TRANSFERRING FILES

AAAAAUUUUGGGHHH!!!!!!!!
I spent all day trying to find some photos. I cannot find them. I looked all over and on all the CDs I could find and none are the right ones. There are quite a few missing.
Then I thought to check on the Sony to see if they were there. They were not but there were some I wanted to move to the HP. BWAAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAH.
The evil Computer Gods refused to play.

Meanwhile we had our first significant snow. Oh. By the way. Has anyone else noticed the subtle perfusion of the word "significant" in ads lately? There are several ads on TV in which the word is used four or five times. I cannot remember what the ad is for-- that is how significant it is-- but they need a new, more significant PR company.

Ok back to snow.
So of course the dogs wanted out. And in. (The snow is cold.) And out. (But so much fun) And in.(They get a biscuit when they come in). And out. (The neighbor dogs were out, too.) and in. (Almost lunchtime) and out. (Routine post-prandial needs) And in. (Business taken care of: nap time) And out. (The poopsicles should be almost ready) And in.(Is it time for dinner?) And........

                                                ***sigh***

Cooper ate. More good news for me. It has been a problem.

There isn't a lot of snow. Although it is now snowing again. So of course,

THE DOGS WANT OUT.

INTIMATELY CONLEY

Conley makes me laugh.
All the Bassets make me laugh but Conley most of all. He has a very intelligent gaze. He believes he can make food levitate off counters, and when that doesn't work, he just stands up and takes it anyway.

He sleeps on my bed in the morning.
Because there is sunlight (sometimes). He is a sunlight pig. All the Bassets are but Conley is especially drawn to spots where another Basset is the most comfortable and then bugs them until the other Basset moves. With sighs of accomplishment and pleasure, he takes over. Except on my bed, where he is king.

Positions vary from the sublime
to the .... uh....not so sublime.
Like many male animals he has
no problem showing off his
masculine attributes. Dogs are,
of course, not burdened with
attitudes of modesty.

I think Conley has cute feet. He needs his nails trimmed more in this photo but that was as far back as I could get them, sitting on him as I was while he yowled and tried to squirrel out from my grasp.

Isn't that a lovely foot? Nails are better in this one. It is always easier to trim the back nails than the front. I have never figured that out but it crosses all breed lines. Is it because they can see what you are doing?
Are the nails thicker on the front?
More important to survival?
Conley just wiggles constantly and whines. Cooper is a jerker. Just as I go to clip, he jerks his paw away.

This is the hardest working part of Conley and probably any Basset.
It never rests, even in sleep.
It is huge. It is cold and damp. It can tell Conley what I ate for breakfast two days ago. It can find underwear in any room in the house.
And his is not the best Nose. That belongs to Nigel, who ferrets out months old biscuit crumbs from under the stove.

Another view. Altho it appears to be resting, it is not.

Another working part. This is the part one wants to keep an eye on. While I have never known Conley to bite a person, or even threaten to, he has bitten his housemates, altho he never draws blood. Fights are short and full of sound, but lack genuine rage, thank heavens.
But it is a reminder that he is still a dog and can do damage, mostly to sticks.

And of course, here is Conley supervising Dad while he lays tile. It would never do not to supervise. I put a towel on the table so he would not scratch it. Note that he is actually PAST the gate.... typical Conley, defying our norms.

PHOTOS THAT MAKE ME LAUGH

My children are not at the end of this. They were supposed to be at the beginning but the program refused to co-operate.

There are a thousand more photos that make me smile or make me laugh.

Most are the dogs, because I have so few of the family. This is something I hope my family is well-prepared for. LOL.

Top photo: Sophie-- a stray who was found
2. Conley in the snow
3 Washing a Percheron
4. Da Brudders-- Nigel and Llewis
5. Prince--the dog I grew up with
6. Julie Hopkins and my daughter Stacey. Photo by Wynn Hopkins
7. Conley
8.Mary Shane's cat. There is a raccoon outside in a tree.
9. Our cat, Arsenal
10. Christopher, my son
11. Stacey, my daughter

TIME PASSES

Cooper is still around. He has three legs instead of four and his appetite isn't too hot, but he tries.
I try, too.
One day I know what I should do. I should have them do chemo. I cannot, obviously, until he has quit vomiting and having diarrhea and is eating a bit better. But we are working on all that. He is eating very little right now. Yesterday he ate some actual dog food-- kibble. Today he ate less kibble but wanted green beans which I have never known him to like. Chicken and Turkey make him sick.
He watches me.
I watch him.
We went out back tonight and watched it snow.
I thought, this is probably his last winter. His favorite season. Silly dog.

My heart is torn apart. Some days, most days, I am just fine. Other times, like tonight, I can barely stand it. Every one of these dogs will someday break my heart. Maybe not quite like this, but it will happen.
Why do I have these dogs? I know what will happen. The day I bring them home, all ears and feet, the end begins. We all know this. We do it over and over again. We don't think in those terms. Not until the dog is older and in trouble physically. And then we think: why did I do this...again?

Because we love them. And they love us. Because they make us laugh even when we know we will cry later.
Cooper stands alone among the pygmy Bassets, but the Bassets have made his life infinitely more interesting. Cooper has less of a sense of humor than do the Bassets, but that is just his nature.

Cooper has contributed his knowledge and protection to any number of Bassets. He insists they behave--- except Zelda, his adopted daughter I swear. Maybe all dogs end up in the same place: maybe Cooper will be reunited with Zelda. I don't know. My belief systems are very thin.

Conley.......keep me going.

"MAKE HIM VOMIT".....

So. Last evening my nose was really congested and bothering me so I decided to take a couple of John's Coricidin. It comes two to a little blister pak. Conley was of course sitting on my feet "helping", in case I dropped a steak or something that needed his immediate attention. I popped the packet open with my thumbnail and thought I felt something hit my foot. I turned the packet over and it was empty. It was unlikely John had left an empty thingie in the package which meant the Coricidin, with 325 mgs of Acetaminophen in each pill, had fallen on the floor at the large feet of my Basset.

I got the Flashlight. The pills (they are technically Tablets because they are coated) are fire engine red and my rug and floor is ignored dark. No tablets. John came and assisted. Nothing. I looked at Conley and knew that somehow he had managed to snarf up those pills.

Mr Innocence peered back at me, thumping his tail.

I grabbed the phone and called the Vetspital. I got Dr. Johnson, a dear friend as well as a wonderful Vet. She listened and said "Make him vomit. Hydrogen peroxide, 5 ccs, followed by 5 ccs of water. Keep it up until he vomits."

Ohhhhhhh......*****.
So I grabbed a leash, a husband, a syringe (No needle) the peroxide and a glass of water. It was dark outside and cold so we settled on the warm, well-lit kitchen floor. I shot the peroxide and water down Conley and waited. Did it again. Waited. I was conscious of every tick of the clock. I had, I figured, about 20 minutes to get those pills out of him. I did it again and he started with The Pre-Barf Look of Consternation. Then he puked.
Instantly I am on my knees picking through the slime.
John watched with a look of profound distaste. I said "When it's my dog, I can do anything." And I knew it was true.

Nothing.
Some food. Some grass. Some stuff I would rather not think about much less describe to others. No pills. Nevertheless, we went through the whole thing a second time.

I picked through it all. He puked a total of about 8 times until it was just foam. Nothing. No pills. Nothing that even faintly resembled a pill even maybe partially digested. We were clean. Conley was still puking.

He has a show in the morning. Ringtime is 8 a.m.

Finally he stopped barfing on my kitchen floor. I was scrubbing already. The instant he stopped he lifted his empty little head, wagged his tail and asked for a biscuit. Which he got. He trotted off happily, none the worse for wear as I continued cleaning the floor and the throw rug (throw-up rug?). Then I staggered to my feet and thought once again about the virtues of raising African Violets.

I have never known an African Violet (which I actively dislike) that had to be made to vomit.
*********************

At three this morning Cooper woke me to go out and have diarrhea and then to vomit all over the new doormat, the kind with the little spikes on them.  This is, apparently going to be a trend.

And it is becoming a long weekend........

THANKSGIVING

Today is Thanksgiving. We are having ours tomorrow. My daughter, her wonderful husband John, and my very good friend Susan are coming for dinner.
I have a HUGE turkey.
I am not at all sure why it is so big. The only thing that occurs to me is that it is my old rebellious nature kicking in.

In Kindergarten they wanted to hold me back a year. I was 4 when I started school, just ahead of the December 1st cutoff.
Kindergarten thought I was not "socialized". Actually I was, but I didn't like most people even then, and I liked doing what I wanted to. I often wandered off mentally into my own little world. I no longer remember what it entailed, only that I stared out the window a lot.
The only thing I remember clearly about Kindergarten is the infamous Circle Of Puking Children. I think Patti May started it. We were in the reading circle. Somebody puked. The next kid got a whiff and puked and so on and so on.
I don't know if I threw up or not: I have always had a steady stomach when it comes to things like that, but maybe I did.
Anyway. My Mother made them send me on to 1st grade.
Most of my school-life was full of comments such as  :"Daydreams--wastes time" and "Beverly is not paying attention in class" and "Does not work well with others."

I have never pretended to work well with others, altho I have tried.

I was asked to leave Brownie Scouts. I am not sure what happened. I hated it anyway.
I went to camp one year. The place was fabulous. I caught a terrible cold. They counselors of course would not give me anything for my cold, altho I pleaded, begged and wept. When my parents came to visit they were horrified. I, who had wanted nothing more than to go home, suddenly refused to go home. No, by God, I was going to finish this. Besides, with the cold I couldn't smell the outhouse. I stuck it out.

But the weekly rituals of Brownies set my teeth on edge. Maybe I said something rude to the Brownie leader. Or more likely, one of the girls. Whatever, one day Mother sat me down and asked if I really wanted to be a Brownie. I said no, not at all.
My parents were always trying to get me to finish what I started. This time there was none of that. My Mother sighed with relief and stood. "Ok," she said, "You're out." Later I found out Mrs. Mueller, the leader, had called and suggested I would be happier (and I am sure everyone else would be, too) if I quit.

So here I am all grown up and responsible and very fat. And I have people who care for me trying to get me to lose weight. And I diet for a week or two and then practically binge. Not quite, but almost.

So it is Turkey day tomorrow, for us, and I have a huge bird so I am guaranteed mega leftovers. I have not a clue whether it is some deep-seated way of sabatoging myself, or whether it is just me, waving my middle finger at everyone again.

I rather think it is the latter. But I will never admit it.

Happy Thanksgiving to Everyone. I hope you all have had a wonderful day.

WEATHER

Yesterday I drove to Indiana to pick up some jewelry that was in a sale. LOL. Mine didn't. Sell that is.
Anyway I also had lunch with Katie Poore, and some wonderful conversation and a great time. I took Cooper. I put lots of blankets in the back of the Van, broke my rule about traveling only in crates, and let him sprawl. He curled up against the back hatch door off the blankets. Hmmm.
On the way home (before the Weather) I stopped at PetCo and bought him one of those rolls of meaty type food which he loves. I cut several pieces off for him and about a half mile down the road pulled over, ran around to the back, and retrieved the pieces he was trying to bury in the carpet. I had visions of a bloody nose, he was so passionate about getting rid of them. He has been getting store-bought chicken at home: he held out for that.
Then the  Weather hit. It was very warm-- 67 according to my car thermometer which is fairly accurate. The rain....oh my sweet... it was HORRIBLE. It made it hard to see even with the wipers going full blast. It was so heavy that I nearly passed my turn towards home. Cooper slept. His faith in my driving is one of his more charming characteristics.
This morning it is 28.
There was ice on the top of the garbage can as I rolled it to the curb and it was clear my days of nocoat are over.
And the trees are bare.

This is what I see when I look at them instead of the green leafies--or even the brown leafies of a few weeks ago. I could stand to live someplace where summer stayed just a month longer. Three months on and nine off doesn't seem like much of a deal. I have more sweatshirts than t-shirts and I really do not like putting on 13 layers just to walk to the car.

However, thinking about this, this morning, as I came back into the house I made an interesting discovery.
There, in the front, almost buried by leaves were two of the last hold-outs for summer and fall. Two brave souls who have made it through the frosts, the rain, the wind and now the freezes:

It made me smile, even as I felt sorry that they were sacrificing themselves for the greater good. (Brightening my day is ALWAYS the greater good.) And so I salute my two little flowers, brave and intrepid souls, probably already regretting their decision to be the last rudbeckia (I think) standing.
Happy winter.