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.

OODS AND ENDS

I took Baby Doc in for shots. A woman came in carrying a little white dog and I thought, I know her.
When she sat down behind me I realised she is my very best jewelry client. In fact, I have a necklace she bought that I need to fix. I did  fix it, but I think I am going to re-do all the pieces like the one that fell off. I know what happened, and it SHOULDN'T happen to the other pieces, but it shouldn't have happened to that one, either. Anyway it was interesting to see her outside the Gallery and nice to meet her dog, who she had told me about.

My husband had a cup of Starbuck's on his way to get his hair cut.
I grew up in a household where coffee was served black, and so I drink mine black, when I drink it, and so does John. I am not sure he had just one cup...it's like having Chatty Cathy in the chair in the living room. (John is one of the quietest people I know.) If you are reading this and are too young to know who Chatty Cathy was, google it.

While we were hanging around the animal hospital I wandered back to the groomers and Baby Doc got his nails cut, his paws trimmed and a real brushing by the groomer while we talked with Doc (the one with two legs and a DVM degree.) Actually he and I didn't TALK much since it is so close to the election that nothing we talk about will end without bloodshed.

Baby Doc weighs 23.3 pounds and the Bassets are starting to walk underneath him. It still bounces him off his toes a bit but give him another two weeks and it won't. That's how I know he is growing: the Bassets now see him as a door, not an obstacle.

BAD STUFF

i read that in Camarillo, California someone soaked a Basset in lighter fluid and set him on fire. He died. His name was Buddy.

I am trying to think what Buddy did to deserve this at the hands of what are billed as the "superior species".

It has been a long time since I have heard of a Basset setting his owner on fire. I am sure there are days when Conley thinks of horrible endings for me, but I doubt setting me on fire is one of them.

This ia Mitchell.It means someone took lighter fluid and poured it all over a dog that once did things like this and set it on fire.

Or a dog like this. One that just wanted to be loved and have a little bit to eat every day. Imagine pouring lighter fluid on this dog and throwing a match on him.
Imagine what I would do to you if I caught you doing that.

                                        OR THIS

GOT ANY IDEAS?

 

 

TRAINING DAY 3 OR 4

Four I think.
Last week, as you may remember, little Doc was traumatized by "puppy playtime" during which a dervish Terrier tried to wrap him in a leash and then a German Shepherd got close enough to eat him. So altho I wasn't real thrilled with the situation I knew he had to go back just to make sure he understood that not every group situation was going to be made up of insane little Terrier puppies or Giant German Shepherds.

                                                      Poor little me.

So we got there a little early because I planned on getting lost again but I didn't.
And the first dog we met was a little poodle who was thrilled at seeing a black dog and so they sniffed and wagged and then the big dogs started coming out and THEY sniffed and wagged and everything was fine again.

I learned that halfway through the hour-long class,Doc is finished.
He did this to me last time, but I think he was so distressed by the  "Playtime" incident that I thought that was what made him stop  paying attention.

But this time I thought about it. Class is at 7:15 at night, about the time my dogs are usually starting to slow down. They get up about 5 in the morning and spend the bulk of the day playing. Now it's dark out and I am expecting this 13 wk old puppy to pay attention and work.

So we left. We missed the agility stuff. Without it we won't "graduate". I don't think we care. I'm not real sure, but I think at this point Doc would rather take a nap.
I know I would....

MISSED THINGS

Missed 3 phone calls on my cell yesterday about someone wanting to make a major purchase of my jewelry. I feel sick. I don't know where I was that I did not hear the phone.The only place I can think of is the woods, where I went for a brief time just to see if I coud photo something new and different and perhaps some deer.
I did not see any deer at all. It was sunny and wet underfoot so it was quiet. I was far enough from the road to not hear traffic.
And suddenly, so far away it was just barely audible, I heard them.

I could not see them because of the trees. But I stood leaning against a mossy tree listening to the Sandhills as they approached, came very close and must have been either low or a huge flock, and  vanished again. I LOVE the sound of the Sandhills. I used to count them for Audubon because our house is, literally, part of the flyway.

At my house they show up about noon, so I looked at my cell phone and it was 12:23 but they probably took 5 minutes to approach, and go over, and disappear again, on their way to Jasper Wildlife in Indiana.

When you count you first start (or I did) by counting by twos. Then 5s. Then 10s. Once you know what 10 Sandhill cranes overhead looks like, you've got it made. I sat outside once years ago all afternoon with the dogs and counted over 2000 Cranes from about 10 in the morning until about 3 pm. Huge flocks, wheeling and calling and giving me, for that day, permanent goosebumps. Cranebumps.

 

And in Indiana, when they land in the evening in the fields at the Wildlife Preserve, you get an idea of how many you counted and how many you missed:

 

 

(This is not my photo. It is from Natl Geo and I think it is the Nebraska site, but this is pretty much what Jasper looks like as well. I do not know where those photos are.)

My dogs, when the Cranes go overhead with their strange, desolate calls, look up once. Not again.I wonder if sporting breeds pay more attention. Mine are not birders, but does a pointer's heart rate skyrocket when he hears those huge birds?