The Curious Cases of the Slightly Chomped Chewie

Not long ago I brought home a lovely new jar of "chewies" for the canines in my life. Now, most of us know that I have a little ADD/forgetfulness/old age/whothehellknowswhatiswrongwithme; so after handing out a few of these delectable treats, I forgot to screw the lid back on the jar...and this is what I came home to:

THE SCENE OF THE CRIME;
DINING ROOM TABLE
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THE EVIDENCE:
EXHIBIT ONE --
TREAT JAR WITH SEVERAL
SLIGHTLY CHOMPED CHEWIES STREWN ABOUT
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EXHIBIT TWO:
CLOSE UP OF EXHIBIT 1

AND THE USUAL SUSPECTS:

#1 LUKE.

KNOWN JUVENILE DELINQUENT,

CHARGED WITH BREAKING AND EXITING PASTURE;

HAS RECORD WITH ANIMAL CONTROL

DEFENSE -

VEGETARIAN. HEAD WON'T FIT IN CHEWIE JAR

#2

AIMLESS, FECKLESS, POINTLESS, GRACELESS -

DEFENSE:

CLAIM TO NOT KNOW WHERE THE DINING ROOM IS.

FOUR WAY ALIBI

#3
SAMDAMMIT
KNOWN REPROBATE.
HAS DESTROYED SHOES,
CLOTHING, AND ONE COUCH.
DEFENSE:
WOULD HAVE EATEN ALL THE CHEWIES
THEN CHEWED THE CONTAINER TO SMITHEREENS.

#4

CLEO.

KNOWN RINGLEADER OF THE INFAMOUS "PYGMY GANG"

HAS PRIOR BREAKING AND ENTERING DINING ROOM

DEFENSE:

VEGETARIAN. WOULD HAVE RAIDED CUPBOARD FOR GRAHAM CRACKERS INSTEAD.

AND FINAL SUSPECT
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NORMAN
aka MR. McNASTY
HEAD AND ARMS WILL FIT INSIDE CHEWIE JAR
DEFENSE: IN 14 YEARS, HAS SHOW NO INTEREST IN DETECTIVE WORK
OTHER THAN TRYING OCCASIONALLY TRYING TO FIND HIS DINNER DISH

And there we have it, Esteemed Readers. It's a mystery. What's your guess?

Happiness is a Warm Puppy

 

Jenny at the barn has a lovely little shepherd mix, Rosie, whom she has been trying to convince I need as a companion to SamDammit.  I've been thinking about because Sam is so active and both Perfect Grace and The Weiner are just too old to play with him.  And I'm getting tennis elbow from throwing a ball and all my pants are torn from Sam tugging on them to get me to play.

But I've changed my mind about Rosie.  In the last half century, I have never picked out a dog.  Ever.  Ever.  When Diane and I were little, our folks got us two Scottie puppies -- Button and Bow.  I wanted to name my puppy Tinkerbelle, but Mom wouldn't let me.  Matching dresses, matching dogs.   

We were in high school when Button died; Diane got to pick out a new puppy, Rachel.  When BowBow died, someone had given us a female Scottie they couldn't keep, so I got her - Pepper.  When Diane got married, she kept Rachel and one of Pepper's puppies, Albert.  And then for as long as I lived in AC, I didn't have a dog. 

When I moved to CA, I received Woolee, my chow, as a gift.  Woolee was practically perfect and I had him for 12 years.  Then sometime in there, Jess's dad brought home a stray dog.  After Jess’s dad and I split up, I kept Thomas and we had him for 12 or 13 years. 

                  "Woolee "                                                                                      "

In 1996 or 7, Annie came to live with us.  She literally showed up in the front yard. 

"Anna-Banana"

About a year later Allan fell in love with the dog-the-neighbor's-mother-couldn't-keep-and-was-taking-to-the-pound. Well, that was Gracie and she is 13 this month. 

"Perfect Grace"

Oh, then Jess's dad had a dog who howled and barked SO much that he got a 3-day notice to quit or be evicted. We were only going to take him for the weekend, but Ozzie turned 12 this month and he doesn't appear to be going anywhere.

"The Weiner" 

And Sam.  After Annie died in 2008, we didn’t get another dog. *sigh*  Until December of 2009, a customer at the shop brought in a gen-yoo-wine Albertson’s dog – one of those puppies being given away in front of the grocery store. And we all know how THAT’S turned out.

"SamDAMMIT"

So clearly, I've never gone out and gotten a dog.  I've never known, really, what kind dogs I've had (except Bow and WooLee), never known a birthday, and never known where the dogs came from. 

And I've always wanted a Border Collie.  So when thinking about taking Rosie-from-the-Barn, I figured if she and Sam lived, say, 12 years, I would be nearly eligible for Medicare and would be not energetic enough for a border collie puppy. 

Meet Alice:  She was born on October 7th of this year and came from a litter of puppies one of Diane's customers had.   And after a whirlwind trip to Chico to visit Dad and Diane, Alice is coming home with me.   As I write, she is snoozing under the airplane seat in front of me.  We have now known each other 36 hours and so far she has been a delight.

"Alice Anne" waiting in her carrier at the airport

Of course I have not informed Allan.  He'll be surprised, but he is used to it.  Over the years, he has come home from a number of trips to various surprises.  Once it was a new goat (we had two goats then, both agoutis, so he knew when I slipped a caramel one in).  Once he came home to a new cat.  And once he came home and I'd sold the house.

But this is the first time I've home with something like this.  Surprise!!!!

And Alice, let me tell you a little secret:  As far as lucky dogs go, baby girl, you have won the dog lottery!

The Many Faces of Showing Goats...

PLEASE NOTE THAT THE GOAT'S FACE NEVER CHANGES...
photographer extraordinaire: Barb(ie) L.

The new ladies

 

Without further ado, please meet the new ladies ........

........below are Feckless, Aimless, Pointless, and Graceless......

......or maybe it's Feckless, Graceless, Aimless, and Pointless....

...it could be Gracless, Pointless......

....Feckless, Aimlesss...

or what the hell!

Say hello to the new ladies! 

I don’t think a lot about Mom anymore – it’s not that I don’t think about her, it’s just that the thoughts I have now are fleeting thoughts that often bring a smile to my face.  But with Thanksgiving coming up, for some reason I’ve been thinking of her more and more…I don’t know why.  It’s not like Thanksgiving was her favorite holiday or anything; maybe it’s because her birthday is in November.

Anyway, on Holidays of Importance, Mom always went all out.  She started about a week before, and boy, could she set a table!   She had Irish linen table clothes that to be painstakingly washed and ironed days before the holiday.  Diane and I were pressed into service to clean and polish all the sterling --  from flatware to candlesticks to her sterling tea service. 

Then about three days before the event, she Set The Table.  First a liner beneath the linen table cloth, then we set all the place settings with the flatware (and let me tell you, there wasn’t a utensil Mom did not know how to use and where to place correctly).    Then out came the cut glass relish trays and salad bowls to match the Waterford cut-glass goblets at our plates.  Then her antique Meissen platter for the turkey and dressing.  It was an Event.  We always dressed for the occasion.  In fact in the photo below, Diane is sporting her favorite Thanksgiving outfit.  Dad took us shopping and we picked out an outfit.  Unfortunately Diane bought a mini-dress that did not meet Mom's approval (way too short),  so Mom cut it off and made into a shirt!

Mom was born in 1925 into a farming family in South Dakota.  She was the last of 4 children; her mom was close to 50 when she was born.   Her family moved to Phoenix when she was still a toddler.  Her dad had lost an arm in a threshing accident, and he became a dairyman in Phoenix. 

When the Depression hit, the family lost everything:  Mom remembers her dad selling the cows off one by one.  It got so bad that Mom moved to town to live with a family where she worked as a  maid and companion to their daughter.  In fact, Mom never graduated high school.

And that really affected her outlook on life.  She worked hard to better herself -- she learned how to dress and bought the finest clothes; she learned impeccable manners; she taught Diane and I the same things.  But over the years, I've let a lot of these traditions go by the wayside.  I still KNOW how to set a killer table, but I'm just too worn out and short on time.  I am sorry that I didn't work harder to carry on Mom's traditions...but oh, well.  Happy Thanksgiving!

ToDo List

If anyone cares, I have tomorrow off.  I have a few things planned, or perhaps a few things I'm dreaming of.  In no particular order, except, perhaps importance:

1. Disbud the Littles (I hate, hate, hate disbudding.  Any screaming you hear will be my own)
2. Clean the car (trust me.  this is best view)

     3.  Priority mail goat registrations/transfers  to NPGA (because...um, I'm a slacker

          and  haven't  done  it yet)

     4.  Tarp goat pens because we are supposed to get rain. (don't want Littles to get wet)

     5.  Take SamDammit for a brisk, energetic walk in the morning. (to wear him out)

     6.  Rehome Pedro's rooster.  He's been here 20 minutes and I've already gotten one call from a neighbor.  (unless SamDammit gives him a heart attack first)

     7.   Pay bills and balance checkbook (who knows I may find surprise money)

Any bets on what gets done?



(and showing in Rosamond)

I don't get much of a chance to show my goats: It's hard to get the weekends off and it's a lot of work for a "one-woman" show.  But I put in for weekend off and made plans to meet a friend up in Rosamond at one of our local club's Halloween shows -- "local" being a relative term; it was almost 500 miles round trip.

I loaded my goaties, got my iPod (all 11 songs), and hit the road!  California has such a varied terrain (most of it dry and arid) that there's always something new and fun to see.  After making it through the Los Angeles traffic, I headed up through the mountains....

 got off on Hwy 138 to cut across the valley to the high desert. I passed the Mormom Rocks

which always amaze when I go by...

as soon as you get over the hills, the valley looks pretty flat....

and after four hours or so, goaties and I arrived.  The truck was a little worse for the wear,

but goaties and I were in fine shape.  

 I was sharing a room with my good friend,

 Barb "Crazy Barby" Lutz,

 seamstress extraordinaire....

....who had convinced me to enter the costume class with her.  She would make the costumes; I would supply a goat.  So Saturday, she showed her goats (Platinum Acres Cowboy Chase below)....

 ...and I showed mine (Sassy and me in the junior doe line up)...

...then Sunday......

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may we present

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the Sesame Street Pygmies

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Goat Friends... judging in Longview and Showing in Rosamund

Goat people are a different sort of people.    They're not just goat farmers:  they are CPAs and teachers and executives and law enforcement and nurses and court reporters (me!) and physical therapists.  And some of them are my best friends...we were brought together by our goats, but have found much common ground.  In fact, most of the blogs I follow are goat-related and some of my favorite "on line" friends are goat folk too...coincidence?  I think not!

So in Longview, I wandered on down to the showgrounds when my show was ready to start - to see old friends and meet some new.   (As a judge, I can't go to the showgruonds early while the other judge is still judging)   It's funny that i may see some of these people three or four times a year, usually when I'm judging or at a board meeting, but we are kindred souls and our friendship picks up just where we left off a months before.

This particular show was an Oktoberfest show, and the Northwest clan put on a show.  There was a pumpkin carving contest, a remote fart machine, a costume contest...oh and some goats, too!  The kid's costume contest was darling, of course, especially the line up of parents on the other side of the arena holding cameras.

But my very favorite costume is one worn by friend and fellow judge, Joyce.  She was dressed as "La Cabra,"  which has been a work in process for some time now.  This one was spectacular -- her son's shiny red disco pants, full mask, and cape -- and her goat was the round girl....priceless!

But all good thing must come to an end, and Sunday evening with many hugs, off  I headed to the airport to fly home, hang up my travel hat, and wait for another adventure...

La Turista Treks On

After my impromptu cheering for the arrival of the Honor Flight, I headed down to pick up my car and drive to Longview.  I had a rather short drive -- less than an hour and arrived at my hotel before noon.  I wasn't judging til late in the afternoon, so I still had plenty of time.

I checked in and I had a room with a KING BED ALL TO MYSELF.  I immediately felt the need for a nap, but was able to resist because I wanted to explore the town.  I'd picked up a local map and brochure in the hotel lobby and was ready for action.

Whenever I travel, I look for something noteworthy to see.   I embrace my inner dorkiness, and even though I'm usually alone,  I head out to see the sights. 

I've been to the rattlesnake museum in Albuquerque.   In New Orleans, I did a graveyard tour in a mule-drawn buggy and  the D-Day museum (where I saw a USAF flight jacket identical to the one Dad gave me years ago and still have).  This summer after I judged in Hagerstown, Md.,  I spent an afternoon at the battlefield of Antietam (did my dad proud by watching the entire documentary and a reenactment).  Driving in Texas once, I became addicted to stopping and reading the roadside historical markers.  Those Texans have a marker for nearly everything, and I was compelled to stop at as many as I could, in fear that I'd miss a good one!   (I was also able to stop and do a little holiday shopping at Bubba's liquor store and home-made candle shop).

Longview isn't very big, but after a quick trip to a local grocery for lunch stuff (one bbq'd chicken breast, apples, iced tea), I saw the sights -- er, the sight.  Of course, everyone knows that Longview is world renowned for having the smallest, architectural suspension bridge. (oh, you didn't know that?)  It's for squirrels, built over a busy road, in an effort to keep the squirrels from being hit by cars.  I'm sure squirrels actually do use it (I didn't get to see any), but do they use it instead of the street?  I mean, do they run  up a tree, across the bridge, then back down a tree, instead of just crossing the street?  It remains a mystery.

Then I walked around the historic downtown area (four blocks) or so and learned a lot a little about the town.  It's a small town.  I had gotten up really early to catch my flight, so I felt justified in heading back to the motel for that nap.

 A king-sized bed, alone, no one to share it with.  We've a king bed at home too, but it gets a little small for all six of us.  Yes, that's right, six.  Two people, three dogs, one cat.  That's 20 feet, 3.5 tails, and 5 other faces to avoid with their morning breath.    So I laid down flat on my back and spreadeagled as far as I could: Luxury.  Then I decided to gather all the pillows where I wanted them, and prop up and read.  I finished off this hedonism by watching reruns of SNL, lying sideways on the bed, eating an apple.   *sigh*  It was glorious.

Finally it was time to head to show...