And so it continues, the hounds raising hell and we trying to cope. Is today Father's day? Whoops.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
THE RENTAL DOGS
And so it continues, the hounds raising hell and we trying to cope. Is today Father's day? Whoops.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
THE BIG CHANGE
Tomorrow we get to move into a house. It isn't home but it is a house and it has plenty of room and carpeting and I see a steam cleaner looming in my future.
Just like home, however, the backyard is flooded. Well, everything is flooded today even highways and underpasses and places that are normally dry are flooded. Of course we are expecting more rain, why not?
Last night it thundered starting at about midnight and I spent from then to about 4 in the morning with Cooper sitting pretty much on my head. PAnting.
I gave him the Composure but I got it into him too late and he was already hyped up. Anybody who has ever tried to tranquilize an excited dog knows this is not going to work well.
This morning we walked outside in the rain but then it thundered so we came right back in. Later we went out when it was not raining but everything was soaked. John went out and so Cooper dug a nest in his bed and dried out on his sheets and pillows. (I had dried him with a towel, but....)
They (not sure who They are, anymore, there are too many of Them) are delivering furniture (not ours) to the rental tomorrow afternoon. The cable guy comes in the afternoon. The inspector comes (again) in the afternoon. The inspectors are crazy people. He made the owner fix a screen that was slightly bent, replace a light bulb, fix two doorknobs that have sharp edges, and the owner is going to put in a gate and have new siding put on. He has 7 days to get that done and I guess if he doesn't we have to move out. I am not even going to think about it. Not at all. Nope.
Our real house is still being torn apart. Then the fun starts. Wait till the inspector gets a look at OUR house! Holy Shit, batman. It's gonna be bad.
Maybe it's not as bad when you own the house as when you rent it out. I cling desperately to that thought. This screen the guy had to fix was bent out maybe a quarter of an inch. We have screens that are cut all the way across the bottom because I locked myself out. They let in stray bobcats.
Ok I am blathering because I am excited about getting the boys back with us. It will be interesting to see what they make of a whole new place.
Just like home, however, the backyard is flooded. Well, everything is flooded today even highways and underpasses and places that are normally dry are flooded. Of course we are expecting more rain, why not?
Last night it thundered starting at about midnight and I spent from then to about 4 in the morning with Cooper sitting pretty much on my head. PAnting.
I gave him the Composure but I got it into him too late and he was already hyped up. Anybody who has ever tried to tranquilize an excited dog knows this is not going to work well.
This morning we walked outside in the rain but then it thundered so we came right back in. Later we went out when it was not raining but everything was soaked. John went out and so Cooper dug a nest in his bed and dried out on his sheets and pillows. (I had dried him with a towel, but....)
They (not sure who They are, anymore, there are too many of Them) are delivering furniture (not ours) to the rental tomorrow afternoon. The cable guy comes in the afternoon. The inspector comes (again) in the afternoon. The inspectors are crazy people. He made the owner fix a screen that was slightly bent, replace a light bulb, fix two doorknobs that have sharp edges, and the owner is going to put in a gate and have new siding put on. He has 7 days to get that done and I guess if he doesn't we have to move out. I am not even going to think about it. Not at all. Nope.
Our real house is still being torn apart. Then the fun starts. Wait till the inspector gets a look at OUR house! Holy Shit, batman. It's gonna be bad.
Maybe it's not as bad when you own the house as when you rent it out. I cling desperately to that thought. This screen the guy had to fix was bent out maybe a quarter of an inch. We have screens that are cut all the way across the bottom because I locked myself out. They let in stray bobcats.
Ok I am blathering because I am excited about getting the boys back with us. It will be interesting to see what they make of a whole new place.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
YOU CAN'T GO HOME AGAIN
Today I went over to the house to work on packing up the upstairs so the tear-down-men can tear down the walls up there. I cleaned out, or started to clean out, my daughter's closet.
I left Cooper outside in the Van, parked where I could see it, with the doors and hatch open, in his crate. He is happy in his crate in the Van. He considers it a home base. I can leave him anywhere in that Van and he will wait quietly for me to return. When my Dad was dying in the hospital I would park the Van in the underground garage and crack the windows (it was winter, in Iowa) and Cooper would be happily snoozing when I got back two or three hours later.
It is one of his most endearing qualities that he is a world-class traveler. He rides elevators, doesn't pee in art Galleries, (in fact is trained to not pee if I tell him not to pee on something outside, like someone's prize rose bush). He doesn't bark unless someone approaches the car and then he is protective.
So there he was when it began to rain. And it was raining into the Van. And it was pretty warm and extremely humid (well yes, if it was raining...) and then it thundered. Uh Oh.
I grabbed a leash and got Cooper out of the crate and he dragged me to the front door.
I left Cooper outside in the Van, parked where I could see it, with the doors and hatch open, in his crate. He is happy in his crate in the Van. He considers it a home base. I can leave him anywhere in that Van and he will wait quietly for me to return. When my Dad was dying in the hospital I would park the Van in the underground garage and crack the windows (it was winter, in Iowa) and Cooper would be happily snoozing when I got back two or three hours later.
It is one of his most endearing qualities that he is a world-class traveler. He rides elevators, doesn't pee in art Galleries, (in fact is trained to not pee if I tell him not to pee on something outside, like someone's prize rose bush). He doesn't bark unless someone approaches the car and then he is protective.
So there he was when it began to rain. And it was raining into the Van. And it was pretty warm and extremely humid (well yes, if it was raining...) and then it thundered. Uh Oh.
I grabbed a leash and got Cooper out of the crate and he dragged me to the front door.
Now please keep in mind that Cooper has not been inside his home since the day the water fell and the roof failed. So he has no idea what has happened in there, only that he has been living like a spoiled little king in a motel, without the short-legs, eating McDonald's and Subway and getting to sleep on a king=sized bed if he wants, or a pull out couch (with me) if he prefers.
Life has been good for Cooper.
I opened the door to the house and he lunged inside and came to a dead halt. Within seconds, all his hair was standing on end and from within him came a low and extremely menacing snarl. And then the barking started. Very angry, aggressive barking. The kind he uses on people he knows should not be where they are and/or whom I do not like. (There was no one else there.)
I got him quieted down and we sat together at the foot of the stairs-- there are nails all over the floor. The moment the rain let up I opened the door and he charged for the Van and leaped into his crate. Later I went out again and sat on the tailgate and opened his crate, thinking he might like to join me for a little snuggle but he looked wary and disturbed and refused.
He was delighted to come "home" to the motel.
It made me realise what a stressful and discombobulating summer this is going to be for the dogs--- out of their lifelong home into a motel (or kennel) and then to another home, and then back to the original which will not smell the same, look the same, or even BE the same.
What must they think?
Saturday, June 4, 2011
MOTEL LIVING
Umm yesss.
This is a nice motel, actually. Lots of lawn and green space to walk Cooper, who this morning at 5:30 decided to make a full tour, peeing on every leaf and plant and pipe and stick that was upright in about an acre. I am finding that not every dog owner is picking up, which REALLY annoys me.
This motel-- maybe all of them, I don't know-- has "family suites" consisting of 2 rooms which is what we have. I sleep on a pull out couch which is increasingly uncomfortable BY CHOICE-- I do not think John could stand it. Cooper slept with me last night and we cuddled all night, my face buried in his backside... we are on the ground floor just yards from the exit, so that's nice.
Everyone has been nice. There are==or were-- three other dogs here: a cocker, a Viszla and a doxie, the last two belonging to the same person. The Doxie tried to eat Cooper as we passed in the hall and Cooper laid his ears back and curled a lip but otherwise ignored him. "You're a snack but you are too thin and boney to be practical." The Viszla, belonging to the the same people, danced and leaped and cowered and her eyes kind of bulged. It is a breed I like a lot but they are either great or terrible as far as temperament goes and I leave it to you to make a decision on this one.Of course meeting in a narrow hallway in a strange motel is not an ideal place to make an accurate assessment--or perhaps it is.
These are our two rooms. Looking from John's into mine. His room is always organized and I am always digging in drawers and piles of clothing looking for keys and phones...
Cooper on John's bed. The soft bed.
*****************************************************************
THE HOUSE
The house where we lived up until whenever we began living here is slowly being gutted.
This is what John's bedroom looked like when they began, It had ugly panelling in there which we said we would tear out when we moved in in 1985. Well-- we got our wish...
Looks better, I guess, if you like bare bones.
What's left of my room.
They have hung a clear plastic tarp between the dining room-kitchen (neither of which were damaged and therefore have stuff packing in them) with a huge blue zipper, so we can get in there to get stuff out, assuming we can find it. John has a habit of not marking the boxes. Of course, my labels, "Junk from my room" are not a whole lot better.
The zippered rooms So now we are looking forward to moving into the rental, which is scheduled for late next week. I can hardly wait. The Landlord knows we have dogs and is even fixing a gate for us. It has LOTS of room and a huge yard with shade. It will give the Bassets lots of outside time investigating, and Cooper room inside to get away from the short-legs.
I would think by the end of next week the house we really live in will be empty and they can start tearing out the upstairs, too. Once everything is torn out they can dry the wood, and then, start rebuilding.
Who would have thought getting a new roof could lead to this? Amazing.
This is a nice motel, actually. Lots of lawn and green space to walk Cooper, who this morning at 5:30 decided to make a full tour, peeing on every leaf and plant and pipe and stick that was upright in about an acre. I am finding that not every dog owner is picking up, which REALLY annoys me.
This motel-- maybe all of them, I don't know-- has "family suites" consisting of 2 rooms which is what we have. I sleep on a pull out couch which is increasingly uncomfortable BY CHOICE-- I do not think John could stand it. Cooper slept with me last night and we cuddled all night, my face buried in his backside... we are on the ground floor just yards from the exit, so that's nice.
Everyone has been nice. There are==or were-- three other dogs here: a cocker, a Viszla and a doxie, the last two belonging to the same person. The Doxie tried to eat Cooper as we passed in the hall and Cooper laid his ears back and curled a lip but otherwise ignored him. "You're a snack but you are too thin and boney to be practical." The Viszla, belonging to the the same people, danced and leaped and cowered and her eyes kind of bulged. It is a breed I like a lot but they are either great or terrible as far as temperament goes and I leave it to you to make a decision on this one.Of course meeting in a narrow hallway in a strange motel is not an ideal place to make an accurate assessment--or perhaps it is.
*****************************************************************
THE HOUSE
The house where we lived up until whenever we began living here is slowly being gutted.
What's left of my room.
They have hung a clear plastic tarp between the dining room-kitchen (neither of which were damaged and therefore have stuff packing in them) with a huge blue zipper, so we can get in there to get stuff out, assuming we can find it. John has a habit of not marking the boxes. Of course, my labels, "Junk from my room" are not a whole lot better.
I would think by the end of next week the house we really live in will be empty and they can start tearing out the upstairs, too. Once everything is torn out they can dry the wood, and then, start rebuilding.
Who would have thought getting a new roof could lead to this? Amazing.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
NEW HOME3 AND THE HARD LIFE
The roof is finished. The ground floor of the house is empty and the walls are coming down starting tomorrow.
Went to visit the Boyz. Llewis was frantically happy to see me. He cried. I cried. Nigel stuck his nose in my face and then stood so if the door opened he could get out.
Conley threw himself in my arms repeatedly and his eyes look awful. Hazy and gooey. I made a point of mentioning it before I left. Cooper waited in the car, his expression was one most easily read as: "You can open the crate but I ain't comin' out as long as we're HERE."
Cooper stays with us most of the time. The weather has been such that I can take him to the house and leave him in the crate in the van with all the doors and windows open. We can see the Van while we are working and check on him every 10 or 15 minutes to make sure it isn't getting too hot.
Otherwise he stays with us at the motel, but it's hard and stressful for him:
Here is the poor baby, exhausted from his busy day of laying in a crate watching us from across the street, walking around the motel, and eating.
The Good News, if any is to be had from this, is that next week we will be moving ourselves and all the dogs into a rental house about a block from where we really live. We need a new gate on one side, but the yard is big, shady, and fenced. There will be a lot of confusion, I am sure.
The insurance company rents us furniture-=- they have a whole system. I was going to tell them well we could provide this and that but they have it all figured out, so I decided just to leave well enough alone.
We are confused about the utilities and the cable, but otherwise everything is set up for us. We will have to forward our mail. We are wondering if Comcast can transfer our cable set-up from the house to the rental and then back again. I will have to call them tomorrow and see. So one more week here, and then back to real civilization.
I am sure Cooper will be equally glad to have some room. You can see how cramped and uncomfortable he is:
That's MY bed, by the way.
Went to visit the Boyz. Llewis was frantically happy to see me. He cried. I cried. Nigel stuck his nose in my face and then stood so if the door opened he could get out.
Conley threw himself in my arms repeatedly and his eyes look awful. Hazy and gooey. I made a point of mentioning it before I left. Cooper waited in the car, his expression was one most easily read as: "You can open the crate but I ain't comin' out as long as we're HERE."
Cooper stays with us most of the time. The weather has been such that I can take him to the house and leave him in the crate in the van with all the doors and windows open. We can see the Van while we are working and check on him every 10 or 15 minutes to make sure it isn't getting too hot.
Otherwise he stays with us at the motel, but it's hard and stressful for him:
The Good News, if any is to be had from this, is that next week we will be moving ourselves and all the dogs into a rental house about a block from where we really live. We need a new gate on one side, but the yard is big, shady, and fenced. There will be a lot of confusion, I am sure.
The insurance company rents us furniture-=- they have a whole system. I was going to tell them well we could provide this and that but they have it all figured out, so I decided just to leave well enough alone.
We are confused about the utilities and the cable, but otherwise everything is set up for us. We will have to forward our mail. We are wondering if Comcast can transfer our cable set-up from the house to the rental and then back again. I will have to call them tomorrow and see. So one more week here, and then back to real civilization.
I am sure Cooper will be equally glad to have some room. You can see how cramped and uncomfortable he is:
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
TEMP HOME 2 (no neat photos)
Well it will probably almost be fall by the time we are back in our house. I am ferrying Cooper, who is the least boardable, back and forth from the motel to the kennel. If John and I both have things to do at the house then Cooper goes back to the kennel, and then I pick him up in the afternoon and he spends the night here with us.
Today they told me Nigel and Llewis were not eating. Oh good heavens!! You all know when a Basset refuses food we are in serious trouble. I said, try anything. Then I went to visit with them. They went nuts. I felt awful. Llewis began keening-- it is the only word that fits: a high-pitched steady wail. Nigel jumped all over me, frantic. I only stayed a moment and then left. I did not go see Conley.
Also today I called the Head Honcho of all this Mess and said if it is going to be weeks before we get in, we need somewhere else to live: a house with a kitchen and washing machine and mostly, a place where they will allow dogs. He said nobody would allow 4 dogs. I said fine, tell them there are two and we'll rotate.
So apparently the ALE (relocators) are looking for a house for us. That might make life a little more bearable.
Meanwhile it has gotten hot hot hot-- 90 degrees on Monday, 85 today, maybe higher. Working in the house is almost unbearable. Everything has to be packed out, and while we have professionals doing a lot of the work, it is tedious and dirty and boring and backbreaking. I worked all morning on my room, packing tiny little things. By the end I was dumping whole drawers into boxes, taping them shut, shoving them at the packers and saying "Here, this is ready to go."
I set aside the good crate pads, knowing if we get a house I will need to crate the monsters at night and will need the pads, then forgot them, and tonight, when I went back to get two or three small, delicate, ancient items, they were gone.
I don't have a scale and have no idea what I weigh but I bet I have gained about ten pounds eating the way I have, even though I sweat it off in the house. Without a stove it's tough to cook properly and so I have been subsisting on Panera and Dunkin Donuts. Luckily for my cholesterol, the local DD has closed for remodeling-- much as we have. But I FEEL fatter.
The Maids, of course, are terrified of Cooper who doesn't help much by barking and whuffing at them, and backing away. He doesn't like them any better than they like him so when they come to clean our rooms (we have 2) I sit in the Van with the a/c blasting until they're done. For some reason we seem to be almost last on the list.
The pond where my mama duck and her cutie babies were has dried up completely. I don't know where they went. I hope they're safe.
Today they told me Nigel and Llewis were not eating. Oh good heavens!! You all know when a Basset refuses food we are in serious trouble. I said, try anything. Then I went to visit with them. They went nuts. I felt awful. Llewis began keening-- it is the only word that fits: a high-pitched steady wail. Nigel jumped all over me, frantic. I only stayed a moment and then left. I did not go see Conley.
Also today I called the Head Honcho of all this Mess and said if it is going to be weeks before we get in, we need somewhere else to live: a house with a kitchen and washing machine and mostly, a place where they will allow dogs. He said nobody would allow 4 dogs. I said fine, tell them there are two and we'll rotate.
So apparently the ALE (relocators) are looking for a house for us. That might make life a little more bearable.
Meanwhile it has gotten hot hot hot-- 90 degrees on Monday, 85 today, maybe higher. Working in the house is almost unbearable. Everything has to be packed out, and while we have professionals doing a lot of the work, it is tedious and dirty and boring and backbreaking. I worked all morning on my room, packing tiny little things. By the end I was dumping whole drawers into boxes, taping them shut, shoving them at the packers and saying "Here, this is ready to go."
I set aside the good crate pads, knowing if we get a house I will need to crate the monsters at night and will need the pads, then forgot them, and tonight, when I went back to get two or three small, delicate, ancient items, they were gone.
I don't have a scale and have no idea what I weigh but I bet I have gained about ten pounds eating the way I have, even though I sweat it off in the house. Without a stove it's tough to cook properly and so I have been subsisting on Panera and Dunkin Donuts. Luckily for my cholesterol, the local DD has closed for remodeling-- much as we have. But I FEEL fatter.
The Maids, of course, are terrified of Cooper who doesn't help much by barking and whuffing at them, and backing away. He doesn't like them any better than they like him so when they come to clean our rooms (we have 2) I sit in the Van with the a/c blasting until they're done. For some reason we seem to be almost last on the list.
The pond where my mama duck and her cutie babies were has dried up completely. I don't know where they went. I hope they're safe.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
TEMP HOMES
We always expect things to continue on as they have. People and things we care about last forever. We are most of us, by nature, stability-seeking creatures. Both enthusiasts and victims of the status quo. We want a thrill now and then, but as a steady diet the majority of us will pass that up.
We are no different. We never really expect our dogs to die, or parents, or....homes. When my first Belgian was diagnosed with cancer he was 8. I half-jokingly told Doc "You just get them trained the way you want and then they die." (He didn't-- he lived another 2 years).
The same might be said for homes. You just get them broken in, and then they break. At least ours did. Due to some inclement weather
and an inexperienced roofer-helper, we had a disastrous and very personal encounter with Mother Nature--INSIDE. Rain poured through the inadequately tarped roof-- a roof of nothing but boards. Rain poured into the house. Soaking ceilings, walls, floors, artwork, clothing, dogs (we got them out right away) and us. By mid-day the living room ceiling was pulled down for safety. We had to get out. Luckily we have insurance and they found us a place to put our heads while we have work done on the house. And I bailed Cooper out of Camp Chez Doc Coyne and he stays at the motel with us, unless we both are at the house working, which we will be today, and then he goes back to the kennel for the day.
But Cooper must now be walked rather than just sent out into the yard to play. He cannot go far-- doesn't even want to. He pauses often. He sleeps a lot in the room. He isn't terribly interested in the maids. He has always been well- behaved in motels. Now he is especially quiet. On our walks, we go past a little, filthy dirty pond. And guess what! It is DUCKLING season!
A Saving Grace
We are no different. We never really expect our dogs to die, or parents, or....homes. When my first Belgian was diagnosed with cancer he was 8. I half-jokingly told Doc "You just get them trained the way you want and then they die." (He didn't-- he lived another 2 years).
The same might be said for homes. You just get them broken in, and then they break. At least ours did. Due to some inclement weather
and an inexperienced roofer-helper, we had a disastrous and very personal encounter with Mother Nature--INSIDE. Rain poured through the inadequately tarped roof-- a roof of nothing but boards. Rain poured into the house. Soaking ceilings, walls, floors, artwork, clothing, dogs (we got them out right away) and us. By mid-day the living room ceiling was pulled down for safety. We had to get out. Luckily we have insurance and they found us a place to put our heads while we have work done on the house. And I bailed Cooper out of Camp Chez Doc Coyne and he stays at the motel with us, unless we both are at the house working, which we will be today, and then he goes back to the kennel for the day.
But Cooper must now be walked rather than just sent out into the yard to play. He cannot go far-- doesn't even want to. He pauses often. He sleeps a lot in the room. He isn't terribly interested in the maids. He has always been well- behaved in motels. Now he is especially quiet. On our walks, we go past a little, filthy dirty pond. And guess what! It is DUCKLING season!
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