FoodLady Chronicles – house of hounds edition: Morning y’all, I am sorry I haven’t been writing much this last week, it is a freakin’ challenge to write and work and dog – especially when there are EXTRA dogs dogging.

This is a Bella, Bella-princess, Miss Bella Hoppy Pants, or, for no good reason, Piglet. She belongs to a friend who had a family emergency and had to fly off the island for a week or so, he comes back tomorrow. She looks all sleepy and cute (and OMG she is so cute), but she has broken a Dobby. He is *so* tired. I mean, he is so tired from constantly playing with a Bella that I put him in the bedroom to give him a break and he was *grateful* for the rest rather than wanting to come out and keep playing which is completely unprecedented.

And then there is a Snoopy:

Remember airport road dog that I took to the shelter? Yep, that’s a Snoopy. Snoopy is a perfect name for him because he looks like Snoopy and because he is just the NOSIEST dog EVER. Really trying to learn about EVERYTHING. I didn’t take a current picture because, well, I keep forgetting (I will post one later!) The lady that met him fell in love and is adopting him, but she is in New York. So he flies out on the 24th (or 26th) of this month to go meet up with his new humans. YAY! He is in his kennel (laundry room) right now after playing with a Bella and a Ziesa for a few hours and having THE BEST MORNING OF HIS LIFE! To be fair, Snoopy finds everything to BE THE BEST whatever OF HIS LIFE! He weighed in at 42lbs yesterday and I’m not saying he is a beefcake (’cause that is Dobby’s designation), but he is a muscular, athletic, well-built, zoomy little dude. Dobby is just happy to have a buddy he can tag in to play with Bella (random: I googled synonyms for beefcake and the word ladycake was there. I can’t decide if that word is perfect to describe Bella or if the word ladycake means something naughty. I’m torn.).

And just cause she’s snoring against my leg, here is the pretty little Ziesa who is, as always, a beloved fireplug. ♡♡♡

Went to WAPA (water and power for those who don’t live on island) yesterday because our bills were weird and I needed to do a name change now that I have my license. Got everything sorted out with no issues, although the office employees appear to have developed a serious case of PTSD because everyone is stressed out over their bills and yelling at them.
But here’s where it got weird (y’all knew it would get weird, this is me – I always (inadvertently) bring the weird.): I went to WAPA PREPARED. Yes, I had the standard requirement of 57 different ways to prove my identity, but I also brought snacks, beverages, and my work with me ’cause I knew it would be a while. I signed in and because every seat in the place was filled, I plopped down on the floor. The dyspeptic-looking guard asked I not sit there because of traffic flow and offered me a chair in another corner. I smilingly replied I had no problem moving but perhaps some of the elderly folks that were standing would appreciate the chair more. Then I proceeded to plop my booty down in an out of the way spot and dove into confined space regulations (work). Little did I know, people sitting on the floor at WAPA makes them *very* unhappy. Seriously, I was completely oblivious, at least until I noticed a WAPA employee waving her arms at the guard frantically and realized a few other employees staring at me through the glass. I smiled and waved and they scattered, so I went back to figuring out what sorts of hazards could occur inside of an emptied cistern, and what kinds of chemical exposure monitoring would be needed depending on type of sealant used, etc. Next thing I notice is the poor beleaguered guard standing next to me with a folding chair saying I was no longer allowed to sit on the floor. I blinked (in my mind, I was in a cistern) and once the words registered I nodded and said, “alright, set me up wherever” and he put the chair right next to where I was and I climbed into it. About 35 seconds later my name was called, the (poor) guard helpfully bellowed, “she’s here, she’s right here! Hold on! She’s on her way!” when they called my name. Now, I can’t swear I got pushed ahead of the line just to get my (apparently troublemaking) butt off the floor, but I also can’t swear I didn’t. However, I can attest to the fact that if you sit on the floor at the WAPA office you will really upset them. Please use this knowledge responsibly. 😈😈😈

So, so many people ask me questions like, “how do I get my dog to stop going to the bathroom in the house?” Or, “how do I stop my dog from chewing on shoes?”

Because of what I know, those are easy (to me); you know what kinda shit *I’m* trying to fix these days?

“How do I keep my problem-solving jerk dogs from testing each fence quadrant and climbing over any vulnerable areas and then running to where they have apparently found, and revel in rolling in, a very smelly decomposing corpse of what I now know to be a dog because SamSam dog brought. me. a. leg. yesterday. Ya know, just in case I wanted to roll on it too.” Yep. I have apparently been officially and completely creeped the hell out. I can handle A LOT of gross with no issues, but this one threw me off my stride. It is now a tie as to which was worse, waking up to a surprise chicken head on my pillow with intestines still attached (thank you Herbert), or the decomposing and slightly mummified but still horrifyingly stinky dog leg (thank you SamSam).

So, limited access to fenced in yard today (supervised only) and have to extend the electrified “hot wire” fencing further after work and long term correction of this problem is that I need to increase their exercise and activities – I have spent too much time working with other dogs and not enough with my own. ❤

For some great information about what to do with escape artist monsters that *have* to be secured, I found this post to be super helpful!

http://www.teediddlydee.com/how-to-put-up-electric-fencehot-wire-for-dogs-horses-animals-part-1-2/

I forgot this part.
I forgot how much grief physically HURTS.

I lost my soul-dog, my diabetic alert service dog named Herbert on February 10, 2016 and I started therapy in 2017 which has helped me a lot. I’m doing okay.

But I live on an island that has a serious pet overpopulation problem and I when I find an abused/neglected/abandoned dog I do my best to catch them and get them vet care and then find them a home.
I found Honey Dog on February 23rd. Despite food, antibiotics, etc. she wasn’t improving.
We did exploratory surgery yesterday and she was riddled with cancer, obviously, I let her go.
But when I got home, my body was aching; and this morning I woke up sore all over. And then I remembered I’ve felt like this before, after Herbert passed. Grief hurts, emotionally AND physically. This poor dog was sick, starved, abandoned, shot with a pellet gun (x-ray showed us), and I found her rooting through trash on the side of the road while people drove by and walked by her like it was nothing. Like she was nothing – and she was amazing. I fell in love with this dog and didn’t know her very long. Everyone who met her fell in love with her.
At this point I don’t know if I am grieving for the loss of her, or the loss of faith in humanity? But it’s probably both.

I will keep on doing what I do, because for the many who just don’t care, or choose not to see, there are just as many people who care deeply and give of themselves to make the world around them a better place for everyone.

Try to do something good today in the memory of this dog that had every right to be nasty and bitey and hateful, but never was. Learn something new about dog behavior and then pass it on and think of a little blonde dog; or buy someone a snack to help them not be hungry because hunger sucks; or just go to PayPal and send a dollar or two to the STX animal shelter (administration@stcroixawc.org) and make sure to reference Honey in a message, something like “because of Honey” or “RIP Honey,” because that would help too.

Love y’all,

FoodLady.

Ok, I do not have good news and I’m sorry for that. Honey-dog should not have been as happy and alert as she was. Her life put her through hell, and I only wish there was more I could have done.
I went back and forth about whether to have the surgery today. I managed to put 2.6lbs on her over the weekend, but the weight wasn’t sticking to her spine (I know that sounds weird, but I swear, it’s a thing). I spent the day with her at the clinic and the vet decided to move forward this afternoon. If it had been something operable, she would have made it through the surgery just fine.
The mass had metastasized and it involved her pancreas, lymph nodes, and the majority of her intestines. I only saw about 6″ of viable intestines left.
We let her go, she deserved some peace.

So, please everyone, pet your beloved pets, take a deep breath, donate a few dollars to the St. Croix Animal Welfare Center if you can, (PayPal to administration@stcroixawc.org in memory of Honey), and for the love of anything good left in this world – please spay and neuter your pets.
❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

Rest in peace sweet girl; I wish I could have done more.

In the, “well, that was unexpected” category, Snoopy-dog (fka airport road dog) looks like he has a future home. The poor woman who was helping the animal shelter prep and stuff envelopes for a mailing campaign had Snoopy attempt to assist her by sniffing each envelope she stamped and put down, probably making sure no dog biscuits accidentally got sent out by mistake. I also, in my rambling dorky way explained he had already had one bath, and yes, those are fleas – we are calling them the Fleatles,…that one’s Ringo, that one’s John, I think that one was George, and yep, sorry….just killed Paul. And then the poor woman got to witness my mini meltdown (sobbed like toddler for a few minutes) as I’m filling out the paperwork to surrender him and I got to the call me or don’t call me if we have to put him down choice, because y’all? The shelter is FULL.
Anywhoodle, she apparently left a message on the voicemail that she wants him and wants to fly with him to the states in April.

So the shelter wonders if I can come in on a regular basis for meltdowns? Or even to just do bad paraphrasing of internet comedy?
😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁

I’ll take the happy. ❤

Good morning,
A quick update on the current FoodLady’s list of abandoned/lost/neglected/foster misfits:

Honey – didn’t get to see her yesterday, haven’t heard anything yet but I know she is in great and loving hands with Eby and we will head off to the animal shelter to get additional testing done on Friday (took day off work).

Miraposa – little monster is currently being babysat by her very own Prince, and as you can all see in the photo, her difficult life continues.

Un-named airport dog – greatly enjoying kibble and water although his joy at being segregated from gen pop is waning. In the realm of TMI (but a great, if not definitive indicator of good health), his poops are seriously healthy which gives me hope he has a home and just got lost (please please please please please please!). He’ll get scanned tomorrow when I can get him to animal shelter.

Today rather kicked my butt, but please enjoy a tired Heather random dog(s) update:
Honey – putting on weight, remains one of the most relaxed and contented dogs I’ve ever met. Still looking for the perfect forever home.
Mariposa – happy little ugly cute puppy who was SUPPOSED to fly out to meet up with her adopter on March 27th. Sadly, that adopter has backed out due to her sister’s concerns about the “dangers of pitbulls or pitbull mixes”. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion but I am disappointed because she is a smart little nekkid mole rat and is already a very good girl.
Random – by complete happenstance I met the newspaper pick up guy today (the guy who goes and picks up all unsold newspapers) and TOTALLY hit him up for all of the “trash” and filled the jeep and delivered them to the vets office for cage liners when I visited Honey. Best part, got his phone number! So I will do my best to get the “trashed” papers as often as possible.
Love and hugs and stuff!

I haven’t been writing a lot lately, neither here or on social media because, well, time. We have been living in the new house since the first of the year and have gotten 95% of our crap mess possessions here.

In other news I have too many possessions. Also, I do not seem to have enough time.

Ok, this is not in any way animal related – well, I mean, we can reeeealllly stretch and say oil originally started off as critters…too far? Yeah, thought so.

So, I love the small generator. There is no oil filter, you just remove the logical and well thought out hex headed drain plug, drain the old crud out, screw the plug back in, put new oil in and poof! done.

Biggie? Changing Biggie’s oil should have taken me 20 – 30 minutes.

Four. Hours.

It took me four [expletive] hours. Allow me to detail:

I decide to change oil in the generators and I start with the smaller generator.

15 minutes later, the small generator oil has been drained. Air filter washed and drying.

I then begin reading manual on how to change Biggie Generator’s oil. It unhelpfully refers me to find the engine manual (never did find it) for additional details. *sigh*

Attempt to remove oil filter. No movey. Attempt to stab with screw driver, deflected. Is this dang thing made of super reinforced adamantium or something?! Alrighty then, I’ll start over with the oil draining part.

Square head? I don’t have a rachet fitting for that. I attempt to use channel locks which indents the plug…what, is it made of silly putty? lead? Why is it *so* soft?! Attempt to use a pipe wrench….not enough room. Fine!

I’m going back to the oil filter. Go obtain drill, drill hole in [expletive] oil filter, stab hole with screw driver, remove oil filter. Small Victory! *does cabbage patch dance*

Internet’s advice on stuck oil plug: lube it, beat it, heat it, destroy it.

Used penetrating oil – it didn’t help. Couldn’t find a hammer so I beat the soft square plug using the back of a hatchet, it didn’t help. Now, do not do what I did next, I moved onto the “heat it” step by using a propane torch, sadly it didn’t help but YAY! I didn’t die. Didn’t want to destroy it…..so….

[Expletive] you Biggie Generator, I’mma flip you over. Using the pure strength given to me by rage, I flipped that generator and managed to drain about half a quart out of the generator where the oil filter used to be, but still not enough. There is still too much oil. That’s when husband (via phone) suggests using the siphon pump and a glorious sunbeam lit up the siphon pump….or I had inhaled too many vapors at this point, whatever….it’s fine! I grabbed that siphon and started pumping and it was a beautiful sight as that old oil started filling the pan and I smiled, knowing I was close to the end. And that’s when the drain hose released from the hand pump and then there was old oil EVERYWHERE. Like a CSI murder scene, just with cruddy engine oil instead of blood dripping from every surface. I said, [expletive] it! Kept pumping and I drained that damn oil tank! VICTORY WAS MINE! I mean, I looked like an extra from Beverly Hillbillies after they struck oil (oddly moisturizing, not recommending it….but fyi), but I had drained enough of that [expletive] oil to finish up.

I installed the new oil filter and filled Biggie up with new oil and then began the clean up. It was a LOT of clean up.

I really do enjoy mechanical work, but WOW I really might not be a natural talent at it.

Update: I have now purchased the CORRECT ratchet doo-dad to remove that nut/plug as well as a replacement square nut/plug so I can send the old one to hell WHERE IT BELONGS!