Auld Lang Syne

The last 12 months or so have aged me in dog years.
Since the last post we've said goodbye to 3 more friends.
 

George and Gracies' only boy, Truman Chapotle, passed at the beginning of November. He was an awesome dog. 

Truman with little Willy a few years ago

 

a little angel

 

smiling in the sunshine with Zasu

 

Archie had his last trip to the vet early December. 

He was our most vigilant protector of the yard

 

He was brilliant, silly and a great friend to many. 

Rolling in cow poo on a walk with Miles

 

Helping Shirley get comfy when she was new and not feeling well

 

My girl Tuesday is no more.

In her favorite spot at sunset

 

Lung cancer took her mid-November and I wasn't ready.

A few years ago -Zasu, me, Tuesday and Monkey

 

Archie, Bean, Reggie and Tuesday: loved and missed

 

Within hours of Tuesday's passing a man showed up with a wounded stray. The little thing was horribly matted and there was a lot of blood. As usual I didn't think to document it until we were well underway. That matted fur on her back was solid and infested.
Wounds dressed and getting a haircut

 

 

 

 

 

 

Considered calling her Wednesday (it was a Wednesday) but her name became Agnes. Still sedated, matted hair removed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A high-pitched bark and high maintenance coat are not my favorite but that isn't her fault. She's a young, rowdy goofball, busy unlearning an array of bad habits

 

Aggie is now healed and spayed. She likes sleeping in hammocks, barking and kicking ass. Playing with Joy

 

It isn't easy to lose old friends, but such sweet new friends help. 

Wishing everyone a hopeful new year. May we all have some good to help with the bad. 

A better photo of newbie Rhubarb's short legs and stubby tail

for he's a jolly good fellow

We may be in the middle of nowhere, but it can feel like the center of the universe.
A recent day began with a view of a full moon setting over the water

















and the sun rising inland.













Happy news for Paco the rooster; he finally has 2 cute little hens for company.
They aren't quite full grown and they're all getting along fine.
I think his morning crowing has been more exuberant since we got them.
Between him and the lovely dawn, I just may become a morning person.

















I think I'll call them Eddy and Patsy.













This shot of Truman reminded me of one of the first pictures I took of him.
He's three now and just as cute.

















Thank heaven for little boys! He was the only one in a litter of eight.













Speaking of sweet boys and how quickly they grow up...I tend to take a lot of pictures of Rufus, the camera loves him and so do I.
This is already his 4th post (#1, #2, #3).
He's always so darned enthusiastic!

















The rest of his litter-mates are feral; I'm not sure how he found his way to us, but I'm glad he did. He's such a fun dog. Thanks to this blog and a little math, I believe his second birthday is around now!
Elewah, semi-retired queen of the woods, hangs out with his wild siblings. It isn't a stretch to believe that one or more of them fathered Jack and Lily (they turned 1 last month). That means that Rufus is Jack's uncle.
Shirley, Jack and Rufus in profile.













There is an undeniable family resemblance.











They've become great pals.













¡Feliz cumpleaños Tio Rufus!

Re: Rufus

Well, let's see...it's been windy.
tongues are flapping and poor Henry needs a haircut:














Sean -nearly always working, but never lonely:














Rufus is doing fine, but for a minor bladder infection. We're nearly certain which beach dog is his Mom, she spends a fair amount of time barking in our general direction. Lately she has had a few pups trailing her, and last week we flushed them out of the woods while we were walking. Initially I didn't think that Rufus was from the same litter because he's much smaller than the others. It's amazing that he made it to us, he covered a lot of ground for being such a sick little guy. He must have gotten separated from his family and headed towards the sound of dogs.
When I first saw him by our gate (alerted by the pack, of course) and went to retrieve him, he did his best to avoid me and went straight for the dogs. You might think that *Jehovah* dogs barking and jumping furiously at the fence would be intimidating to such a little guy, but apparently not.
Come to think of it, that's what Maldi, while a squirrel-sized kitten, did too.
Rufus says it was all part of his plan:

















taking on Oscar:













Oscar is not impressed:


















Tuesday and Gowron chew on him a little:














chewed on and spit out:














he likes Greta best:














Rufus gets some sun and Sean gets a face full of Shirley:














Truman oversees the housebreaking:














I'm working on a circus act to help pay for dog food.
today only...Rufus the Magnificent and Roni Ninefingers:














beautiful boy:

Sunday drive

We're leaving soon to pick up Al, Lucy, Truman and Maldi. Turns out, Maldi is a boy! Alice and Lucy were a mess, full of nicks, Lucy had a hernia and Alice a cyst on an ovary. They both still had 2 ovaries. Grrr.
At any rate, the trip home is going be nerve-wracking. It is a long, often rough, road. Once we're home, I'm moving into the apartment with them until they recover. Doc said no stairs for 2 weeks. Nothing else to be done about it. We still have 4 left to be respayed and, now that we know what a state their insides are probably in, we don't want to wait. Ought to be done by Christmas. No good deed...
Back home and settled in; at least the truck didn't break down this time. Poor Lucy is so tired. Alice faired better. Maldi is already causing havoc. Truman is ok. The next few days are going to be tough with Lucy. Right now is the lull before the storm. I've had enough blood for today. Here's hoping the night is uneventful. There's an impressive lightning storm to the East, I can see it between the slats of the apartment window.

bittersweet

Last week was a l o n g week. This week already is.
5am Sunday morning, this little boy woke us all up. Yes, a boy!
Hallelujah, so much easier and cheaper to fix!
Yeah, he's cute. They always are. He was stuck in the grass outside of our fence making a ruckus. We considered calling him Xmul, after the grass spines.

 

Everyone thinks he's swell. Shirley and Greta say hi:

He likes everyone just fine. The kitten thinks he's fun to bully. He has a white spot on his butt shaped like the Pentagon so we've been calling him Rumsfeld. I hope that doesn't stick.
a kiss for Zasu:














This morning Sean went on his run with 11 dogs (the picture is from yesterday) -all off the leash the whole time. On the beach, across the roads, through the woods and back home. Pretty good, eh? :



















We were just about to bask in a well deserved moment of pride about their steadily improving behavior (this ain't magic people) when ...what does Sean hear? Heavens to Betsy, Rumsfeld has a sister. What do we do? If we leave her she'll soon be dumping unwanted litters on the beach, just like her dear old Mom.
She just got here this morning and has been doing a lot of sleeping. Looks like she may be tall. sigh She is beautiful though.
Truman, Maldi and her brother say hi:














Maldi and Rumsfeld (help me out here, this poor pup needs a better name!) wrestle while sister (Tuesday?) sleeps:














Maybe we can find them homes but I'm not holding my breath. I know they are garbage dogs to most people; they're not up to breed standards and they don't match the drapes. Pretty much how I feel about most people. Rumsfeld contemplates the arrival of his sister:

the Others

A brief pictorial history of the dogs we used to call "the others", George, Gracie and Rochester. They and their offspring comprise half of our little family.
They lived nearby at an army base and barked at us when we walked by. Gradually we got to know each other. Gracie had her litter Oct 7th. A little less than a month later, the soldiers were ordered to remove the dogs from the base. They were nice enough to let us know so we showed up with laundry baskets and relocated the puppies. Gracie followed along. George followed Gracie. Rochester spent a few weeks lurking outside of the property and barking at all hours. We just couldn't win him over. He started going along on morning runs, shadowing our dogs, always just out of reach. One day he followed them back into the yard and he's been here ever since.

George and Gracie.


Rochester, or Chester as he has come to be called, was a very nervous fellow.


George and pregnant Gracie, waiting for breakfast.


Gracie and her pups. A friend in need.



Puppy wheel. All eight of the little buggers.



Happy family. Godzilla looks up to her pop.


George and Godzilla. Two of a kind.

Chester is enjoying the good life. Doesn't he look pleased?

George and Gracie, happy (and infertile) together.