The Saga Continues

We are still without a phone.

Jason from AT&T came out this morning and was here for about half an hour, after which the land line worked just fine, and the DSL line worked just fine. The only problem was that we didn't have caller ID on the downstairs phone. He kind of played around with that a bit and said he'd have to come back when he could go through the wall connections (which meant we'd have to do major furniture moving).

About 10 seconds after he left, the phone rang. I thought it was Walt calling to test the line. I picked it up and it was this guy I try to dodge every year. He always greets me like a long lost friend, cheery in the used car salesman sort of way. He is selling tickets for kids to go to a ball game (baseball? football? I don't remember). I never buy from him because he just sounds so sleazy. And so I try to avoid him. I told him AT&T was working on the line and that I couldn't talk and hung up on him.

And then the line died. My bad Karma, I guess. As we watched Jason and his truck vanish into the distance, we were once again without a DSL line.

It turns out that we have a choice. We can either have the internet or a land line, but if we try to put both on one line with a splitter, one cancels out the other. The only number we can get to work is the DSL line...and nobody knows that number. Heck, even *I* don't know that number and we've had it for about 10 years.

Walt called AT&T immediately and they said they would try to reach Jason (who, apparently, was not answering his cell phone). They said if they couldn't get him back here, they would put in an additional work order to have someone else come out. Presumably some time before the end of the year. In the meantime, I have internet and if anybody desperately needs to reach us, it will have to be either by e-mail or by our cell phones.

After Jason left, I let the puppies outside again. Where yesterday they had been very cautious about being out in the Big Wide World, today they are getting more bold. At first they huddled together near the house, but when I moved them out to the grass, a long way from the house, they began moving more and soon, chasing each other, and us, around the yard. So cute.

Of course, I made a big mistake when it was time to bring them back in. I scooped up Laverne with one hand and then went to take Max with the other, but Max is such a big floppy horse that I nearly dropped him. Note to self: Two hands needed to pick Max u in the future!

We now have a dinnertime routine with the puppies. The minute they see me move, all three are wide awake and racing out of the cage. Max waddles over to the water bowl to drink and Laverne flops over on her back to suck on his penis. I swear these are the most oral puppies ever. Then Patty starts trying to climb up the fence because she wants a bottle. I fix their kibble and put it in the cage and all three attack it. They used to leave lots for Shiloh to clean up, but now they eat every single morcel. And as soon as they finish, Patty is back at the fence again, crying, loudly, for a bottle.

I give it to her.

She's this big horse, but she needs to suck. So, apparently, does Laverne, but she has found her own thing to suck on. I am gradually weakening what Patty gets in the bottle, so it is getting to be slightly formula flavored water now. I'm going to try getting pacifiers for both Patty and Laverne and see if I can get them interested in those, but I'm not hopeful. They both love their oral fixations so much!

Here's a good question: which will happen first...will the puppies wean or will AT&T get our phone problems fixed?

Condo to Dorm

Well, the great "Dorm to Condo" experiment was a bust.

The mother of our puppies' siblings said that for her it resulted in the puppies sleeping longer, the beds staying less messy, and going longer periods between feedings.

None of that happened for me, except the beds staying cleaner (of course, because only one was pooping and peeing in any given bed at any given time!).

In one respect, it was very nice because I am well aware of the soothing properties of sucking and didn't want to deny my puppies that crutch, so I spent most of the day either feeding puppies, or taking them, one on one, into my lap and letting them suck on whatever uncovered body part of mine they wanted. (Fingers, mostly, but some arm flesh was sucked on as well)

While Max and Patty didn't seem to mind their lonely cages, Laverne hated her cage. In truth, she had the smallest one, since I only have two cages and so she was in the plastic carrying crate, which only has one small side you can look out of. She did the most complaining.

At their mid-day feeding, I switched Patty to the traveling crate and put Laverne in the larger cage and that seemed to work better.

But then I started getting messages from people encouraging me to put the puppies back together again, talking about the value of that interaction with siblings and how adult dogs who had been raised as singletons often had emotional problems because they didn't get enough sucking as puppies.

Someone told me about using pacifiers to help and I decided I would get some tomorrow.

But in the meantime, after their evening feeding, I put them all back together into the one big cage. Within 5 minutes, I had taken this photo, thinking what a great Photo of the Day it would make

But only a few minutes later, I got an even better Photo of the Day, as I think you will agree if you check it out below.

I think that they are glad to all be together again.

---

I did something today that I never thought I would ever do. I unfriended someone on Facebook. In fact, three someones (one got unfriended by being the spouse of the person I was really angry with).

While I don't want to go into details about what prompted the unfriending, suffice to say that the main reason was that I didn't want these persons to be reading anything I write again. At least one of them, and possibly two, have infuriated me beyond belief, and hurt someone I love very much. I learned this from a third party today and I just don't want to ever have anything to do with any of them again.

It has been a very long time since I've been this angry at any individual.

Dorm to Condo

As the puppies grow bigger, their sucking reflex gets stronger. They now eat more (usually) and they are sucking on everything, especially since they are also teething. "Sucking on everything" includes each other. If they had a mother, they would be permanently attached to her underbelly, but since they don't they have attached themselves to each other. Max is a logical subject, having a prominent body part, of course. The girls have smooth bellies, so it's more difficult to find something to latch onto.

I've had this situation with every litter of pups. Originally Ashley told me to keep them separate, but then she checked with a vet years ago who said that the comfort they received was more important than any "bad stuff" they might be ingesting.

So I've let each litter suck on each other ever since.

The family hosting the 3 siblings of this group said they had to separate the puppies because of sucking. I told them what I had been told a few years ago and got the following response:

It is true they do get comfort from the sucking and the urine is sterile, so the one doing the sucking is just fine. However the one being sucked on is the one in danger of a few things... puppies can suck very very hard so the pee-pee area gets swollen and pretty inflamed. The sucking is not pleasant for one being sucked on, it is painful. After some time going to the bathroom burns. The saliva from the one doing the sucking is definitely not sterile and can cause an infection... this is especially true for males. Through the years dealing with kittens and puppies alike I found that if you separate them they actually calm down and stay asleep for longer periods of time. They do not whine as much. They also stay much cleaner and dryer.

I figured she could do it her way and I'd do it the way I always had, but then I took a look at their bottoms and bellies.

It was clear that these guys sucked much harder than any of our other puppies and I decided that the other mom was right--they needed to be separated.

So our little one-cage, puppy dormitory has now become a 3-cage puppy condo.

Each unit comes with its own mama teddy bear.

Unfortunately, so far this hasn't resulted in them calming down more or sleeping longer. In fact, just the opposite. Laverne put up such a fuss after being fed and letting her suck on my finger for a long time, that I finally decided to put her in with Patty. The two immediately took after each other like they were both in heat and the sucking began immediately, so I moved Laverne back to her own condo.

Then Max, who had just finished a full bottle, set up a cry too. Now that their eyes are opened, they can see us and I guess that reminds us that they want to be with us. I finally got them all calmed down to covering the cages with towels so they can't see what's going on.

As of this writing, all is calm and quiet. I'm hoping that in a day or two, the bellies and bottoms will start looking normal again. Heck, my arm is all scratched up from those sharp little claws--I can just imagine what pain it causes to tender bellies, along with the powerful sucking!

When they get a bit bigger and able to play with each other, I'll give them periods of time when they will be together--and when they start eating solids, they can be together, because the sucking reflex will start to disappear.

I hope.

Why We Never Have Guests

There are many reasons why we never have guests, my high degree of slobitude among them, but I think today really showed the main reason...the one that all the cleaning in the world can't overcome. For those who wonder why we never invite you over to dinner, watching the Video of the Day may give you a clue.

Valerie, the Polly trainer, arrived at 2 p.m. to work with Polly. As usual, she was beset upon by four dogs, while Itsy and Bitsy, who have learned about "barking" from the older dogs, just as Polly and Emmy learned about barking from Lizzie and Sheila, started barking like crazy.

Valerie asked if I would mind if she brought her dog, Heidi, in. Heidi had a doctor's appointment at 3 p.m. and she didn't want to leave her alone in the car. I invited the 7th dog in. Heidi is a lovely, calm, well mannered dog.

A definite contrast.

By the time we were in the family room, the puppies had emerged from their sleeping crate and were running around barking. The older dogs were leaping at Valerie, Polly was more interested than usual, but still hiding in my lap, which is where Emmy was as well.

While I dragged the big dogs outside and fought to keep them from coming back in again, Valerie locked the puppies in the feeding crate and they were not happy!

Lizzie started her usual leap-at-the-door business.

She does this every time Valerie comes, but usually stops pretty quickly. Today, with the smell of treats in the air and a strange dog in the house, she would. not. stop. and I finally had to close the blinds, leaving us in the dark, hoping to distract Lizzie (it didn't work).

Emmy usually sits in my lap quietly while Valerie is working with Polly, but there was this new dog in the house and she wanted to get at the dog, so I was holding her back, while the puppies continued to yelp over and over again.

Miraculously, Polly's focus seemed to be stronger than ever and she was able to tune out all of the chaos and concentrate on those treats that were coming at her.

When training was over, Valerie put Heidi through her paces. She can sit, down, high-five, die when shot, and cross her legs when asked to "be a lady."

We let the puppies out and Polly and I walked Valerie to the door. After she left, I let Sheila and Lizzie back in the house again. Immediately Valerie knocked on the door, setting EVERYBODY to barking. Three four-legged bodies and one two-legged body rushed the door. Valerie had left a toy behind (which Emmy had already found and was playing with in the family room). Valerie came in the house to get the toy and walked back to the door, dogs leaping at her all the while.

"You guys need some training," she said to them.

Gee. Ya think?

Puppy Breath

We have puppy breath again!

Itsy and Bitsy (whom I now realize I should have named "Spot" and "Puff," since Bitsy has one brown spot on her head and Itsy is as puffy as a cotton ball--but their original names have stuck) came back again on Tuesday night. Ashley decided that they were big enough to wean and they had kind of licked at solid food, but preferred to nurse from Xena...but she thought Xena was ready for a break and the puppies were ready to switch to solid food.

So Xena stayed with her and the puppies came here, turning this already chaotic house into a three ring circus. All I need is balloons and cotton candy and I'd be in hog heaven.

They certainly have grown in the short time they've been away!

Sheila and Lizzie have given their usual "ho-hum, another puppy" look, but Polly and Emmy are trying to figure out what to do with these little guys.

The puppies learned quickly that under the playpen was a good place to go if the play of the older dogs got too scary!

As for eating, at first they really weren't interested in the puppy mash I mixed up for them, but eventually they started to get hungry. They still gave passing interest to the baby food, but Itsy found something that he liked better.

With barely teeth in, they discoered they liked to crunch on the big dog food. But eventually they started eating their own food and seem to be doing OK now.

It is a bit of a challenge trying to figure out which dog goes where, especially when Valerie comes to work with Polly. Big dogs outside, Emmy on my lap, puppies in the cage, whining and trying to get out. Or where to put whom when it's time to eat to make sure that the puppies get something. At least they are sleeping at night, once I discovered that if they go in the crate where they lived with Xena and I cover the door with a towel so they can't see out.

So we're starting a new adventure watching these little guys get to the age where they can go up for adoption. Best of all, there is puppy breath. How I've missed it!

Where's The Band?

In the endless....e.n.d.l.e.s.s....discussion of the health care bill today, one thing was missing: it needed a soundtrack. Maybe something from 1776. I could have done with a couple of verses of "Sit Down, John" as each represenative tried to go on record opposing or supporting what everyone already admitted was a done deal.

As Pulitzer Prize winner Eugene Robinson said, everyone seemed to be gripped by a sense of history as the House stood on the edge of passing what may be the biggest bill since Civil Rights or Medicare.

I yearned for John Williams and some sweeping Star Trek kind of background music. How do we know what is serious and what is frivolous without a soundtrack?

As the hours crept on apace, I began to realize I was going to have to make a decision--watch the historic vote on Health Care or the premiere of the first episode of the Discovery Channel's magnificent Life.

In honor of Bart Stupak, I decided to choose Life and switched back and forth between watching lizards and amphibians stalking and devouring their prey and watching congresspersons doing the same thing on the floor of the House of Representatives.

For what it's worth, Life had a musical soundtrack. Definitely an improvement.

---

After the tragic death of the puppies, I'm extra leery about the other dogs.

Ashley went to see the mother of the pups and found that she was still having a nasty discharge. She also learned that she had given birth to a couple of pups before she was taken to the animal shelter, so they think the puppies may have been premature and probably would not have lived even if Mom had taken care of them. It's still sad.

But tonight I'm concerned about Polly. I can't figure out what's with her and I hope it's nothing.

Sometime around 8 she got in my lap and was just acting weird, like she couldn't get comfortable. She would turn in circles, then lick her lips, then get down again. She started trying to make a bed in the dog bed (by trying to dig in it--Lizzie does that all the time, but I've never seen Polly do it). Then she got up on Walt's recliner, which she never does if I'm sitting down.

Then she started growling and I couldn't figure what she was growling at, but I glanced out on the patio and Lizzie was standing there, with her head inside the door, but seeming to be afraid to come in. She finally left the back door and kind of slunk in the dog door (which opens into my office).

Polly got down out Walt's recliner and started making a bed in the dog crate, digging in the bedding there. I called to her, but she wouldn't come out. Lizzie came into the family room, and started to get into the recliner, where she frequently sleeps while I'm watching TV, and Polly growled and barked at her. She has never done that before.

Next thing I knew, Lizzie was lying on the floor by the kitchen table (which she has never done before!) and Polly would not come out of the cage when I called her.

I went to the bathroom and Lizzie followed me inside, sitting at my feet. She has never done that either. When I left the bathroom, Lizzie went into the living room, where she is sleeping (which she frequently does at night if she doesn't sleep in the recliner).

All is quiet as I write this and I'm hoping that by the time I turn off the lights and go to sleep, Polly will be back to normal again.

But given what just happened with the puppies, naturally I'm expecting the worst.

Cue an ominous piece of music...

I Was a Bitch

I worked hard at being a bitch today...and I mean that in the most positive of ways.

The puppies didn't make it. None of them. I fed them all at around 9 last night and planned to feed them again around 11, but I heard squeaking around 10 and found Ozzie squirming around, so I got him up to feed him again. By now, deciding they were getting very little from the bottle, I had switched to an eye dropper. He took about 2 ml of formula, spilling some out of his mouth, and then didn't want any more.

I decided to feed the other two at that time too. First I picked up Star, who was warm, but floppy. I realized he was dead. Then I picked up Red and found out that he was dead too. I wrapped both puppies up in a washcloth and put them in a box and sent a message--the first of many--to Ashley: 2 gone, dammit!

But it was late and I knew she wouldn't see the message until morning. Given how quickly his siblings had died, I wasn't sure Ozzie would be there in the morning.

I fed Ozzie three times more during the night and was pleased that he did seem to be taking something in, though he was obviously very weak.

I decided that I would devote the day to giving him skin stimulation, and having him sleep on my chest, near my heart. I sent this to Ashley:

I'm giving Ozzie heartbeat therapy. Sitting with him on my chest, over my heart. Good excuse to do nothing.

I settled in with a movie and a cup of coffee and just stroked him while he slept up against my heart. It's the therapy they use for human preemies and I had hope it might work for Ozzie.

Polly overcame her initial leeriness and was VERY interested in the puppy, smelling him repeatedly.

When I fed him the next time, I weighed him and he had lost 1/2 to 1 oz. I sent Ashley a note:

Ozzie has lost half an ounce. Eating about 1-2 ml of formula, but reluctantly. Going to start feeding him every hour. I think body contact helps. He's pooping.

Ozzie had been the only one of the puppies who eliminated anything and I took it as a good sign. At first it was very black, which I figured was meconium, which forms in a baby's intestines during gestation (and I assumed probably in a dog's as well). But it was getting lighter in color, which made me think he was getting some nutrition from the formula, though it still wasn't the normal yellow you expect from a puppy. He also was eating less and less and it was more of a struggle to get anything into him. Instead of feeding him a dropper full, I was dropping one or two drops on his tongue, so as not to have him choke and get it into his lungs.

I was very discouraged when I left to take Walt to the airport (going to see his Mom again), wondering if Ozzie would even be alive when I got home.

I got home and he was alive, but weaker. I sent a note to Ashley:

Watching Ozzie breathe, I know he's not going to make it. Just trying to make him feel loved while he's here.

I tried feeding him and it was pretty much useless. I realized that I was now on a death watch. I sent Ashley another note:

Not dead yet, but close. Body cold, even with heat pad. Won't swallow. Just going to hold him till the end.

I settled in the recliner with Ozzie and Polly, covered Ozzie up and sat there with my hand on his back, trying to get as much warmth into that cool body as I could, and to let him know that he wasn't alone.

Then something strange happened. It was more than a muscle twitch. It was as if something rolled from his shoulder, down the length of his body, and ended at the rump. If I had to describe it, I would say it was round, and about the size of a small marble. I could feel it much like you feel a baby moving in utero. I figured that the end was very near.

I opened up the blanket that was covering him and watched myself pet him. He opened his mouth and moved his paws and then went limp. He was gone.

Watching an animal die makes me believe in "something" about living things. It makes me believe there is a soul. I remember being with Toby when we had to put him to sleep. The vet gave him a shot and he rested, but was still breathing. Then the vet gave him the fateful injection and he stopped breathing. But in that moment between sleeping and death "something" left his body. You couldn't see it, his body appearance didn't change, but he was just different. Whatever had made him Toby was gone.

That's how it was with Ozzie. I think that "rolling" motion I felt was his "something" leaving his body. It was more than just intestinal organs relaxing because it started in the bone of his shoulder.

Maybe doing this so many times I am starting to be more philosophical about puppy deaths. Though I was physically closer and worked harder with these three little guys, I haven't cried at their deaths. I feel that I did all I could. When Megan handed them to me at the shelter, she had that look in her eye that said "I'm really not sure they have a chance." I knew that I had my work cut out for me, but it just wasn't meant to be. But they didn't die in the shelter, they didn't die alone, and at least Ozzie died in the arms of someone who really cared about them.

Even if I was a bitch. :)

BTW, this is my "journalversary." I started my original journal, Funny the World (of which this is a mirror copy) on March 20, 2000.

Trading Spencer

I received a note from Ashley this afternoon, asking if I would like to trade Spencer for three 2-day old puppies. We were going to send Spencer to a new home on Saturday anyway, and I really like taking care of puppies, so it was a no brainer.

This afternoon, Spencer and I took our last ride together and I left him at the SPCA Thrift Shop where, presumably, someone has picked him up and taken him home. I do miss the little guy, but I don't miss the problems he has been causing the last couple of weeks.

Then I drove out to the animal shelter to pick up the little puppies.

Megan came out from the back hold this tiny little bundle in a towel and said that they were still moving so she was hopeful. Apparently the Mom hadn't been taking care of them. I carried the tiny bundle to the car and put it on the floor of the back seat and opened it to see what I had.

I only saw 2 pups (there are actually three) and when I touched them they were very cold. They needed a heating pad NOW.

We drove home and I left them in the car in the sun (where they could keep warm) while I washed out a carrier and fixed it for bedding and a heating pad. Then I brought the package in and let the other dogs sniff it. I finally settled the pups into the cage and made some formula, 1 Tbsp of powder which makes 2 Tbsp of liquid formula, and dug out my baby bottle with the smallest nipple.

I took out the first pup. All three are kind of a dark chocolate brown (Ashley says they are shepard mixes). Two have tails and one does not (which seems strange). I had to figure out a way to tell them apart, so names were obviously the first order of business while I fed them.

The first pup I picked up had kind of a star on his chest, so I called him Star (all pups are referred to as "he" now because I haven't figured out what the gender is). Interestingly, he is the only one of the puppies who has no tail.

He ate the best of all three at this first feeding, but when I went to feed him 2 hours later, he wasn't looking good at all. He seemed to eat, but then didnt seem to be able to get his tongue back in his head and began a gasping sound that I've seen in dying puppies before. Then his body went totally rigid. Legs straight out, tongue hanging out of his mouth. No matter how I moved him, he didn't change that rigid position. I told Ashley it was like he had died and went into rigor mortis instantly. But as I massaged him and talked to him, his body began to soften. When I checked him an hour later, he seemed just fine.

The second pup I picked up looked like he had an upside down map of Australia on his chest, so I named him Ozzie.

Ozzie is the biggest and most active. He weighs 6-1/2 oz (the other two each weight 6 oz). This photo is blurry because he was flailing arund in my hand.

The third pup has a very red mouth (almost looks like he's wearing red lipstick) and red paws, so I named him Red.

An hour after their first feeding, he was whimpering, so I picked him up and he became "floppy," reminding me of puppies I've known who have died. By the time I fed them the last time, he was just fine and ate well.

I know that things can go sour with newborn orphans in an eyeblink, so I'm going to be watching these guys very carefully. I had a meeting scheduled for tomorrow, but I rescheduled and am going to be at home, keeping a very strict 2-3 hour schedule and giving them lots of skin stimulation throughout the day.

Pigs and Primadonnas

Not that I needed one, but I think I have developed an eating machine. It has 12 legs, 3 mouths and is focused 100% of the time on food.

It's no wonder these puppies have grown so big. They will eat anything and everything and are constantly on the hunt for More Food. They have turned this house into a canine version of Little Shop of Horrors.

This makes feeding the primadonas in the family very difficult.

I guess maybe it's the return from daylight saving time to to normal time, but the puppies are demanding to be fed somewhere between 4 and 5 a.m. these days. I think if there were only ONE of them this would not be the case but they feed (pun intended) off each other's demands. One wakes up, perhaps thinks "Feed Me," and comes to find me. If I'm lucky, I will be blissfully asleep. Puppy will whine and perhaps paw at my leg. I will ignore him. BUT, the noise and the activity will wake the other two, so rather than be discouraged and go back to sleep, now I have THREE puppies jumping and pawing on me until all hope of staying asleep is gone and I get up to feed them.

Now here is the problem. I feed them and they dive into the bowl (knocking half the food on the floor as I try to get it to the floor because they haven't eaten in like three hours and are about to die on the spot this very minute if they don't get fed), inhale whatever I've given them, and are finally happy and may actually go back to sleep. But it's 4 a.m. Dexter, who used to eat breakfast with the bigger pups, kind of looks up bleary eyed and says "you've gotta be kidding me. It's the middle of the night!" and, sensibly, goes back to sleep. Sheila and Lizzie, who are in the other room don't even bother to wake up because it's like, you know, FOUR FRICKIN' A.M.!

But peace is momentarily restored. Puppies have full tummies and are happy. And sleepy. And except for the fact that they all want to sleep on me, we are all happy and go back to sleep, except me, because by this time I have one puppy on my face, one with his butt end aimed at my face, and one clawing my legs trying to figure out how to climb into the chair to get with the other three who are already there.

But that's OK because it's cold in the morning and at least I am warm, if not able to sleep and we all finally settle in usually until Walt comes downstairs.

Now Walt, being up in a bed behind a closed door AND a gate that keeps the dogs off the steps, has had a nice night of sleep and by the time he comes downstairs there is actually light in the sky and this is a good thing.

All the dogs run to the stairs and he sits down and greets them one by one. Sheila and Lizzie yawn and stretch and get their morning skritches and then go outside to do their morning business and then they look at me and say "OK. Where's my breakfast?"

By this time Dexter, too, has come awake and, not having had any food when the other puppies ate, is ready for breakfast too.

Lizzie has always been the worst dog to feed, but when there are no puppies here, it's OK. Lizzie would do well with feeding on demand, always having food available that she can snack at throughout the day, because she leaps and leaps and leaps and comes to get me if she's hungry, standing behind my office chair and putting her paws on my shoulders. "Hey, remember me? It's time to FEED ME." She does an impatient little dance while she's waiting for the food, but you put it in her bowl and apparently she didn't want to actually EAT it, she just wanted to LOOK at it for awhile. You'd think I'd arranged it decoratively and put a sprig of parsley in the bowl for her to admire.

But of course, the 4 a.m. puppies are now awake again and ready to attack anything that smacks of FOOD so they dive into the bowl while Lizzie stands by and watches, in disbelief, as her breakfast disappears. You'd think that by now she'd know that was going to happen, but it seems to surprise her every morning. I try to wrest the bowl away from the puppies while there is still food in it, hoping to sneak it to her when they are busy elsewhere.

In the meantime, Sheila, the only really nice dog around here these days is very patiently waiting for HER food in the other room. I take a scoop full of food and pour it in her bowl and Dexter, who has been aced out of Lizzie's bowl by the other puppies, tries to sneak in a bite of Sheila's.

Sheila is a lovely dog and a wonderful dog, but nothing comes between her and her food, so she growls her loud, scary "I'm not kidding...get out of here, kid" growl at Dexter, who thinks that he is about to have his head bitten off and runs screaming and trembling and won't stop screaming until I pick him up and comfort him.

(I'm now thinking that Sheila may have done
a bit more than just growl at Dexter)

So now I have three dogs who have had two breakfasts and two dogs who have had NO breakfast. If I put Dexter in the playpen, as I used to do, with food that he can have without interference from the other dogs, he feels he's being punished and he cries to get out and completely ignores the food. I'm not nearly as concerned about Lizzie who could stand to lose a few pounds and I figure if she doesn't eat this morning she'll eat tonight, when I feed all six together.

And the puppies have now had too much food to eat, but it's like trying to herd sheep to get them away from Lizzie's bowl. They are getting much too strong, especially when working as one body.

The only good thing about their voracious appetites is that they will do anything for peanutbutter, so the pills that they are taking this week go down without any problem at all, deeply imbedded in peanut butter. Give them a glop of peanut butter and they think they've died and gone to heaven--and then spend the next five minutes licking each other's mouths to make sure they get every single bit of peanut butter they can.

I love these dogs, in an "I hate you this morning" kind of way (let's not even talk about last night!). But it's definitely time for the puppies to have their own homes.

Pigs and Primadonnas from Bev Sykes on Vimeo.

BFFs

Lester was only here half a day before she and Barkley became BFFs (Best Friends Forever).

It has really been amazing to watch. Barkley gets along just fine with our dogs, but he has never established a bond like he has with Lester. Jeri and Phil took Lester out for the afternoon yesterday and Barkley spent half an hour sitting at the front door whining.

Last night after everyone went to bed, Jeri and Phil took Lester upstairs with them, leaving Barkley downstairs. They finally had to let Lester out because Barkley was whining downstairs and Lester was whining upstairs. Walt said it was the canine equivalent of "Romeo and Juliet"!

It's fun having Lester back. It's like she never left, except she's taller and much heavier. This morning she came into my office after she woke up, stood behind me and licked my elbow, just like she always did, to let me know she was awake and ready for some morning hugs.

She's taken over my reciner as her bed again (to her BFF's occasional consternation), and when I sat down last night she leaped into my lap just like she always did, except she's now so heavy she about knocked the wind out of me!

She has grown into the lovely dog I knew she would be, and Jeri and Phil have worked with her so diligently that she is a delight to have around.

---

I did "medical stuff" today. Had my teeth cleaned and then finally went out to Kaiser to get the blood work done that I should have had done a long time ago. Then I stopped by SaveMart to pick up things that I still needed for Saturday's party.

10 a.m. and not one clerk in the check stands. This meant that everyone had to use the self serve. I don't mind doing self serve for a small load, but I hate having to go through it with a large load. A clerk standing there to be of assistance told me, when I complained about all the check stands being closed that "she" had left the stand for a minute, meaning that there was only supposedly one check-out clerk working at that time, who had taken a break. When I expressed my dissatisfaction (there are some perks to being old--you can be a grumpy old lady!), she said she would just check me out herself on the self serve.

Well, she had to cancel the first three things she entered and then decided to move to a different station and finally called someone over and asked if he would open up a real check stand and check me out. Heck, if the employees can't even figure out the self-serve station, how are we dumb customers supposed to do it?

(They also didn't have any tonic -- and how can you have vodka tonics without tonic? -- nor did they have won ton wrappers and I had to buy egg roll skins, which I will cut into four squares. I'm not thinking too kindly about Save Mart at the moment.)

I came home and decided to make the first hors d'oeuvre for the party, Mexican won ton, but I was so sleepy I could hardly move. The puppies got me up last night at 2:30 and then again at 5:30. I just kind of sat there, staring off into space, until it was time to feed the puppies again, which kind of woke me up. I finally got all the meat cooked and cooling and then decided to read the instructions for the new deep fat fryer, and decided that I would wash everything first, let it dry, and make the won ton in the morning.

When Jeri got home, she and Walt got involved in a project for the party

And when Phil arrived home, after having taken Lester for a walk, he helped keep Higgins quiet while the puppy waited his turn to be fed.

Tomorrow is going to be very busy, with all the hors d'oeuvres to fix, the cake to decorate, and everything gotten together so we can go to San Rafael Friday morning. I wonder if the puppies will let me get any sleep tonight...

High Tech/Low Tech

This was definitely a day of highs and lows, technologically and otherwise.

It started with the morning feeding at 5-something. I stayed up to work on the photo show for my mother's party. Jeri got up, had breakfast and went off to a nearby coffee shop with free wi fi. Walt got up, had breakfast and went to work. I sat in the recliner and fell asleep until the puppies woke me at quarter to eleven!

Jeri, who had an on-line discussion for the on-line class she teaches, got home about the time I was up to my elbows in formula and when the puppies were all back asleep again, she suggested we work on installing the router so she didn't have to go back to the coffee shop again tomorrow. I was thrilled.

Well, this is a Linksys router that comes with an installation disk. The first thing the disk does is to check if you have an internet connection, and it told me that I did not, despite the fact that in order to see what to do next, I used my non-existent internet connection to get onto their web site and try to find out what to do next. Jeri finally used the low-tech way of getting the answer (since I was having no success with the high tech way). She called customer service.

Miracle of miracles, the phone was answered by a real live person. Whoda thunk. This nice lady in the Philippines spent about an hour on the telephone with us trouble-shooting, her in the Philippines, me at the desktop, and Jeri on the floor with the cords and plugs and stuff. It was alternately fun and annoying. Fun because in the down times when we were waiting for my computer to reboot (3 times), we chatted a bit about personal things. Annoying because she seemed to be reading from a script when in her "tech" mode and called me ma'am about 3 times in each sentence. She never listened to what we were saying. She asked Jeri which lights were showing on the router, for instance, when Jeri had plainly said more than once that she did not have the router plugged in or turned on, according to the directions she read.

Ultimately, after trying three lengthy work-arounds to the installation disk, she decided I had a local server problem and referred me to my local provider. I thanked her profusely, Jeri packed up the modem, and I realized that in doing all the stuff we had been doing for the past hour, I had erased all of my settings for the local LAN. This is the blessing of a local connection and why it's worth it to me to pay more for it...I called the DCN office and in a matter of seconds, was back on line again. But we've given up on the router for now. The coffee shop isn't THAT far away.

Jeri invited me to go with her and Phil for lunch and then to take the dogs to the dog park (I hadn't seen Lester yet). But there were all sorts of problems with that, not the least of which was what to do with badly behaving Sheila and Lizzie at a restaurant (Lester is well mannered). I also was in the midst of the photo project (and tearing my hair out about that), so I suggested they go off to lunch and the dog park with Lester and I'd stay here and work.

But first Phil brought Lester by. She is taller, definitely heavier, but other than peeing in my office (submissively, when surrounded by 3 dogs, all sniffing her) and tearing up the pergo strip between my office and the family room, it's nice to see her back. She seemed fascinated by the puppies.

"Hey! That was my bed!!!"

It's difficult to believe that when Lester first got here and was called "Tot," with her sister "Tater," that she was the size that these puppies are now!

(But speaking of puppies, it appears that after an initial rally, Alfie isn't doing well even with Mom, even when he has one on one time with her. Ashley is thinking he's not going to make it.)

While Jeri and Phil were out, I found out how to fix my most vexing problem on the photo frame and so went to town scanning, tweaking and saving photos. Then I discovered that I could not get the new photos on the thing. Many expletives were uttered. I was about to give up entirely, but kept going back and trying just one more thing. I finally figured out a back door work-around and was thrilled.

Time for a celebration ("Dark and Stormy" for Jeri, Walt and Phil; water for me and a plate of bruschetta for us all)

(dogs convinced they will get their share)

Then we had dinner -- some beef strips Jeri and I bought at Costco and spaghetti with some great pesto sauce that Pat's husband Rich had brought to me after we returned from our Europe Trip party the other night.

Then I brought out the top of the wedding cake I've been storing in my freezer for a year, and gave Jeri and Phil some martini glasses for their first anniversary.

In deference to their >4000 mile "jaunt" to get here with Lester, I found an anniversary card with a photo of two dogs in a car.

They were a bit dubious about cutting a year-old cake...

But except for the outside frosting, it wasn't bad and we each had a piece. But everyone was quite tired, especially Walt...

...and everybody went to bed shortly after dinner, except me. I went through all 2,000 photos from last year's wedding, taking out the best ones of my mother to add to the photo project and when it was all finished and I confidently did what I was sure I needed to do, realized that I couldn't get the new pictures on the frame again. I just cried.

BUT, as I was typing this, I tried one more thing...and it worked. I'm not touching this frame again until I set it up for the party on Saturday!!!

Stats 'n' Stuff

They now have names.

The one at the lower left is Higgins. The other brown one is Freddie. The black one at the top is Alfie and the black one in the middle is Eliza. (Can you tell what show we're going to see tomorrow night??)

I always like to have "theme" names for the puppies so they are easier to remember. The groups where I didn't have themes are more difficult to recall. Our first puppies were the West Wing pups (Jed, Leo and Toby). We also had the Christmas pups (who arrived just before Christmas and had one puppy with a red nose!), The Rainbow pups, The Royals (Princess, Diana, Harry and William) and now the MFL pups ("My Fair Lady"). Other groups of puppies all had names, but not group names.

As for all the particulars, Eliza is the smallest and she weighs 8-1/2 oz. I didn't weigh Freddie when I fed him and he may be slightly heftier than Higgins, who weighs 12-1/2 oz.

I mix up 1 Tbsp of formula at feeding time and they take a little over half of that, collectively. Fortunately, all four of them seem to have taken to the bottle quite well. With one or two of them it is a bit of a struggle to get them started, but once they start sucking, they stick with it. Freddie is the bottle champ. They are all quite adept at peeing. Everywhere.

Today they are 4 days old, I think. Someone found the mother wandering the streets of West Sacramento and picked her up. She gave birth to 13 puppies that night. They think Mom is pointer/pit bull and the father may have had boxer in him. So it will be interesting to see what these pups look like as they grow up. I think Eliza is going to be brindle, as her coat, which is dark, seems to have barely noticeable stripes. (But what do I know--I missed a penis in sexing them last night!)

---

After my Cousins Day entry, several people wrote to ask if I was going to post the recipe for pesto lasagna, so here it is, by popular demand. The recipe on the internet didn't seem to make enough pesto and when Char made it, the lasagna was too dry, so I tweaked it and made my own version. I was very happy with the results!

2 cups fresh basil (about 60 leaves)
2 cloves of garlic
4 Tbsp each grated Parmesan and grated Pecorino (I splurged and bought cheeses I could grate myself rather than buying the stuff I usually get. I think that helped make a big difference)
1 cup "excellent" (the recipe says) olive oil
2/3 cup pine nuts (optional, but I've come to love pine nuts in pesto)
1 lb Barilla lasagna noodles (the kind without curly edges)

Mince all ingredients, except oil and pasta, in food processor, then slowly pour in oil. Put in a bowl because you will add pasta water after the pasta has cooked.

Boil lasagna for about 8 minutes (despite the fact that the box says NOT to boil it. The pesto doesn't have as much liquid in it as regular spaghetti sauce so you need to soften the noodles). Salt the water and add oil to it so sheets won't stick. Remove sheets with slotted spoon and set aside to drain on a clean cloth. Stir 4 Tbsp of pasta water into the pesto (so make sure not to just drain the pasta!)

Melt a dab of butter in a hot serving dish, then lay down a layer of pasta. (If you use a 9x13 dish, you will have to overlap sheets--I used 2 lengthwise and one crosswise per layer). Spread a layer of pesto, sprinkle with grated Parmesan, lay another layer, etc. I used a total of 4 layers, topping with remaining pesto and then more cheese.

Bake at 350 for 30 minutes, covered with foil. Then remove foil and bake another 10-15 minutes.

Serves four.

I served with a green salad and dressing made of equal parts of olive oil and lemon juice, some honey, salt and pepper (Giada di Laurentis was on The Today Show as I was planning the dinner menu !).

Wine suggestion: Vermentino di Ponente, a Ligurian white (or so the Internet says!)

It Wasn't EXACTLY Just a Dream

It was 4 a.m. and I was sleeping on my mother's couch when I was awakened by two things--a mild cramp in my calf and a panic stricken feeling that I had forgotten to feed the puppies.

The first was real--I did have a cramp (though not nearly as bad as the ones I usually get). But the second was a dream. On the drive down to my mother's, I'd received a call from Megan (of the SPCA) saying they had just received mother dog who had given birth to 13 puppies the night before and 13 was too many for her to feed.

Naturally I asked "how many are you sending me?"

There had been bottlefed puppies who came through the SPCA while we were in Europe and I missed out on being able to take any. But now I was getting puppies again. It has been such a long time since I've had newborns. In fact, Tater and Tot (now Lester) were the last two pups I bottlefed, back at the start of the year.

I waited around until about 8, when Jan and her daughter appeared at the front door with a tiny box and its teeny occupants. Jan's daughter said that the smallest of my puppies was 2 oz + something.

There are four of them and they are guesstimating that the mother was German Shorthair Pointer and Pit Bull and since the puppies look like they have boxer in them, they think maybe Dad was a boxer. I don't know what gender my 4 are yet, but will find that out when they wake up and start needing to eat.

The big dogs were intrigued, as always. Lizzie and Sheila have been through this before and I always wonder what goes through their heads every time one of these boxes of little bodies arrives in our house.

I just know that Sheila rolls her eyes and thinks "Oh no--she's done it to me again." Once she's sniffed a couple of times, she kind of goes off on her own and ignores them until they are big enough to be running around and starting to bother her again.

Lizzie, on the other hand, is perennially interested. She kept going back to the cage over and over again and checking it out.

She always oversees everything that goes on with puppies, from their making noise in the cage to making sure that feeding goes OK (and sneaking into my chair to drink whatever formula is left, if I don't clean it up right away!)

As for Barkley, I don't know if he's ever seen puppies, but he certainly was interested, but he's been going ape over the remains of a pig's ear that Ashley brought a week or so ago and so he was more interested in getting back to that.

(The ear was the occasion of much hilarity earlier in the evening. Lizzie got it and was lying on the dog bed chewing it. Barkley was going crazy. He lay on the floor, then he pawed at the dog bed, then he tried to burrow under the bed (perhaps getting it from the bottom?), then he grabbed the edge of the bed and dried to drag it across the floor. Then he would bark. But he wouldn't actually try to take it away from her. When she finally got up, Barkley pounced on it and tried to take it into my lap, but, trust me, a one week old pig's ear chew toy is not the most pleasant smelling thing in the world!)

Anyway, Barkely seems to have forgotten about the puppies as I write this, but they haven't wanted their first feeding yet. I'm hoping they don't wake up soon, because the formula hasn't arrived yet. Trying to teach them how to take a bottle while Barkley is trying to climb into my lap (which I'm sure he will do), is going to be, as Arte Johnson's character used to say on Laugh In... "verrrrrrry interrresting!"

By tomorrow they will all have names

Locked in a Box

This week's House was a powerful story of a man struck with the ubiquitous mystery illness which leaves him totally unable to respond to stimulus. People around him have no idea that he is aware of everything that is being done, of everything that is being said. He can even see bits and pieces of things, but can't communicate at all.

It reminded me of the old Dalton Trumbo book, "Johnny Got His Gun," published in 1939 and seen as leftist pacifist propaganda, which was pulled from re-publication by Trumbo and his publisher after the end of World War II (according to Wikipedia).

"Johnny Got His Gun" was the story of Joe Bonham, a young soldier serving in World War I, who wakes in the hospital after an explosion. He gradually realizes that he has lost all of his mobility and his senses except for touch — he has lost his arms, legs, eyes, nose, ears, tongue, both jaws and all of his face — but that his mind functions perfectly, leaving him a prisoner in his own body.

It's been a ong time since I read "Johnny Got His Gun," but what I remember of it was that he tries to communicate, but has no ability to and everybody ignores him except for one nurse who senses that there is someone inside there. He can hear but she doesn't know it. But she talks to him anyway, and he finally finds a way to communicate--I think he bumps his head trying to tap out Morse Code. What he wants is to be on display so that people can see up close and personal the horrors of war, but he is a governmental embarrassment and he is moved into a darkened, locked room, and given only the minimum care, his sympathetic nurse being assigned elsewhere.

It's a very disturbing book. The guy, like the patient in the House episode, can't even kill himself because he is completely trapped inside a non-responsive body.

For someone, like me, with claustrophobia, it's terrifying the think about being inside a body, completely aware of all that is going on around you, everything that is said to you and about you, but unable to communicate at all, unable to make the slightest movement.

I thought about that when we were visiting Walt's mother in the hospital, and listening to what she was saying. She does get somewhat delusional when she's in the hospital. She sometimes sees things that aren't there (or...having watched Touched by an Angel enough, maybe she sees things that ARE there and that we just can't see!). She can't really see much, though she can see some things. She kind of goes in and out of understanding that she is in a hospital, not the Assisted Living facility. In one sentence you first think she understands that it's a hospital, but then she'll ask you to "run upstairs" and get something out of the apartment for her.

I'm trying to imagine what it must be like to be 95, to be scared (I can't imagine she's not scared), not to recognize where you are, to be unable to find a visual focal point to ground you and help you understand that no, Norm is not going to come and visit you today, and that no, you can't just get into the wheelchair and go to the dining hall, because it's far away from where you are.

At one point she was saying that she never imagined that it would take this long to die, but on the other hand if you ask her if she's ready to go, she says that she is not. She talks about how she will never leave the hospital this time, and then in the next breath asks to go home.

It's like being locked in a box and unable to find a way out, unable to understand where you are, unable to really say what you are thinking to the people around you. And yet you have to hand it to this lady. She was widowed at 43, with three children to raise, and she did it very well. She's traveled all over the world (though can't remember most of her travels now, she says). She's seen all three of her children grow up to be adults of whom anyone would be proud. She's seen all of her grandchildren married and she has held a great grandchild. She is endlessly interested in politics and sports and even if she can't see a golf tournament she listens to it.

I'm sorry that she is going through such a rough stretch, but very impressed with how she has lived her life and how she is handling this end of life period. She could die soon, or she might live to celebrate her 100th birthday. She has been such a fighter all of her life that I'm still planning on making her 100th birthday cake!

LESTER. Tot has a new name, Lester, following a Sykes family tradition of giving female dogs male names (actually we've only done it once. After our first dog, Ho Chi Mutt died, leaving behind the puppy Jeff (Mutt and Jeff), we started looking ahead to our next pair of dog names and decided to go with Seymour and Schwenk (the middle names of Gilbert & Sullivan). We decided if you only had one of the pair, Seymour was a better name than Schwenk. But when we went to the animal shelter, we all fell in love with a female puppy. Walt agreed to let us adopt her, but insisted we were going to stay with the original name. So we had a girl named Seymour for 12 years and never did name a dog Schwenk.

Jeri and Phil wanted to name a dog after Red Sox baseball pitcher Jon Lester, who has survived cancer, and whom they find an inspiration. And so their new dog, whom Walt will transport to Boston perhaps next month, is going to be named Lester.

I'm still enamored with this puppy. She is so well behaved and is so good with the other puppies, though she is three times their size. I think she will have a long and happy life in Boston--and will have a great relationship with Jeri and Phil.

Ashley received the report on the autopsy of Diana: "Diana's heart was very very enlarged. She likely had a congenital heart defect from birth. Puppies like this don't die right away, but as they grow and need more oxygen they get worse. All the sudden she stopped being able to use her limbs -- which I interpreted as neurological from the medication, but it was actually because she was not getting enough oxygen so her body redirected her available oxygen to her vital organs. I held her a lot in the end, so hopefully that made her feel better. and her brothers and sister cuddled her a lot too."

FYI: I don't know what is going to happen with entries for the next several days. I am reviewing a show in Sacramento tomorrow night and then driving from Sacramento to San Rafael (probably arriving around 1 or 2 a.m.) so I can take my mother to the hospital first thing in the morning. I will be there at her house most of the week, since she can't drive and has doctor's appointments every other day. The problem is that there is no longer any internet connection at her house, so I will be posting whenever I get out and look for the nearest wi fi hot spot each day.

Harry and Grandma

Before you do anything else, you must check out the video of the Dog in the Blue Sweater. It's hilarious.

---

It feels like this is all I've done today. I don't know why Walt ever asks me which puppy is in my lap because it's always Harry. Harry will leave a perfectly comfortable warm pile of puppies and come looking for me. I'll be in here in my office and suddenly there is this soft little whine from this tiny little puppy sitting at my feet just looking at me with his head cocked.

"Whine" he will say

I'll try to ignore him, but it will go on longer. I finally pick him up and try to type while holding him, but he's uncomfortable.

"Whine, whine" he will say again.

And naturally, I'm a wimp, so I get up from my desk, go to the family room, get into my chair and let Harry culr up like this on my chest until he falls asleep, which may take a long time (especially if I get engrossed in something on TV!). Eventually I'll move him back to the comfy warm pile of puppies and he'll sleep a bit longer.

He's become this growth, always attached to part of my body.

When I'm sitting in the recliner, with the leg rest elevated, this little head will pop over the top.

"Whine" he will say.

We have now worked it out so that I can lower the footrest a bit, he tries to climb it and I catch him with my feet and then he crawls up into my lap. Tonight I likened it to a newborn kangaroo who has to climb up the distance from the mother's vagina to her pouch before s/he can settle down and rest until it's time to be "re-born" and allowed out of the pouch.

And then there is Diana, whom I started feeding separately from the rest of them because it just seemed that she wasn't doing as well and I thought she wasn't eating enough. So she gets her own bowl in the kitchen, with different (smaller) kibble mixed with human baby food (beef, chicken or lamb) mixed in with it. She seems to have caught up with the others, but when she's hungry, I find her standing in the kitchen, where her food bowl is at supper time, just waiting for me.

The other two are just ... cute. They are affectionate, but not demanding, and they pretty much amuse themselves. The nicest thing is that they are getting fur, finally. It's just little fuzz on their backs, but it has color and you can stroke them and they don't feel like rubbing a raw chicken any more, if you stroke the right part of their body.

No matter how comfortable their bed is, they always
prefer to make a bed on my chair.

---

Walt had a call from his sister today and sadly, their mother is back in the hospital, unable to breathe again. She had a difficult time breathing when we were down there for Brianna's birthday but had stabilized when we left and we knew it was from the exertion of getting in and out of her wheelchair. It's so difficult to watch her struggle for each breath. I can't even imagine what it must be to be her struggling for each breath.

So our plans are scrambled up again. Walt is probably going to go to Santa Barbara before I do, so he can be with his mother (and possibly drive down with his brother). I'll still go down there on Friday after taking my mother for her pre-op appointments for her surgery next week.

It's starting to look like we may have bookend mothers at hospitals at opposite ends of the state.

Has anybody invented that Star Trek transporter yet?

It's a "Mom Thing"

After seeing pictures of the puppies, someone wrote to suggest that I color code them so I can tell them apart, but actually after the first hour, I had no problem at all.

Two of the puppies have white noses. These are Harry and Princess (one boy, one girl). That means that the other two without the white noses are William and Diana, also a boy and a girl, so it's very easy to figure out who is who.

But over and above the obvious genitalia identification (white face with penis? Must be Harry. No white face, no penis? Must be Diana), their behavior and Princess's markings are a big help.

Princess is the only one with a white spot on her back and a white tip on her tail. She has almost no fur at all, but the white spot is very distinctive.

And Harry? Well, Harry is a determined lap dog. I'll be sitting in my office and I'll hear a puppy whining over and over again. I don't even have to get up to know that it's Harry and that he's sitting staring at my chair. He wants me to sit down and hold him. If I get tired of holding him, he'll be happy to stay in the chair, but none of that running around on the floor for him.

Diana is the shy one. She was the last to join the group, only surrendered about a week after the others were surrendered, so she was separated from her siblings for long enough to be kind of the "outsider." When you open the door to the dog cage, three wiggling bodies tumble over each other trying to get outside (fortunately, most of heir elimination products make it outside). But Diana stays in the cage, looking kind of dazed. She eventually comes out but she seems to have a problem with her hind legs and she favors the back left especially. She has a lesion there which may be hurting her, so I've started putting Neosporin on it and hope it helps.

As for William? Well, he's the largest and the least needy, so William just pretty much goes his own way while I'm catering to the others.

But, as you can see, if you're with these guys for any length of time, it's very easy to know instantly which is which. Or maybe it's just a Mom thing.

They are on a pretty good schedule. They go into the cage around 9-10 p.m. at night. I cover the cage and they usually bark around 11-12, when I take them outside and they do their business, then they go right back in the cage and I don't hear from them until morning (7, if I'm lucky). During the day they play outside of the cage, and sleep in the cage (their choice) but are no problem at all to care for.

Their willingness to go so uncomplainingly into the cage was a great boon today when our new water heater was finally installed.

The arrival time was anywhere from 2 to 4, and of course the guy didn't show up until 4. I locked the puppies in their cage and locked myself away in this office with Lizzie and Sheila so they didn't spend the entire installation time trying to get into the house.

It worked perfectly, and within an hour or so, we had the water heater hooked up and heating water. Within another hour, we had hot water again. Yippee! You never know how much you want something until it's not there, of course.

All of the dogs were very happy to have it done. Lizzie and Sheila immediately ran in the house and the puppies immediately ran out of the house.

Walt and I just sat there watching the passing parade.

---

Today is my 9th Journalversary...I am starting my 10th year of writing this journal!

Magic Puppies

I've never had it happen before.

I locked four puppies in the cage last night at the end of the night. This morning when I got up, there were only three. I swear I locked four in there and I swear there were only three when I uncovered the cage. I also swear that the doors to the cage were not only closed, but locked.

One of the puppies is a magician.

I was in a total panic. I picked up all the bedding and shook it, hoping a sleepy puppy would fall out. I started looking everywhere for the missing puppy. I went to check the bedding again and to take it out to the washing machine. I sent a frantic message to Ashley. "One of the puppies is missing--and I don't know how!"

When I got back into the family room, there were four puppies playing happily.

WTF???? Where had that puppy been? For that matter, which was the puppy that had been "missing"

(That's, left to right: Princess, Harry, William and Diana)

I haven't lost any more puppies today, though I have found myself counting an awful lot. They love playing outside and it seems that I can always find three of them...and always a different grouping of three. Then sooner or later the fourth comes sauntering in.

Diana seems to be the shy one of the group. She was the last to join her siblings. I guess the owner decided to keep her and then decided to give her up to the SPCA. But in the time she was gone, she seems to have lost the bond she had. They all sleep together in a heap, but when they wake up and I let them out, she always stays back by herself, unless I encourage her to come out. Once she gets out, they play well together, but she does seem to be the outsider of the group.

They all, however, love chewing on my shoes (they would rather chew on my socks, but those sharp little teeth dig into my toes!)

---

After we got home last night, Walt discovered that we had no hot water. When he checked the water heater, he announced that it was time to buy a new one.

(I'll tell you, they don't make appliances like they used to. This one wears out after only 36 years!)

Walt went off to Home Depot and bought a new water heater, which will be installed this afternoon. We thought about one of those "instant on" heaters that don't have to store water, but it would involve doing significant reworking of our gas pipes, so we went with the old water filled kind.

The laundry room needed to be straightened up and he spent the afternoon doing that, since there is only room for one person in there at a time.

Since we have no hot water, I went out to Panda Express to get dinner for us...individual serving bowls that didn't need to be washed!

The Royal Welcome

18 March 2009

We arrived home from Santa Barbara around 7 p.m. tonight and received a royal welcome. That would be a welcome from Princess, William, Harry, and Diana, our new puppies (I didn't name them).

That's Harry in front with Princess behind him and I'm not sure about the other two. I haven't had a chance to get to recognize them yet. But you can see that these 7 week old puppies have a severe skin problem! They are bald! It's a condition called Demodex and as I said in an earlier entry, Gizmo had it when she arrived.

But Gizmo's wasn't as severe as these guys seem to be. I mean they have NO hair on their bodies! Look at Harry's head:

("Hey, Fella, you're bald as a billiard ball. Bald...bald....bald..." - from Free to Be You and Me)

But I have medication and shampoos, and love to give them...and in time they will start looking more like real dogs again.

We had a nice day, all things considered. I was a little concerned when I got up, thinking I had nothing green to wear for St. Patrick's Day, but then remembered that one of my t-shirts has a green dinosaur on it, so nobody could pinch me after all. Walt says his shirt was a very faded dark green, but you can't fool me--it's really grey.

We stopped first at Maravilla, on our way out, to say goodby to Walt's mother. We found her still in the dining room, wearing her green sweater that she bought in Ireland many years ago.

We sat and talked with her for about half an hour and then told her we'd see her again in about 10 days when we return for Bri's first birthday. (I'm thrilled -- I get to make the birthday cake!)

On the drive home (when I wasn't driving), I alternated between reading my "real" book and reading the James Patterson book I downloaded to my iTouch Kiva application. I have to say that the Kiva ain't bad. I really got to liking it. But it depended on whether I wanted to read about grumpy Yorkshire men or psychopathic killers which I chose at any particular moment.

We stopped for our usual hamburger at the Burger Queen (no...not the Burger King!) in Gonzales.

I'll tell ya, Carls Junior has nothing on the Burger Queen (not a chain, and they make your food fresh when you order it) as far as burgers that fall apart when you eat them because they are so full of stuff.

And my onion rings were great.

We managed to miss 99% of rush hour traffic, fortunately and enjoyed listening first to a tape that Jeri and Phil had made for Walt's mother for Christmas -- they send her such great stuff. She can't do much other than listen to tapes, so they just record conversations while they're driving around Boston. (We'll return the tape to her when we go back to Santa Barbara.) And then we switched to Walt's new "Oldies But Goodies" CD set and reminisced to songs like "Rock Around the Clock," "Blueberry Hill," and all the songs that we grew up with.

We were (almost) home in time for Jeopardy and now we're getting caught up on mail, newspapers and the bazillion programs that were recorded on the DVR while we were away!

It really was a wonderful weekend and it's nice to know that we'll be back again so soon to help Bri celebrate her first birthday.