I am very sorry the thunder has made you nervous. Perhaps I could soothe you better if you let me breathe?
I am very sorry the thunder has made you nervous. Perhaps I could soothe you better if you let me breathe?
Unknown dog vomited on rug.
Cut that part off of rug and threw it away.
FoodLady Chronicles – Virgin Islands Tour Edition: Y’all, yesterday kicked my (adorable) butt. I literally woke up tired this morning and the torrential rainy weather is not helping me get all motivated to do stuffs either. Regardless, there are always stuffs to do and mud pits to dig…oh wait, the dogs are all over that last thing. Yesterday I was privileged enough to be sent for work all the way to St. John (for those unfamiliar, this involved a sea plane to St. Thomas and then a ferry to St. John). This was my very first visit to St. John and I can’t really say that I saw that much of it but it seems adorable. My husband, just as tired as I was yesterday, asked me what I thought of it and my reply was, “….I saw a LOT of wealthy people.” It really is a gorgeous little island with, from what I could see, a LOT of healthy, happy, and loved dogs. That was kind of freaking wonderful to see. ❤
****** random rooster break******
Humprey just galumphed by the office window chasing the evil 3 AM who (unfortunately) made it over the neighbor’s fence. I know, it’s not very nice of me to wish that rooster harm, but he really is an asshole.
So, because I’m me I had a small Ziploc bag of Ziwi Peak dog food in my pocket (why? you don’t? how odd…). I could go into the gloriousness of Ziwi Peak dog food – but I honestly use it for treats for the following reasons: I can’t afford to feed it as food; it is a great food that you can break into teeny tiny pieces for treats; it has yet to ever make any dog gastrointestinally upset; I have yet to meet any animal that doesn’t LOVE it.
After driving around looking for a place for about an hour, we stopped this lovely woman walking her wee-little-STJ-dog to ask for directions. While my coworker discussed with her where we were going, wee-little-STJ-dog and I had some fun: he sat, he danced, we both wiggled – it was a party. That leads to us getting to where we were going and meeting TWO OTHER DOGS!
********random dog behavior note*********
It really is all about how you meet the dog. If dogs make you nervous or in any way scared, they pick up on that within seconds. The co-worker I was with yesterday is very small in stature and I think the large dogs may have made her slightly nervous. The two dogs seemed to pick up on that and were slightly bullying towards her. When we first got there they growled just a tiny bit until they heard me make happy happy noises; they were not acting in any way inappropriate – just feeling us out and protecting their home. But then they met me with the treats and the happy happy and they were SUPER excited.
Anywhoodle, I met me an adult Labradoodle and a 6 month old other-island-rescue. The ‘doodle was a loving yet regal ‘doodle and the puppy had legs made of springs. I love them.
We left there and were heading back to the ferry when we stopped the car because there was a large, healthy, and joyfully free boxer RUNNING in our direction dragging his leash. I mean, full on running – he wasn’t running towards us, he was just running as fast as he could. I opened the door and hopped out and tried to entice him. He stopped for a few seconds, but then “Nope, sorry Lady! Got things!” and kept a’runnin! He stopped again when I did a few play bows, but nope – I think he may have had a girl-dog up the hill “calling” to him. So, we continued on about 500 feet and there was a man with another dog in the car looking around, we pulled up and asked him, “are you looking for a large boy boxer dog?” Yes he was, we told him which direction his wayward canine was headed and the man thanked us and grumbled, “he is *such* an asshole!” and headed off to find his dog. My coworker looked a little shocked that the guy would call his dog an asshole whereas I was feeling a deep and real kinship with this guy and his beloved asshole(s).
Made it back to St. Thomas seaplane and then flew home to St. Croix. I was so happy to be close to home I was rocking out to some music on my headphones while walking to the car.
**MUSICROCKWOOOmeowMUSICMUSICROCKmeeeeeoooooowMUSIC** I take out a headphone and say, “uh….kitty?” “MEEEEEOOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!” I look around and articulately say, “uh…..” and out pops a wee kitten head from the tire of a taxi bus. “fuck,” I say. And thus begins the great kitten wrangling adventure of yesterday.
I busted out the dog treats and my fancy cat call of, “here kitty kitty.” Shockingly, kitty kitty came closer. I (stupidly) assumed this meant the kitty wanted to snuggle. Ha! Kitty done levitated 5 feet up and 5 feet back when I touched her. Hoping there was a magical trick to catching said kitty I contacted the local cat catch, spay/neuter, release super hero and she advised scruffing the cat if I had anything to put her in when I caught her. At this point I had convinced the cat to crawl into a bucket to eat, but she meant something secure where I wouldn’t end up dealing with a flying whirlwind of claws and pain while I drove.
Once I had little kitty all distracted and eating, Big Daddy showed up saunters over and sprays my tire. He also enjoyed a few nibbles of dog treats before he sauntered off to spray other vehicles.
okay then, it appears Big Daddy Cat has fully embraced his inner asshole. Superhero cat-catcher lady drives over with traps and she manags to snaggle both critters into traps and into her car just as another downpour starts. Both kitties will be fixed and released. Woooo!
When I finally got home, the dogs were FASCINATED by the lady who, based on the amount of sniffing that occurred, smelled amazing.
It turns out I run a canine flophouse.
This day can suck a….err, this day needs to be over now.
To be fair, this wasn’t a *bad* day, just a LONG day with *way* too much human interaction and adulting in it followed by some awkward wild animal interactions.
Here are some highlights:
Today was different.
My office has no a/c so I am working from home for a couple of weeks. Not that my house has a/c either, but at least there is a breeze, fans, and windows.
Anyhoodle, my day:
08:00 – la la la, working with no pants. RAMPANT PANTLESSNESS!
08:05 – Nope. sticking to chair. rancid pantlessness! find leggings, put on leggings. back to emailing.
08:43 – need a bra, felt weird to email clients sans bra.
09:03 – Piper comes barreling into the house like her ass was on fire, immediately drops and scoots her butt on the tile floor before running and scooting again. I get to pull a blade of grass out of her butt before sterilizing the aforementioned scooted-upon areas. My life, all glamour.
10:00 – begin viewing a pre-recorded webinar. Holy sweet mother of fall-protection hell, this is not good. It is presented in literal monotone. the horror!
10:19 – dryer buzzes, I pause horrible webinar with tears of gratitude and for the first time in my life, I am excited to fold laundry.
10:30 – back to webinar….ooh, but this is distracting, it turns out that all five (fucking) dogs can attempt to fit under my home office desk. I say attempt, it didn’t go well. *sigh*
emails, reports, letters, laundry moving, phone calls, blah blah blah……
15:00 – huh, just saw Ziesa running past the window at full speed (for her, she is not so speedy)…..how odd? wait! there she goes again! aww, she’s hunting lizards. I mean, not well, but good for her for trying!
16:30 – day is done. woohoo! the commute isn’t too bad, but the damn dryer doesn’t seem to respect being “off the clock”.
NB: it is very hard to write with a Humphrey on top of me.
so challenging in fact that I hit publish before I wrote my thoughts. *sigh*
So, one of the reasons Dobby is such a satisfying dog to showcase as a rehabilitated dog is because the transformation is so very visible. He went from nasty nekkid mole rat to handsome beefcake relatively quickly.
But how do you visually show the changes in a dog who basically looks the same? Answer: you can’t.
Humphrey, the largest of our idiots, is technically my husband’s dog because when he saw a picture of this dog he literally said, “I love him, his name is Humphrey and I shall love him forever.” and that is how Humphrey was named and adopted.
Humphrey was quite literally a pet project of a woman who has now become incredibly valuable to the animal welfare of this island. She moved into a home and Humphrey lived, a classic case of neglect, tied to the fence at the edge of her property. Her & her husband befriended this dog, feeding him and giving him attention to the point of building him a shelter, and the husband walking him. It is my belief that these interactions were Humphrey’s first introduction to affection and he was (and is) a fan. I have some opinions about hugging dogs that can be simplified into “generally do not,” but Humphrey seems to actively seek them out. When I thought about it for a while, it made sense to me. His first FoodLady provided him with affection, food, and attention and probably hugged him. This poor dog, never having been well-socialized with other dogs and appeared to have been tied up and ignored by humans until his first FoodLady moved in next door, learned that hugs were how you show love.
Anywhoodle, Humphrey was a mess and to be honest, still is and always will be. He was found running loose and taken to the animal shelter, and when no-one claimed him, his first FoodLady contacted me and asked if I would take him in. I showed my (now) husband his photo and the rest is history.
Mr. Humphrey’s progress includes:
He is a very sensitive dog and when I have been sick or sad, he hasn’t left my side. Had Humphrey been raised in a loving environment where he lived with his mother and littermates until 12 – 16 months with appropriate human socialization included and then adopted into a home where he learned how to interact with his human pack and given appropriate training? he could have been devastatingly amazing. He’s unique and he’s loved; but his lost potential will always make me a little sad.
All these positive changes have been internal. When he arrived here he was a large, healthy-looking apricot-colored canine. He is still a large, healthy-looking apricot colored canine.
He will always have his limitations. He cannot be around cats, he will hunt them. He gets too caught up in pack excitement too quickly and ends up nipping humans in response leading to bruising on one occasion, but if he meets new humans by himself – they are all his newest bestest friends.
He’s never going to be perfect, but who is? Not me.
I’m home sick today (just a cold, but ugh) and this has given me time to let my brain wander while surrounded by moderately sympathetic dogs using me for bed access. So, I have a pack of five, I never wanted more than three dogs – alas, humans plan and the gods laugh.
Here are the five assholes..uhh..beloved canines in order of who has been here longest to shortest:
SamSam – male, neutered, 4 years old, brindle, breed officially unknown, but pretty dang sure he is a pibble. Originally belonged to a friend of mine, but his repeated destruction of her husbands brake lines made it necessary for him to come and stay with his “auntie” in the puppy protection program.
Piper – female, neutered, 3 years old, black, breed officially unknown but she looks like a collie mix. To most people, she looks like this pretty little border collie nice dog, but of all my dogs she is the one I would choose to have with me in a dark alley – protective but not aggressive. This poor pretty girl was a failed foster who stayed here with us not because we had a deep connection, but because she fell through the cracks during Herbert’s health crisis and death. She is desperate for a connection and despite my emotional shut down following the loss of Herbert, she has stayed the course and appears happy with her lot in life. She is definitely the, “one of these things is not like the other one…” in this pack of block headed idiots.
Ziesa – female, neutered, 1 year, fawn, she is a mix of boxer and terrier. This poor princess was adopted from the animal shelter and is currently the least healthy dog I have, her hip dysplasia and arthritis are very bad and the medications and supplements are insanely expensive. We are just giving her the best quality of life we can for as long as we can and then we will have to let her go. Tragically, I adopted her to attempt to train her as a replacement service dog for Herbert; needless to say her health is just not up for it.
Humphrey – male, neutered, 6+ years old, brown, breed officially unknown but he is the largest and most moist of all of our puppies. He has a pretty tragic back story which involves the first 4 years of his life being chained to a fence. He had no socialization with people or with dogs, he has no bite inhibition, very little self control, and while he is incredibly happy in his life now is just not able to be homed with just anyone.
Dobby – male, neutered, 1 year, white and gray, and he is also a mix of boxer and terrier. I found this poor little dude on the side of the road looking like a starved naked mole rat. A very stinky smelly starved naked mole rat. I took him to the shelter to put him down (figuring a quick death was preferable to a slow starvation) and he just connected to the world around him, was heartworm negative, and the shelter asked me to try to rehab him. Here we are 8 months later and at home at least, he is a super confident and annoying hellion. He finds a lot of the outside world scary, but we are working on it. I’m planning on training him as a diabetic alert service dog, but even if he fails completely he has seriously helped my heart heal after the loss of Herbert and because of that he has already performed a great service for me.
Dear Dobby, there is no other way to say it – you’re an asshole. You may have notice the two humans you live with occasionally saying, “we get it now, we know why you were left on the side of the road.” That is because we have developed an intricate backstory for you where you’ve lived in about 7 different homes and all of them start out taking care of this sweet little dog who just needs food and love and then fast forward 7 months and the people are pacing while pulling their hair out before freaking out and driving you back to where I found you. You feel great and have ALL the energy in the world – I’m thrilled. Let me detail your current assholery:
So, Dobby’s doing well, healthy, happy, etc. No, we are not getting rid of him, I just like bitching every once in a while. I don’t know if the shelter judged him a bit older than he was or if he is finally going through a delayed adolescence due to early starvation – doesn’t matter, he is full on embracing his “adolescent asshole” stage.
I love the little monster.
In other news on Monday morning the (not nice)neighbors’ (probably nice but has issues)dog was heading South down the road. I’m not proud that for half a second I thought about calling the police, but I made the better-person decision to herd the barky fuzzy-butt back into his yard to keep him from getting run over. Fuzzy-butt is/was fear-reactive so he was super pissed (from a distance) as I moved him towards his yard just by talking and walking towards him. His human came out a bit shocked as she said she didn’t even realize he was outside. I just nodded and waved goodbye while thinking, “Yeah, it sucks when that happens, doesn’t it?”
All’s well that ends well. ❤