The Neighbors Are Restless

Apparently the neighbors really haven't gotten a good look at us; or, they are just that curious because we've been invited to the "Bluebird Springs Neighborhood Soup and Salad Supper." I kid you not: is there anything more domestic and homey sounding than that title?! The invite was placed in our mailbox by the neighbors across the street, I think. It's a flyer that has pictures of little bluebirds and birdhouses on it. Seriously. As if that wasn't cute enough, here is the caption at the bottom:

"We hope you can all come before winter sets in, as we will only be able to wave to each other through snowflakes or across the frozen landscape." Oy. That thought scares me--lots of snowflakes, folks. Lots of snowflakes coming.

I leave you with this mental image: October 24th rolls around and it is the evening of the neighborhood supper. Gray-haired Bill shows up in his Border Patrol hat with his young, blonde wife who is wearing a wife-beater tank top under denim overalls--tattoos hanging out--with her big furry winter "Cousin Eddie" hat on, and a chihuahua in a backpack.
Quick--someone Air Mail me a rattlesnake: we're supposed to bring an appetizer!

Greased Goose

Here is a true tale from a friend of mine in Boulder, Colorado. I do have permission to repeat her story and she was kind enough to send pictures as visual aids.  I doubt I can really do this story justice, but it is definitely worth an effort.

My friend Jen has an adopted dog named Charley and a little Jack Russell Terrier named Goose, which she shares her house with.  When Jen got home, Charley and his human mom, Gio, happily greeted Jen--but Goose was less than enthusiastic which was very uncharacteristic. (This story gets way better, I promise. I'm just setting the scene).

This is what Goose normally looks like: happy, active, and ready for anything!

Jen noticed right away "the Fuzz" (Goose's nickname) was not acting normal: she was lethargic and didn't even come over to say "hi" to her owner. Gio said that while she had been cleaning the house all day, Goose was her usual self; but, upon returning to the house for the evening dog walk, Gio noticed Goose sprinting from room to room, almost bouncing off the walls.

At this point Jen and Gio were pretty sure Goose had consumed something potentially poisonous and are quite concerned.  Gio remembers that while she was cleaning the house, Goose got into something with a wrapper on it, on their roommate's bed. A quick, frantic call to the roommate reveals that Goose has eaten a cookie with marijuana in it! The roommate had gotten it as a gift a while back and had no idea what to do with it. Ha! Goose took care of that.

Jen was mortified and begged Gio to call the vet: she couldn't bring herself to do it! After learning that Goose would make a full recovery--depending on how bad her munchies get--they laughed about it the rest of the night and kept an eye on Stoner Goose. Eating weed made Goose very paranoid: Charley would walk by her too fast and she'd spin around to try to let her brain catch up with the tracers from the  image she just saw whir by, which caused her to fall completely over, biting at her tail!

Stoner Goose

Here's what Gio had to say about the phone call to the vet:

"So when I called the vet, without hesitation, the vet tech rolled right into what to do if your dog eats pot brownies. I could just hear the conversation once we hung up:

"Hey Joe. Do we have a dog coming in?"

"Nope, just another stoned pup." 

More from Gio: 

"Just glad Goose didn't roll from her crashed-out state right into the munchies...God knows what she would have eaten then!"

When interviewed, here's what Jen had to say about her ordeal: "Contrary to this story, we usually don’t allow the pups doobie on a week night."

Only in Boulder...

Lazy Sunday Afternoon

A pictorial for the day. Warning: this material is only appropriate for fur-friendly audiences. If you don't like dogs, you won't want to view this!


Look at these two blonde haired, blue-eyed kids! It's impossible not to fall in love with Gunnar!



I wish I could tell you that Talon was trying to give Gunnar a kiss, but I won't. I'm not that delusional, however, there was no biting or growling--progress!! P.S. Only Talon growls and bites-poor Gunnar doesn't do any of that.

Loki was exhausted after tormenting Gunnar so he had to take a nap with his dolly, Benny. Incidentally, it was three years ago this month that we adopted Loki Aloysious Homer-and Benny St. Germain.

Yup, he is driving this mower one-handed while hanging on dearly to that Coca Cola!

Gunnar and I are reflecting on my big day in town at work tomorrow. I'm reflecting, he's drooling.

Lily Meets Beatrice

We had to run to Farmer Ron's for a part to the riding lawnmower Saturday morning and decided to take Lily with us. We introduced Lily to Beatrice--the pet goat.  Beatrice was obtained from an Amish farm in May while Seneca and I were on our Midwest Vacation. Beatrice was 9 days old and she road on Sen's lap in the truck, all the way home.  Let's just say Seneca gets along with Beatrice much better than Lily does.

May 2010: Beatrice making her way home on Seneca's lap

September 25, 2010: Lily on Bea's house-not very happy!

Dangerous Minds

It's extremely hard to read and grade papers when one's office is in the living room.  This post is probably connected to the last one and instead of Loki's plea, it's mine. I need office furniture for my "quiet room!" Arrghh. Constant interruptions from Bill or the dogs, and of course my own inattention due to email and the television and any shiny object, prevent me from accomplishing as much as I really should.  Eventually, we all settle down, every dog finds a comfy spot, and I am able to drown them out.  I still have to constantly type around a head or dog butt, and even at the moment I have my left elbow on Talon's back, and there is a little, fluffy, white paw helping to keep my right hand steady.

On Friday, Lily and Loki both wedged themselves on either side of my laptop desk, and seemed perfectly comfortable.  I hope they're contemplating that Plato book that my students are reading--someone's got to!

Loki's Plea

I've always been jealous of business owners who are able to bring their dog to work with them.  That is my ideal job: any job that allows you to take your dog to work. Then I realized that for the past two years, I have taken my dog to work: I've been a full-tme student--that was my job-- and Loki has been by my side every day for two years.  We would get up in the morning, I would walk all of the dogs --in shifts -- and then Loki and I would take our coffee and head out to the little writing studio/office that Bill and I created in the backyard of our house in Arizona. The studio is a little 10x8 shed that we cleaned, painted, and spruced up complete with a big benchseat/napping place that Bill built for me.  It was my favorite place, and apparently Loki's too.

Loki's favorite place to be on any given day was on top of my desk next to the computer or behind me on the benchseat on top of a crocheted blanket that my stepmom made for Bill and I. Loki would yell at me in whatever dog language he was using, to tell me to put him up on top of the desk; or, he would look up at the benchseat and growl.  He's a complex little creature, but thankfully, easy to please.



He was used to spending up to nine hours a day with me in the studio, away from the other dogs, in his own little room. (He's one of those dogs that would actually be okay as an only child). So why is Loki extending a plea right now?

He hates his father's new home office which is an open room in the middle of the house; it's not closed in on all four sides like a regular office.  Loki doesn't have any "personal" space where he can freely surf the internet and trade on the European and Asian markets he is used to. He was a very big player in the Chinese market and he's afraid that if he doesn't get an office soon, all markets will crash and his stocks will bottom out.  So please, if there is an interior decorator or furniture company that would dedicate their time--and some free furniture--to Loki's home in the Madison area, he has a room all picked out for his office: he just needs it put together for him.  (Seriously--there are enough rooms in this house for Loki and I to each have our own office, but we work better in tandem, so we will continue to share an office, desk, chair, and lounge seat).

For now, Loki and I are in the living room doing our work and he is getting quite cranky about it: every couple of hours he will go in and sit next to Bill's office chair with an absolute sour grapes expression on his face: a disdainful look if you will.



ca. May 2010: Loki in his natural habitat: the Arizona writing studio, calculating numbers and figures.



3000 Volts of Lawn Care Maintenance

It is certainly beautiful out here on our quiet little piece of heaven, on the "almost" ranch. In addition to seven acres of forest and six acres of pastures, there are a couple of acres that surround the house and barn.  Sadly, this needs to be mowed at least--at least--every two weeks.  The lawn mower Farmer Ron so generously let us borrow doesn't have a bag on the back of it, so we aren't able to "rake" at the same time that we mow.

Since I was caught up with paper grading this afternoon--and that changes hourly, by the way--I decided to help with the lawn care and start raking the grass that had been cut two days ago.  Why? Grass doesn't grow well underneath a pile of dead grass and since the lawn looks like lush carpet, we want to keep it that way.

Let me set the scene--and then I'll explain the outfit:

I was not aware that my husband was taking these pictures.  In fact, I thought it would help him work in his home office-- an open den between the kitchen and living room-- if I stayed out of his hair for a few hours.  Besides, Gunnar was outside in the backyard wearing his new Gentle Leader (tm) face harness--it's not mean: it helps dogs to walk on-leash without pulling. (I can't wait to try it on Talon again).

So, let's move on:

Yeah, I pretty much look like I don't know what I'm doing...and I don't.  By the way, I do wear rainboots to do almost everything in: walking the dogs, yard work, Wisconsin Badger games, you name it.  I am wearing orange rainboots and a red shirt; again, I was not aware that I'd be photographed, or have anything to say about the experience when I was done. 

In addition, it is only 70 degrees outside, but there is at least 200% humidity out today.  Now I'm not a highly qualified television meteorologist (that's kind of like a televangelist), but I'll venture to guess that much humidity while trying to do chores makes them a little more difficult.  It does.

I believe that I sent myself into an abnormal (and fast) cardiach rhythm, exerting this much energy with that much humidity.  Thirst was undeniable, but one gets waterlogged when working in tropical climates, as the water doesn't really "sweat off."  There's no way to cool off or quench your thirst! It isn't the desert here folks that we've become so accustomed to and if I had my choice, I would probably pull up most of the grass and gravel over it.  (Don't tell Bill).

I made a big effort to rake as much of the yard as I could in this weakened state.  I finally realized that I was going to fall over from exhaustion-or worse, heart failure-so I leaned on the rake and said to Gunnar, "Go get daddy!"  At this point I really wanted Bill to come out with the wheelbarrow and wheel me into the house.  Gunnar proceeded to eat some grass and then throw it up, therefore, it was up to me:

I've discovered that as a farm girl, one must be resourceful, so I clung to the rake handle and jumped up, springing off of the pliable teeth at the bottom of the lawn implement.  I purposely landed on the nearby electric fence, got a good tingle and enough volts to knock me back into a normal sinus heart rhythm.

(That's a total crock. The only parts that are true are the ones about the rainboots and the humidity!)





Lily's Big Adventure

Please, mommy, take me for a walk--I'm bored!!!!!!!!!!

So, we went for a walk with her big brother, Gunnar.

Notice the difference in her expressions, from pre-walk to during-walk.

Talon is really checking Gunnar out--the little black one is a tad mean to his new, big bro.  Gunnar wants no part of the drama; he's a peaceful guy like Wulf is.  What Talon is really asking G-man right now is: "Why do you get to go for a walk now? It's my turn!" Then he jumps for Gunnar's ear, and Gunnar pees. It's pathetic to see this mean little devil picking on the pretty boy big kid.

And that's when big brother leaned in to whisper in Talon's ear: "Hey shrimp--they like me better than you!"  And that's when Talon peed.

Farmer Kimi



Real honest to God poop on my jeans from trying to milk a goat!

Bill and I ended up at Farmer Ron's (my dad's) house for a blueberry waffle breakfast that he made for us and a tour around the farm, which included me trying to milk a goat.  What a great experience; boy do I suck at it. I squirted myself with milk several times and got poop on this knee, but it was so fun.  The goat was the mama that had the two twins Seneca and I named "Seneca" and "Kimi" in May--original names, eh?  Here they are feeling frisky, all 58 pounds each.  Oh, I know that because Farmer Ron handed me "Seneca" over the fence so we could weigh her! Heavy girl.



I suppose you want to see me milking that goat, huh?  Here I am with Farmer Ron helping to keep the bucket upright and the goat from kicking me for being such an amateur at it.

On Wisconsin!

My cousin Brad and I had a great time yesterday as he introduced me to the huge "red and white" culture that is the UW-Madison Badger football fans.  They are as crazy as the Green Bay Packer fans--with just as much alcohol consumption...

Despite the alcohol and a few "gimme's" to ASU-yes, we just moved back from Arizona and I was forced to wear red and cheer for the Badgers-Wisconsin won! Yeah!!!

Oh, and despite this tailgater we found wearing his girlfriend's shorty shorts and peeing on the side of the garage I was parked next to, we still won! Yeah!!

A Sign of Seasons to Come

This morning at 5:45 when I had to get up and walk Gunnar I was so cold that I contemplated just putting my bra over my pajama shirt and then putting clothes over that.  Not knowing whether that would be enough support to get jostled down the road by that big animal I decided against it, but you know we are headed towards winter if you don't want the air to touch your skin even for the length of time it takes to put on different clothes! Give me a break--it was 44 degrees!

On a completely, completely different note, last night Bill and I realized we were officially back home when we were at my nephew's football game (junior high aged kids) and one little brat got hurt on the field.  Across the field comes a tiny van and a beep beep horn.  Out pops --I shit you not-- two guys in shorts with sleeves rolled up, covered with dirt and what I do believe is a bit of manure.  These two farmers, who do double duty as First Responders, were in the middle of their barn chores when they got the call about a "man down" on the local school football field! It wasn't until I saw all of this dirt and grime on them AND the fact that they had on latex medical gloves too (you know, to keep the germs away), that I totally peed myself.

Gunnar Blue

I suppose it's time to introduce the latest member of our pack.  I reluctantly admit that as our pack was plenty big before adding a real dog.  If you add up all of the little micro dogs we have adopted, they are the equivalent of one medium-sized dog, yet so much more work!

Many of you have heard of Gunnar before.  He came to us in Tucson first in September 2009 with a deep leg laceration and a serious case of wanderlust.  Bill and I both fell in love with this dog instantly and both wished we could have a "real dog" like this one. We went so far as to take him to the vet to have his legs looked at, bought him dog food, a dog tag with our address and phone number on it, and bought him a pretty collar.  We did this of course only after he had stayed at our house for four days.  But, Gunnar took off and started to show up every morning and every evening for a couple of weeks.  This allowed us to feed him his prescribed antibiotics and a little dog food. 

September 2009: Gunnar made himself at home on our front porch in Tucson

Bill also built him a fenced-in area in our side yard, but alas, Gunnar is the fastest digger in the West.  He couldn't be contained; we even bought a kennel for him, but he was determined to roam.

Long story short: Bill ran into Gunnar's rightful owner a few weeks after this occured, we got visitation rights and met some very nice people.  Gunnar continued to run loose three weeks out of any given month and we also got visits from him during these times.  He was sort of our step kid.

Right before we moved - as in two days before- I called Gunnar's owner and asked if I could come by to say goodbye to him--and them.  She said he was loose right now so she didn't know if he'd be back by then--Gunnar had gotten pretty good at returning on his own by then.

I was devastated that I wouldn't see him again.  As I pulled into my driveway after this phone conversation, I opened my car door and turned to grab moving boxes; something put weight on the leg that was swinging outside the door--it was Gunnar! Gunnar had appeared from in the desert and strolled right up to the car and put his paw on my leg. He was meant to be mine!

Bill and I offered to give Gunnar a good home up north on the fifteen acres we were moving to and gave Becky and her family a chance to think about it.  She agreed and that is how we proceeded up north with an extra fur kid in tow.

Gunnar had never seen grass before he moved here and he loves rolling in it. He also does other non-chihuahuahua-like activities such as wrangling snakes.  To my horror, Gunnar dove into a ditch five days ago and instead of grabbing a butterfly, he came back with a yellow and black snake.  I squealed like a cheerleader at half-time and probably scared my neighbors.  Gunnar had no idea why I was acting that way, and when I got him to release the snake, the poor little guy had a kink in his tail.  We slowly let him limp away, but had to watch and make sure the little guy would make it off of the road. I wasn't worried that it was a poisonous snake; it's just alarming.  Chihuahuas only bring you stuff like lizards--not snakes.  Had this little episode happened two weeks ago in Tucson, the type of snake would undoubtedly been a rattler, with a much more grim outcome.



Gunnar in his new backyard: there's grass!

I would also like to announce to all of the deer in the Lone Rock area that I walk Gunnar every morning between 0530 and 0700: please don't show your white tails until he and I have passed your path.  If I get flung in a ditch one more time trying to chase you, I may not get back up.  I am starting to feel as if I need one of those Medic Alert necklaces for when Gunnar finally body slams me while trying to pounce on a grasshopper, I will be able to push my emergency button.

Chillaxin'

A rare moment of relaxation at the new place. Well, a rare moment for a human: the dogs have plenty of moments like this! (Look hard in this photo: there are 4 little dogs--with big attitude).

Feeling Froggy? Then jump!

This little guy greeted us on our porch tonight as we let the dogs out one last time before bedtime.  Supposedly, this is a harmless tree frog, posing no threat to humans or animals.

This guy on the other hand, along with all of his fat friends, used to come out during monsoon season in Tucson and hang out on our front patio.  This is a Colorado River Toad and is "psychoactive." Laymen's terms: lick him when he's secreting his foam and you'll trip for a while.  Or, if you are a dog, end up dead if you bite into their butt--their tryptamines act like a neurotoxin of sorts.

That's your science lesson for the day.

Color Shock

Our road now: desert-accustomed pupils have to stay constricted all the time to look at the bright green!

The road we've lived on for the past two years: