SPECIAL BLOG

My Son-In-Law, John Arguello is now writing a blog for the Chicago Tribune!!! here is the link:

chicagonow.com/cubsden

Please read and support him. He's such a cool guy! And a good writer to boot, and he likes our Bassets even if he's allergic to them. (Not sure if he is or not).

Also March 25 thru the 27 there will be an exhibition at the Salon Artists Gallery in Park Forest, IL of handblown glass from my son's studio in Tennessee. If you are in the Chicago area, please come. It's free. E-mail me for more info, like the Gallery hours and the time of the opening (free food!!)
Admission free.

TIME PASSES

It has been a little over 3 months since Cooper was diagnosed as having Osteosarcoma and that front leg came off.
All the tests came back positive.
There were barely visible little specks in his lungs.
I was told 3 month- 4 maybe.
The other day when I set up the grooming table to shear off Conley's whiskers, clean his pads and clip the twistie on his tail, Cooper, who hates tbe way I groom, fled. With no discernable effort he leaped over the 3 foot baby gate we put to up keep him from jumping on and off the very high DadBed.

Yesterday we went to the Gallery. He loves the Gallery. There are no short-legs in his face. He can stretch out anyplace and sleep. He can go from artist to artist and get loved up in horrible, soppy ways that he clearly adores. He is constantly being told what a pretty dog he is, what a good dog he is, how much we love him. He is on instant alert if a stranger comes in-maybe his only fault. Pat and Ann and Sylvia and Bob are his herd at the Gallery (and me) and we are to be watched and guarded. (I leash him when people come in, and keep him with me near the back.) He drags me, literally, down the street to the Gallery.

He still guards the house. He watches closely for the mailman, the brown truck, the white truck, kids walking too close to my Van parked on the street (anyplace on the block is too close). He bellows at the short-legs to STOP THAT PLAYING! He yells at them for looking in his direction DO NOT LOOK AT THE DIRECTOR!
He goes out in the worst weather and moseys about the yard accumulating ice in his thick, black coat. In another life he was something weatherproof.
Nevertheless he remains terrified of thunder, of my cooking (I might use the stove and the smoke alarm might go off) having me groom or cut his nails, and (we learned yesterday) sleet.(Too much like rain, which might have thunder with it.)

Nobody has told him he is dying. I certainly am not going to be the one. Talking to Doc the other day he listened patiently to all this and then said gently "You know he's going to crash one day." Yes. Yes, I know. Doc has never been one to make up stories to make you feel better. He is, above all else a dedicated realist. But here's the catch: he is also an optimist or he would not think he might help the animals. And he is also rooting for Cooper. Hoping he will be the exception to the rule. We shall see.

BLOODY AWFUL

This has been a bloody awful winter as far as sunshine goes. I can handle snow and I can handle ice but I cannot handle the drudge-grey-smoky-sooty days when the sky and the horizon meet in exactly the same shade of ookiness, and the snow is filthy, the yard is a morass of dog poop and water and snow all frozen together so the dogs tiptoe around the margins of the yard creating deep, mucky paths that they track indoors.

I cannot stand the silence outside of no birds (altho I have begun to hear a few) or knowing that I cannot allow the dogs out to play because it is too muddy and besides, I don't want complaints.

I am sick of the night coming before I am ready and daylight long after I think it should be here (altho again, I see it is lighter earlier). I am sick of coughing. I am tired of being tired. I want to see sun and green and hear birds and cat fights again. I am weary of the plastic over my kitchen windows. I am  profoundly tired of the muddy floors, carpets, pillow cases and chairs. Despite the coverings, they dig beneath them with their big, sweet, murky feet... no matter how fast I am I cannot clean all the paws as they pour in the door.

I am tired of DH yelling at the dogs to leave him alone-- he who has always handed out biscuits as easily as breathing. I am depressed when I yell at the dogs STOP BARKING FOR GODS SAKE!!! Cooper, trying to referee and the others in his face, making it worse than it would be. I step on paws, tails and ears in the kitchen. They cannot go out. It sleets and Cooper is frantic. I view spring with a jaundiced eye altho I cannot wait I know it will bring thunderstorms and a whole new problem with my terrified Belgian.

I long for one day and night on the ocean south, where it is warm and empty. I want to sit on the rocks and watch the tide. I want to look in tidepools. I want Conley to see a beach, to run along a beach without a leash on. I have had enough.

MANY THINGS AND BABY CONLEY

First my son in law, John, has been selected to publish a blog on the online Chicago Tribune, concerning sports. I believe the title of his blog will be
"THE CUB'S DEN" and am not sure when it starts, but am promoting it starting now. So if you are a Cub's fan, watch for it to appear.

I mentioned recently that the snow has melted and left the yard looking like the Okeefenokee swamp. That I watch for alligators to pop up and eat the Bassets goes without saying, altho I do not think there are many this close to Chicago. (I have long harbored a secret desire to buy a kid's inflatable alligator swim thing and install it somewhere in the wetlands in the middle of town, partially submerged...)(Someday....)
Anyway here is a photo of Nigel. Please notice the FEET. The feet is what this photo is about: note the color...

Keep in mind that his entire belly is probably the same color-- that is black-- and that this is not normally his coloration....
*************************************************************

I have been looking (without success) for a batch of photos I took in the Badlands and points west. I cannot find them, but I did stumble across the photos we took of Conley the day I brought him home.

And then there were several photos of Llewis, which I can not resist adding....

And we wonder why we love them so.

I SING THE SONG OF MUCK BOOTS

I sing the Song the of Muck Boots
Black and Rubber Muck Boots
Waiting on the freezer
Full of hope.

The weather has begun to change
The yard is mud and slime
The boots await their perfect time
To go outside and range
Among the objects left behind
By the well-fed Bassets of mine.

The temp it climbs
The time is near
The Boots await
They know not fear

Wash an wear they do not care
In what they step or how it came to be
They only smile and wander on
Knowing that they protecteth me
From items in the yard best left
Unsaid, unidentified: the objects left behind
By the well-fed Bassets of mine.

I sing the Opera of Muck Boots
The Diva of the yard
The Black and Rubber Muck Boots
The Best $65 I ever spent.

A CURE FOR THE COMMON COLD

I am either getting a cold or the flu. I am runny, achy, tired, sneezy, red-eyed and ornery. Altho my husband would claim the last on that list is my normal state.
When I was little I got fearsome colds, terrible things that lasted forever and went into my chest and gave me bronchitis with a deep, bassoon-type cough that kept me out of school for days.
Mother would insist, among other things, that sleep was curative. Ah so. I think that part of her treatments was correct.
So that now, when I am getting sick, I sleep.

I went to bed at the unheard hour of 9pm. I slept. Not steadily, but well enough. I took my Zicam whenever I got up to attend to the reason for waking. I kept Kleenex by the bed (Mother said if you had it with you you wouldn't need it. She was wrong, but I cling to the hope.)
At 5:30 I was awakened by the needs of the Hounds. Actually, Cooper came and got me up.
I felt better but not well. It is, without the windchill, 4 degrees outside. On went Nigel's boot on his bandaged foot, everyone went out for a quickie pee, and I fed them, read my mail, responded to some. The dogs bedded down in the living room and Conley on my bed.

                 (Of course there was no sunlight, but you get the idea.)

I read the news, avoided turning on the radio or TV and got more and more tired again, not really ready to get up and face daylight (which was still long in the future at that hour)....

So I turned everything off, lights, computer, brain. (The latter is more often the case than I would like to admit. Getting it to turn ON is the tricky part.)
And, shoving Conley to the back of the bed I laid down with my back to him.

Now.
Conley is absolutely without question the very best snuggler I have EVER had. He is better than any male person in the Universe, sorry John, including my husband. He is, first of all, pliable. I can shove him around so that I am comfortable, too. He adjusts. I need no blankets with Conley because he is so warm and cuddles up so close to my back it is like having your very own hot water bottle.
Conley doesn't snore. He doesn't wake me up and snarl when I do. He doesn't squirrel around trying to get more of the pillow, or suggest snidely that if I were not so "large" he could have more room. He breathes softly, warmly, and evenly on my neck. For an hour or so this is the most restful, deep, relaxing and sweet sleep that I will have.
Conley makes me crazy, yes he does. He eats my food if I turn my back, he takes knives off the counter and runs with them, he picks fights with Cooper and Nigel, he pees on the floor at the Gallery, he won't put his tail up in the show ring for me.

But it's ok. I don't care. Because boy, is he the best cure for the common cold ever.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

On Feb 6, 1974 my daughter had a terrible cold. She was 4. I got up in the middle of the night, very pregnant, to go take care of my little girl, and my water broke.
I went back to bed after settling Stacey and cleaning up and called the Doctor. Was I in labor? No. He said, stay put. Don't move around. Call me when you go into labor.
I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And I did not go into labor so around 4 or 5 in the morning I called him back and said, I'm not doing anything, but every time I move I lose water. He said, get in here then.

So John went out to start the car and it would not start. It was cold and snowy and I was pregnant and the car just sat there like the huge red lemon that it truly, honestly was.

We called a neighbor. They drove us to the hospital and went home. I never did go into labor, I was induced. They were very worried about the baby. This was long before you knew whether you were having John or Harriet. So they piggy-backed some Oxytocin into my IV. This is like going from 0 to 100 in 10 seconds. You skip over all that boring prelim stuff, like having contractions increase slowly over time. You go right into the monster contractions, no warning. One second you are laying there fretting and the next you are clawing at the ceiling. All you want is to go home and forget about it all.
I remember thinking "This was a BAD idea!" But of course, it wasn't.

Christopher John was born at noon that day. He was small but perfect and had a head of black, thick hair. He was my baby.

At home, Stacey continued with her terrible cold. She was angry. Mommy was gone, she was sick, she had been rousted out of bed and taken to a neighbor's in the middle of night, more or less. And worst of all, Daddy had no ride home. He finally called a co-worker who came and got him. Al. Al and Daddy stole a pass (no one but family allowed) and Al came to see me and the newbie, the only non-family member who got in.

And then, there was the gas shortage so that even when he got the car running, John had trouble finding gasoline. Eventually it all worked out, and I got home, and Stacey after awhile  decided the new kid was ok. Not wonderful, but at least acceptable.

Today my baby is 37. I hope he has a wonderful Birthday and I wish I could be there with him. Happy Birthday, Christopher John.

BOOKS

This is part of one of my bookcases:  (There are 5 in this room alone.)

Mushrooms of North America
A Pocket Guide to Hawaiian Birds
Guide to Rocks and Minerals
A Golden Guide to Trees
To the World's Best Mother
Advanced Birding
Bats of America
Audubon Guide to North American Seashells
In Cold Blood
Spineless Wonders
Grasses
Smithsonian Guide to Rocks and Minerals
Hawks and Owls of the Great Lakes Region
Birds of North America
The Great Influenza
Winterdance
Living to Tell the Tale
My Life
The Essential TE Lawrence
Sibley's Birding Basics
The Wit and Wisdom of Harry Truman
President Kennedy Has Been Shot
Everything Here is Mine
AKC complete Dog Book
The Gourmet Cookbook
Poisoning in Dogs and Cats
Managing the Veterinary Cancer Patient
The Basset Hound
Surviving Your Dog's Adolescence
Tracking From the Ground Up
Medical and Genetic Aspects of Purebred Dogs
The Winning Edge
Training Tracking Dogs
The Official Book of Basset Hounds
The Belgian Sheepdog
Merck Veterinary Manual
Honest Dogs
Iditarod Dreans
Canine Terminology
The Back of the Pack
Father of the Iditarod
Complete Works of the New Yorker
Ten Ever-Lovin Blue-eyed Years With Pogo
Born to Win
Lord of Misrule
Stories of John Cheever
Lucky Jim
One Hundred Years of Solitude
The Secret of Germs
How to Cook Everything
From Julia Child's Kitchen
Blue Latitudes
Measuring the World
Field Guide to Warblers
Shattered Innocence
Pony Farm
The Worst Hard Time
K-9 Structure
To Kill A Mockingbird
Field Guide to North American Insects and Spiders
Sibley's Birds
Cannery Row
The Comedians

and it goes on and on and on...........

BLIZZARDTIME

Offically we have 19" of snow but I am not sure, at our house, that we have that much. Nevertheless it is a substantial amount, and with the wind it has drifted badly. Keeping the doors clear has proven to be a monumental task.
I went out at 4:30 a.m. to shovel paths (very short ones) for the dogs.
When Conley went out he decided he wanted one of his own and to my total horror he struck out across the yard, with the determination that only a Basset can have, to blaze a trail.
He is not feeling well because I forgot and loaded him with vaccines yesterday instead of breaking them into small groups. So his entire rear was sore and he looked as if he ached all over. He spent last night voluntarily in his crate, and so far this morning, that was where he had been until I gave him a Deramaxx. Now he is more mobile.
Anyway here is our blizzard altho, honestly, you do not get the whole picture and the depth of the snow is somehow less impressive:

My Van. It is going to be there awhile.

Llewis in the lead, surprisingly, patient (for once) Nigel close behind, following (wallowing) along in Conley's path through the yard.

Cooper starts and then thinks about it and changes his mind. It would exhaust him to go that far through such deep snow with only 3 legs.

Conley checking to see if possible there is less snow where I am than there is where he is. It is the same.

             Dis are Cnly an I hab had enuf ob dis stinky dam snow.                                      Stay warm and safe.

BLIZZARD!!!!!

It really, truly is happening. I went to the store this afternoon and when I came home the roads were juuuuuuuust starting to get slick. Not slick enough that the lady in front of me really needed to go 15 friggin miles an hour down a main street that was plowed and sanded, but I could tell it was getting there. I came home and sent the dogs out. They were out awhile, came in snow covered but not in any big hurry.

Conley and Llewis played a little bit in the snow, nobody too cold, nobody in a big hurry to come in. Covered with snow, but....

I can tell by looking out the window that it isn't getting any better.

Looking across the street out the front window, the snow is very heavy. I can see, but it I would not want to be on the tollways. I wonder what time my daughter gets off work, and whether my newly widowed Sister-in-Law is ok. I call her and chat, she is fine. My daughter's KinderCare is not closing early and it is her night to close. She will be there until the last child is picked up, and some of these parents are struggling to get home themselves.

The Bassets came right in. The other one... the non-basset with three legs and supposedly with Osteosarcoma-- he wanted to PLAY. He thought this was the best weather we've had for a long time.

****sigh****