Goodbye my friend...

It's with a heavy heart that I pass along the sad news that the mother of two of my children has passed on...
The decision was made this past Friday night not to prolong Diva's suffering.
I'm glad I got to spend that final weekend taking care of her and I had my chance to love on her one last time. So I share with you a few pictures I have of her (even though you've no doubt seen them before), and I post my song of the day here as well.

Diva is the one in the middle, wearing the red collar...

I have no idea what this video is about, so ignore it. But I really like the song...

Size DOES matter

I'd like to know who the darned fool was that coined the phrase: Size doesn't matter.
Because I'm here to tell you, it DOES matter!!
In fact, the longer the better!!!!

My friend showed up at a function the other day wearing a new dress. I told her I liked it, and as the evening wore on, the more I looked at the dress, the more I fell in love with it. I decided I wanted one too. I went shopping for it over the weekend. I picked two of them off the rack in different sizes, not really sure which would fit me better (if at all). While the smaller of the two fit, it wasn't nearly long enough to be considered a dress (even a short-dress) on me, so I tried on the larger size.
Hmm, a little roomier, which I prefer, but it really wasn't much longer.
While I'm sure there are some women who would have no qualms about wearing their dresses so short, I on the other hand, have a problem with it. I like for my dresses to reach, at a bare minimum, to within a couple of inches of my knees. While this dress came close, there was just something about the way it was made that I just didn't feel comfortable wearing it as a dress. I felt like my arse was hanging out in back, so I did the next best thing...
I put on a pair of leggings and wore the dress as a shirt (tunic).

Doggy style

I was doggy-sitting for the neighbors this weekend, and decided to let my eldest two children have a play-date with Kya the golden retriever. There are so few dogs in this world that my Bootsy gets along with (aside from my other two danes), but Kya is definitely one of her doggy-friends.
But I think because it was so hot and humid Friday night and Saturday afternoon, that they just didn't feel much like playing, so for the most part, they just mingled about, and chased other dogs up and down the fence that wondered past.


Kya's so happy! Her friends have arrived to play with her!


This was the one, brief moment that Bootsy ran with Kya...


Okay, enough running, let's rest a moment...



Just the girls, standing there looking pretty...


Everybody minding his/her own business...


If I hadn't cut Bootsy's nose off in this pic, it wouldn't have been a half-bad action shot of her bounding up/down the fence line...



And let's not forget Olivia. She couldn't go out to play with the other kids, so she got to stay home, where she promptly curled up on the recliner.

New arrivals!!

The new arrivals are here! Bella's puppies were born on Sunday, 06/22. 4 Girls, 2 boys. The girls: 3 blacks (look like Bella), and one "Oops" fawn. The boys: 1 harlequin & 1 merle. I went out to see them and cuddle the new babes. I just LOVE puppies!!!


Bella, the proud momma!


In the welping box...


Everyone belly-up to the bar!


Ahh, full bellies. Now it's time for a nap!


The lone harlequin. A little heavy on the markings, but a cutie just the same!!



The "Oops!" fawn. Isn't she adorable?, just like her uncle Eliott!!


And the little merle. He's my personal favorite, as I'm partial to merles...


It's a good thing common sense won over, otherwise I'd have slapped a deposit down and claimed this little guy as my own.

Those tiny little toes! Ooh, I could just eat them up!!!

Nostalgia Saturday

Circa 1952 or '53...

This is my dad (in the black hat) and his cousin Tommy, dressed up to play cowboys and indians, although I'm not sure who or where the indians were. Up until about a year ago, when I specifically asked my grandmother to share some of her old photos with me, this and one other photo of my dad taken at a studio, were the only childhood photos of him I'd ever seen, and I always thought this was so cute. He and Tommy weren't just cousins, but best friends also. As they reached adulthood and got married, they drifted apart, only seeing one another on rare occasions. At one time, not speaking for several years (because of a family rift between their mothers), but finally re-connecting. And in the past couple of years, as they've both been experiencing some ill-health, they've been spending more time visiting and talking on the phone again... in a manner of speaking, picking up where these two little buckaroos left off.

In honor of the little cowboys, I'm posting my song of the day here as well...

Workplace celebrations

Before I came to work at my current job, I pretty much worked alone. That's not to say I was the only employee at my former place, but for most of my 10 years there, it was just me and the groundskeepers. And while I got along with those guys, we didn't interact too much with one another, and we didn't "celebrate" holidays, birthdays, etc. with one another, other than maybe a passing "Happy Birthday" or "Merry Christmas".
The sales staff at that place came and went, giving a whole new meaning to the term "high turn-over rate". More often than not, our office was without a sales staff, and I had to do their job as well as my own. There was one person (the original owner's daughter) that stayed for a long time, before transferring to the main office. She and I became close and did exchange gifts on these occasions, but it was more because we were friends than co-workers, and we wanted to, not because we felt an obligation.
My boss worked at the main office, and I rarely saw her. But she always sent a gift at Christmas and Secretaries Day, and sometimes a little diddy at Halloween, Easter, or Valentines Day, just for fun. She had a large staff at her location, and I had no objection to going in on a gift for her at Christmas or Boss's Day. But when they wanted to start buying her birthday gifts as well, I thought it was getting ridiculous, but felt pressured to go in. And then, when her lawnmower crapped out one summer and the staff wanted to buy her a new mower and wanted me to chip in on that, I really 'bout lost it! This woman made a heck of a lot more money than any of us and had 4 grown children... let them buy her a new lawnmower!!
So this brings me 'round to my present job.
The first year Christmas I was here, the cleaning woman asked if we were going to draw names or how we were going to go about exchanging gifts. I started to grind my teeth and thought to myself, "I'll be damned!", and finally told them that they could do whatever they wanted, but leave me out of it. The second Christmas rolled around, and the same question came up, again I begged out, but then something happened... the elderly woman who played our organ at funerals passed away about 3 weeks before Christmas, so I suggested instead of them swapping gifts, that we each put in our $10 or whatever, and "adopt" a needy family in her memory. Everyone liked that idea, and the following Christmas, we again went in on buying groceries for a needy family for the holidays. This was the kind of holiday spirit I'd rather we all take part in, but somehow, after that year, things fell apart. We stopped pitching in to help the needy, and suddenly it was, "let's pool our money to buy the boss something" (while he paid for our gifts out of petty cash instead of his own pocket... somehow doesn't seem quite fair). But okay, fine, I went along with it, but still had no intention of exchanging gifts with the co-workers. But over the past three years at least, one co-worker has insisted upon buying us all gifts, and now this past year another co-worker has started doing the same. I've still held my ground, but I'm feeling the pressure.
And now this past birthday, I was given presents. Arghhhh!! I really wish we could just let these occasions pass with little if any acknowledgement!!
So now the boss' birthday is this weekend. Okay fine, let's bake a cake & give him a card. That should be sufficient. But noooo! One co-worker came in the other day and asked if I wanted to go in on a gift for him. My eyes 'bout popped out of my head and I just looked at her for a moment before asking, "Now we're celebrating birthdays around here too?!"
She replied that she thought we always had, but I corrected her that we had not. So again, I stood my ground and didn't chip in. However, I am fixing the brownies and brought the ice cream.
So tell me kind readers... am I being a party-pooper by not wanting to celebrate with these people? Do you think I'm being selfish or stingy? Or am I the only one that's keeping things in-line and in their proper place?
Seriously, when it comes to those I love and want to be with, I've no problem buying a gift (assuming I have the funds to do so)... because I WANT to. But when it comes to others that I feel obligated to or pressure to contribute to, I just resent that. So give me your serious opinions here.

Friday photo challenge - Body

Perhaps she could've worded it a little differently...

My mother sent me an email a short while ago that absolutely made my heart skip a beat, but only before my stomach lurched up into my chest. I read the opening line of her email and inhaled sharply before thinking to myself, "WTF?". Then I read the rest of her message and my breathing and heart-rate returned to normal.

My father has been in some ill-health these past 6 months or so, and has been in the hospital for the past 10 days. The husband and I went down to the hospital to visit last night and arrived at the same time as my mother, who'd just gotten off work. We talked for a while about a variety of things, and they talked about a procedure that was scheduled to be performed this morning to put in a stint.
So the email my mother sent me started off with: Dad was put to sleep this morning...
Now being the dog-mother that I am, the first thing that popped into my mind was that he'd been euthanized, which horrified me, especially since I thought he looked considerably better than when I had last seen him.

Farm news

Sundays are fast becoming my favorite day of the week, as that's the day I now volunteer at the Luci Ctr., and only occasionally on Saturdays. The mornings just seem more peaceful, there are fewer people around, no classes being held, and things move at a slower pace it seems.
This past Sunday was a short-day, so to speak, as we didn't have much to do. As it wasn't too terribly hot/humid, most of the horses stayed out, so we only brought the 4 ponies and 2 minis in. Both minis have a serious weight problem, but Judge seems to be suffering for it the worse. He's having to wear a muzzle to help curb his grazing and I can't help but think he looks like Hanibel Lector.
Poor Crazy has had a bad few days and hasn't even wanted to go outside. It was an effort to even move him from one stall to the next so his could be cleaned. I keep expecting the day will come soon that I'll pull onto the lot and find his stall empty, and not because he's outside grazing.
No doubt, the worst thing about summer time at the farm (in my opinion) is the flies. I swear, it doesn't seem as if that fly spray does a bit of good, and it certainly doesn't last for several days as it claims on it's label. But we keep spraying it on and try to keep fly masks on, although a few of them manage to get them off and we just keep putting them back on. One of the poor mares, Lady, has some kind of a reaction to fly masks, and breaks out horribly which creates big sores on her face and jaw. This happened late last year when one of the volunteers purchased a new mask that had "sunglasses" decorated onto the mask. At that time when she broke out, it was just assumed it was because of something that was in that style of mask that caused it, and they stopped using that style of mask. Of course, by the time her sores healed, summer was over and the fly problem was no more. Now that the flies have gotten bad again, a different mask was put on her. It rained that night and the next afternoon, her face had broken out again, creating large sores. So no more fly masks for Lady. But it pains me to see those sores on her face and the flies drawn to the open wounds.
When we went out to mask all the big-boys, Pete, the Clydesdale seemed only too happy to see us, following us around like an over-sized puppy dog. His mask had ear-sleeves as well, and an extra flap that came down and draped across his muzzle. That style of mask always makes me think of klu-klux-klan hoods.
They seem to have a serious shortage of leaders for the classes, and I reminded the farms director that next time they planned on having a leader-class to let me know so I could participate. At this time, I'm only "certified" so to speak, as a side-walker. Honestly, I think I'd prefer being a leader, as it would be less stressful (physically I mean) on my shoulders and back. So hopefully that will happen soon.
The only wild moment for the day came when we were bringing in the ponies. I'd led Thunder out of their pasture and was just passing through the arena doors on the way to the stables when I heard the director call out to me to wait up. I turned to look and saw she was having a horrible time with her "problem child" pony. She'd gotten him through the gate and stopped to latch it when he decided he wanted to lean his whole body up against the gate and rub on it. She was somewhat caught in between and trying to push him away and keep the gate from swinging open and keeping the other two ponies from escaping. I had stopped Thunder and turned him around, but yet I was rooted to the ground, unsure of what to do or how to help. Fortunately, she got her pony under control and walked him back into the pasture to start the walk-in process over, this time it went smoothly. I breathed a sigh of relief and turned Thunder around yet again and headed in.
Honestly, while the pony she was leading in is a very cute little guy, and smart as all get-out, I can't resist referring to him as the problem child as he's always getting into mischief and causing trouble. And I can't help but wonder if he'll ever settle down and become a good horse that can be used in the therapy classes. I suppose only time will tell, but as he's only 3 years old, I guess we've got plenty of time to find out...

Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to work I go....

If you read yesterday's blog, then you know by now that Eliott accompanied me to work. The day had it's ups and down...


Here is my little-man, sitting patiently with his "love-child" scarf on, waiting for me to put the leash on him.


Loaded into the car...


Ready to go...







And we're off!






Snooping around the offices and file room, just checking everything out...


Supervising mom as she tapped away on the keyboard...




Both of his fuzzy-puppies came along to help keep him company, but for the most part, remained largely ignored...



Anthing good to eat in the fridge?...



I think I'll just lay right here and protect my momma, possibly from any unsuspecting little boys that may wonder in...


Those darned steps! How am I going to get down them???









Okay, for the most part the day went very well. The only casualty for the day was one broken floor-lamp that wasn't ever used anyway, and I told the boss (who wasn't even here) that it was his own fault for leaving an empty bowl with popcorn residue sitting on his desk, because Eliott loves popcorn and kept trying to get to the bowl, that's when the lamp got knocked over.
The rest of the day he spent the majority of it lying on the floor next to my desk, just as I suspected he would do. The only real incident (besides refusing to go down the steps) was when my friend "Junosmom" stopped by with her young son "W". Eliott took an instant dislike to W, much to my chagrin. As my friend was leaving, I even considered the notion of allowing Eliott the opportunity to go after W, if it would get him to go down the stairs. But even the chance to snack on a little boy didn't appeal to Eliott enough to get him to charge down the staircase after W.
Please, before I start getting all kinds of horrified comments, I would never have intentionally allowed my dog to chase a child, much less snack on one. And I kept a tight grip on Eliott's collar every time W stepped near.
As for how we finally got out of the building...
I called the husband after several failed attempts to get Eliott down the stairs and asked him to make the drive to LaGrange. I told him to bring 2 of the large bath towels and if worse came to worse, we'd create a couple of slings and carry Eliott out, much like we used to do with Kelsey when she was down and out with her Wobblers. But of course the husband forgot the towels, so that plan was nixed. I had hoped that Eliott would be so delighted to see his daddy, that he'd just charge down the stairs, but that didn't happen either. John came about 3/4 the way up the staircase and sat down. Eliott finally stepped onto the first step, then backed up. Then he worked up the courage to finally go for the 2nd step before backing up again. The next time he got as far as the 2nd step, John suddenly grabbed his collar in one hand and pulled Eliott hard towards him, and with the other arm grabbed Eliott in a big bear-hug and just held him tight as Eliott struggled to get away and back up to the landing. But John held on tight as I watched with baited breath as I feared one, the other, or both would get injured. But once Eliott stopped struggled so hard, John finally got one arm behind Eliott and basically just shoved-tossed him down the rest of the staircase.
Again, before I start getting horrified comments, don't get a mental image of the dog flying through the air or being body slammed down the steps. Eliott's feet stayed under him and on the steps 'til he got about 4 steps from the bottom and he made a big leap to get to the ground level (same as he does when he jumps off of our deck).
Once Eliott was again on solid ground and on ground level, he shook it off and was happy again. I immediatly took him outside where he "watered" the same tree he'd watered when he arrived. We loaded him into my car and called it a day.
So the lesson learned here... don't ever bring Eliott to work with me again unless he can stay on the first floor.
I wonder how Bootsy would do when the opportunity comes around next year?
I was going to post my song of the day here, but I suppose because of Disney's copyrights, the embedding thingy on youtube is disabled, so if you want to hear the song, you'll have to click on the link and go listen to it on youtube.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZC541psEO8A

Eliott's thoughts...

This blog was dictated to me by Eliott (because it's hard to type when you have paws)...
Why am I here? What did I do to deserve this?
I promise I'll be a good boy and not dig in the backyard anymore, just leave me at home from now on.
How will I ever get home? I don't want to go down that scary, red staircase! Somebody please come rescue me!

Parasomnia

Yesterday, I started reading a new novel that deals with the possibility of a murderer that sleep-walks. I'm little more than a hundred pages into the book, so I still don't know if the sleep-walker is guilty or not. But it got me to thinking about a conversation I had recently (& not for the first time) with one of my g/f's about night-terrors. Her infant daughter had had a rough night, whether she had a nightmare or sleep terror or just a bad night remains to be seen. But my g/f told me she had suffered from night-terrors as a child.
I did also (or so I thought), and googled the subject to learn more about it. I dare say, one could spend an entire day, no, make that a week reading non-stop all the info that is out there, and still not fully understand how the mind works when we go to sleep.
After a little bit of reading, I'm not so sure what I suffered from was actually night-terrors. I'm still not sure what it exactly was, but the closest thing I could come up with was "Parasomnia".
I was a sleep-walker as a child. Sometimes I had no memory of it and only knew about it when my parents mentioned it the next morning. Other times, I'd have a vague recollection of having gotten up in the middle of the night, and yet other times, I could recall clearly having gotten up and what I did, yet the things I did made no sense and seemed beyond my conscious control... don't worry, I don't think I ever did anything totally outlandish as cook a meal or drive a car.
One occasion that stands out in my mind was getting up in the middle of the night and going to my parents room and telling them I needed an embroidery hoop because I had a broken leg... now does that sound like rational thought to you??
There was one particularly frightening dream (nightmare?) I had over and over as a child, and most often it seemed to occur when I was sick, as in feverish. I would be standing at the base of a large hill or mountain, next to a mailbox, and the side of the mountain would be covered... different objects in different dreams... sometimes it was rocks, sometimes it was lumps of coal, other times it was a wide variety of toys... but as I would stand by the mailbox, an avalanche would start and the objects would coming rushing down the hill at me, yet in slow motion, and I was ALWAYS powerless to move out of the way, and could only stand there and stare in horror, waiting to be crushed. I know I scared the beejeezus out of my parents (and myself) on a number of occasions when I'd have this dream, because I'd scream out and had a difficult time waking up from the dream.
As I got into my teens, that repeating dream ceased to happen, and the sleepwalking lessened. I thought it had stopped altogether, but my husband insists I've done it a few times since we've been married (although he's got no room to talk, as he's been known to "merchandise" imaginary Coke shelves in his sleep).
The sub-conscious and the sleeping mind are powerful things that we may never fully understand, both fascinating and scary at the same time.
Feel free to share your own repeating dreams or sleep-issues... you're not alone here.

Dog day afternoon

Well, the day finally arrived. There were no funerals or visitations scheduled for today, so I brought my dog to work.
Last night, I gave Eliott a bath , lathered him up twice, dried & fluffed, brushed him, sprayed him with the doggy-smell-good stuff, packed his bag, washed one of his quilts, and picked out a scarf for him to wear.
This morning, as we were getting ready to leave the house, I was surprised to find Bootsy still on the futon, as she is usually right there wiggling with excitement if she sees Eliott going outside, because it's a very rare thing for them to go anywhere without the other. But oddly enough, she seemed to understand that she had to stay behind. I loaded Eliott in the car, and even with the engine running, the a/c unit blowing on us and the house closed up, I could hear Olivia in the house pitching a royal fit that he'd gotten to leave and she was left alone in the house with Bootsy (although safely ensconced in her crate).
The ride was uneventful. Eliott is a good passenger and laid down once we got on the interstate. We arrived at work and he was all excited to get out of the car and explore. I walked him around outside for a bit 'til he finally lifted a leg at a tree. Inside the building, up two flights of stairs, things were going good. I got his blanket spread out, his toys unpacked, got his water dish out and started to go downstairs so I could fill it up, and then...
For reasons I'm not quite sure of, he suddenly freaked out about 1/2 way down the staircase. We used to take him to the top-sider with us and he'd go up/down those stairs all the time without a bit of problem, so I never dreamed he'd have issues at work. So when I say he freaked out, believe me, he freaked! He suddenly started trying to back-paddle and go in reverse, but wasn't having much luck, so then he turned and cowered down on a step before trying to turn himself around and nearly slipping on down the stairs. He finally made it back up though. I tried again a few minutes later with the same result.
Great. Now how am I going to get him out of the building this afternoon? The freight-elevator doesn't come up to this floor, so it's not like I could ride him down on that. Guess I'll deal with that problem when the time comes, but I'm thinking I'd better save plenty of treats for that event, so I can hopefully coax him down.
We've been here about an hour and 15 minutes now, and he's finally stopped snooping into everything, panting, and pawing at me, and is lying down, sleeping on his blanket. We've got some friends coming by later this morning to visit, so I hope he behaves.
I'll post pix tomorrow of Eliott's first day on the job (and most likely his last).

Tuesday, song of the day

Just something fun and quirky today.
I don't remember ever hearing this song on the radio, but it was on a set of 33-LPs my mother had of "oldies music"... they were considered oldies when I was a kid, so that tells you how really ancient those songs are now. ;)
Beep Beep!

A novel idea

I love to read a good book.
We all have our opinions of what makes a book or author "good". Different tastes in styles, settings, fact vs. fiction, etc., etc.
I love a good suspense or mystery, as I try to put myself in the position of detective and figure out the who, why, when, where and how.
And from time to time, I enjoy a good romance novel, preferably historical romance. I'm not sure why I prefer the historical settings, but the best reasoning I can come up with is that it's perhaps because they don't use such graphic words and descriptions, instead using insinuation and gentle euphemisms, which I think tends to stir my imagination more than having things put bluntly before me.
I tend to read more books when the weather is nice. #1) as I enjoy sitting outside in the swing and reading seems like a good thing to do while enjoying the mild temperatures, and #2) I love to read while I'm lounging in the pool.
This past weekend, while staying at our breeders, I had forgotten to take a book with me, so I started perusing her bookshelf. She enjoys many of the same authors as I, and has many of the same books that I do. Her books were grouped by author, and as I scanned the titles I was hoping to find a book that I hadn't read before, but didn't see any, so then my eyes wandered to other authors. Johanna Lindsey caught my eye. I've often seen her books on the shelf at the stores, and have on occasion picked up one of her novels to read the jacket, only to put the book back, never having purchased one of her books, as they seemed sort of, um, "cheezy" I guess you'd say. But this time I thought, "what the heck?" so I took down one of her novels and settled in to read it. The fact that Fabio was the model for the leading man on the cover didn't hurt either, as it gave me something gaze at each time I picked it up.
As I suspected, her writing was somewhat cheezy and I felt unbelievable (but I guess that's what fantasy is all about, eh?), yet I found I had a hard time putting the book down, and couldn't wait to finish the story. Well, I just finished it and I'm mightily disappointed. I felt she should have had an epilogue letting the readers know how things truly ended with the main characters.
When I was at the store last night, before checking out I went down the book aisle, as I knew I was nearly done with my latest novel and would be wanting something else to read right away. I saw her latest work, and immediately dismissed it.
I'm not a fan of Harlequin Romances, but couldn't help my eyes sweeping across the big section of them as I moved down the shelves. A familiar logo caught my eye on a couple of the books and I bent forward to scrutinize it. It was the NASCAR logo. Hmm, what's that doing on a Harlequin Romance novel? I leaned in closer to read the fine print and saw that one of the books said "with a special guest-appearance by Carl Edwards". Oh no!!!! What is this world coming to? "Guest appearances" in a fictional, cheezy romance novel?? And why did it have to be by a driver I actually liked and cheered for? Suddenly I lost a shred of respect for Carl Edwards and Nascar in general.
I sighed and quickly moved past that section until I found two of my favorite authors and picked up three new books to tide me over for a couple of weeks. Mary Higgins Clark "I Heard That Song Before" and two novels by John Grisham. I can't wait to get started on them!

Fashion or animal cruelty?

As most everyone knows by now, I've got Great Danes.
In America, it is customary to have their ears cropped when they're about 8-10 weeks old so that the ears will stand erect atop their head instead of hanging down like a bloodhounds.
I admit, I'm guilty of having done this to Smokey & Kelsey. Bootsy came to us already cropped. Eliott & Olivia I left natural.
At the time I had Smokey & Kelsey's done, I did it because that's what I thought had to be done. I'd never seen a dane that didn't have it's ears up, accept for some photos in a book I'd read, and they struck me as odd-looking dogs that didn't look a darned thing like a Great Dane should (or what my perception of a Great Dane should look like). It didn't occur to me at that time that it was cruel.
When we got Eliott, I debated long and hard before deciding to leave his hanging. We'd spent a great deal of time and money and energy getting S&K's ears done, and since it was becoming obvious that Kelsey wouldn't have too much time left with us even though she was only two years old, I just wasn't sure I was up to the expense at the time and it seemed like such a waste.
Once we'd made our decision to leave Eliott's ears alone and we became used to the look, I was glad we'd left them. I'm now very used to the natural look, and rather prefer them hanging down and I've since come to realize that the ears don't make the dog (or the breed). Olivia's are natural as well, and I love being able to put my hands on either side of her head (or his) and just ruffle their ears all around. Sometimes when they sleep or play, their ears will get turned inside out or will fall across their heads and it can be quite comical.
So to get back on track, I've since come to the conclusion that cropping their ears is just cruel, and I know I'll be seeing some of our breeders new pups going through this in a few weeks, and the thoughts of it turn my stomach. She's even commented to me before that she likes the natural look, but if the dog she is showing is to stand a chance in the showring, then it needs to be cropped. I find that really sad.
I'm sure the majority of these owners of these expensive showdogs are very much against animal cruelty, yet they don't think twice about cropping ears or docking tails (that I've ALWAYS found to be barbaric!!!), all because it's the fashionable thing to do.

Great Danes

I was playing around with my camera, trying out different settings. I was really trying to get better "action" shots, but wasn't having much luck. But here are a few random shots of Desiree, Corey & Candy

The kid in all of us

Each of us has a trace of "child" in us, regardless of how old we are. It's that moment when we just feel the need to have fun, take advantage of the moment and let your hair down, and to heck with what others may be thinking.

My husband however, is one of those people that is a perpetual-child. He can have fun in just about any situation, regardless of who is around.
We were at some friends house last night for a cook-out, to say "farewell" to some other friends/neighbors that will be moving in a couple of weeks. The other three couples that were there besides us, each had their young daughters present, children ranging in age from 4 mos. to 2 years. My husband was having a good time playing with the 2 year old's toys as you can see in this video...







The children... yeah I know, it's men & little girls, like I said, "the children". ;)


Mia, enjoying her cupcake...



Taylor, REALLY enjoying her cupcake...

Less is more

If you watched the blog I posted a short while ago, which contained the music video "Men", then you were presented a display of mostly very good looking young men, most very muscular, some clean-shaven, some with a bit of scruff, some even in the buff.
I admit, I've now watched the video 4 times in the past 1/2 hour, mostly just to play the song and annoy my boss. But when his wife came in a little while ago, I called her over to watch it and to "appreciate it" with me. We both had the obligatory "mmm's", "oohs and aaahs", and "Damn!'s", when we felt the scenery warranted it. But as the video was winding down, and as it got to the third picture from the end, I pointed out to her that of all the young men, most of whom had been bare-chested if not completely bared, the picture of this guy was probably my favorite... he had on his blue jeans, shirt unbuttoned, cowboy hat in hand, and standing with a breath-taking view of the mountains behind him. That picture appealed to me the most and she agreed.
Yes, the background scenery was nice, but the fact that he was dressed, comfortably and casually, and with very little bared, it was actually the most appealing to me (us).
So less (bared) really is more (appealing).

Monday, song of the day

I was looking for an entirely different song, 'though by the same group, when I came across this one. I hadn't heard the song in years and really couldn't remember how it went, so I clicked on it to refresh my memory. Once it started playing, the tune came rushing back into my memory. I started to click off the video, but then the "scenery" caught my eye and I was mesmerized, so I had to watch the whole thing. Thanks, I needed that!!
Abbey, I think you need to watch this too, if not for the scenery, then for the sentiment of the song. ;)
Oh, and by the way, some of you parents out there might want to think twice before allowing your children view this.

It's official...!

It's official, my Bootsy is now an aunt.

Okay, admittedly, my k-9 children already have nieces/nephews, but they all come from half-siblings or siblings from another litter.

Bootsy's litter-sister, Bella, had her first litter of puppies yesterday. When I last spoke to "G" Sunday afternoon, five of the (expected) six pups had been born. A harlequin male, another "oops" fawn female**, and 3 black females, looking just like their mother. Not solid black, but not mantles either. All having white toes. No word yet on what the sixth puppy looks like or it's sex.

**When I heard a fawn was in the mix, always an "oops" when a fawn comes out of such breedings, I couldn't help but remark, "ahh, another 'EllieMae'". I say another, because the last litter "G" bred had a female oops-fawn that I dubbed "Ellie Mae", because she was the spitting image of my Eliott (her uncle)... see in the photo, she looks like a miniature Eliott!

I can't wait to go see the new pups. It always amazes me how small great dane puppies are when they're born, especially when you consider how big they eventually become. They are small enough to fit in the palm of your hand, and usually around 2 lbs. +/- a few ounces, but they grow sooo fast. Once they get to about 3 weeks old, and their eyes are open and start to learn to walk and crawl away from mom a little more, that is when they are truly fun to watch and interact with. Ahhh, puppy-breath!!!!! Can't wait to see them and take pictures to share.

Scary phone call

I got a phone call at about 12:20 this morning. Needless to say, I was sound asleep (thanks in part to having taken an Advil-PM before bed), and when my phone went off, I thought it was the alarm I'd set for 3:30 so I could call my husband to make sure he'd gotten up to get ready for work. My mind was fuzzy and my brain was still shrouded with a sleep-fog, so it didn't even register to me that he was calling me and I hadn't called him, nor did I notice the time at that moment.
His voice sounded a little strange and I asked if he was alright. He replied, "no, not really", and knowing something must be wrong, I finally came fully awake. I was thinking that perhaps he was sick, so when I asked what was wrong he said, "your daughter".
I still hadn't realized the time or the fact that he'd called me, so I thought perhaps he'd already gotten up to take them out/feed them, only to discover she'd made a mess or gotten into something she shouldn't have. I asked what she'd done and he told me how he'd been awakened by a crashing noise and Bootsy was carrying on, so he got up to investigate and found Olivia lying in the floor, stiff as a board, foaming at the mouth. Apparently she was having one of her epileptic fits again. Whether it was her fit or the one Bootsy was having, he doesn't know, but one of them bumped into a shelf and knocked over a stack of cd's onto the floor... apparently that was the crash he'd heard.
He said when he found her lying there, breathing hard, foaming, she was unaware of him being there and Bootsy was doing her best to try and nip Olivia's rear, I suppose in an effort to rouse her sissy. He said after a few minutes, Olivia just came out of it, stood up and shook it off and acted like nothing was wrong.
Some of my long-time readers may recall this happening once before. For those of you that are new here, then let me just say, this has happened once before that we know of. It's entirely possible it happens at other times when we're not home, but since she always snaps out of it and seems just fine, we've no way of knowing. We've never witnessed it happen as it starts so we've no way of knowing what is triggering these events, whether it's from her bumping her head or just something physiological in her body. Either way, let me tell you it's a VERY scary thing to walk in and find.
I couldn't remember exactly when the last occurrence was, so I went back through my blogs, and strangely enough, it was 7 months, to the day, since the last known occurrence.
When it happened last time, by the time we got her to the vet (several hours later), everything was back to normal and the vet said if it happened again to get her into the clinic asap so they could run tests. But, as fate would have it, I'm out in Henry County dog-sitting for our breeder and John's SUV has been having some issues with the tailgate opening/closing, so I don't think he'd have been able to transport her anyway (at least, not safely). So again, we'll just have to wait and see if it happens again and hope that if it does, we can catch it sooner and get her to the vet quicker.
The thing that has amazed me both times this has happened is the other dogs reactions to it all. Eliott just stays on the futon, out of the way. I don't know if he's indifferent to what's going on, or perhaps scared and just trying to stay away from the object that is scaring him (much like when he's frightened by storms/fireworks). And Bootsy, who under normal circumstances, seems to dislike Olivia and would just as soon not have her present, absolutely goes into action. She starts carrying on loudly to get our attention, and then once we're aware of the situation, she starts nipping and whining at Olivia... I like to think she's trying to "wake her up" so she'll act normal, but a part of me wonders if her behavior isn't much like a pack animal turning on a weakened member to put them out of their misery.
John said he'd taken her outside once she'd recovered, she'd pottied and came back in and was acting her usual self. I asked if she'd eaten yet and that's when he informed me it was too early. Now I looked at the clock and realized he'd called and woke me up.
After we hung up, I laid there for the longest time, my heart pounding and full of fear for my baby girl. The rest of the morning, I only slept in small bits as I kept waking up.

Sad news & Saturday Nostalgia

I'm going to combine two blogs into one here. Forgive me now for any ramblings and type-ohs, but I'm typing in between tears and blowing my nose.

Thursday afternoon, I got a phone call from our breeder, "G". I was to head out to her place that evening to care for her dogs for a couple of days while she was at a dogshow. When I had spoken to her on Wednesday evening, she'd mentioned that Diva hadn't been eating very well and thought perhaps she'd been trying to eat the cicadas that have been bugging us (pun intended) of late. But when she called me Thursday, she told me that she'd taken Diva into the vet that morning to have her checked out. The vet ran a battery of tests, and while they're still waiting for the final lab results to come back, he strongly suspects that Diva is in liver-failure. When "G" told me this, my heart just sank and the tears welled up. She was giving me the option of her leaving Diva at the vet's office instead of having to care for her, in the event something should happen and in case I didn't want to give her all the meds she'd now have to start taking.

I didn't even hesitate... bring her home, of course I'd take care of her. The vet has given Diva only a few months left, at best. So as there is the possibility that this weekend may be the last chance I'll have to spend time with her, I wanted to have that opportunity.

The opportunity to pet her, hug her, feed her treats and spoil her rotten...

"G" has had a number of dogs die or that she's had to have put-down in the years since I've known her. Some I've been somewhat indifferent to, other's I've felt a passing sense of sadness, but this one is hitting me the hardest (and she's not even gone yet).

The very first time I met "G", she had five danes, and of those original five, only two of them remain (a third is still living, but went to new owners many years ago). And of those two, Diva is the one I liked the best. But more importantly, she's the momma-dog to my Eliott and Olivia. How can I not feel a sense of loss (or impending loss) when she is the one that gave life to two such fabulous creatures that fill my life? I hope the vet is wrong, and that whatever is wrong is something that can be easily treated so that she can continue to live a long life. But I know the downside to owing a dane, and that's that they don't have a long life-span. I've experienced that myself firsthand, and it's just one of the facts you have to accept when you take on the responsibility of raising one of these fabulous creatures.

So my nostalgia bit doesn't go that far back in time, only 8 years to when I first met Diva...

The first time we went to "G's" to meet her, we were greeted by 5 giant heads staring at us through the picture window. Even though we already had a Great Dane at home, the prospect of walking into a house where there were 5 overwhelmed even us. We were welcomed in, and immediately surrounded by a sea of white and black fur. Tails wagging furiously, tongues hanging out, shedding hair flying all about. Finally the three girls went and settled in on the couch while the two males, Solo and Justin (father/son) continued to demand our attention and lean on us. Solo was drop-dead gorgeous, but had never been shown because of his markings. Justin was his 18 month old son, and they were best buds. Once we finally broke free from the males, we made our way over to the girls. Of course the one I was interested in seeing at that time was Anna, as she was the one that was expecting a litter of pups soon. She was heavy with her litter and tired easily, so she pretty much passed out on the couch and ignored us. The remaining two girls were Desiree and Diva. They were both bearing some fresh battle scars and Desiree even had some stitches in a few places. When I inquired of "G" what had happened, she told how Diva had only recently come to live with her and had tried to assert her dominance over Desiree and they'd come to blows, Diva coming out on top in that fight.

The wounds and stitches aside, I looked at the two girls sitting there vying for attention and immediately thought that Diva was the more beautiful of the two, especially the way she sat tall and proud. And while they've both proven to be very sweet dogs over the years, I've just always held more affection for Diva. Little did I know at that time that she would eventually go on to have litters of pups that would mean so much to me.

You can see in the top picture some of the old scars on Diva's muzzle.