Welcome Ozzy!

Hello to the new dog! This is Ozzy, 8 years old, rescued from an elderly woman with dementia who forgot to feed him and his sister. They were down to 36 pounds when found. Now Ozzy comes to us from a 4-month foster in Wisconsin--a healthy, happy 55 pounds. He's settling in and starting to adjust to us--and we to him.

Bill is finally coming home!

Barring any unforseen snafus, Bill will be home Monday night! Poor guy has to bus to Fukaoka, fly to Tokyo, then San Francisco (getting luggage, clearing customs, then re-checking luggage), then Atlanta, and finally Tri-Cities. I don't envy him those flights, but I sure will be glad to see him at last.

It's been a little lonely around here without Mr. Bounder. I keep thinking I need to take him out, or feed him or play with him. Then I remember that he's at peace now, and he doesn't have to be afraid anymore. It was an interesting experience having a dog who thought I was his whole world (despite the fact that he didn't like anyone else). I've never had a dog that was so affectionate, so grateful for attention, so playful and cuddly. Granted it was a "I'll eat you up, I love you so" kind of love. He was a character.

So once again, it's a swamp-out-the-mess kind of day. Laundry, de-cluttering and vacuuming. I picked a gallon of blackberries yesterday and I will make a nice pie for Bill's homecoming.

I also experimented with making chocolate swirl ice cream and fresh peach ice cream. The texture was a little off on the peach, a little too icy, I suspect because of the amount of water in the fruit. But the flavor was fabulous. I'm not a chocolate fan, but this tastes pretty good, with hot fudge sauce streaking through the lighter chocolate ice cream. I'm learning new tricks.

Say Goodbye to Bounder

Many of you who have followed Bounder's crazy antics will be as grieved as I am today. The poor little guy has made terrific progress in some areas, but he has not been able to conquer his fears, and has developed an unpredictable, escalating biting behavior. Sadly, the American Belgian Malinois Rescue Committee has decided that because of this, he is dangerous to me and to others who come into our household, and they have decided that he must be put down.

After watching him with Ray and Elaine during their visit, and talking at length with people who know more about the breed than I do, I am forced to agree that poor Bounder can't be trusted anymore. Unfortunately, the popularity of this breed with law enforcement has led to many of these dogs being trained with inappropriately harsh methods, which can turn them vicious. Now that Bounder is "comfortable" (relative term) in my house, he is starting to revert to whatever was done to him in his prison guard training. He may have even been trained to bite aggressively on purpose.

I understand that this is a huge liability issue for the ABMC--if I or one of my household was seriously injured by Bounder, they would be on the hook. Bill also brought up the fact that they are also concerned with the breed's reputation--they have to cull the rejects, lest the breed itself develop a reputation like the pit bull has.

While he continues to be very affectionate with me, Bounder has been stepping up his aggressive behaviors in the past week. It's almost as if once he got a "taste" of Ray, he feels free to bite everyone, including me. This cannot be tolerated; it's just too dangerous.

The AMBC tells me I did everything I could and gave Bounder perhaps the only loving, stable home he had in his short life, but I'm not so sure. Part of me thinks I could have staved this development off, if I were more experienced. But I also have to be pragmatic and realize that this too is part of the fostering process. It's just sad that it had to be my first foster care.

On the plus side, AMBC is sending me Ozzy, also known as Rory next week. This malinois male is about 7-8 years old, very laid-back. He was rescued from a starvation situation when he was down to 36 pounds. He has been living in Wisconsin for the past four months, and has fattened up to 55 pounds now. Rory just needs to recover his muscle mass, have humans who love him and have a safe place for him to live a good dog life. This I can do. He is considered to be "hard to place" because of his age. He has no outstanding health or behavior problems, and AMBC is thrilled that I said I'd take him. They say that everyone who has come in contact with this guy just adores him.

So today will be a sad day. Bill is due home on Monday or Tuesday and we will do the dog thing together with a new foster.

Fourth of July & Blackberry Pie

Our Fourth of July Weekend:

Bounder was not too impressed with our houseguests. He bit Ray, growled at Elaine and generally made a nuisance of himself. Aw, but he looks so sweet!

Due to the plethora of blackberries ripening down at the pond, it was only appropriate that Blackberry Pie be made and consummed:

And we tried out my new kitchen toy, an ice cream maker! This machine is awesome! We made Blackberry Sorbet and Vanilla Ice Cream at the same time. To go with the pie, of course.

Ray, Elaine and I went to a Fourth of July party. It was hot. It was buggy. It was Tennessee in the summer:

Bill was supposed to be on a plane, arriving tonight. But his relief, Earl, failed to get on the plane in Medford, Oregon. Earl's photo is on a milk carton now. If you see him, tell him to get his behind to Japan, so Bill can come home!

Losing Weight, Floating Docks & Insane Dog

I haven't been blogging lately (despite emails saying "miss you!"), due to circumstances beyond my control, as they say. It's been raining. Never mind that the temperature outside has been in the high 80s and even 90s some days, the water just keeps pouring from the sky! I spend a lot of time getting wet and drying off, doing laundry and still, the unpacking goes on.

As a result, my floating dock done floated away from shore. Moorless, it bobbles half-submerged around the pond, never coming close enough to shore for me to lasso it and drag it back. I have thought about getting the canoe down and paddling out to it, attaching a rope and then making my way back to shore with the rope, attaching it to a car and hauling it back to it's place, then figure out a way to secure it again. But all that just seems like WAY too much work. It's easier to sit and think about it while I'm knitting and watching TV.

And I've decided that the 28 pounds I have added to my frame in the last 2 1/2 years have to go away. Thanks to a suggestion from MaryAnn, I have been on the South Beach Diet since last Friday, and have lost 10 pounds! I never looked into this particular meal plan, mostly because I hated the name that conjured up rail-thin society babes ("social x-rays," as Tom Wolfe put it, in Bonfire of the Vanities), frolicking about their useless lives while drinking fortified exotic juices. But that isn't it at all. After reading the book, it's basically a refutation of the low-fat, high-carbo diet we've all been told is good for us. In the decades since the Food Pyramid was changed to make us all eat less fat, less protein and bump up our carbs, America has gotten fatter. This plan is all about the meat, cheese, eggs and vegetables, cutting out ALL sugars and starches for the first two weeks. After that, I can start adding in fruit and whole grains. It's the low-glycemic, quasi-diabetic diet that has always worked for me in the past. And it sure is working now, without hunger or crankiness.

And I've been getting plenty of exercise with Mr. Crazy-Dog. Bounder is coming along just fine, though he is clumsy, somewhat dumb and hyper. He got away from me a few days ago, clamored up the back deck steps, then scooted under the railing out onto the roof. Then, of course, he fell off the roof to the second story deck below, crashed through the railing and lattice barrier, and fell another 10 feet to the driveway below. Then he jumped up, ran to the back yard and tried to do it AGAIN! I grabbed him before he could go up the steps again, and was relieved that he was completely unhurt, despite falling off the roof of my house. Wow.

Bill suggested that we put a sign that says "Beware of the Dog," with an arrow pointing skyward. Or, put a parachute on the silly animal.

The garden is slowly taking shape, in raised beds and pots on the porch. I will have my eggplants, cucumbers, tomatoes, and peppers this summer! Although with the heat and rain we've had, I'd say summer is already here.

Life goes on.

Mr. Dog Gets Comfortable

"Bounder" (who alternately answers to "Shadow") and I are settling in after our first week together. He's a playful young thing, with boundless energy, until he collapses in his spot behind the couch. I've tried moving his bed to different areas of the house--he likes the spot he chose!

Lots of biting and chewing, counter-surfing and other uncivil puppy behaviors, such as drinking out of the toilet bowl. He is making me be a better housekeeper--I don't want to risk my leather purse, my hiking boots or my walking shoes to the jaws of death and destruction.

He does like the toys I brought out from the Echo bag. He tosses them in the air, flings them around the room and prances with them dangling out of his mouth. He will run and pounce on a thrown toy and sometimes even brings it back for another toss.

I have even taken him off-leash a few times--yesterday up on the mountain path, when he was being particularly tractable, and today down by the pond. He is fast. Almost as fast as I remember Echo being when she was younger. I let him race downhill and then whistle him back with a treat. This only lasts for about five go-rounds of course; then he starts to get that look as if he's headed for the horizon on the next trip. At that point, I re-leash him and we finish our walk under control. It's great to see him stretch his legs and wear himself out.

Today, I repacked the crate in its box. He is wearing sores in his face trying to push his way out between the wires, and it's just not right. Yesterday, I strung a metal cable about 80 feet up the back yard hill, attaching it by drilling and screwing eye bolts into two oak trees. I then ran a lead on a pulley and spring attachment, so I can clip him to that when I am out and about. I'm not sure he likes it any better than being in the crate, but at least he won't hurt himself on it. Now I have to figure out how to build a doghouse arrangement for when it rains. And then I'll have to teach him to go IN the doghouse when it rains!

Work is work. I'm really tired after my first week back. It's great to be with my library friends again, but physically, it's wearing. I have another round of doctor appointments this week, so it's going to continue to be busy.

And somehow, I've got to get my garden planted if I want any vegetables this summer! I am way behind on everything.

The dog learns new tricks and gets a name...sort of

This foster dog came to us with no canine skills and without even a dog's normal curiosity. He plunked himself down in a spot between the couch and the dining table and cowered for two days. On Saturday, tired of this fearful nonsense, I declared it to be "training time." I got a handful of kibble and started coaxing him up the stairs, one at a time. He would reach up as far as he could without actually moving up the steps, and grab the piece of kibble and run away. After an hour of this, he was making it up six steps to the landing. By the afternoon, I was sitting in the loft, making one whistle through my teeth, and he'd come bounding happily up the stairs for his treat. Then he'd run down again, and we played the game over and over again until the skill was learned and he would come to my whistle wherever I was in the house. I felt very smug and Dog-Whispererish.

We took a walk in the woods, where he encounted a pair of procreating box turtles on the trail. He was beside himself, would not approach, would not go around them, just flattened himself on the ground with his ears back and his tail tucked in. I finally hoisted him up and dragged him past the silly amphibeans, but he'd stop every ten feet and look back nervously--was he afraid they were chasing him?

All weekend long I called him every name I could think of. Sam, Mac, Max, Tonto, Barney, Stanley, Conrad, Zeus, and so on. The only one he pricked his ears up to and came running to was "Bounder," after our stair-stepping success. So that is what I'm calling him for the time being.

He does play with a ball and soft toys in the house--I have the carpet burns on my knees to prove it. He kicks the ball with his forepaws like a soccer player, just like a normal Malinois. He pounces on a thrown toy. We're still working on bringing it back. He hates the crate, whimpering and pawing and yipping in the night. And yesterday when I returned to work at the library for 8 hours, I came home to find that he had destroyed the foam pad bedding in the crate, chewing it to bits, instead of chewing on his toys. So I guess he's starting to get comfortable now.

This morning we took a lovely walk at about 8:30 am down to the pond. He is starting to walk with a confident step, sniff his way through the grass (getting his face all wet with morning dew), and even walked into the pond to investigate a frog. He is starting to hold his ears and tail up instead of cringing at everything.

This is going to be interesting.

Same old life; Brand new dog

My 3 flights on Tuesday (LAX - Houston - St. Louis - Louisville) were interminable and tiring. Cousin Jeannie picked me up and we drove to her home near Lexington, and collapsed. Wednesday was a rest day, topped off by a fabulous 5 course tasting dinner at Holly Hill Inn. Jeannie had gnocchi with fiddlehead ferns and I had crispy frog legs with mussels as a starter. We both had the beet, walnut and feta cheese salad, spoonbread lobster souffle with lobster butter and the beef tenderloin with capers and port wine demi-glace. Dessert was a poppyseed bundt cake with lemon custard sauce and caramel-cashew tart with rhubarb sauce. Oh my goodness!

Thursday was traveling day. I stopped off to see MaryAnn at the pawn shop, picked up my mail at the post office (there was so much, they made me drive around back and they wheeled it out on a dolly), and much household maintenance--turning on the gas, turning on the water, flushing the pipes, firing up the water heater and well pump, getting the stove lit, programming the water softener, plugging in the UV sanitation light, flipping on breakers.

Friday was full-on medical follies day, topped off with picking up a foster dog at Walmart at 4 pm. A quick trip to the vet to get his neutering stitches out and home.

Look at this sad little guy:

He is nameless and afraid of everything. Whenever he gets nervous (all the time), he hunkers down and tries to be as small as possible. He eats his kibble at breakneck speed, as though someone is going to grab it away at any moment. He is just the sweetest, scared thing I've ever seen.

He stank of shelter, kennel and fear, so I gave him a bath this morning. It was a chore getting him in, but once there, he just stood there and shook. Now at least I can stand to be around him when he manages to get enough courage to come close to me.

This morning I tried to take him out for a walk, but he wouldn't go down the driveway. I think because he had to walk past the car, and he thought I was going to take him still somewhere else? He came down one flight of steps, but not the next. So I tied him to the porch rail, and started weeding the horrendously overgrown garden. He sat quietly at the top of the steps and watched, but wouldn't budge. He wanted to go in the basement, but wouldn't climb the steps. I had to drag him past the car so we could get back to the house from the upper back yard.

This is an experiment. I am not sure I'm ready to own another dog yet, but this guy needed a home and I need a project. We'll see how it goes.