I AM NOT A BASSET

This is Cooper. There are some Cooper's on the Drool that are Bassets. I want to make it clear that I am not a Basset. I am a Belgian Sheepdog. I do not look like a Basset, nor would I ever be mistaken for a Basset, a beagle, a cocker spaniel....no.

This is a Basset hound.
Note the long, swingy ears.
The short hair.
The long, swingy ears.
The goofy expression.
The long, swingy ears.
Note the short legs.

The large feet.

Note the colors. Brown, white, black....

I am a Belgian sheepdog. Note the longish coat, the black color and the upright ears. Also the alert expression. Most Belgians have four long legs. I happen to be the sporty model with only three due to illness. But the legs are LONG, and have SMALL PAWS.  Notice the white "frosting" on my elegant muzzle: it is a hallmark of the breed. We begin developing that at about two years of age. It is not because I am old. I am only ten.

Please observe than I am standing, three-legged on a table. This is the picanic table and I can still jump up there and down again, altho down is a little scarey.

LIVING IN WATERWORLD

It is raining today. It rained yesterday. I believe we had one day without rain but my brain is so soggy I am not sure.
Everything is wet.
The yard, the dogs, clothing, carpeting....is there still a sun? I'm not sure anymore.
Last night it was supposed to thunderstorm but by the grace of Madam Nature it did not, which meant we all slept, including Cooper. The dogs are bored.
The grass is long and getting longer by the second, fed by -- rain. The poop piles are harder and harder to locate and softer and softer to pick up.
The dogs go out and come in stinking and muddy and wet.

Conley considers his options. He came around this way because the other way means stepping off the deck:

Which is even less desirable. While the dogs do not like getting soaked, they will eventually slog through this to get to the muddy end of the yard where they wander around yarring at the dogs in back, who no doubt are equally filthy. Why don't I bathe my boys?
Well to begin with they are blowing coat like mad and it would plug up the tub. Even with a drain cover it plugs it up and then we have to have the plumber out. The plumber is about 85 yrs old (no kidding) and while he is a good plumber still, he leaves a trail of debris.
The other reason is this:

Why bother?

The lawn, I must say, where it hasn't drowned, is quite lush. In spots it is about 4 inches to 6 inches high. It's a pity there is no way to mow. We do have a sump pump hooked up to pump the backyard out but at the moment it is a losing battle. This is mostly because we had to cut off the drainage system at the insistence of a neighbor, a system they gave us permission to put in in 1987. Part of it was on the very edge of their property and they wantd it out. So we dug it out. You have heard this story before, but this is the result.

On the other hand, my Lilies are going to be huge and fantastic.

If it quits raining you will hear me cheering. Until then...glub.

OUR HAWK IS BACK

(photo from Google)

This is a Cooper's Hawk. No, it isn't Cooper's hawk, it is called a Cooper's Hawk. The first time I saw one it was in our hedge trying to eat something. This was a number of years ago. Whatever dog we had at the time got too close and flushed it out. It took a number of sightings and a lot of time for me to positively identify it as a Cooper's Hawk and not a Sharp-shined Hawk.

Since then I have seen one or more around the house every year. I do not know if they migrate out in the winter or not. There are always a few Red-tailed Hawks around in the winter and a few smaller ones. The trouble with hawk identification is that so often you (or I, in this case) see them only in silhouette against the sun and not so the markings are readily visible.

From below, all you see anyway is a streaky breast that could belong to any number of hawks. We also have a few Kestrels around but I know they leave and I saw the first one a couple of weeks ago.

But this morning, standing at the sink I saw a bird moving in the yard in back of us and as he approached he landed on our wire and paused. And I saw that it was one of my lovely little Cooper's Hawks. I grabbed my binoculars but just then it started to rain hard again and he took off. He'll be back. We have an overgrowth of squirrels, and while that's a big animal for a Cooper's to tackle maybe it will lure some Red-tails into the area.

I like hawks. Can you tell? I am one of those horrible people who do not mind when a hawk snatches a bird at a feeder. They have to eat, too.

Where I stay in Des Moines, with Susie, they have owls in the huge oaks that surround the backs of the houses. I love waking in the night and hearing the owls talking back and forth. I have not heard one here for years. I miss owls.

Welcome back, Cooper's Hawk, and good hunting.

DUCKS FOR BREAKFAST

As some of you may know we used to have a drainage system in our backyard. All this area was swampland before it became a town. As a result, the yards are frequently under water when it rains. Our back was so bad that we had drainage tile put in, and with permission ran it (underground) along the neighbor's side of our driveway to the sidewalk. Our yard was lovely. No more ducks when it rained (seriously, we had ducks swimming in the yard.)

Recently our neighbor got her undies in a bunch and ordered us to remove the tile that was on "her property". Ok. So John spent a back-breaking couple of weeks digging it up. It was put in with a backhoe, so it wasn't a couple of inches under the soil. He got it out but then had to plug up our end so that it would not puddle up at the corner of "her property". Consequently, when it rains, the yard fills with water. And I mean, it fills. Pond time.

It's really a mess.

This morning I decided to have breakfast. I put some onion, tomato, cilantro and a handful of cheese in a little bowl. I got out the eggs, sliced some pepperjack cheese, sprayed the pan with Olive oil, turned on the burner and looked out the window.

Ducks.

Two of them, a drake and a hen Mallard swimming around, eating. Now there is a lot of fence back there. There is fence around the mosquito trap to keep the dogs out, and fence behind to keep the dogs off the big fence. But there were the ducks. Happy as can be.

This is what the area looked like before we took the drainage tile out:

As you can see, it is dry and there are no ducks. So I grabbed my camera and tried to take pictures from inside but it was hopeless. Ve-ry quiet-ly I tippy toed out the door and began taking photos except that it was very chilly and I was cold and so either I moved or they moved and then I took one step too many and off they went.

Our ducks.
And then, only then....did I remember the pico da gallo in the little dish, and the pepperjack cheese, and the very sharp knife on the counter and I came flying in, to be greeted with an empty dish, no cheese, knife on the floor and, worst of all, the PAN ON THE STOVE, smoking like mad because I had left the burner on!!!! And just then, of course, the smoke alarms went off and Cooper, after a night of thunder was completely undone and while I tried to cool the pan down he fled out the door and now will not come back in the house.

John, who was asleep until the smoke alarm went off, turned it off and I washed the dish and picked up the knife and stared at Conley, who smiled.
What could I do? I left it all right there for the dogs. Right within eyesight, nose-sight and tongue-reach.
The ducks are gone, I'll have breakfast later, and Cooper is barely visible outside in the little spot he has found next to the fence.

(A lot of this will be cleaned up in the next few weeks, but you can see the pond that the ducks were in, to the right --and left-- of the birdbath.)

I guess I should welcome them back. But somehow...............................

HOW TO START THE WEEKEND

This is Conley. Yes I know I used this photo just yesterday.
I want you to note the upright carriage, the confidence, the determination of his stance and gaze. The definite MALE quality
that he happens to exude in this
particular photo.
This mirrors how Conley views himself: forthright, upright, right, tough. Mother Nature's Gift to Dogdom.
This boy has no ego problems.
This is a boy with ambition.

This is Nigel. Notice the sturdy body, the steady gaze, the four-on-floor wide-body build. Note the gonads also, if you will. This is a big boy and he knows it. This is a strong dog, and he knows it. This is a dog with a sense of his place in the world and it is right up top. Or so he thinks, thinks he. This is a dog who is not a pushover, either physically or emotionally, one who stands his ground more or less, as long as it is not MomPerson yelling at him.
*************************************************************
Observe the Chips on the shoulders of both dogs.
*************************************************************
Picture the first dog, Conley, with a biscuit, coming through a gate held open by MomPerson  The others have had theirs cookies already.
Imagine Nigel deciding the biscuit is HIS. See Nigel grabbing the biscuit out of Conley's mouth? What do you think the next step is?
1. Conley thanks Nigel for getting rid of the pesky biscuit
2. Conley politely asks Nigel for the biscuit back
3. All hell breaks loose.

If you guessed 3, then you have dogs.
If you guessed 1 or 2 either you have cats or live with Cesar Milan. (Is it Cesar or Caesar?)

Suddenly there is a massive, kill or be killed fight between Nigel and Conley. They are in a narrow space so MomPerson grabs a gate and tries to jam it in between them. DadPerson charges into the melee, holding his coffee in one hand (it has a lid) and aiming gentle kicks and shoves at the combatants. Llewis is on the edge and Cooper races in to "help". I finally jam the gate between them, Nigel on the far side with DadP: Conley whirls and the first thing he sees is Llewis and he just rips right into him, his adrenalin now really pumping he cannot stop fighting. Seeing Llewis (who did well, by the way) in trouble, three-legged Cooper throws caution and impartiality to the winds and wades in, grabbing Conley about the time I get between everyone and things start ebbing down.
Still growling, Conley is sent to his room and the door shut and locked. Llewis, because he is closest to me is sent next and Nigel, still trapped in the hallway by DadPerson, muttering nasty things to himself, goes last.
Cooper, by the way, got the biscuit.

Things are now back to "normal" but I know, once this happens so early in the day, chances are good it will not be the last. Let the chips fall where they may.

I need a nap.

DOG SHOWS & THE NATIONAL BUDGET

Ummm.
I have before me premium lists for 3 shows, all of which I would like to enter. The first two will cost me a total of $114 to enter which, if you divide by 4 is not terrible on the surface.

However. This does not include parking and simply driving to the shows. They are all far north in Illinois. I live well south of Chicago, about 30 miles, right on the Indiana border. The last time I filled the Van was about 3 weeks ago (I haven't been anywhere except around town but am now almost out of gas) it cost me $60. That was before it went up to over four dollars a gallon in case you live in a cave and drive a cart pulled by a burro. Which is rapidly looking like a pretty damn good mode of transport to me.

So now I have to ask, is it worth it? Well you can't win if you aren't there. If I knew that Conley would put his tail up, I would go in a heartbeat. The idea of spending all that money and gasoline for a dog who stomps around the ring as if I beat him regularly is not appealing.

Why can't he go around the ring like this? Instead of like

                                                   This?

Why doesn't stack this way

                                         Instead of like that?

(Why did Cooper leap on me and begin dancing just as the Judge reached us during the Belgian Nationals? Why did Mitchell refuse to put his tail up at the Basset Nationals? Why did Zelda back down the ramp rather than allow the Judge to touch her the last time I showed her at the IKC?)

What does go on in their little brains when they walk into the show ring? Why do some say OBOY A DOG SHOW! and others (mine) say oh hot damn this crap again. ?

I am told it is me. However, I HAVE finished a couple of dogs but Jackie usually finishes my Bassets. I confess that showing a Belgian is a lot easier than showing a Basset, and it takes knees that don't give out and a lot of confidence to show a Basset.

Maybe more than I have.

SPRING WEATHER

Since mid-day yesterday the weather bureau has been predicting "severe" thunderstorms, hail, wind, possible tornadoes for our area starting late this afternoon.
Cooper is terrified of thunderstorms. Lightning included.
I have a Thundershirt, you guys remember that?

Well, alas, it didn't do much when he had four legs and I doubt it will be any different with three. I will try it, but my experience is that it is close to useless. Unlike a Basset, Cooper has the nervous system somewhat similar to  oh...maybe a Gazelle. Once his adrenalin is up, it stays. His eyes go wide, his mouth gapes, he trembles, and he DROOOOOOLS.
Also, like a jungle animal, he knows hours and hours in advance when a storm is coming. The pacing and restlessness usually start about three hours in advance.
Benadryl makes him drowsy but only for a moment. Then the eyelids snap open and his heart rate accelerates and like the Gazelle, he stands at attention, every sense tuned to the approaching end of the world.

Cooper comforting Dad during a storm

He has, at this moment, in fact, retreated to a crate. He is rarely crated. I have started crating him during storms and throwing a blanket over the crate because I simply cannot deal with him. He goes from me to Dad to me to Dad and that means jumping over a 3 foot high gate with only one front leg that is healthy. A slip, a broken leg, and I have a really critical problem.
I bought some Melatonin today.
I called the Vet to be sure it would be ok to give a dog with cancer. She thinks it is useless for a dog with a nervous system like a Gazelle.
She was supposed to call me back and I suppose she will when she has time, but maybe not.

Cooper has learned to anticipate the next step. Just as obedience dogs do a go-out before they're sent, Cooper understands the sequence of storms.
Wind brings rain. Rain brings lightning. Lightning means Thunder. Thunder means the End Of The World As We Know It, and is aimed directly at him. The older he gets the more he anticipates and the more positive he is that the Thunder is his personal nemesis, out to get him.

I have empathy. As a child I was terrified of lightning.

Sooo. Wish us luck. Not that I wish bad luck on anyone else but I really hope the storms miss us. By a lot. By many many many miles.

                      Mr Cooper wishing everyone a peaceful night.