SNOWSTORM

The very major snowstorm/blizzard which just hammered the plains and midwest seems to have slid by my house with barely a nod in our direction. We got a little snow. We got a little wind. The temp has been going UP since I got up about 6 this morning, expecting the worst and finding nothing even faintly remarkable for this time of year.

So, we went out to play. Even Cooper seemed to enjoy it a bit. This used to be his favorite time of year but without that front leg I think he has some trouble getting around in the snow. It's slick-- he knows he can fall. He is cautious. Nevertheless he did a perimeter check and then came back to where I was standing with the camera. He still looks as dangerous as ever, black on white.

Conley and Llewis were out. Nigel had at this point refused to budge from his spot on the floor. We have radiant heat-- the pipes run through the concrete slab on which the house is built. The pipes are starting to break and we do have places where water dribbles up through cracks in the cement slab. But it means the floors are very warm. The tile in the bathroom gets so hot I cannot stand on it in my bare feet. So you can imagine how the dogs love it. They drag the beds to spots over the pipes. At night, this can be really tricky in the dark.
 Then Conley found a ball. It rained yesterday and so the ball was frozen, but he tried to play with it anyway.

He proceeded to roll it around and try to pick it up. When it is squeezed it makes the sound of a roaring crowd and an announcer type voice yells about a home run. The dogs love it, especially Cooper.



But it wasn't a very co-operative toy.
And besides, Conley found out a bitter truth about little boys, frozen objects, and warm, wet tongues.

                   I do not think there is any mistaking that look.
Eventually, as usual, everything devolved into wrassling and thrashing around in the snow. Nigel wanted back in, but Llewis and Conley stuck it out a few more minutes.

And then it was over. Playtime ended. Too cold, too wet, and besides  Cooper had gotten tired of watching and began to try to referee. Since it was early in the morning, I shushed him, and after a moment of watching, he came in, too.

And everyone is asleep now, on the couch, on the beds dragged over the pipes in the floor. Outside it is still snowing just a bit but nothing important, and the temperature, as I wrote this, dropped one degree.

Hope everyone who got zapped is warm and safe.
It's winter.

PAST LIVES

We have had a series of animals since we moved to Park Forest. When my daughter was about three she developed an overwhelming need to have a kitty. Any cat loose in the neighborhood was fair game, and I would look out the window to see my child dragging some unfortunate cat, usually by the neck, towards the house. It really is a wonder she never got sliced: the cats seemed to understand somehow that she was harmless, but pesty.

But I knew DH would not want a cat. So I did what any normal Mother would do. I scoured the papers until I found an ad for free kittens. (Please, this was in 1973 or 74.) I called. Two tabbys ( short haired) one long haired black and white. I knew I did NOT want a long haired cat. A friend drove us over. Sitting beneath a bush, scowling like an owl, was a tiny fuzzball of black and white. The shorthairs were tumbling over each other and here was was tiny ball of resentful fur. We took him home. We named him Ambulance.

Here is Ambulance, my very happy daughter, my son and yes, that's me.
When John came home from work that day I sent his darling little three-year old out to the car with the news "Daddy! We got a kitten!" What could he say? NO?  Not likely.

Ambulance lived to be 17. He was the greatest cat ever. I still miss him. He was an indoor outdoor cat and grew up eventually accepting dogs, children and other cats. He instilled in me a lasting respect for felines and  a devotion to long-haired kitties.

When this was taken he was getting along in years and had renal failure. We had to decide whether to keep him inside and feed him food he hated, or let him be.

We let him be, and one day a neighbor who I will never forgive (he had a collar and Identification) took off his collar and called the Humane society. I think, I believe, that they put him to sleep because he was old and obviously in end=stage renal failure. They said they did not, but when I got there to pick him up he was on a heating pad but dead, as if they had tried to warm him up. I know that sounds really paranoid, but we had had to do the same thing for some owners who were coming to view their deceased pet in a few hours. Keeping the pet warm kept it pliable and lifelike. I'm not stupid, and I was furious.

This is Warf, and Me. Warf was our very first Basset hound. And I really did look like that.
He was from a very reputable show breeder. He eventually turned into one of THE most vicious dogs I have ever known. He was so bad I wanted to euthanize him, but John would not hear of it.
He lived to be twelve, biting the hands that fed him. I never knew why. We were very inexperienced but I don't believe we were mean.
We never understood him. One minute he was fine and the next he was after you. And he was serious.

Sometimes we could even play a little bit with him. He and Ambulance got along just fine. Then, I got Quiller, my first Belgian Sheepdog and then, my daughter moved in with her  Keeshond, Kailey. Amazingly, everyone got along just fine.

Eventually, we added Arsenal and Beemr to the mix. Ambulance put up with Arsenal, the only shorthaired cat we ever had, but after Ambulance died, we got Beemr. She was a woebegone little long-haired tabby kitten at the clinic (which is where Arsenal came from.)







Kailey the Keeshond moved out: Warf died and we got Walker. We never talk about Walker. He only lived a couple of years and died a horrible death from Lymphoma.

He was a beautiful puppy and had  the best temperament of any dog I have ever know. Quiller was diagnosed in August with Chondrosarcoma and had a third of his jaw removed. Walker was diagnosed in November with Lymphoma and died a week later. Quiller lived another two year.

Someplace in there we got Mitchell. Quiller passed away and we got Cooper. Arsenal and Beemr died within about three months of each other: Beemr of cancer and Ars had a stroke.

And then we got Zelda.

And now we have her two sons, Nigel and Llewis, and Conley and Cooper.

No more cats right now.

That's it.

WELL, HERE WE ARE

When I got up this morning it was 8 degrees. Now it is 10. The Bassets, at 8 degrees, go out and come in. Cooper, at the same temp., can barely get out the door because the frozen snow hurts his feet. I look out after a couple of minutes and he is curled up in the snow, all three feet tucked under him. I have to go out and encourage him in. This is not new. He has always done this. I am considering putting his boots on. Would it give him more or less traction? I do not want him to fall.

The Bassets and Cooper are a little stir crazy. Already. They spend a lot of time either sleeping or watching out the windows.

Sometimes all of them at once. Altho in this photo several seem to be more interested in what I am doing. Probably they are thinking that if I am up and moving there is a good chance I will go to the kitchen, and if I go the kitchen there is the possibility that I will be near the box of treats, and if I am near the treats and they mob me, all crying pitifully at once, I will dip my hand in and offer goodies.
They know me well.
Cooper, on the other hand, ever-vigilant, is actually watching for someone to bark at. UPS. The mailman.
The other day UPS made a huge delivery to Roger, next door. The truck was there for about 15 minutes. Cooper was in heaven.

This is what Cooper looks like without his leg. His hair is growing back but it does not appear to be growing on the actual scar. Besides he licks it. I make him stop when I catch him but he has so few pleasures as it is...

I am not at all sure how well he is. He does a lot of puking and we have him on Cerenia at the moment. There are a lot of missed meals, and a lot that simply come back, intact, a little while after he eats. He is hungry. This is a nasty disease.

The Bassets do not pay any attention to the fact that they can knock Cooper down and rush past him to get out the door. He has quit objecting. He often does not venture out into the yard, but sits on the deck.

Yesterday he went to the Gallery with me to paint. He didn't paint, I did but it might have been better if he had, since the painting is disgusting.

That's all. This is how my days are. I watch Cooper, he watches me. Conley, aware of the shift in attention is a little uneasy and asks repeatedly for extra snuggles. "I'm still here, Mom. Remember me? Liddel Conley?" He is a very snuggly boy and easy to love.

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.