it had fake blueberries in it!

I don't try to touch his hand or make "friends". Cute, but wild.

It's still fun planning his menu...

Even old dogs like Harvey still love a good ball!

He's a true doll, so sweet and affectionate. He's only here for awhile

or at least until his home of 14 years gets a new place, a job, a life...

Harvey looks like he's fussing at the ball, doesn't he?

It seems to be a very "Snoopy" gesture: "Meh."

Our recently donated video camera...

what's left of it. Daisy decided to shoot some footage but she bit

down too hard on the record button and decimated the camera.

I hate these kind of discoveries.

This is Finn. Finn loves swimming pools. Even EMPTY pools.

Eventually "Finny" shredded this pool, turning it into a kind of plastic

mulch that took forever to clean up. Finn just layed there and watched me.

Gabe, so handsome, so gallant, so retrieving!

Adopted by an elderly widow in Charlestown, he keeps her company,

her 24/7 unconditional companion. She has a huge family who are in

and out all of the time so Gabe is in Heaven!

"...september..."

2011-09-03T22:24:00.000-07:00

It's here. Already. Time flies inconceivably past us, beyond "flying" as we know it. It is extraordinary, how fleeting this moment is. Like this one here. Just thirty minutes earlier, the sun was shining and then boom!

We really need rain. Lots and lots of rain.

Otherwise our 130 acre woodland won't be as vibrant this Fall.

Do you see my swing in the photo? Relax your eyes.

It's there.

"My Girl Friday" is on KET tonight..."

"...you never miss the water till well runs dry..."

I watch everything in closed caption; it's amazing what you miss and learn.

Meeting Ikey, serendipitously

It was, I think, a Friday around 6pm and instead of taking the

usual left off our exit, I turned right. There they were: a small

group of people surrounding an elegantly spotted Pit Bull.

I pulled in beside both their vehicles,

anticipating weird/ugly/oh-please-be-something-else attitude

but to my utter surprise IT WAS ALL GOOD.

Ikey is living in his new home. I love a happy tail!

It can only get so hot, and then it's Dog overboard...

It's a wonderful life here for misfits.

Finn is cool in every capacity.

"...another day..."

2011-09-01T20:34:00.000-07:00

.There is a very strange energy in the air, partly due to last night's storms (I shot video; Grace was here when the winds gusted up to 70mph. It was wild!) which caused us a power outage for about two hours beginning around 9:30pm. I didn't hear any trees go down and believe me, when these big trees go down, it is almost supersonic. It was so still and quiet while the power was out; no fans, no lights just stillness throughout.

"It is part of grief to remember"-Ovid.

"Don't turn your head. Keep looking at the bandaged place.

That is where the light enters you."-Hafiz.

"All sorrows can be borne if you put them into
action." --Isak Dinesen.

"Time does not bring relief; you have all lied

Who told me time would ease me of my pain!

I miss him in the weeping of the rain;

I want him at the shrinking of the tide."

--Edna St. Vincent Millay

Someone told me that all the shale on my land holds natural gas...

I called a few natural gas companies but it seems that right now they're not interested in raping the land.
My plan is to be DEBT-FREE: no mortgages, no creditors just a monthly expectation of costs to run the Sanctuary. Utilities, dog food, veterinary care and my salary of $1.00 a year are the only "expenses" I want to pay. As for my personal expenses, my needs are hyper-simple. I pretty much live in Gramicci QuickDry hiking pants in the summer and insulated bib overalls in the winter, both with tshirts. I like good, thick socks. I wear 25% DEET spray in the summertime, otherwise I'm devoured by biting insects; perfume in the winter and only after bath and before bed. Fresh fruit and vegetables (which I prefer growing myself), good bread and tea year round. Very little human interaction. I want to facilitate a place of safety, a sanctuary for those without a place--which means I better come up with a great fundraiser so I can reinvent the rural animal shelter. Crawford County, here I come!

"...what a dog wants, what a dog needs..."

2011-08-25T09:50:00.000-07:00

The Canine Tenets (part one)

1. Our life together is likely to last 15 years. In theory, we’ll be together for a long time. In reality, I have phases in my life just like you--from puppyhood to elder care, I run the gamut as well. My health care is in your hands. Veterinarians are the other "family doctor" and I should be spayed or neutered once I’m six months old. I should also be micro-chipped while under sedation--better safe than lost. After that, I should see my doctor at least once a year. Check my ears weekly for dirt, infection or mites along with lifting my floppy lips to look at my gums and teeth because by the age of three years, I’ll begin to need an annual dental cleaning. Some dogs develop symptoms earlier, a few not at all, but my dental care is as important as yours. Our gums are an express train to illness and potential death if we don’t get regular check-ups. You are my “forever parent” (since I never really "grow up") and my overall well-being is guaranteed by your attention and care.

2. Let me be a part of your family. It is crucial for my well-being and enhances yours. I will watch over you, play with you, be your best friend. You are my Sun: I orbit around you, basking in your glow. Really. Don't chain or tether me outside and consider one meal a day delivered quickly without a scent of interaction as adequate (Leave your leftovers out of my colon, though because human food totally messes with my gut, no matter how much I may seem to enjoy it!). Some dogs love to ride and interact; these dogs should go to soccer games, picnics, the park. Other dogs prefer quieter interaction but no less of your love. Your ancestors lived with mine so historically speaking we are longtime pack members, most likely for a million years, give or take. We belong together. Enough said.

3. Don't be angry with me for being a Dog. If you don't have time to care for me, please find someone who does; we all deserve that much consideration. Don't think of it as "abandoning" me: if you love someone, set them free. It's nobody's fault if things don't work out for us. Someone else might find me enchanting! What is wrong is when everyone knows change is needed and but no one does anything. I depend on you to do the right thing. If my behavior and activity requirements seem like too much (or too little) for you, make the necessary changes--and remember that we're on the same side. We both want to be happy.

4. Give me time to understand what you want of me. I can learn quickly: I have the intellectual capacity of a three year old (http://www.savethatdog.org/discoverMag.html). If I do something wrong, don't hit or impose yourself physically to make a point--that is terribly scary and confusing for me, for anyone. Striking me is the same as abusing a dependent child or elder--it's mean and heartbreaking, no matter your species. I LIVE to please you but I won’t know how if you don’t take measures to protect both of us. Even if I don't understand your words right away, I do understand your voice, tone and eye contact. Be gentle. I have the ability to learn up to 100 words (at least). Choose specific words for specific actions like, "walkie", "potty", "bye-bye", "hungry". Infantilize us as much as you want but I will understand your cues more quickly if you are consistent. In fact, the success of our relationship is determined by your consistency. Put your wonderfully odoriferous shoes away so I won't chew them while you're out; keep the food on your counters out of my reach since I can not only stand on my hind legs like a human but I can walk on water if there's something yummy within my "grasp"; allow for mistakes on both our part and be tolerant. We'll figure it out together and we'll make one another proud. When I do something correctly, your positive, repetitive, simple, patient light and happy praise is my reward. Teach me with that knowledge, and remember: I think you’re the smartest, most fluently scented, curious creature I'll ever know.

5. If it's not broken, don't change it. Dogs aren't obsessed with their looks. We don't want our ears cut into triangles with razors, our tails chopped off with scissors or our claws amputated with a scalpel. In fact, veterinary schools no longer teach these procedures as they're considered "mutilation". Let my ears flop in the wind, my tail wag at will and on behalf of my feline cousins: get your cat a scratching post--but please take our reproductive organs! The "miracle" of birth isn't really a miracle, it's biology and quite frankly, it's been done to death--the death of millions of unwanted animals simply because someone dropped the balls.

6. "Breaking" versus "training". It's not just semantics, it's a philosophy. "To break" infers force, oppression and trauma. Do humans toiletbreak their children? No, they train them and just like you, if I'm scared of my caregiver, I'm not learning anything except how to be scared. Trust and realistic communication are essential. Our "mistakes" are the result of you not being tuned in to us and it's not because we're complicated...we're dogs! The simplest way to housetrain young or old dogs is to set an example, just like with children. Take a quick tinkle outside while your new dog watches (just make sure your neighbors, if you have them, can see, too!). Let your dog get the scent. This may sound crazy but it really sets an example that dogs understand. You only need to do it once or twice and ta-da! Your dog now knows to potty outside!

7. Take my lead and slow down. One of the real pleasures of walking with you is noting all the other dogs/people/squirrels that passed by before us. Every dog is a scent hound even if it's just for awhile. You call it, "stopping to smell the roses". I call it The Way of Life. If I linger at a curb, a tree or another dog, please allow me. If I want to “follow a trail”, indulge me for a moment. And no matter what--unless I'm in danger--please don’t jerk or pull me with the leash. In fact, collars, especially when too tight or yanked, can cause irreparable damage to my trachea. Ask my vet; it’s true. If you really love me, have me fitted for a harness (at your local animal supply store) and attach your leash to that, not a collar. My trachea thanks you.

8. Before you scold me for being lazy, destructive or uncooperative, consider the possibility that I am ill. No matter how many "conversations" I have with you, I am essentially non-verbal. I use my body to communicate. What seems like crankiness might actually be an ear infection (or mites). Perhaps I'm not responding to you because I have a fever (a dog's normal temperature is 101 °F but may range from 99 °F to 102.5). Maybe the reason I'm not eating might be because my gums are infected, or I have an abscess. If I potty in the house, I might have a kidney infection or an upset stomach. Often humans misinterpret our mishaps as behavioral when it's actually symptomatic. If I don't seem "normal" for more than 24 hours, get me checked out by my doctor. Medical issues accelerate much more quickly in animals. Never assume; it could cost me my life!

9. Please make provisions for me as we grow old. If I outlive you, you can rest assured that I will not leave your side until someone physically removes me. If you haven't made a codicil in your will regarding who would take me if you pass away before I, please designate someone you know will honor my relationship with you by caring for me and in turn, allowing me to show them my gratitude. Dogs really understand everything in its purist form, especially companionship.

10. When my time to die nears, let me go with a generous spirit. NEVER say, "I can't put Buffy to sleep--I LOVE HER TOO MUCH TO DO THAT!!" That’s not the real reason you’re delaying the inevitable. You're making it all about your feelings and while no one cares more about your feelings than me, when you love, you sometimes suffer. You love me, now set me free. Don't wait so long that my illness (or other issues) precludes me from enjoying a last meal of foods I was never allowed before (fried chicken, chocolate cake, a beer, chili, whatever you know I love but would ordinarily be denied). NEVER say you can't bear to be in the room during any part of the procedure, only to make me face my passing alone. Everything is easier for me when you are there, because you are part of me and loving me through to the end is your sacred responsibility. Don't worry; we'll be together again...

Sweet dreams to all.

"...such a wonderful day..."

2011-08-10T16:36:00.000-07:00

My Attorney, his Granddaughter and my Norman:

Steve Voelker, Harper and Norman, my doppelganger.

Norman never lets ANYONE hold him but me.

Every now and then, he acquiesces and on this day

HARPER HELD NORMAN!

Look at him! He can't help but smile.

I mean Norman, not Steve.

But look at Steve's smile and look at Harper's...

...how's that for "blood relative"?

We inherit much more than our DNA from our kin.

Notice to the left on the sofa dog treats that Laura, Steve's paralegal,

had waiting for us! It's nice to actually like your attorney, et al.

With those legs, how could I not like Voelker?

My Redneck Refrigerator on the Porch

These are some of my magnets on the freezer door.

I like funny. Here's what's there:

"I used to care but now I take a pill for that",

"You say I'm a BITCH like it's a bad thing!",

"I'm not a Lesbian but I hate men",

"Alone at last!",

"It's so involved being me",

"Rehab is for Quitters",

"She liked 'imaginary men' best of all".

A dog for a dog...

You can really see the desire in his eyes.

It's subtle but he is willing that plastic hotdog to come to him

Look at the lower lip, the chin jutting. The dead stare.

I love dogs. They keep it simple.

The Former Four Kings

Cash, Glory, Pops and Percy.

Checking the camera battery

Gabe suffers no Fools

Even good looking, seemingly harmless visitors.

Some dogs can be pains in the neck.

Move along, Dog! There's nothing to see here...

Stewie the Visitor got Gabe's vibe right away.

He's moving away in a respectful manner.

Another great thing about dogs--their body language is

pronounced, clear, easy. They have bad moods just like

you and I; It's a drag when we're all hormonal at the same time.

And at the end of the day...

...All a girl really needs or wants is her own toy.

Daisy always loved "Mr. Potato Head".

I sleep with books. Reading till I fall off to sleep.

Some nights I can read forever, other nights I out within 15 minutes.

Right now I'm all about Voltaire. Again.

"...beauty in this beholder's eye..."

2011-08-07T15:19:00.000-07:00

Finally, finally a good bit of rain moved in...

and it felt wonderful! I love rain and snow.

I love clouds.

I watched this beauty begin her work

Wednesday night. It was very "Charlotte's Web"...

Her web went from a room with a view...

To a high rise work of art. Simple, amazing and HUGE!

Reg the snake really dug the lattice as a self imposed obstacle course!

It was a vivid surprise as I walked right past him on my porch--for both of us.

I love the curled tip of his tail at the top of the photo.

There really isn't an animal I won't give a chance.

After cruising my porch and lattice, he decided it was time to go

cruise the ground beneath the camper. Completely nonplussssssed

by the dogs, he glided on by all of us on his way to the woods.

He was kind of long, too.

And as the rain fell, the drops glistened.

They look like small suns, these tiny rain orbs.

Could they be Faeries, Spirits, or Poltergeists?

Like a liquid Rorschach, it's whatever you want it to be.

"...tillie is a telly..."

2011-08-06T20:44:00.000-07:00

She is a He

For a couple of years I've fed this masked visitor.

I called "her" Tillie from our first meeting, subconsciously

feminizing her as a result of her moxie, sweetness and eye make-up.

But then I noticed it: look for yourelf, between "her" front legs.

See the protuberance...?

Even though I'm only a foot from him physically, he only has

eyes for the grub in front of him. I'm just the waitress...

"Telly"

Despite the fact that raccoons are nocturnal, this fella

knows that if he gets the dogs riled up during the day, the "menu"

is even better than at night as evidenced by the pate-like dog food.

Telly has a bobbed tail!

He's still very well balanced and climbs and navigates the tall

trees to get tohe roof of our camper. He alternated between the

soft and hard dog food, taking his time and savoring the sweet

smorgasbord I put out upon his arrival. Nice life, no?

What raccoon could ask for more?

Telly also enjoyed some white grapes and fresh cherries with a

couple of tablespoons of yogurt, and cool water to finish.

Clear eyes, shiny coat, wet nose and a smile for "the cook"

The healthy diet I provide for him makes for all of the above.

Dexterity Exemplified!

Look at those long fingers. So dainty, so careful,

almost elegant as Telly samples the "pate".

Oh, the hell with "elegant"!

Like a mother feeding her hungry, I get a lot of pleasure

watching Telly dive right in. When I move, I'm taking

him with me. When I thought Telly was Tillie, I hesitated to take "her"

with me because I worried she might have a family. However, now that I

know I've got a rogue-ish male, it might be the safest thing for Telly.

"...a review of alison thompson's 'the third wave'..."

2011-07-21T17:54:00.000-07:00

I "met" Alison Thompson through Facebook, unaware that she had written a book about her experiences as a determined and proactive volunteer. While at the public library, I stumbled upon it in the new releases section. I have to say with complete conviction that this is an excellent book. In this "in-the-trenches" detail of a life spent helping others we learn that our ability to do the same is only limited by our imagination. Even in what we consider to be the worst of times in our own lives, there are always others in much more dire situations in need of a hug, a lift or a champion.

I was pulled in feet first from the very first page of "The Third Wave" by Alison Thompson and MeiMei Fox. I truly could not put it down, even through some of the staggeringly brutal descriptions of Miss Thompson's work as a totally immersed volunteer caused me pause--stuffing body parts into plastic bags and the odors of burning flesh negated with Chanel No.5 dabbed beneath her nose (page 7) was so surreal yet I found myself actually smelling her Chanel No.5. However, none of her experiences in this book are gratuitous or contrived. Volunteerism is all about the Good, the Bad and the Ugly and in this book we ride along through it all, feeling safe beneath Alison Thompson's wings, experiencing the definition of altruism in it's simplest context. We walk with her through fear, elation, determination, frustration and the resourcefulness achieved throughout.

What I experienced in total from this book, from the cover photo of a determined Miss Thompson in Haiti's refugee camps to her proposal of marriage to Alberto Abelardo Gomez (page 229), was a realistic, genuine, visceral, hopeful articulation of how all of us can experience the joy of helping those in need in SOME capacity everyday while nurturing our private life. What "The Third Wave" inspires is a proactive spirit, a force of nature going where we know we do our best. Each of us is born with something to offer and this book illuminates through Alison Thompson and her compatriots efforts and achievements variety of ways each of us can find that "something".

We've all been "in need" at various times in our lives and through this book we remember that being vulnerable makes us empathetic to others, like Miss Thompson's long recovery from injuries resulting from an automobile crash in her early 20's (page27). In our own neighborhood there is need (like Miss Thompson's 9/11 NYC, page 4) and what we learn through volunteerism is who we really are: What calls to you, what pulls in your gut, tugs at your heart? For me THAT'S the real lesson in this book. No act of kindness is ever too small and that is the most fundamentally compelling point of Alison Thompson's work. That is my mantra, originated by Antoine de Saint-Exupery in "The Little Prince".

It could be the mantra, mindset and mainstay of everyone. Want to join us?

"...thomas j has always been loved..."

2011-07-14T10:14:00.000-07:00

Most of the time, the backstory of the dogs I rescue gets lost in the day-to-day-drama-filled world of animal rescue. Facts become convoluted, stories an amalgam of all the others. So it's nice when I receive a note like this one. Thomas J. is an odd, sweet creature who doesn't dig visitors; he and I are very similiar. It's a tough world "out there"...

"Dear Katherine,

I attempted to post a reply to your April 1, 2011 blog regarding Thomas J. I suppose I have to have some other type of account to comment, I didn't know what I was doing, or both. Regardless, I want to share with you my attempted comment, about Thomas J. when I was his "safe-haven".

Below is my comment...

Hi.
I am the one other person besides you that Thomas J. trusted. I fostered him for months, during which time I was the only human that he would be close to. Originally I took him to "socialize" because he was afraid of everyone/everything. He was a small puppy. He fit right in with my little pack (three shelter rescues) and also my kitties. There is a long story between Thomas living with me and ending up with you, but I want to say that I so appreciate you and the home you have provided him with. I have followed your blog since Thomas left Owensboro and have started to comment many times but never did. Now, here I am. I gave him the name Thomas, after "Doubting Thomas" but mostly because it seemed to fit him. Oddly enough, I often called him Thomas J., although for me, he was Thomas Joseph. It also seemed to fit. I like the name Thomas "Jefferson" as well, and most of all, I like that he is safe and happy with you."

Tracy Day

Owensboro, Kentucky

Thomas has been very happy here, Tracy, though it took him over a month to really attach himself to me. I can't ever adopt him out because he's still--and always will be--too skittish with strangers. As a matter of fact, when anyone other than my friend, Grace visits, Thomas J. is in the tall grasses where he waits--woofing intermittently with impatience--for the "intruder" to leave. Writing this now, Thomas

has his chin resting on my leg looking up at me with calm and confident eyes. With me he feels safe and a safe Thomas J. is an endearingly affectionate and silly Thomas J! It's safe to say that he and I have a deep, mutual love for one another and I will take care of him until the end. I'm always very, very grateful to the rescuer before me, like Tracy with Thomas. Thank you, Tracy.

"...boom..."

2011-07-03T20:15:00.000-07:00

Daisy-Mae "ON DUTY"

What was that sound?

Thunder?

What was that light?

Lightening?

It's the 4th of July fireworks in Louisville!

Shot from our "porch" with piddling Olympus Stylus 6.0 mp.

Kind of cool and ALIVE, in a jellyfishy way.

"...good face..."

2011-07-03T07:12:00.000-07:00

All in all, Sid is perfection

I love him. He drives me mad but I still love him.

See how he looks at me? Sid is Divine.

Percy as Cyrano

He is gallant, adoring, smart, fun, resourceful...

...sigh.

Cyrano.

Ally

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.

She likes it like that.

Mal-Adjusted

It's an "inside" joke.

Smart mammals understand:

hydration comes in a variety of forms.

How to Eat: Watermelon

That's the thing about good melons...

you dig in, face first and there you are.

Daisy prefered an Extra-Large squeaking tennis ball...

I loooove her wrinkly chin.

This is an old photo but I remember it like yesterday.

Think what I could've shot with a camera as spontaneous as them!

No complaints though with the loaner from P.

This was Glory wah-wah-wahing with Finn.

Finn gives as good as he gets, doesn't he?

The Dog Lady Adventures

l.d. thinks Barney the rabbit is into to her but he's not.

Barney knows that l.d. will wring his scrawny neck if chance presents.

The End.

(I am the Nanny for all the Cloud critters)

Good dogs, good times.

"...doppelgangers..."

2011-07-01T16:05:00.000-07:00

Norman & Franklin Investigations

"Who made this tinkle?"

"I'm not sure since I think it's definitely more than one..."

"Then which ones?"

"Maybe...oh, who cares?"

"I'm hungry."

Ally ogles Louis

Louis is the King of the Side-Eye.

Ally is a skinnygirl neurotic but nonetheless sweet.

IT'S MINE!

Glory and Dixie, forever.

Pops and Mal

A dichotomy embodied.

Three Wise Canine

We know your pain...ask away!

Pops (left): "Quality of Life" questions?

Louis (middle): "Relationship Platonic and Romantic" questions?

Percy (right): "Meaning of Life" questions?

We are here, freely to help those who ask.

Cash (right) blows raspberries at Cali (left)

Not really but it plays that way a bit.

That photo seems like yesterday and years ago.

All at the same time.

"MINE!" Part Two

How engaging a stick of wooden carnage, courtesy of the

January 2009 Ice/Blizzard Storms, becomes on a surveying walk.

It's wonderful having a photographic history of so many of the

animalsI've known. Even the sad stories. I HATE sad stories.

Yet it's the sad stories that keep me in mind as to why I rescue.

"...this and this and this and this and that daisy mae..."

2011-06-27T19:09:00.000-07:00

An arthritic root relic from the January 2009 Ice Storm/Blizzard

It was a 75 ft tall White Pine. 75 is a conservative guess.

There are some really tall trees here.

That night the trees like this one were snapping like twigs.

Our power was out (the first of eleven days/nights) so all night long...

...a gunshot sound and then the fell boom as the trees toppled.

Every time this happened a physical vibration in the dark, freezing camper,

it woke all the dogs and I throughout the night with each new lost timber.

It looked like a war zone the next morning.

I have some excellent photos from that time on our MySpace page.

It's link is at the top of this page. Camp fires at night in

20* temperatures provided heat for me as well as the dogs

during the Ice-Out when we were powerless in every way.

Mmmmm...fresh salad for lunch!

Pops is my Epicurean. He is Lazarus, rising from The Dead.

Life is too short to not enjoy.

Buddha Dog.

Norman

Aloft, Free Spirit.

Sunset on Whipporwill Hills

We're auctioning this view July 21, not the 14th.

Just had my bath, sprayed down with Deep Woods OFF

and am considering cold dinner options. My strawberries are still

bearing loads of fruit so maybe a fresh berry milkshake with

whipped cream on top. Lots of cold whipped cream.

Wrinkles are beautiful...

Daisy Mae Fraze--

she is perfection, in her own divinely unique way.

"...renaissance man..."

2011-06-24T22:06:00.000-07:00

John's Overseer, Josie

It all comes down to the "little" things.

Josie, the 5 pound Amazon.

We're pooling our Karma

Yes we are.

John's trusty Ford.

John's trusty generosity.

The Long and Winding Road

Our ascending drive requires John Kemple's attention fairly

regularly. He works magic on his Ford with a big grading blade,

the damp dust he rearranges like frosting on a cake.

John Kemple is a Renaissance Man.

Have I written that before? Probably.

Later that evening, the whipporwills began their whistling

And fireflies. Lots and lots of fireflies flitted around for hours.

This is our Western sky, 8:20 pm.

"... a few fundamental things that make me happy, part one..."

2011-06-14T14:22:00.000-07:00

The sweetest, most gentle, super-handsome Sid

This is one those "lucky" shots in photography.

Sid is so cool and usually hops into the air, twisting his body

with delight when I get my camera out. He knows he's special.

I'm very grateful to have him watching over me, even though he's a

teddy bear in real life. He's the last dog that gives me trouble,

and the first to dole out kisses.

He makes me smile.

Franklin is the Navigator

He keeps an eye out for lost dogs while we're out on errands...

...in case they need our help! A small dog with a huge heart,

"Mr. Winkie" (his nickname) and his dilligence make me smile.

Some dogs don't wait for the dinner bell...

Daisy always sampled the fresh, full cans of food, waiting until

I was absolutely finished filling them up so she could then guard

the kibble. Evidently sampling the booty is part of her job

description. Or so she thought!

Having full food containers makes me--and the dogs--happy.

Katherine's drinking water

Newly replenished water after a weekly grocery stop.

One day I'll have running water and refill runs will be a thing

of the past. Until then, at least one gallon per day of

"Glacier Water" is my source. Seeing so many full gallons

makes me feel secure, happy and hydrated!

"...blind item..."

2011-06-11T21:15:00.000-07:00

A Dog Who Wishes To Remain Anonymous (not Sid)

Invariably, as Nature does, it all began in the most innocent of

circumstances: the dogs and I were up the drive to fetch our mail, about

200 yards with a 24% grade. Just 1/3 of the way left to the box and kapow!

I had harsh reality--cold and immediate and brutal--smack me hard.

A.D. (Anonymous Dog) comes trotting up after lagging behind. As he/she

passed I realized there was something, a small creature in their mouth.

Evidently for a about 30-45 minutes judging by the chewed-up-ness of "it".

Once I realized I was looking at a dead animal in the mouth of A.D.,

I asked that it be "handed over" and it was, immediately.

No, it wasn't another turtle

It was a young bird (able to fly but just).

I bent down and assuming she was dead, wished her a good

journey...then I saw it:

It was still [fucking] breathing.

Barely alive but nonetheless

Damnit, why do I have to deal with this?

I hate this. It's bad enough using lethal injection but all I had was me.

I tugged off four big green oak tree leaves from the branch hanging over

my head, putting two on the drive and using the other two to lift the bird

onto and covering it.

Then I stood still, staring at the leaves.

I walked on, grappling with leaving a living creature to suffer further,

knowing I was tripping if I thought I could keep moving on...

...I turned around walked back to the leaf coffin and stared down again.

With nothing but pure primal angst, I screamed a battle cry:

I stomped the dying bird three times, fast and hard.

I screamed once more and like the first one, it came from a

place I rarely visit. There was no thought before or after I screamed.

I put a few stones over the flattened leaves.

The dogs and I went to the mailbox, without a sound,

not exactly frisky but really in the moment,

and then the moment passed.

Home again, home again but no jiggity-jig.

It felt awful but life goes on

It was the right thing to do, stopping suffering, no

matter your species.

Now Tillie is here for her dinner.

"...critters..."

2011-06-08T21:54:00.000-07:00

Tonight's Special: Smoked Turkey Breast (served cold)

Tillie LOVES her meals here; she even has courses!

The dogs announce her arrival every time, a cacophony of

frustated/excited/Keystone Cops clammoring as Tillie climbs along

the big locust tree branch that hangs over and delivers her safely to

the roof of our camper. She's smart and seemingly nonplussed by me.

As for the dogs, she knows they're not wanting to play with her,

at least not while she's alive. The dogs watch me climb the ladder

as I put some dog kibble and fresh, cool water on the roof for T.

Next she gets meat or an egg or a peanut butter sandwich.

Lastly, she has fruit and cheese and a cookie. Or a Pop-Tart.

Or Cinnamon toast. She loves cinnamon. I feed her garlic bread,

once a week, as a natural parasite repellent. Garlic is it.

She's a bob-tail!

No, I don't know what happened to her tail. I'm sure my

dogs didn't get it because they would have gotten ALL of her!

"The Sheep Were Not Impressed..."

Despite the sheep dog's efforts during last week's NATURE on PBS.

No, I don't have sheep here although I considered goats a long time ago.

To sleep, perchance to dream...

Finn, Glory, Percy 2009

Finn's legs are so long he used to drape them over everyone!

They would sleeps like this, unmoved, for hours.

"...our last visit (maybe) from patrick bagshaw of 'bagshaw water hauling'..."

2011-06-04T16:36:00.000-07:00

Patrick Bagshaw

Water Hauler, School Bus Driver, Bridge Builder, Summertime Facilitator.

He's been oh-so patient these past fourteen years, what with all the dogs and

all. He got so used to the dogs that he brought his along for visits when he

delivered to us.

The Holy Water Receptical

A deceptively innocent looking plastic 1500 gallon tank. It not only

holds water but also this dog lover who has climbed inside to clean it

each time it's been empty for the past 14.8 years.

A couple of years ago, I got stuck inside the tank.

I was flipped out when Mr. Bagshaw arrived three hours later.

It got really scary after the first hour passed--even writing about it now

makes my heart race. This weeks's visit from Mr. Bagshaw is most likely the

last time I anticipate having to drop down inside since I and my dogs are moving.

I made sure I had my phone with me, just in case and sure enough I had a hard

time getting out. In fact, the next day I had horizontal bruises from getting hung up

on the rim of the opening. I started getting really anxious but instead of trying,

trying, trying over and over again, and thereby wearing myself out quickly--

--and getting that jittery fatigue when your adrenaline is maxed and your

muscles feel like jelly--I waited. I told myself I was going to be okay.

I stood still on the five gallon mud bucket and deepened my breathing.

Then, on the fifth try, I jumped up and swung out of the 1 1/2 ft diameter

tank opening, treating it like an apparatus rather than an impediment.

I've been doing this for over 14 years.

I'm really ready to have running water.

Isn't the water pretty and clean?

On super hot days I want to climb inside and float,

like a sensory deprivation chamber--but with the "sensory".

This water remains cool, unlike my galvanized 6ft diameter stock pool

(shown below), which by days end in hot weather is hot.

My variation of "the cement pond"

I pour a bucket of water over me (as I stand beside my tomato plants),

soap up, shampoo out and rinse with another couple of buckets.

This was 3/4 full and once it gets down to an inch of water, I lift up the

tank and pour that bit on the wildflowers. I reuse all my water for my

garden, although this year I'm letting it grow wild, my plants all volunteers.

"...early june gloom heat..."

2011-06-02T22:06:00.000-07:00

Oliver MacFrazier, Scottish Terrorist!

The One-Eared Scottish Terrier who has had baaad skin for a long time.

See the hair loss on his sternum? He's on new regime and responding beautifully.

Settled into his new home easily, respectfully and most of all, happily.

That feels nice for everyone connected to Ollie and his well-being.

A rescue from Berea that needed a "terrier" home in Indiana.

Voila!

I have loved living on this 130 acre wonderland...

Sometimes I wish I wasn't leaving, but I am. It's time.

But it sure is pretty here, isn't it? I know these hills well.

They've been a friend, a fortress for almost 15 years.

Pops!

(Oso has his back)

He embodies "devotion". Rescuing him is one of my better "saves". Thanks again to Sherri for noticing him in the first place. That's what matters: doing something, anything to start the rescue ball rolling.

I love reintroducing love of life in a creature who has been discounted to no end. Pops is a true example of the rehabilitative power of giving good care and attention to a loved one who really needs it.

Pops has been my Muse. It can be pouring down rain with lightening, or a desert-hot, scorching sun heat, he doesn't care. He will wait up my drive until I come home from my weekly errands in any weather. He can't stand it when I'm out of his line of vision. Sometimes he'll think I've gone outside, even when I'm sitting at my desk writing, and he goes rushing out the camper door: "WHERE IS SHE?!" He's always sooo relieved when he comes back in the camper, hurriedly, and I say, "Hey, Old Man! Who thinks you're the most handsome beast in the house?" and he melts at my feet, relieved, assured, satisfied with himself; he found me. He's The Man. And he's all about Quality of Life, baby! See his "please share your supper with me" pose below:

Dixie is shooting the side-eye at me as I take this photo.

Oso's in front of Dixie; Ollie is resting his chin on my left thigh.

Memories, like the corners of my mind...

Wildflowers, delicate

One of the forested treasures.

Throughout the 130 acres.

There are a lot of pretty things in the woods.

R.I.P. Cody

Still too many tears to write about him.

We're all sad and all our appetities have been nil.

The Scent of Honeysuckle

It's very bold here, horticultually speaking. This photo is of a "honeysuckle tree" along

my drive. You can't tell certainly in the photo but the "trunk" of this "tree" is actually a telephone

pole. They honeysuckle is so thick and strong throughout the drive that coming and going really is delightful. If I were a beekeeper, I'd have sweet honey but I can't do it all, especially as I prepare

to move my show away from here.

Somewhere.

Within 60-90 days.

Whoever buys my place will love it here.

This is Finn.

Part gazelle, part dingo, Finn defines "odd ball". Gloriously. Therefore he fit right in.

Nickname: "The Epicurean."

Cool waters, fans, fluffy bedding, food at will, toys, friends,

he thrived immediately given a degree of independence within the pack.

Like young humans, some young dogs think they know better than their mentor or caregiver,

as to what their boundaries should be.

I'm going to start my Human Training School one day but for now...

I have way too many "irons in the fire" at the moment to fathom adding anything more.

See the firepit above Finny's pool? Lots of fires. I mean irons.

Percy, the Master of Priorities:

"Eat when you're hungry, play when you're silly and rest when you're tired."

Isn't Percy truly, aesthetically pleasing?

Handsome is as Handsome does.

Pops On The Move!

Damn!

Because of our courtly, platonic love affair, I notice the many nuances of Pops.

Coming out of the cool woods into the sun on a hot, hot day my PopPop makes haste of that short but harsh part of our trail. He was zippin' right along this day--I mean, really moving.

Look at his rear left foot: good extension,straight, strong leg, long stride between steps.

He is feeling sassy as hell. I loooove these moments. He came to me literally falling down with each step and now he's Rin-Tin-Tinning along like there's no tomorrow.

And he's right. Who knows what tomorrow will be?

So for tonight, I love this photo. It's so alive. It's so "Pops".

I can see his toes in this photo!

His "healthiness" makes me happy. I know. It's "precious".

Fungi versus Mushrooms.

I've never been a fan yet evidently my place is loaded with "them eatin' kind..."

and American Ginseng.

Everywhere. I find the fungi prettier. Everyone leaves them alone.

There are many natural cold springs throughout my place.

Throughout the years, they've literally tiny oasis for the dogs on our hike. We used to go down to the

forest ranger/neighbor's big pond for a real dip. I had a yellow Lab (not Gabriel) who would take off running, completely on his own, unspurred by me, and fly off the deck like a duck was right there, waiting to be retrieved...man he was a stunner. Hank was his name. He loved that lake but I still think the creek is so pretty, so existential. It bends, turns, flows, sits--whatever, it's okay. It is what it is.

A lovely, serene, unspoiled, spot in a crazy-rough-whizzy-world.

Do you want to help a dog?

Let's get a new Sanctuary for the Sanctuary!

"...dogland..."

2011-05-31T20:55:00.000-07:00

Nothing like a dip in a cool, spring fed creek on a hot, humid day...

This was Finn, a greyhound/mountain cur that LOVED all forms of aqua.

Fortunately his new home includes a lake. Lucky dog.

Gabriel the Angel

And as cool as the Labrador breezes, Gabe rules his home with gentle wisdom.

So, so handsome and never a problem from sunrise to sunset.

Everyone who visits here says the same thing:

"THIS is dog heaven!". They're right. It is.

No matter your species, everyone sometimes needs a hug.

Glory in Dixie's arms. They were adopted to the same home!

Sometimes people are (wisely) receptive when I suggest this.

Anyone with two dogs knows it makes for a happier environment all around,

especially for the dogs!

The view out the window beside my desk--isn't is perfect?

It's wonderful to look out and this is all you see...no people, no buildings, no noise.

Just me, my dogs, the flora and the fauna.

The view of my eastern hills from my western oneIt looks like a rain forest, so lush and deep.

A rainy week in late May

Then it can turn around and look like the Smokey Mountains up here!

"...something about bad weather heading our way..."

2011-05-25T21:19:00.000-07:00

NINE emails tonight asking: "what do you and your dogs do if a tornado rips over your hilltop?" Well, first I check with the Sentry Hound who keeps a watch in the black horizon...

"Auntie 'Em?...Uncle Henry?

It's three minutes until 9pm, Wednesday, May 25, 2011. According to the hyperventilating weather reporters, "the storm's energy" won't be firing up until after sunset. That'll keeps things interesting: tornadoes at midnight.

Here's my Reckoning Bag--be it due to tornado, fire or rapture:

1. Cell phone FULLY charged,
2. Medications/4 bottles of water,
3. Two changes of clothing, et al,
4. ID/checkbook,
5. Granola bars,
6. Bag of treats for the dogs,
7. Flashlight.

I don't have a flashlight! I should have a flashlight! Don't I need a flashlight, especially for the rapture?

As for a tornado, all I have to do is hear the tornado siren: immediately I call "Come on, Doggies! Let's go!"--and they do! The hills and hollers are so steep here that we can simply burrow into the side of any of them and we're safe.

And then we'll ride the storm out.

I'll let you know if we're dead...

UPDATE: The Day After
May 26, 2011, noon

We made it through completely untouched but others weren't so lucky. People always assume I'm more vulnerable to storms being so high up on a hilltop. In fact, the topography seems to push most of the virulent weather right on by us. It's something to do with all the trees, the hills and barometric pressure, which is low again today. It's only then that the train tunnel down the Pike sounds like it's just around the corner.

We're safe. Damp, but safe.

"...what i've seen..."

2011-05-14T15:59:00.000-07:00

The entrance to our sanctuary is very private

I love green, as you've noticed most prominently on my website and logo. I love vivid, jewel, primary colors: greens, blues, yellows, reds. It turns into a lush, green, blue, yellow and red forest here, as you've noticed most prominently in the photo of our Sanctuary entrance.

This sums up my personal philosophy

See "loners versus lonliness" post below.

This is one of the faces I love waking up to

You've seen her before. She's a real coquette.

Sid

Yum. He's my pit doll baby.

The lovely view down our drive to our "den"

"...taking a bath in the cold rain..."

2011-05-01T20:00:00.000-07:00

It was very windy tonight as I went outside for my "bath". The rain was whipping at my skin while I simultaneously poured cups of very warm water over my head. Hot rinse, cold spray. It was just wonderful! One day I'm going to really savor a home with running hot and cold water...but until then, I enjoy now what I know I will remember fondly in the future. In a way, I'm still fond of my alternative
life.

"...loners versus loneliness..."

2011-04-16T15:01:00.000-07:00

An article by Lenore Skenazy that nails the distinction:

The minute she heard about the massacre in Virginia, author Anneli Rufus knew what was coming next. "It was almost a countdown," she said. "Five, four, three, two, one — here comes the L word!"

And so it did.

"He was a loner," school spokesman Larry Hincker said of the shooter, Cho Seung-Hui, "and we're having difficulty finding information about him."

Oh, so the homicidal maniac responsible for the deadliest shooting rampage in American history was a loner? That explains it. He got sick of eating lunch alone, so he killed 32 people. Happens all the time. It's a script as old as "Taxi Driver" — older, even. The only problem is, it's wrong.

Ms. Rufus, author of the loner manifesto "Party of One," would like to set the record straight: Loners don't kill people. Lonely people kill people. There's a big difference.

"The loner is a person who feels very comfortable alone," she said. "Loneliness doesn't even occur to them. A whole weekend could go by and it's 6 on a Sunday and they say, ‘Oh! I haven't talked to anyone,' and that's cool." Loners harbor no hard feelings toward the world that didn't stop by for tea. They didn't want to chat anyway. [bold italics mine--k]

Lonely folks, on the other hand, feel frantic when they can't connect. "Loneliness is associated with just about everything bad," a professor of psychology at the University of Rochester, Harry Reis, said. "Lonely people die earlier, they have all sorts of problems. It's the no. 1 cause of suicide."

Unlike the loner, "a lonely person craves others and feels bad when they aren't there," Ms. Rufus said. "I've done a lot of reading about criminals, and often I find that these are people who could not get accepted into a clique, a club, a relationship. They're hurt and they want revenge." In other words, people who need people are (potentially) the most violent people in the world.

People who don't need people, however, are the ones nobody trusts.

Happy-go-lucky loners get lumped together with needy nuts because, to the outside world, these very different groups look the same: They're the ones sitting out the picnic. And since it's hard for most people to imagine anyone choosing this solitude, onlookers assume they must be sad or snooty — or packing heat.

Then, too, there's the self-fulfilling headline writing (we) the press are guilty of.

Google "loner" and "gunman" and you will find a slew of slayers, some of whom held very social jobs, like hairdresser and doctor. Was there ever a loner hairdresser? But Google "gossipy" and "gunman" and — forget it.

Though we automatically think of our criminals as loners and vice versa, the fact is some of the most admired people in history have preferred solitude to speed dating. Ms. Rufus has compiled a whole list of them, beginning with Isaac Newton, who didn't even like playing with other boys as a child.

J.D. Salinger, Albert Einstein, and the author of "Silent Spring," Rachel Carson, all enjoyed spending more time with their thoughts (or at least fish) than with other people, as did John Lennon, Franz Kafka, and Stanley Kubrick. Emily Dickinson spoke to people through a partly closed door for a good part of her life, "a veritable poster girl for reclusiveness," Ms. Rufus said. Dickinson was a loner, yes, but her poems don't sound lonely. They sound full of life.

In fact, the desire to be alone has zero correlation with any kind of psychopathology, a psychiatry professor at Eastern Virginia Medical School, Robert Archer, said. "The preference to spend a quiet evening reading a book rather than being at a party has no [correlation to] mental illness at all," he said. "The world is quite full of introverted people who are quite safe to live next door."

And if by some chance the one next door to you isn't — well, at least we know how you'll describe him to the television news team.

"...the jo-jo journal..."

2011-04-11T16:11:00.000-07:00

Pensive Periwinkle Evenings

Lilacs, honeysuckle, daffodils, hyacinth, lily-of-the-valley...

...and peonies, locust trees, lettuces and early thyme.

Aroma is fundamental; our prehistoric brain survived by it.

Familiar scents. Never underestimate the power of your olfactory abilities.

and thereby the abilities to soothe.

Josie has perfect puppy paws, or so said her uncle Michael.

Each As Is

(left to right, Ronan [adopted], Sallie [adopted], Josie [check out that foot! She works her feet, baby!], And then Percy [adopted]), so romantic, so sweet, so wise.

Is this a mixed breed gallery or not? It's great life here for animals challenged in some capacity.

The Island of Misfit Toys.

It's Good To Be Me: Josie!

In the simplest, goodly, most innocent and wholesome way.

I can sit pretty much wherever I want.

Eat pretty much wherever I want.

Sleep pretty much wherever I want.

Commandeering Katherine's only real chair, grumbling when she deigns to sit in it.

I live without sanctions. Treats are mine for the taking.

From walks-without-leashes and cozy bedding for rest,

to toys that can take Terrier play and a human who understands my high level of

enjoyment for head-out-of-the-window-car-rides,

I keep things simple and it gives my life clarity.

Animals show you the strength and fragility of your soul.

Sometimes at the same time.

"Dear Diary..."

"Laying in the sun, resting after rolling in the cedar mulch. Look at my "residuals"!

I popped into the bright green baby pool to cool off afterward

and now I'm rolling on a freshly laundered comforter. The best of both worlds, right?

It's Good To Be Me: Josie! Part Two

I keep the hammock warm for Katherine.

"...this is the story of pops..."

2011-04-06T12:38:00.000-07:00

He was dying when I took him in

He could hardly walk so I had to carry him up onto my porch.

His ears were SOOOOO infected, packed full of pruritus, mucus, blood--

the worst otitis discharge I've ever, ever seen (and I've been doing this all my life).

His eyes were cloudy, also full of gunk and his nails were so long they'd curled

around into the pads of his feet.

I assumed the "rotting" odor he emitted was a result of his ear infections.

Pops arrived with a smorgasbord of infections, pain and infirmities.

No matter what I tried to garner a response from him,

even plain but savory scrambled eggs, his only response

was to shake and pant heavily, even though it was a beautifully cool October Saturday.

It was after-hours at my veterinarian's clinic and since I'm able to triage on my own

(most of the time) I considered my options here at the Sanctuary.

To boost his appetite and make him feel better overall, I decided to grind up

40mg ( a HIGH dose I know but he was fading fast!) of Prednisone,

mix in some water and shoot it down the back of his throat with a needle-less syringe.

That's when I learned that the rotting odor wasn't a result

of Pops' ear infections, it was coming from his mouth!

It looked like most of his teeth were rotting.

Baby Steps from an Old Man

The next day, I gave Pops another 40mg of crushed Prednisone.

Two hours later, I got him to stand up, but just barely. Later that day, around 5pm,

as I cooked off some boneless chicken breasts in attempt to tempt Pops, I heard a

"BARK!"

It was unfamiliar; I know each voice of my dogs and this wasn't one of them.

Again, "BARK!"

I walked out onto the porch and the third and final, "BARK!" was sounded

and don't you just love it? It was POPS!

Guess who had plain boiled chicken breast for dinner that night...

...and the next morning...that afternoon and again that night?

Because he had such severe dental issues, Pops (aka "Papi") found hard kibble

painful to chew but I was thrilled that he was eating something.

I continued to tackle his ear and it was a months-long battle to get them

clean, pink and relatively healthy. Once I got the ear/otitis issues under control,

Pops went to the vet for a dental...and needed TWENTY TWO TEETH EXTRACTED,

some just rotting roots of teeth broken off long ago.

This dog had been suffering for a looong time. It's maddening.

Steps Are Scary When You're Fragile

Day Two of "Operation Pops Prednisone".

I was thrilled that Pops was actually trying to move, especially

after his first twenty four hours where he remained frozen by immobility.

DO YOU SEE THIS?!

Seven months later, look at his clear eyes! His nice manicure!

His elegant and strong posture! He even climbed into the cubby where this one dog bed is!

Agility, acuity and an affinity to live, Pops has rediscovered his Inner Dog.

Days of Ease

He deserves soft, fluffy bedding the rest of his days.

His coat is nice and shiny, isn't it? Fish oil works wonders,

along with a good diet, exercise and affection.

Pops' gratitude was apparent from the start.

                                                                      After Dinner
                                                                    He feels chuffed!

Papi

Pops Strolls, Pops Trots, Pops Glides

Rescue and rehabilitation works!

Happy ending.

"...sanctuary life..."

2011-04-03T17:39:00.000-07:00

Percy on Patrol

That's my swing I built when I moved here.

You get a deep-pull-in-your-tummy sensation

as you glide out over the ridge that is our "back yard".

It's a 34% slope, 300 feet straight down.

Vertigo!

Oso

Living on the river in Jeffersonville, Oso found his calling:

From the top of the sofa, he perches and calls out whenever someone walks down

Riverside Drive. This is a photo from last year; Oso never let me go anywhere

without him and he always sat on whatever the middle part of the seat is called.

Josie Wrestles Percy into Complacency

She is completely oblivious to her teeniness and takes on all comers.

The Canine Equivalent of Hand Holding

Sweet peas!

Gabe and Cody

These two are "run-till-you-drop" dogs.

They never met a creek, hill or trail they didn't traverse.

They were adopted into the same home and have thrived with their family.

Gabe had been hit by a car; the top of his head scraped raw but he recovered quickly.

Cody acts like Gabe's bodyguard to this day, "Mutt and Jeff" if ever there were.

Don't You Wonder What She's Thinking?

I wish this was a clearer photograph but I still love it.

This girl hung around all day, unharmed and not incapacitated, maybe chilly

as the weather was starting to get cooler. I put a piece of banana on the rail

where she was sunning herself and she ate it!

Very delicate, very graceful and camouflaging herself as best she can.

... charming birds from the trees...

Not really but nonetheless I encounter all kinds of critters here, from birds to snakes, to

raccoon and foxes, turkeys, turtles and toads, no species is exempt from care.

Cleaning My "Reservoir"

What is actually a galvanized six foot diameter livestock tank, I've used for years

as my bath and dog water holding tank. In the summertime, on ultra-awfully hot days,

I float in this tank to cool off and catch some rays, wondering what's wrong with being poor?

Would a big, in ground pool make me any happier than I am in that moment?

No.

The Exquisite Calm of the Afternoon Nap

Watching my dogs sleep is one way I meditate.

It also makes me happy knowing that the animals I care for

are safe, sound and secure. That's the gift of this work:

even if it's only one dog that is rescued, knowing that you've

created a safe, loving place in this harsh world is a gift 360*.

Slice and Sash

Whatever this goofy metal rung/step on my Tundra is called doesn't matter.

It had rusted and was falling off so I thought I'd give it some help by wrenching the loose end off.

As you'll see, I sliced myself but good and ended up wrapping a bandana around my hand...

...a white one that turned scarlet from all the bleeding!

I'm always maiming myself but I'm milk-fed.

I can take a beating.

"...thomas jefferson...."

2011-04-01T13:48:00.000-07:00

This nut came to me from Owensboro, passed over for adoption for over eight months. No one

wanted him; he acted surly and unapproachable in his cage at the shelter. After meeting my "freak" criteria, I agreed to take him. Now he's "mine", my buddy, despite the fact that I have plenty of friends already.

The "Karl Childers" of Save That Dog Sanctuary
(from the film, "Sling Blade")
"Karl" dug holes to sleep in...Thomas J., too.
One of the perks of living here--iffin' you're a dog!-- is the carte blanche hole digging workshops.
Some dogs like to scoop out a "den" in the earth, and luxuriantly nestle into them, savoring the soil's embrace.
The heat, the smell--it's an olfactory/somnambulistic-embryonic experience.

Did Someone Say "Thomas J."?
He reminds me of a ferret with that pointy snout and weak chin...
...I love him regardless...and his little neuroses, too.

Thomas J. Speaks
Can you see it? Look at the curl of his mouth.
He makes this gargling sound, almost like a purr, when he wants my undivided.
That's Franklin at 12 o'clock, gathering scent for our files.
Daisy the Bloodhound is a blur in the right bottom pocket of this photograph.
Thomas J. was miffed that Daisy was trying to steal his moment with me.
I'm the only human that Thomas J. will physically interact with.
I've got video to prove it.

Thomas J. bobs for noodles

He is a cutie, albeit formerly feral.
He dunks his muzzle, ad infinitum, until he gets every
last remnant of my leftover noodle soup I'd poured into one of the
dog water bowls. Thomas J. is nothing if not determined.

"...someone once asked me..."

2011-03-31T21:44:00.000-07:00

It was suggested to me, in the form of a question, that I "...breed expensive dogs like French bulldogs or Yorkies or Labra-doodles and use the proceeds to fund your work...".

Ahem.

You can't be an advocate for animals if you exploit them for profit. Period. Anyone who truly cares about the abuse, abandonment and neglect that ALL such animals suffer, regardless of breed purity, can't fathom bringing MORE animals into the world. Jesus, it's not brain surgery.

I know that there are people that work at City/County animal shelters who do breed dogs for money. That is so inherently wrong, that kind of hypocrisy, it makes it hard to respect anyone working at animal control who espouses breeding more of what their workplace kill everyday.

"...oddities and entities..."

2011-03-28T09:55:00.000-07:00

More from my photo archives, hopefully worth the wait. Every picture tells a story...

Season's End at Polly's Freeze
Maplewood, Indiana
In my hands is Josie. In her mouth is my orange sherbet sample.
She is the Minxiest of the Minxes.
I am toothy in this photo; indulging my spoiled brat!

Charming the Visitors
You can see the resignation in the girl, and her brother to her left, above as she looks at Amy.
She begged, cajoled, negotiated with "Dad" to adopt Amy and although he indulged his
daughter's interest, I think he was at this event actually to meet some chicks.
Ultimately, his "No, we can't get a dog right now...", was the last word.
Then I took this photograph.
However...
...Amy, on her back splayed like a flounder, thinks it's a done deal, doesn't she?
Look at her looking at me (the camera).

A Mutual Admiration
Henry was immediately drawn to the man in this wheelchair.
The man in the wheelchair was drawn to Henry.
The short story is that the man fell from a 12 story scaffold while on a job in
St. Paul, Minnesota.He's been paralyzed for four years, most of his young son's (photo, left)
life and at the age of 25, he thought his life was over.
Until he rescued an AmStaff whose people lost their home to foreclosure.
The man told me that it was the AmStaff that saved his life. "It was the way she looked at me...".
Henry looked at him the same way. It's in their blood: they get it.
Life is hard but it's truly worth it and no matter how sad we think our own story is, there's someone else
whose troubles make ours seem truly manageable.
We have so many opportunities to make good, and it's those opportunities that justify our existence.

Donny and his girlfriend, Miss J.
Miss J. is Donny's favorite human, aside from me--Miss J. is feminine 2.0
She wears perfume and gets her hair done and has running water.
(I'm more http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dick_Proenneke)

Mr. Katherine Fraze

Documentary Days
Boy, when my story gets told in it's entirety, it's gonna blow minds.
I shall pull no punches.

"Pleeeeeease, adopt a damn dog!"
I HATE going out in public.
Oso (photo, right) feels my pain.

Snow and Ice Storm of 2009
"The Power is Back On!"
It was a late winter storm and it kicked everyone's ass, from Indianapolis to Lexington, Kentucky.
We were without power for 11 days. The high temperature was a steamy 12* fahrenheit. No heat, no lights.
I started living out of my beloved (embattled) Tundra, dogs and all. I'll never forget nightime cobalt skies and NPR
on the the truck radio, heat blasting, putting the dogs in with me in 2 hour shifts.
People were donating cans of gas to us at that time. Gas to keep the truck going.
I should do a commercial for TOYOTA.

I boiled water on my gas stove (the camper's link to the modern age a la propane!), in a 20 quart stock pot,
over and over and over and over in attempt to "steam heat" the camper...
...which sort of worked until the mositure from days and nights of the "steam heat" saturated the electrical outlets...
AND THEN THE DUKE ENERGY BOYS RESTORED OUR LINK TO THE GRID.
(see photo above--soooo cute and welcomed after 11 days of Pioneer Indiana)
Pop! Snap! Pow! went the electrical outlets like fireworks!

May I just say that those 42 dogs pictured above were so sweet,
as you can see in the faces of the Duke Energy repairmen.
It was an incredible experience leading a pack that large.
I need to get Rachel Seed to download some of her footage of me with my gaggle...

"...life is short but it sure is good..."

2011-03-27T08:49:00.000-07:00

I'm learning/flailing with the photo/video features my blog offers. Bear with my haphazardness; I am not a tekkie. Get a cup of tea, or a cocktail, depending on your process, as I use my dial up.

Yes, I said it: I only have dial-up. Uploading (or am I downloading?) photographs takes a bit of patience so I'm treating it as a meditation practice with "Lady and The Tramp" on the DVD player and a baked potato crisping it's skin in the toaster oven.

Sallie loves a cozy bed...

...no matter if the "bed" is a laundry basket with a comforter in it.

She is such a love but a bit damaged from her foster experiences. A very free
spirit, Sallie had a tough early life but is completely happy in her forever home.
She reminds me of dogs I knew during my childhood.

Ratso Rizzo and Joe Buck?
("Midnight Cowboy")
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Midnight_Cowboy

No, just Franklin and Sid, ever present in the truck with me on errands, taking advantage of the lull of mundane activity and cuddle for intermittent naps. They're very sweet together.

Frankie will groom Siddy's ears, eyes and generally make sure he's well cared for. Sid let's him do whatever he wants.
It's a truly mutual friendship. It's lovely.

Josie resting in between wrestling matches

She usually gets whatever the object of today's desire is, even though she only weighs 6 pounds! The toy pictured with her is almost bigger than she but her terrier lineage fortifies her sense of self and woe is the big dog that thinks she's a pushover. On one hand it's cute to watch her assert such righteous indignation but fearlessness sometimes teeters into dangerous territory.

I never say "I own Josie", since I don't.
You can't own a soul, not even your own.

Siddy with his bodyguard, Josie (Sallie is in the background)
Sid was about eight months old when found wandering his neighborhood unneutered. His people decided they couldn't take care of him so I rescued him. He's been a devoted companion for a long time now, fully vetted before I brought him home and one of the gentlest dogs I've ever had. He chases me out whenever I try to leave and I ran over him a month or so ago but he's fine now.
I admit that I love this breed. I grew up one farm away from a veterinarian who bred and showed AmStaffs. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Staffordshire_Terrier
As a result I wasn't prejudiced by propaganda against "bully breeds". All my life I've rescued variations of bully dogs.
Sometimes the dog was a dream, others not so much but then I can say the same about Jack Russells, Saint Bernards,
Weimaraners, Golden Retrievers, blah-blah-blah.
My Sid is especially sweet, with just enough tang to keep our relationship interesting.
Other than trying to re-enact the driving scene from "Bullitt" or "The French Connection" up our driveway every time I leave
the Sanctuary, the only time he makes me mad is when he sleeps on my pillows;
I don't mind him on my bed but I like my pillows to remain fresh and dog hair-free.
Last night when I went to bed, he was on one of my pillows so I had to henpeck him.
As he scooted over, I covered him with a super-dense fake fur throw his Auntie P. got for him.
Otherwise his shivering wakes me up in the middle of the night. Bully breeds don't have much of a "coat".

This is Gypsy
She was very pretty.
She had leukemia.

Doggie Paws Pause
Sallie and Mina, tandem napping, after hours of fun. From tug-of-war
to tag, they play until they are exhausted and after a quick treat, they pass out.
BOOM.
Sleeping for hours.
A great lesson in the importance of rest.
I love this photo.
I wish my camera's flash worked but it still represents well.

Donny Dog
Donny has been tossed around from foster home to foster home, well intentioned but novices really, after being left behind when
his people moved. He's a great dog but not for the faint-of-heart; he's been traumatized by all the flake-a-zoids in and out of his life
and required for the first six months, a lot of attention and reassurance. He was worth it. Donny is very smart, very vocal and very, very sweet. Sometimes I wonder if he's not my late husband.
See how he looks at me?

Thomas J. picking up the slack as Valerie and Henry sleep on the job

Other than Thomas J., both Val and Henry were adopted. Henry went to Colorado

(lucky dog!) and Valerie was adopted by my neighbors, John and Mary. They already have a Great Pyrennes (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Pyrenees)

and Valerie kind of matched their 'Beau' in looks, temperament and compatibility.
Over time together, Val watches out for Beau: John told me that one of his neighbors
has a dog always harrassing Beau, despite the fact that
Beau outweighs him by thirty pounds.
Yet once Val joined their pack,
she put a stop to that nonsense tout suite!

Valerie

Now Beau, pictured above with John, and Val, walk wherever he likes.
Isn't this a fantastic photograph?

John just came down and graded my driveway last week on his old Ford tractor.

He is a true Renaissance Man; there's nothing he can't do.

The last man I knew like that was my husband.

I've never remarried.

No mystery there.

Sometimes they come to me to die

Darcy, a beautiful ancient Dalmation I rescued ultimately had to be put down after a stroke that left her unable to stand.
She was very, very frail when I took her in. You might be able to see that she's sleeping on clothes, clothes I'd worn that day.
She was very sweet, feeling a bond with me, her caregiver.
Notice her distended vertebrae, the tumors all about. Fortunately she
still had an appetite so I gave her a helluva "last supper": fried chicken, chocolate cake and a whole Guinness (her favorite beer)
from a ceramic bowl as her pre-euthanasia I.M.sedation kicked in. That's the way for any species to go:

a magic carpet ride through your perfect world with chocolate icing on your lips.

She couldn't walk to get a drink of water

It's a simple, lovely connection

Henry and Mina, spooning. Do we take after them or do they take after us?

Or are we really all just animals: verbal/non-verbal, bi-ped/quad, carnivore/omnivore?
The essence of this photo is ______________________ .
(YOU fill in the blank.)
I love dogs. Life is so easy with them.

"...and a week later it's snowing!..."

2011-03-26T18:57:00.000-07:00

We're all cuddled up inside the camper, the heater doing it's job along with the Downy-rinsed dog bedding, so soft and fragrant. It's COLD outside! 37* at 9:25pm and it's been snowing lightly for two hours. My desk is against two windows and it's wonderful having the view of the hills and trees while I sit here. I've started using an extra large exercise ball as my "chair". It's great for my back.

I'm ready to move, I'm decided. I need to have a fundraiser to raise $10-15,000 for the transition fencing in 20 acres, dog-proofing the cabin, getting necessary equipment from hoses to lawn mowers to gravel for the long driveway).

I need my friend, Rachel Seed (the incredible artist/photo/videographer, check her beautiful website http://www.rachelseed.com/) to come shoot a video for YouTube, Facebook and Twitter (does Twitter do video?) where I explain the whole New Dawn for Save That Dog Sanctuary. Maybe I can go ahead and start it myself with the intermittently-functioning SONY HandyCam (it takes the teeny cassettes), loaned to me by beautiful, generous, scary P.K. Sometimes it works, other times: bleh. But I can shoot the B-roll stuff now. This place, it's camper, the new place, it's cabin and dogs, dogs, dogs. I have archives!

I was approached by another friend this week who suggested that I sell my land to a funeral home where they would open the only Natural Burial Sanctuary in our region. Most people hate the thought of embalming, while others can't fathom being cremated; this would be a legal alternative to both of those, barring any religious convictions (although you could be cremated and have your ashes scattered here as well). People could bury their animals here, too. All this and MUCH less expensive than the norm. I mean, we all know that our little planet is running out of real land and why not "recycle" after we die?

The basic premise is that after your funeral you are placed in a biodegradable box and buried where your remains are treated organically, in land that is protected as a Sanctuary. You can have a plaque rather than an expensive headstone, and/or plant a beautiful tree/shrub where every Spring you bloom. There's no other place like mine around here; geographically, topographically, spiritually. It could be done...bit it will have to be by someone else although I can initiate the process. Every time I turn around, there's a new prospect in front of me.

Ultimately, all I want is to continue rescuing dogs (or any critter in need, as you know) until the day I die. No toxic personalities, no mad world, no clutter. Just me and my menagerie, that's all.

UPDATE: 1 INCH OF SNOW at 11pm!

"...the moon, the moon, how dogs love the moon..."

2011-03-19T21:43:00.000-07:00

9:45pm (EDT) and the moon is pulsing through the cold misty clouds.

Just beautiful outside tonight.

Tonight around the camp fire, with a cup of tea and grilled Havarti cheese) sandwich and Ben and Jerry's "Maple Blondie" ice cream microwaved for dessert. The dogs and I are super tired from hiking and tramping our woods and creek in the weirdly warm weather half of the day.

Eminem is on "SNL"tonight, a rerun I evidently missed first run; I saw his high school yearbook photo recently. That was a trip. I rarely get through the whole SNL show, mainly I just tune in to watch the intro with the SNL cast, all those cute boys (Taran Killam [his impersonation of Eminem is perfection!], Jay Pharoah, Seth Meyer, Paul Brittain...) and NYC street shots.

When is "Cecil B. DeMille's The Ten Commandments'" going to be on ABC? Is it before Easter or after Passover? Or right in between?

I wish we could do affordable DNA tests on dogs, on our mixed breeds, to determine genetic lineage.
I've had some strange hybrids come through my life...and I've loved every single one of them. Truly.

"...a chilly night for an outdoor bath..."

2011-03-15T19:28:00.000-07:00

The wind was really blowing strong from the North when I put my pot of hot-off-my-little-camper's-gas- stove-bath-water outside, aka my "bath tub", a little while ago. It makes for a brisk wash but in a weird way, it always feels so good, even naked and wet on a wind whipped 34* early evening.

Knowing I'm leaving here makes me so aware of how my life will change into a more typical, more comfortable pedestrian way; having running water, a home without wheels beneath it, one with real Internet; a washer and dryer...stuff I haven't had in ages! But I welcome it reluctantly. Since 1998 I've really dug living like a 12 year old Amazon. No parents, no boys, no rules and it was a great run--it really, really was. This land is a true, healing spot. The hills are alive, or so goes a song, but it really is true here.

The gist of tonight? I'm now freshly bathed, in my dryer-warm jammies, a slice of sweet potato pie and a big glass of milk waiting while cracking open "Wolf", a Jack London biography. I feel safe, happy and thankful. All is well, here in our 12 year old Amazon-take of a perfect world, dogs sleeping deeply at my feet.

UPDATE: Couldn't do the Jack London story afterall. Too much killing of the animals. I'm going to read Larry McMurtry's second memoir. k

"...oh, dear..."

2011-03-12T18:45:00.000-08:00

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2012_phenomenon

"...ticks already and rain, rain, rain..."

2011-03-09T17:14:00.001-08:00

The parasites, regardless of species, are becoming more resilient to weather and virulent to immune systems. Fortunately I've kept the dogs on flea and heartworm year round but about two weeks ago, I noticed tiny ticks on a couple of my dogs after returning from a woodland hike. Today I met a dog that was loaded with them, some already engorged and disgusting. Her foster home was planning a bath tonight before they take her in for a spay and vax vet visit later this week.

For now I'm still able to wear perfume or essential oils to bed but once the mosquitoes begin to bite, I become a Willa Cather character, scrubbed clean at night and covered in my eucalyptus "linament" from head to toes.

One of the gifts the three inches of rain gave us was washing the trees (and the 32* grade of the hills they grow from) clean, flushing all the ticks down to the creek which leads to the lake and it's classified forest. The fish and lake dwellers will have a parasite feast--which mean lots of frogs this year. One of my Almanac-isms.

"...the moon is almost full..."

2011-02-15T18:54:00.000-08:00

Today we had our fourth prospective buyer for my land come see for themselves that this place is magical. The dogs and I took Holly on tour of the hills, hollers, creek and the neighboring four acre lake. The two hour hike has left us all exhausted, the dogs now passed out on a thick comforter. I took a couple of ibuprofen while my 20 quart stock pot of bathwater heated on the stove and my jammies heated in the dryer. Once settled, the dogs had lots of disgusting "Lil' Smokies" sausages for a treat then we had our supper and gallons of water. This sort of exertion is wonderful. I do love this land but I've... ...it's time for a change.

Tomorrow I send out more fliers for "100 Acres For Sale" to people I think might be interested. Keep your fingers and toes crossed. Crawford County needs someone like me to help their animals (and people) since they have no shelter, rescue organization or animal care facility. I found a potential piece of property there for $80,000. I think I better buy a lottery ticket and let the dogs blow kisses on it for luck...right now I need some donations for day to day sanctuary needs.

"...a valentine for michael..."

2011-02-14T09:01:00.000-08:00

My best friend for all of my adult life, despite distance or time, is Michael Woolsey. He died on February 1 after a savage, ravaging, brutal fight with esophageal cancer. He was very brave, incredibly unselfish and so centered in the midst of his decay. The night he died the winds literally howled, all the way to morning, keeping me scary company. The wind chimes outside my bedroom window sounded like they were being smashed instead of rung. For the first time in ages I felt a sadness so intense that I was nauseated. The thought of my life without the best friend I ever had in it seemed unreal.

Michael was here with me this past summer for what turned out to be the last time we would spend time together. He arrived and I was taken aback by how shockingly thin and completely hairless (from the radiation) he was yet also how impressively energetic and upbeat he seemed, sure that he could beat the disease. Having lost my husband at a very young age to leukemia, I was more fearful and less confident although I never let on. I kept a smile on and the party going throughout his visit, sharing him with the other friends he visited during his stay. He was a warrior, a courtly knight, a strong and steady soul.

I even agreed to marry him when he asked after a tipsy evening out in August although it was more of his statement of survival than a proposal (or so I tell myself). Of course, as his health plummetted the idea fluttered away. In the end, he couldn't speak and all he wanted was for me to hold him. Once he died, the gnawing that I felt in my stomach turned into a raw, chewed up wound that seemed to take over my body. Everything hurt--sounds, aromas, light. Like I had no skin, no armor.

Michael was my first and ultimate champion: always there when I needed him without rebuke, question or hesitation, the definition of a best friend. When I first moved in 1998 to my 130 acres here (from the Cherokee Triangle in Louisville) to devote myself to animal rescue exclusively, Michael never tried to talk me off of the new road I was taking. In fact, he would still drive all the way from his restaurant in Louisville with my favorite salad and homemade garlic bread whenever I craved his specialties. No tip required. He didn't criticize my lack of running water, the camper I began to call "home" and the number of dogs living with me. He called me "Crazy Beauty", "Honey Bunny" and was the first to call me "The Dog Lady". He was a gorgeous man physically as well. A Dark Irish/Sicilian god who seemed immortal. That's part of what

Smart, funny, quick to show affection, first to lend a hand and last to leave the party, that was Michael Hardy Woolsey. Michael. His death has left many people feeling lost, unsteady, smacked down. Wracked with grief, I cried so much I felt sick. How do you say goodbye to someone who has been in your life for thirty years? How do you come to terms with their unholy suffering? How do you squelch the pain that comes when you wake up every morning and remember that they're gone? No more calls, no more visits, no more Michael. Now the world feels emptier, less safe.

Thankfully, gratefully, I have my animals in all their in-the-moment joie de vivre. Dogs and small children don't know what "death" is but unfortunately we do. Like small children, they are blissfully unaware of yesterday and tomorrow and find my tears confusing and in need of doleful attention. Dogs make great tear reducers, if not eliminators. My dogs and their silly, sober, willy-nilly personalities keep me from getting too mired down in my sadness. That and their never ending want of kibble, toys, walkies and tummy rubs forced me to step out of the dark and stay in my life with them. It is true: life goes on. The needs of others don't disappear just because we want time to grieve and the dogs, confused by my crying, rallied round trying to soothe me. They did and do.

Before he left this summer, Michael told me that he was glad I was doing something I really loved, as unconventional and isolating as it is. Of course, he knew that I've never cared about being uncoventional
or alone. How can one be lonely living with such a loving menagerie? The only thing Michael worried about in regard to me is my fragile financial state though I fibbed to him right before he died and told him that I'd found a buyer for my place and that all my money woes were over...he was relieved.

Now I just hope Michael comes back as a dog so I can rescue him.

"...the winds are high..."

2011-02-13T20:41:00.000-08:00

So warm tonight, for middle February. The winds have been blowing all day and are still strong. The pups sleep peacefully as I wait for "Any Human Heart" to premiere on good old "Masterpiece Theatre", my standing Sunday night date. I fell in love with "Downton Abbey" last month and now this, another wonderful saga. I don't have cable or satellite television but then who needs it? Strawberries and Oikos yogurt for a snack and in the hammock I go for the next ninety minutes of time travel via PBS.

The sun has been shining for days now, with promise to continue all week. I'm going to look at a new home for the dogs and myself this week, in Marengo, Indiana. Just 20 acres but with a pond and trees everywhere ensuring privacy, not to mention the holy of holies: running water! To have a real kitchen again, wherever we end up, will be wonderful since I love cooking and baking and have missed that creative outlet. Here's hoping a buyer comes soon to help facilitate the relocation. I am beyond broke. The time for change/help/tiny miracles is now.

"...welcoming a gentle and kind 2011..."

2011-01-09T15:37:00.000-08:00

The Winds of Change are alive and well. We're loving this snow since it wears a doggie out--although I worry underneath about all the animals left out in harsh weather Lots of nap time here in the cozy camper and the mood is wonderfully mellow. More snow coming, 3-5 inches by Tuesday noon, I think but we're well stocked here. I've perfected this quasi-pioneer lifestyle but then I've had 14 years to do so.

After our annus horribilis that was 2010, I'm happily humbled by the prescience of a nasty-free '11. I am diving into this New Frontier. I know exactly what I want and precisely what I don't. It's all become very, very clear especially these past twelve months. I'm a fan of Karma. I believe in Yin and Yang, bottom line that you get what you give. The sign on my mailbox reads our Philosophy A to Z:
"BE NICE OR GO AWAY".

To those of you who have loyally supported me, my dogs and my work all these but especially this past one, thank you for redefining the meaning of "loyalty". You know who you are and you know "the rest of the story" to all the stories that filled 2010. You believe in me and that's all anybody really wants: someone who believes in you and all that you embody. For me that is rescuing discarded animals, one dog at a time and dealing with as few humans as possible. I and my dogs might be going far, far away.
What's next? I won't go into detail now but I've been here before, many times and under different, waaay scarier circumstances than this past year, awful as it was. Metaphorically burned, scalded, left smoldering in pain, yes, but I persevered through all those "fires" and came back stronger and wiser.

I think I am this time, too.

"...winter wish list..."

2010-12-17T02:56:00.000-08:00

Dogs:

~~2 electric/heating blankets, Queen sized (or 3 Twin sized);~~ Thank you, Tina!

Squeaky tennis balls, Regular to X-small size-as many as you want to donate. VERY popular here.

Beef ears (not pork or "pig ears" and p.s.--pig ears carry e-coli...) as many as you dare. Again, very popular item.

Poly-stuffed toys with squeakers.

Katherine:

~~Durable hiking boots, insulated, size 10, women's, US.~~ Thank you, J.P!

~~Good winter socks for someone who is outdoors more often than not.~~ Thank you, J.P!

Contribution to the Tundra used tire fund (only $120.00 for four gently used tires!).

~~Tundra timing belt kit (we're driving on thin ice and not just because we had a storm last night).~~
Thank you, Michael!

"Lady and the Tramp" on DVD--no Blu-ray, thank you);

Fund raising concert! An original, guileless mind blowing musician(s), if such exists.

"...an e-mail I received today..."

2010-12-11T16:19:00.000-08:00

UPDATE:
Victor was rescued and is thriving in his foster (possibly forever) home. He's gaining weight after being fully vetted and is responding to attention and affection much more quickly than anyone imagined or hoped for. A HAPPY TAIL TALE! Thank you to everyone who responded in kind to his rescue. Sometimes it really does takes a village to save a dog...and a special oxo thanks to T.T.

"According to someone who was able to touch Victor, the dog chained to a tractor in Marengo Indiana, Crawford County, the person does not believe Victor will live through the upcoming freezing weather due Sunday night. Zero degrees. She says he is missing hair on his head neck and tail area and can barely get up.

Victor, at minimum, needs a veterinary evaluation to determine his exact state of health.
Owners refuse to cooperate.
Can anyone offer a solution?

As u recall, this is a non-sheltered community, no shelter, no animal control services and no animal control officers. I was first contacted a month ago and I have visited the location several times taking straw as insulation from the bare ground. Although I wasn't able to approach Victor.
There is an overhang on the shed offering some shelter from rain/snow and the town Marshall did manage to get a doghouse for Victor a few days ago. But according to two reports, Victor needs immediate medical care.
The owners r an older couple who do not live at the property. I was informed second-hand that the couple said the person responsible, me, would be required to "clean up all that straw, get it out of there". The couple also proudly proclaims Victor is staying right where he is, he is guarding the place.

There is debate re how often he is fed and watered but with the freezing weather his water source can't be remaining drinkable very long at a time. At best he would b getting a few drinks a day.
I am willing to give Victor a home if some folks would help with establishing a living area for him and if we can get him moved.
Any ideas r welcome. Please call and email both."

So what do we do? In my mind, the first thing is to drug Victor (sounds like a soap opera...) and once he's knocked out, take him to the vet. To hell with his "owners"; bring a sheriff along. Cruelty is cruelty, whether you have "Animal Control" or not. Call Amie Newlon, Attorney at Law, and get a Crawford County Judge to order a veterinary examination, based on evidence given to him by the writer of this e-mail. But I've become much more of an authority on "legal" issues this past year...

"...the horror and the beauty of sub-freezing temperatures..."

2010-12-05T22:11:00.000-08:00

The snow started Friday night. I love snow. I love the sound it makes when it takes over the geography. It sounds "steamy" to me, almost hissing as it falls and connects. All my chitlins were in-and-out all night as it continued to fall. It has begun again and while it is beautiful and fun, I have to shake the thought of animals without shelter from my mind, like a dog shaking the snow off it's coat. One of my dogs, Desi, is a Canadian collie mix and she is delirious with joy over today's addition to our snowfall's accumulation. We just came in from a sunset stroll and while on our sojourn, Desi rolled...and rolled...and rolled...and rolled happily in the fresh powder, giddy as she embraced her inner canine Canuck (it's a beautiful thing to watch). However, back inside our camper/home, Desi goes "Psycho" because she imagines/anticipates some dog has stepped into her realm, specifically on her feet, despite the fact that she's off by herself. She'll be in a dead sleep and POW! she shoots up, ratchets arounds, snapping at ghosts. Happy moment goes SPLAT. She just loses it from time to time, ever imagining some sort of disrespect even though none of the dogs even try to sleep near her due to her Blue Meanie vibe and the fact that she bites her "friends".

Donnie, on the other hand, is much more easy going and fancies himself a rugged outdoorsy-kind of dog, has been indoors longer than usual as the current temperature has dropped to 28*. It's going to get much colder by morning--only 12* at 4am. One can only be so rugged. He's giving me the "moon-eyes", telling me he is SO digging the warm, fluffy dog bedding with a big humming space heater (thank you, Auntie P.) warming his lower back. He's been talking to me tonight with that terrier-like chortle--a whine combined with a howl with a touch yodeling. Gratitude is a wonderful feeling--no matter your end of the stick, you connect with another in the purest way! Hopefully you do.

I have court in the morning; the Floyd County health department is withdrawing from my case citing "Conflict of Interest". Uh, yeah. You think? I can't stand bullies. They're "Chicken Little" at heart.

No basis for their irrationality and tiresome at best. I've stood up to bullies--real, mean people age irrelevant--seven real times in my life. The January Debacle makes it eight. In 2010; I was born in '62: all even years. I've never fought a battle I didn't know I would win and I mean that in the best of ways. I've turned my cheek sooo many times, without regret. Yet sometimes you MUST stand your ground as I have these past eleven months.

It's going to be pretty nippy tomorrow morning--somewhere around 15*. I admit now that I am wearing insulated bibs with a jacket tomorrow to court. It's simply too cold for antiquated gender decorum when temperatures are below freezing. I need a new pair of insulated hiking boots but otherwise, I'm milk fed: healthy, hearty and happy.

I am happy. I and those I care for and love are safe, warm with their tummies full (at least those here) tonight. Why can't it be like this for everyone? It's really not impossible, is it?

Earlier this afternoon, as I cleaned his ears, I asked my dog, Pops, "it feels gooood, doesn't it?" I can relate. Ear problems are a weird malady. I've had inner ear problems, especially when I was young. Memories of horrific pre-adolescent episodes of "Swimmer's Ear", one year so bad I was in tears for three days. Those were some brutal times, which in my karmic mind leads me to believe that I've drowned in a previous life.

Here I am now. I seem to get a lot of adult-to-elderly dogs with ear issues. I'm so good at treating them because I know exactly what they're feeling (and thinking because it's weird to feel and hear the swooshing sound of water in your ear canals) as I work on them, much like the way I work on my own ears. The Dog Lady indeed.

Just put "Munich" in the dvd player. PBS is still fundraising/holding viewers hostage (much like the Jews in "Munich"...!) so no Sunday evening with Dame Judi Dench and Geoffrey Palmer in one of my favorites http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/As_Time_Goes_By_(TV_series) and no "Masterpiece". Boooo.

It's so pretty when it's so cold. I write like the plane is going down, the cold serving as a furnace, firing me on. I respond to extreme non-tactile stimulation.

When a girl lives alone: I'm nursing a HUGE crush on Geoffrey Rush--and THAT rhymes!

Did I tell you that we're thinking of moving west?

"...rain, rain, rain...and more rain..."

2010-11-16T16:52:00.000-08:00

This rain, almost 12 hours ongoing, is perfect in a million ways. Today, three young bucks darted across my drive as I came home. They were small, sprightly (and spritely) and bristled with rain coated fur. It was lovely. I love it here.

" ...i do love me some critters, or 10.10.10..."

2010-10-10T22:10:00.000-07:00

Animals in general. Dogs in particular, and birds seem to dig me. The Sacred Four I have right now were watching "The Lion in Winter" last night. I got up to go tinkle and reaching down to gently stroke her, Desi lurched from her sleep and grabbed by right forearm, hurting me but not really me; Desi respects our home and tends to mind her manners most of the time. Anyway, there was blood, shame and regret. She skulked out onto the porch and when I approached her, she simultaneously cowered, extended her left paw to me and bared her teeth. Noiselessly. In other moments this canine cuspid exhibition might be construed as a "smile" and thereby rewarded for it by us, by our response: "oh, HOW cute! She's SMILING!"

I crouched down and accepted Desi's proffered paw, and spoke in low, calm tones, "...just relax, Dezzzz."
She was drooling and I realized it was plain and simple anxiety. Such an awful feeling, one I completely understand. Where's the Trust? Where's the Safety? So we sat for a moment, in the dark on the porch, Desi and I, still and quiet. I slowly took my right palm and rubbed it against the side of her mouth, stretching back the corners of her mouth (simulating her Mother cleaning her face after their feeding. It's a bonding exercise, one you can re-adapt in one way or another for any species but with anyone in the Canis family, trust me with the corner of the mouth tip...). Within a few seconds, she relaxed, layed down beside me and we were all okay.

Time to sleep.

"...laptop computer blues..."

2010-10-04T10:13:00.000-07:00

Once again the devil machine (aka a computer) is hinky and being repaired by fella who sold it to me.

No missives until he fixes it despite my asking for a loaner until the one that I got from him a month ago is reliable.

"...song of my self..."

2010-10-01T09:13:00.000-07:00

What I wanted to beneath "The Dog Blog" header above but the format only allowed 500 characters.

In 1996, Katherine Fraze created Save That Dog Sanctuary in response to the the never ending needs of abused, abandoned, neglected and forgotten dogs. From painted turtles to sassy raccoons; from socially disinclined dogs to hummingbirds with a broken foot, Katherine Fraze is as unique as the animals she champions. She has devoted her resources, energy and life to making a difference every day in the lives of animals--and the humans who love them. Would you live for 14 years on 130 acres of wooded knobs in a camper without running water if it meant that over 2,700 animals were saved? Katherine Fraze will--she not only talks it, she walks it.

"...it's like he wrote this about my current life..."

2010-09-29T21:14:00.000-07:00

As I was finishing up the first of Stieg's trilogy, this part on the bottom of page 393 and the top of 394 really hit home. I mentioned to a friend that I'd like to read it to the court this coming Tuesday (yes, yet another journey through the hell known as small town collusion...). My friend said, "Don't bother. They'd never understand it." Annie, you are probably right.

from "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo", by Stieg Larsson:

"...Normally seven minutes of another person's company was enough to give her a headache, so she set things up to live as a recluse. She was perfectly content as long as people left her in peace. Unfortunately society was not very smart or understanding; she had to protect herself from social authorities, child welfare authorities, guardianship authorities, tax authorities, police, curators, psychologists, psychiatrists, teachers, and bouncers, who (apart from the guys watcing the door at Kvarnen, who by this time knew who she was) would never let her into the bar even though she was twenty-five. There was a whole army of people who seemed not to have anything better to do that to try to disrupt her life, and, if they were given the opportunity, to correct the way she had chosen to live it.

It did no good to cry, she had learned early on. She had also learned that every time she tried to make someone aware of something in her life, the situation got worse. Consequently it was up to her to solve her problems by herself, using whatever methods she deemed necessary. Something that Advokat Bjurman had found out the hard way."

Spooky-close.

Monday or "...my day began at 3:00 am..."

2010-09-21T15:32:00.000-07:00

Britt woke me up...

Britt is my friend in Louisville; she's a police officer working third shift. I asked her Sunday evening, via Facebook (I'm such a late starter with all stuff tech), if she would wake me in time to get Henry to the airport for his flight to Denver at 5:45 am. We saved Henry from the executioner's at animal control! Now in Black Hawk, Colorado, Henry is acclimating well.
Thanks to Hallie B. for being the facilitator between me and Henry's new people. They're called "Watch Canyon" on Facebook. Let's follow them as they post Henry's new life in Colorado. It's already begun!

What I wouldn't give to be adopted by some wonderful people in Colorado
and feel safe, loved and free from persecution...anyway, at 3:45 am Henry and I got into my truck where his "traveling crate" contained food and water, his health and vaccinations certificate, one toy, one of my tshirts, a blankie and as we headed to the airport with so much love and goodwill, I felt like I was going to burst.

Henry behaved so beautifully this morning; everyone who saw him stopped to admire him, telling him how handsome and well mannered he was. When the airline clerk put on her latex glove and examined Henry out of his cage, he was warmly responsive and accessible. They even checked his crate for contraband. They said he couldn't have a toy but I slipped it to him anyway. Everyone grinned.

But before all that, of Henry checking in with Continental, he and I stopped along the west runway and watched the UPS jets take off, one after another, lined up like little toys, absorbing their sound, vibration, and that solid intensity of flying in an aluminum shell really fast and really high up. Where Henry would be in T-minus 60 minutes...

After last week's judicial debacle (yet again), I knew in order to keep Henry safe, I had to get him out of this town within the (irrational and animal injurious) seven days allotted to me to get my canine population down to only four dogs. I was thrown a Styron-esque stone "Sophie forced by the Nazis to choose between her children" right in my face. The dogs I'm keeping now are in need of my kind of help. No one else would take them and that's a terrible feeling, no matter your species. People like those at New Albany animal control will kill this kind of animal, the ones I will die fighting to protect. These government agencies get paid a salary to do their "work". Not me; I get paid in good karma. I HATE money. It makes people weird, mean, confused and even dangerous.

Thus Henry's flight to Colorado.

Watch Canyon, Henry's new Facebook page, and I pulled this rescue together within 24 hours, this getting Henry somewhere safe. I feel so good about the fact that I can take every round of abuse these county agencies (animal control and the health department) throw at me and turn it into something positive for my animals.

Since his arrival just moments ago, I'm already getting rave reviews from Colorado about Henry:

"He's sheer perfection!", they cried.

"I know", I said.

I also learned from his new family that Henry didn't soil his crate with icky emesis, diarrhea or tinkle. Such a perfect dog.

Valerie, on the other hand, is still a bit reticent at her foster home. She's just not sure what to think without me to point a finger for her. But let's give her a little time to adapt under John and Mary Kemple's benevolent care. Please spread the word about Valerie and all my dogs listed on my Petfinder page. Whether to be fostered or forevered, Oso, Donny, Amy and Valerie are my immediate concerns for whom to find forever homes.

In the meantime, I took Valerie, Amy and Oso today to their respective foster homes this morning. Oso has already figured out that sitting on the top of the sofa in the haunted mansion of his lovely foster mother, Mrs. K., allows him an incredible view of the Mighty Ohio, way far away from the mean spirited types I'm faced with here. Amy, too, is in Mrs. K's home and she loves the "ghost chair" in the bay window for quiet meditation. Mrs. K
says that Amy ultimately climbs into one of the custom made, over sized red leather chairs where she naps unbridled.

News from the Little Dog Front: Mother "had to get Norman, Josie and FDR [Franklin] groomed!". She called them "scruffy". She says that Norman was mad at her when she picked them up from the groomer but once they got home, he succumbed to her charms--with some dried chicken doggy jerky sweetening the rapprochement. This be funny. I never had children yet mother still has to be a Grandmama for my kids...

...Gotcha, Mommy!

Back to the sordid stuff:

Animal control came out today to quantify the judge's wife edict that I only have "only four" dogs living with me. Ergo, Normie, FDR and Josie's sojourn at my Mother's home.

Animal control was intentionally 90 minutes LATE. They were supposed to be here at 3:00 pm. They finally showed their faces at 4:30pm. No call, no shame. Thinking to themselves, "we dodged the media!".

WLKY-TV 32 was here at 2:50 pm, waitingwith me for animal control to show. And waiting. And waiting. Steve Tellier was the reporter. He's smart. He knew that animal control was intentionally throwing a wrench in TV 32's ability to tell the true story of this full on assault of me and my dogs by animal control. No way the reporter can meet his deadline for the 5 o'clock news...sneaky, corrupt, desperately evasive actions.

But that's today...there's always tomorrow.

And did I tell you that while "inspecting" my four dogs, animal control asked where Norman and Company were. As if.

"At my mother's", I replied.

"I didn't think you'd get rid of THEM...", they mumbled.

"I don't "get rid" of dogs. I find HOMES for them.", I stated.

THEREIN LIES THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN WHAT I DO AND WHAT THEY DO.

I am the antithesis of New Albany's animal control kill facility and the unhealthy Floyd County health department.

It's in my genes.

Thank you, Mommy. Thank you, Dad.

Sunday, part 2

2010-09-19T18:26:00.000-07:00

Henry is adopted! He's going to live in Colorado!

Amy is being considered by a family with a toddler as I write! Update: they decided on a kitten AMY STILL AVAILABLE!

Sally's foster family decided to adopt her instead!

Valerie's got a a foster home!

Oso and Amy are the only ones left needing a foster or forever home.

Sunday

2010-09-19T09:59:00.000-07:00

I spent ALL weekend at various animal related events throughout southern Indiana and Louisville, trying to get my still-in-need-of-being-adopted-dogs adopted. While I didn't get everyone placed, I made some helpful contacts.

Thanks to Facebook, Henry is being adopted by a couple who live in Black Hawk, Colorado! Today will be spent getting Henry's plane trip figured out while tomorrow will be overrun with last-minute-here-to-there errands. Henry's health certificate from his vet, a check for $500.00 to septic engineer for unnecessary soil test demanded by health department before they 'll "grant" me a temporary holding tank permit (more $$), even though I've had an operable holding tank for 13 years without incident. Plus half of this county utilizes holding tanks. Why am I the one being singled out? All the conflict of interest, unethical, even immoral treatment of me and my animals (and you who care about the good will of my lifelong work), will be revealed.

I believe it will happen sooner than later.

Yes, I'm like a whirling dervish here on top of the hills, trying to keep my dogs safe from Floyd County animal control; pay my bills; fight the abuse of process by Floyd County health department against me; write something cohesive and positive here to you and gently bumping up my meds for the time being. When I go to the library, I'll download some photos and video onto our Facebook page (note our "link" at the top of this blog). I could go to the library today and get my gallon of Dean's skim milk thereby lightening my load tomorrow.

Did I mention that Norman, Franklin and Josie are visiting their Nana? At least until everyone the county thugs gets their you-know-what out of their you-know-what. They're living in a real home, with running water and everything! They have a lake, satellite TV and they are far, far from here. I'll go to jail before I allow ANYONE even peripherally connected with the aforementioned county offices to get their dirty hands on my Little Ones. Witness Protection Program for Canines, anyone?

WHOO-HOO!

2010-09-19T09:11:00.000-07:00

Finally got enough donations to pay for the $500.00 soil test being hoisted
on me! Thank you hug!

Here are the four dogs I am officially keeping per judge Hancock's order:
1. Desi
2. Donny
3. Thomas J
4. Siddy

My mother is coming to pick up my three wee ones, Norman, Franklin and Josie. People are starting to get MAD at FCHD and NAFCAC and it's not my fault.

Looks like I still need foster homes Oso, Amy and Valerie. Stay tuned.

And YES, we need dollar-dollar bill donations. Crass but nonetheless pertinent and true.

"...FOSTER HOMES DESPERATELY NEEDED BY 9.21.2010!!..."

2010-09-14T10:36:00.000-07:00

Yesterday at court, my life was once again put on the block for inspection with the judge telling me that I can only have FOUR dogs here at my long established dog sanctuary. Any more than FOUR will be confiscated by animal control (and as we all know how kill happy Floyd County animal control is when it comes to my dogs, i.e., the killing of 25 illegally seized healthy dogs of mine this past January) on Tuesday next, September 21.

Please, please! I need foster homes for SIX dogs within the next six days.
Please call me if you can take Sally, Henry, Oso, Valerie or Amy Jo. They are on my Petfinder page which you can get to by clicking on the purple "P" link at the top of each of page on our website here. All my dogs are spayed or neutered, vaccinated, house trained and lovely, sweet creatures that are being used as pawns in this county's vendetta against my alternative yet community oriented home, work and life.

I'm looking for a buyer for my land. For the most part, Floyd County has been good to me. The few government bullies, seemingly including the judicial branches of my county, that want me out of here are only hurting the animals currently in my care. I can move on, start over and be bigger and better than ever. I'll show them all by outshining, outdistancing and out thinking all the little minds I've been forced to be in the same room with since January. I'm one of those people who takes adversity and abuse and makes it into something positive, beautiful and far reaching with good will. Mark my words, I'll come out smelling like a rose and the animals that I continue to rescue will be the true beneficiaries as I channel my anxiety and reappropriated rage to create a fortress of safety and dignity that works for animals, not filling the coffers of the local government.

"...pbs and sunday evenings..."

2010-09-12T20:24:00.000-07:00

"NATURE" on PBS/KET is running the series, "Dogs That Changed The World" and we're in all in heaven here tonight.

I don't think I'll ever get tired of dogs, in any capacity.

"...what our doggies will use and love..."

2010-09-11T22:01:00.000-07:00

1. Squeaky tennis balls from Target. Small "Oso"-sized and regular "Ronan"-sized. As long as they SQUEAK.

2. Large bags of "Yam Good" dog treats. Enough for 12 dogs three times over. I want to believe they're healthy yummy, yammy treats for the kids.

3. Standard sized NOT DOWN FILLED (just imagine...) pillows to fill donated sofa cushion covers, thus creating a pillow filled winter for the pups as they read, watch films or play poker...you know how dogs are.

4. 2 cubic ft bags of cedar shavings for doggie outdoor lounge area. They need 30 bags at least. Georgetown Feed and Seed have the best for the buck.

5. HUGE boxes of old school, original Tide powdered laundry detergent. For a place without running water for near thirteen years, we sure do a lot of laundry. Thank you Laundry Basket on Paoli Pike! Grace, the Manager, is very tolerant.

6. Sturdy dog bedding for this winter: old comforters, quilts, sleeping bags and a huge electric blanket in between their blankies would make cold winter nights cozy inside our well worn but still warm camper. Me?, I have canine bedsheet warmers! Plus I'm so crazy for cold weather, I sleep with the window at my head open most winter nights. Click on our MySpace link at the top of this page and watch some of our video from the "Ice Storm Of January 2009". No power for 11 days--remember that...?

All for now. YES, I AM rescuing, adopting out and back to writing full time with my refurbished (by my guardian angel) laptop. Stay tuned. We need you. Anything you can do to help is welcomed.

Everyone here is happy and safe, me included. Did I tell you that I might be getting married...?

'Nighty, 'night.

"...red hot summertime but we're staying cool..."

2010-08-13T11:09:00.000-07:00

Good news that Clarkie and Margie were adopted; more space for other dogs in need! They each went to great homes and Margie's folks put her on their Facebook page. Check out our FB page for the rest of Margie's story. I get so many calls from people that tell me they'd rather euthanize their animal than take it to the New Albany pound. I completely understand. I find that I'm taking in older rather than easy-to-home dogs since those dogs are quickly killed at city/county shelters.

Speaking of those devils...we're getting ready to sue them, so any size donation made will help pay our brilliant, kind attorney, Steve "Socrates" Voelker for his incredible representation. He's found so many kinks and illegal abuse of process by the health department and animal control, we're almost giddy. Our next hearing is August 24th and I can't wait.

On the more important front, I took in a new dog this morning named Donny. He is adorable! I put a photo on Norman's Facebook page. Once I "master" downloading on this blog, I promise much ado about photos and videos I shoot. I'm still trying to figure out the finer points of importing photos and such.

We're actually in need of quite a few things but I'll write about that next time. My time is almost up here at the public library computer so off I go now to get Donny checked out by the fabulous Dr. Barbara Pepin!

"...turtle triage at 7:10 am..."

2010-07-17T07:09:00.000-07:00

Occasionally one of the "kids" will bring a painted turtle home to our camp. I don't know which of the dogs is the turtle aficionado but regardless, I'll find the poor reptile after it's abductor has grown bored with Turtle's unsocial demeanor. The one I found this morning, though, is a baby. I
shot some video of him but you have to go to our Facebook or MySpace page by clicking to their link at the top of this page. A day in the life; different days, different lives. Back to the things that are important...

...Baby Turtle has some serious wounds (deep punctures on the top of his shell and a gouged out area in what would be our sternum as you see via our FB and MS photos/videos) but it's not really that bad on film. Since I'm not a "reptile person", I never thought of turtles bleeding but this poor baby is bleeding. Not massive blood loss but slow effusions, like a leak. He's bleeding a tiny bit from his mouth; it's murky, not straight blood. I remembered this morning while tending to Turtle my 7th birthday dinner. As I was waiting for my meal to arrive (at Pat's Steak House, Brownsboro Road, Louisville), I experienced an epiphany : the turtle soup and frog legs I was eagerly anticipated ordered were relatives of my creek dwelling friends. I was a very outdoorsy girl. My dinner consisted of living, breathing tangible creatures that I liked, that I would never hurt, let alone kill. I mean after reading "Charlotte's Web" in the first grade, which shattered me, I haven't killed spiders. I was the kind of kid that at 5 years when I'd see a rainbow, I'd plead with my parents to get in the car and find it's "pot of gold".

I've always believed in beautiful ideas. Blech.

With this kind early awareness, my aversion to eating things that had mothers was primal. I loved my Mother--I bet that frog I was about to eat loved his Mother (frogs, too, like most amphibians live in "packs"). I changed my order that night to a blue cheese wedge salad. Later that night, I threw up my birthday cake. My dad was The Great White Hunter and we had to eat every icky thing he killed. It was 1967 not 1767. He was always going all Daniel Boone on us.

Back to our Turtle...older turtles, as you know, have hard shells. Our ruptured reptilian baby has a still-soft-shell (and being smaller than a tennis ball, his whole body fits in a dog's mouth); as a result, he is incredibly vulnerable. And did you know that a turtle's "shell" is actually it's version of our ribcage? Everyone I've had more than ten seconds of conversation with today has had to learn this fun-with-nature-fact, too. But isn't it fascinating? Turtle's shell is his ribcage! It makes me think of the creature in "Alien" that attaches itself to John Hurt's face.

I always love rescuing, and thereby learning about, different creatures and the magic they each embody. Us included. Bats are another species I've rescued and they are fascinating. Much like us: warm blooded mammals that nurse their young and develop intense long lasting social, solid relationships. RARELY are they rabid and along with their other traits, they are gentle and shy
creatures. [Class dismissed.]

I'm going to call Dr. Barb Pepin (even though she's closed on Saturday I can call her cell phone) because I know she'll have the best remedy. I've got liquid antibiotic on hand that I could give him (with a dropper through his shell wounds) but I wonder: should I use liquid wound adhesive to reconnect his torn, gnawed chest/underbelly ? Or should I let the wounds breathe and allow Turtle's immune system to do it's thing?

I'll call the Louisville Zoo herpequarium right now and get their advice. I wonder how a reptile's brain registers pain? Surely Turtle is hurting.

"...for your information..."

2010-07-14T13:05:00.000-07:00

Check out our MySpace and Facebook pages--their links are at the top of this page.
Twitter, too.
I'm trying to be current.
Give me time.
Enjoy my work as of now.
Next I'll learn to download onto this blog!
Finally faces to go with stories...

"...july 13 and it's only 73*f at 4pm: a meteorological gift!..."

2010-07-13T15:28:00.000-07:00

I've been able to work in my garden all day. Weeding, staking, transplanting and feeding all throughout the morning, when the rain fell softly non-stop until 2pm (I swear, I think I could live in the northwest). I've got tiny little yellow squash that are so sweet and tender, I simply drop them in boiling water for a smidge and then drizzle with butter and sea salt. I've dug up the last of my tiny Dutch potatoes but still pick tangy spinach every day for my cheese sandwich. My bibb lettuce is crispy and I eat it with a bit of olive oil and Bragg's seasoning--it's heaven. Even my dogs love it, especially Thomas J. and while the blueberries and raspberries are favorites of the dogs too, the birds usually keep our bushes light on quantity.

Finally, the day is done and I can kick back and watch, "The Young and the Restless". I already took my bath and am dressed apporopriately for it: a "Mamaw" seersucker house coat (yellow and white), white socks (over coconut oil covered feet) and ladybug clogs. Pretty. I actually feel kind of sore from the ravine hike we took in the rain this morning. We haven't done the 45* steep hills lately with the weather being so suffocating. So now a cup of tea, a few chewable baby aspirin and a fast mend. For dinner I'm having fried green tomatoes. Sherbet with berries for dessert.

Tillie (the woodland ambassador who comes to check on us from time to time--see video) is having the last of the date nut bread on our roof as I write. The hummingbird nectar is almost gone and I'm out of sugar. I have to run out to the market tomorrow anyway to get fresh water so my hummers will have fresh food by the afternoon. I've counted 18 of them so far. I'll try to get them on video gunrunning the feeders; they get very pissy with one another and fuss, squeak and zip around like big bees. I have to warn people not to swat at them if they're on my porch because the birds are so used to me that they aren't afraid of people; they get very close. A few years back I shot video of one hummingbird that would perch on my finger. It was the coolest.

"...tillie..."

2010-07-10T09:52:00.000-07:00

She's back! Tillie is meandering back around our camp for some yummies. (I shot video. Will try to post this weekend.) She's absolutely undaunted by the dogs clammoring at the tree whose branch she uses to access our roof. Especially when there's frosted shredded wheat and date nut bread on the roof of our camper.

I really need to get certified to do wildlife rescue as well although just like my dog rescue now, you don't get a "salary". It's like being a monk or nun, only for nature. We need some serious moral investors who get what's going on here.

"...i'm splitting the atom..."

2010-07-07T17:29:00.000-07:00

Please visit my Facebook and MySpace pages (still have YouTube to work on but baby steps, baby steps) by clicking the link at the top of this page. I have been downloading in madwoman fashion after finally learning "how to" at my town library. They have a computer technician on staff who is an effective instructor. He only has to explain something once: I get it. Though not because I'm computer savvy (I'm not). You see, this man has the worst breath EVER. It's SO bad that if he were teaching it, you would learn to split the atom in one fell swoop. All it takes is him leaning over your shoulder, exhaling rancid halitosis molecules into the side of your face as he impatiently tells you how to do whatever rudimentary skill you need help with. I have a feeling he's dying to mutter (just loud enough), "Idiot." He doesn't. Instead he breathes on you.
Anyway, I'm so jazzed over my new found techness. Coupled with my recent photographic and video documentation, I hope everyone enjoys the full spectrum of someone who loves their job. By the weekend I'll have new footage up. I feel like a Maysle brother--or sister.

"...what is in a name?..."

2010-06-15T17:13:00.000-07:00

Percy as the name for the world's cutest hound puppy just isn't working. I tried Troy. Henry, Andy, Mikey...nothing seemed to fit this little man's persona. Let me tell you, too, that he's got the most beautiful amber colored eyes. Photos to come. Maybe we can have a name contest
for him.

People ask me: how do you come up with each dog's name? Some dogs, like Desi (Desdemona), come to me with their names (although Desdemona, literally speaking, was a train wreck of a woman so I prefer Desi which is what her former folks called her all her life anyway). Other dogs come to me with stupid names (I won't name them because different strokes for different folks...) and I change them. Or I already have a "Thomas" or "Daisy". And then sometimes I have an epiphany when faced with a dog's anonymity, name wise.

I just had an epiphany about the puppy formerly known as Percy.

He and Clark are wrestling here by my desk as I write and a few minutes ago, "Percy" was riding Clark. I called out, Harlan! to "Percy", and he whipped around, grinning and clambered onto my lap, kisses galore, hesitation nil. However, I just called him "Potato Salad" and he doled
out the love all over again...

He's already house trained (when you hear people say "house break", please remind them that they didn't toilet break their kids....semantics yes, but also a philosophy if you think about it.) and this Puppy-Without-A-Name is so noodley-loose and luscious. Pure puppy. He'll make someone a fantastic dog. He LOVES Daisy the bloodhound. They wrestle and play all of the time
so he'll need a home with another good natured dog that wants a buddy.

"...i love my job..."

2010-06-13T00:01:00.000-07:00

I rescued a luscious little hound Saturday, up on Corydon Pike (shades of Daisy Irene, I know). I watched as a guy cutting grass called the pup off from the road so I pulled over to the two boys to make sure all was well (yes, I've been told a million times that I should be working for Animal Control but I'm not equipped with the mentality to do so). From the passenger side window, the guy asked, "is this your puppy?" and I said, "no, but I'm the dog lady. Put him in!", and he did.

I had an idea who he belonged to and while they're nice fellas, they're blotto virtually all the time and not the most responsible folks. As I reached over to pet him (the pup, not the guy), fleas jumped from him onto me. I screeched and lunged for my truck SOS (animal and human) kit, grabbing hold of a vial of TopSpot and bam! goodbye fleas...eventually. What I really wanted was a Capstar, a pill that kills fleas within minutes but I'd used the last one in the kit on a whole-other-story-dog last month. I went round to the suspected "owners" and yes, it was their puppy. Yes, he continually went onto the Pike and into traffic. No, they didn't want him anymore
and would I please take him. Yes, I would and did.

I checked to see if he still had his testicles; he did. Then his teeth; counting them like my vet taught me I determined that he's 14 weeks old. He's just beautiful, inside and out, with loads of loose skin and long red ears (as he looks so hound-like, Daisy Mae now thinks he's her "Mini-Me" although initially she was terrified by this 30 pound baby; it was hilarious to see Daisy Mae, an 80 pound bloodhound, tuck her tail and bolt when I first brought her doppelganger home). I never bring animals to my Sanctuary until they're completely vetted but it was Saturday and my sainted veterinarian isn't "open" on the weekend. I took a chance and called Dr. Pepin's office; to my delight the doctor herself answered. I explained my situation and she told me if I would come right then, she'd neuter, vaccinate and chip my new charge.

It was almost 1pm and this wretched weather was creating a decidedly mostly-indoors-day (too hot even for the pool). I wondered if Dr. Barb Pepin was "in"...typically closed on Saturdays I knew reaching her was a long shot, although she does provide TWO alternate phone numbers on her clinic voice mail--what a woman. I dug around my truck (a rolling office, of sorts) and finally found my cell phone (thank you, Auntie Paulette!); I dialed Dr. Pepin's office and two rings in,
guess who answers? The beneficent Texan veterinarian herself! Told her my "plight" and her
wonderful response was, "how soon can you get here? I'm not supposed to be working today but
if you hurry over with the pup, we'll neuter and vaccinate your new baby!".

I love Dr. Pepin. And Amanda, her office manager totally has her act together. The practice is at Dr. Pepin's farm (at the highest geographic point in the knobs it has a fantastic view) so she's always around. She has two handsome geldings that they trail ride and they are the sweetest, super-nuzzly horses. They breathe into your ears, gently nibbling on your lobes. I wish I had a couple of horses. I love to ride but simply hanging with horses is cool.

Anyway, Doc not only neutered and inoculated Puppy but we hit him with a nasal dose of bordetella vaccination adding an extra helping of penicillin subcutaneously to combat the nasty
kennel cough that Siddy and Daisy Mae are taking forever to get over (even though they've been on antibiotics and decongestants).

Afterward, Puppy spent the rest of the afternoon in the back seat of my truck, passed out still. However, as he began to sober up after his ketamine/acepromazine magic carpet ride, he began to howl through his clenched mouth, still essentially passed out. It got so loud, so bad that little Norman started to "sing" along with the drunk puppy...and then Franklin joined in. It was a trip! I drove Percy to a friend's house where I knew he could "sleep it off" while I finished errands with my aforementioned little ones, 'Normie' and 'Frankie'. They were worn out from the drama in their truck for the past two hours. When I finally picked Percy up from my friend's, he was groggy but ready to tinkle. When I tried to get him into the truck to go home, he resisted mighty strongly...Puppy was smart enough, even in his altered state of mind, to know that the last time he did that things didn't go so great. But he finally got in and we all drove off, to his new home where he learns Dog Etiquette 101. He's smart, loving and socializes well. He'll probably weigh in ultimately around 50 pounds. BIG feets, too!

Once we arrived home, he was a bit underwhelmed. He met all members of his new family but in the end he just wanted to potty and go to sleep. I gave him some ice chips and a blankie and out went the lights, all but one for in case Puppy needed to go outside. He doesn't know his way around here in the dark--yet.

Oh, allow me to provide this disclaimer: I did go to the people who I thought "owned" (not my word) him and they were grateful that I would take him. They weren't able to take reasonable care of him telling me, "he's going to get plastered on the Pike 'cause unless we chain him, we can't keep him from running the streets (not neutered and no shots, scabs and scratched-raw skin from being riddled with fleas)." They couldn't even really explain how they got him. Blotto.

So in a blink of his pretty eyes, Puppy got a better life. I'll put him on my Petfinder page once we really know one another.