BELGIAN SHEEPDOGS 101

Several people have asked me about Doc and what he is going to look like.
He is a Belgian Sheepdog or Groenendael (take your pick) and he will be about 50-60 pounds, square (German Shepherds are rectangular) and have a medium-long black coat and a ruff, similar to a collie ruff, but black.
For show, he may have a little white on his chest and a little on his back toes. The "frost" you see on a Belgian's chin is the hallmark of the breed, and they all have it. The tail is carried below the line of the back when in movement, and down when stopped.
The ears are pricked and upright. We hope they stay that way in the ring, altho mine have all had the habit of laying them back against their necks at just the wrong moment.

This is Doc's Mother

 

Ch. Liswyn's Quiche La Neige

 

Because I do not have a photo of Dad, I am going to borrow one of Cooper:

 

 

Cooper did not have as heavy a coat as some males. But generally, this is about the kind of coat Doc will have.

End of Lesson

 

LEARNING TO LEARN

Went to conformation training with Doc last night. Ummhmmm.
I made liver first.
I hate liver.
It stinks up the whole house. I nuke it first untill it is basically cooked then add some garlic powder and put it in a 320 oven for about an hour, hour & a half.
It doesn't look anything like the stuff you buy at the shows but the dogs don't seem to mind at all.

The trainer is a Judge and someone I have known for a long time.He had a dog from my Basset breeder, a wire-haired dachshund named Mikey who did really well. He doesn't judge herding breeds but has been around enough to know when a dog is well put together no matter what the breed. There really are not too many that had strange angles or extra special parts.

Anyway the trainer really liked Doc, liked his personality and thought he has very good structure which of course is what one wants to hear.

Doc did ok for a 4 month old who has no clue what it is I want him to do. By the end of 45 minutes (all he can do even tho the class is 2 hours: I do not think I have ever kept even a grown dog there for the full 2 hours.) he was doing pretty well but sitting a lot. I think he was pretty tired.
 He was very interested in the other dogs, but we were exceptionally cautious (I was ) since some of these were pretty good-sized dogs -- Setters and a portly Bouvier. (Bouvs always look portly to me. But I think this one actually was.) There were some itty bitties there too-- snack size even for Doc. He met a Malamute he liked.

Around we went and stopped and stood and stayed and around and stop and stand and stay. I have no fingertips left, they have been chawed right off.

He was  very dignified.

None of this:

 Or this:

(That's a tracking flag and no I do not know how he got ahold of it.)

and especially not this:

(That's what you get for playing Alligator Mouth with a Basset who needs a dental!!)

PIECES

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NEVER LASSO A POSSUM

This is a cautionary tale. A true one.
Once upon a time (I am just starting it that way because I like it, not because it is made up.)
there was a little black dog who preferred the company of others when he went outside after dark, either Mom with a flashlight or one of the grown-up Bassets.

Or even better, both.
So this particular night he and Conley and Mom and the flashlight went out for a routine potty break, and instantly, right off the get-go, Conley's nose went down and he began ahrooing and tore off into the semi-dark (it was early.) Doc, the black puppy, tore off with him, without knowing what was going on.
Mom and the flashlight brought up the rear.

And there, hidden behind a straw target next to the firetrap we call the summerhouse, was a large possum.

(photo from Google)

 

I do not like Possums. I shooed the dogs into the house and waited and 20 minutes later he was still there, hissing. Oh yeah?

 

So I got a kennel leash. The kind made of plastic rope that have a sliding loop at the end.

And after a little song and dance routine, I slipped it over his gnarly little neck, and I popped him out into the yard and escorted him to the gate where it ocurred to me that I was stuck since the gate falls apart if you open it. (It doesn't get a lot of use for this reason.)

 

I paused, kind of momentarily trying to think when the Possum took matters into his own paws and shot under the gate, yanking the leash out of my hands.

(Well come on, now. I didn't think he'd be that strong.)

 

I ran through the house, scattering dogs and rugs and husbands every which way but by the time I got out front the Possum was gone.

 

Now I have to deal with the thought that if the leash doesn't just shake loose like they usually do, the Possum could be hung up someplace strangling or starving. I look for that bright blue leash all over the neighorhood but I haven't seen it.

 

The dogs check that spot every time they go outside.

I have not seen the Possum again.

I feel awful.

 

 

VOICE LESSONS

Yesterday,
or the day before. The Watchdog spotted a woman walking past the house with two dogs.

 

He immediately alerted the other two watchdogs

 

 

And in the very best hound style, they began to bark. And bark. And bark, and then one of them, I am not sure which one, kind of dragged the bark out and within seconds it had become a

 

HOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWL

 

And of course the others tilted their heads back and one after another THEY began to howl, and soon all three were howling.

 

In the midst of this stood

 

 

The baby. With no idea what was going on. No clue as to why his housemates were yowling. All he knew was the pack was doing this and so he put his little black nose in the air and began howling, too.

 

It isn't much compared to the big boys.

It will never be as deep and melodious as theirs.

And right now it is more a Falsetto than anything but

the important thing is, he tried. And he belongs.

He is part of the pack. 

THE ART SHOW SORT OF

Went to an "art show" at an assisted living facility.
I have done this once before several years ago. That time I backed into the guy in the car behind me and in addition sold nothing.

This time I nearly backed into the guy behind me (who honked in time) and I sold nothing.

I didn't expect to and my friend Ann was next to me (she sold a little) so at least I had someone to talk to. I got there at 7:45 and set up and was ready by 9 when it opened. Hah Hah. Would have been difficult to know it was OPEN.

                     

How I felt by Noon                 

 

I tried to remember that this is my future. It didn't help. There were a  lot of ladies and not many men. What's wrong with these guys that they can't live longer? I really don't want to be alone. I bitch about John but I would much rather have him around than not.

 

Ann sold a little bit.

 

The Bake Sale was the big winner, I think.

 

 

How I felt by 2 pm.

 

 

 

4 pm time to pack it up!!!

 

 

This is probably the last one of these I will do. I did it as a favor to someone who I like very much and who is very ill and living at this place, which is nice as these things go.

 

I was so glad to get home to my crazy dogs and exhausted husband. I was happy to catheterize Nigel, delighted to pull the sock out of Doc's sharky little mouth, happy to have Conley almost knock me down and laughing at Llewis, who woud not shut up.

This is my idea of assisted living.

 

 

BLOG PROBLEMS

Ok pretend these are mice. The reason you need to pretend is because Google is doing some really bizarro things this morning and will not give me a photo of a mouse.
These are of the genus A. Nony Mouse.

I know some of you do not want to attach your names to comments.
I understand that.
I appreciate almost all comments, even those critical of content.
(Mostly I like the others tho- the ones with effusive praise.)

Recently A Nony Mouse has been very busy sending comments that simply direct the reader to another website that frequently has nothing to do with the blog. 

See, kind of like this, only written. The Llama has nothing to do with anything. Neither do these websites.
And the bad part is, they are being sent by A. Nony Mouse. So that if I filter the anonymous comments, I may be filtering yours as well as that of whoever is sending the comments leading to oddball websites. Blogger Spam is what it is.

Only since Google has started their new and improved SPAM folder have I had this problem. Once they made it better, they fucked it all up.

A little like this. In about 1 second this guy is going to be laying on the ground watching those feet pound around him, thinking "I should have been a CPA."

So maybe those of you who prefer to remain anonymous could start signing your comments as someone who is unlikely to be reading the blog in the first place, like Chris Melloni, or Vincent D'Onofrio, or Lassie, or even my husband. (Who, every time this subject comes up says "YOU have a Blog? I've never seen it!" Yeah well you gotta have the address, babe.
And then I wouldn't need to read the ones from Anonymous.

(Do you have any clue how many years it would have taken me to get my horse under this thing?)
(See? another totally unrelated comment.)

If you cannot change from Anonymous to say, Annie Leibowitz, I will read your comments anyway.
Just sayin.


Last one. My son the Glassblower with Marble City Glasswork's portable furnace.