Singing

Grandpa is singing to Peggy.

Daisy is singing to Peggy.

Well, really, she is rolling around on the floor begging for attention, but you can't have everything.

A Symbiotic Relationship

I get to laugh, no matter how bad things get. Every day. No matter how little there is to laugh about.

 Every time I put my wool socks on. Every time I throw my old sneakers on to go outside for whatever reason. And sometimes just at random.

Daisy gets to roll around between my feet, doing her best to slow me down on my trip to the barn, rooting around in said socks, grunting and groaning and stealing lots of pets and ear and tail tugs. It takes me a lo-o-o-ong time to get my socks on. 

And Daisy gets to bark at me, "Hurry up! Hurry up! Woo, woo, woo!"

And to clatter around the floor, bundle of bolting, silly-joy-joy, happy, happy, happy, at the mere possibility of going outside where there be bunnies.

 I get a little 12-pound toaster muffin snuggled tightly between my bare feet in the kitchen as I type.....don't move, mama, you might step on the little one.

And Daisy gets to share the big, thick sleeping bag I drape over my chair to keep me warm and give me a place for those bare feet. She has her own bed, but it doesn't have pre-heated feet in it so.......

You see....symbiosis at its finest.

Dancing Miss Daisy

This is such a harsh time of year. The short days, the cold nights, caring for the animals indoors rather than out with all the problems that brings along. The sky is just grey, day and night.....My favorite heifer was injured by a big cow and may not make it. So much going on behind the scenes.

It makes for a pervading, deep sadness, that common sense and 'this too shall pass' make no inroads upon. 

However, through all this gloom dances a little ray of sunshine. Happy dog! Happy dog! The delightful Miss Daisy holds the stage.

Russet red with lots of chrome, she radiates delight through all our days. Lap warmer, class clown, dashing through the house with gay abandon, heat-seeking tennis ball missile. 

Greeting me at the kitchen gate each morning, tail sweeping behind like a little feather broom. Prancing to the refrigerator as dinner time approaches...'you will get my food out, yes, please, now please?' 

She is perhaps the happiest dog I have ever enjoyed. 

We nearly lost her a few weeks ago. From one hour to the next she became horribly ill, dehydrated, and so, so sick. We figured some kind of internal blockage, and started her on Gatorade while Alan picked up some Pedialyte, kitty hairball medicine, and mineral oil. We dosed her every five minutes with a syringe full of first the Gatorade and then the Pedialyte. We gave her the kitty stuff and a little mineral oil.

She responded almost miraculously, and was her bouncing happy self in a few hours and rid of the problem by the next morning.

I think she had the  issue from before we got her though. Maybe from eating whole turkey poults, which is why we got her. If I give her more than a few bits of dry kibble, or biscuits, she gets "off" really fast. 

She is a different dog since her illness too, younger, happier, livelier. So full of joy in her people. When Liz comes home in the morning she is beside herself with delight. When her boy comes home after a week in the city, she can barely contain herself. Can't decide whether to run in circles, jump all over him, look everybody right in the eye to bark her announcement that he is home, or vault into his bed and bounce around  like a furry dervish. Where her hunting hound ancestors tunneled under the ground in search of badgers, she tunnels under the blankets in search of naps.

She has also tunneled into every heart in the house.

So, she gets canned dog food with squash or applesauce, plus a little rice, and kitty hairball medicine once a week. I never imagined fussily making dinner for an itty bitty dog, but she lights up the world, one prance at a time, and so.....she gets pretty much whatever she needs and a good bit of whatever she likes as well.

Dachshund Diving

For a very extra special treat to go with our sausages and fresh homemade applesauce last night, Alan went up to Wendy's and got us baked potatoes. I was sitting in my Sunday chair, reading a new Lindsay Sands and enjoying the Nirvana-like experience of potato, butter, sour cream and chives when....

Wham!

A dachshund bomb landed, nose-first, right in the middle of my potato.

Alan shared his second one with me, but it was not the same.....just sayin'.

Got Hops?

Why, yes, we do!

Got squash as big as doggies?

Yep, those too!

Alan and I went spelunking among the garden regions yesterday. We found all kinds of goodies. There are lots of hops, mostly from just one of the plants, although the other two did okay,

And there are some dinosaur-type zucchettas out there too. I am not sure what I am going to do with the former. For the latter guess I will freeze the necks, while the bodies will go up in the field for target practice with his new rifle. Since it is a big rifle, I suspect there will be some squash puree involved.

Daisy is utterly fascinated by these squashes

Usurped

Miss Daisy, in her brand new doggie bed. Check out that stink eye

You knew it was going to happen. Yesterday the delightful Miss Daisy came here to serve her sentence for murdering valuable turkey poults. Life at Northview.....with no parole.

She was nervous and real unhappy when Liz, who delivered her, left her alone with me.

However, she has survivor genes, and was soon following me around the house and sleeping near my feet. And itching.

What a horrific flea infestation! Holy cow. I had been thinking quietly to myself recently...didn't want to jinx anything...that we had gotten off real light in the flea department this summer.

Well, I'm afraid Daisy is taking care of that. All she does is dig and scratch. They put some kind of systemic flea killer on her before she was sent our way and Alan says they appear to be dying. However, I'm thinking a bath is in order for today.....

Anyhooo, she was "my" dog for a few hours. Until all the kids came home. I came in from the barn last night to find her the center of attention of the entire flock of youth and significant others, and so it stayed. Musical laps, and she sure is a lap dog.

Got up this morning to be glared at by our fine little Miss. She had landed in a soft place and she knew it. It was all she could do to force herself out of bed for a minute so the mean old lady could walk her out there in the glimmering fog. She grudgingly attended to business, glaring at me the while.

Look closely over to the right hand side.....she is not alone

And then right back to bed.....with guess who. 

Introducing Miss Daisy