Snow Puppy

Some of us LIKE this weather

Shenanigans

Take that you cad!

Zombie Dogpocalypse

Airs Above the Kitchen

Buckin' Junction

Smile

Butter Wouldn't Melt

Puppy Love

Sunday Stills...Then and Now

Gonna have to go short with this one. No time all week to dig under the cupboard in the dining room for old photos for the "then" part...so here is Ranger Gilan of Northview, then and now. Please take note that in both shots he is having something to say. This is a dog with attitude and a big mouth....but we love him anyhow.

For more Sunday Stills......

The Little Ones

Pumpkin

The river of our lives flows mainly around caring for the big animals, cows, calves, and heifers, and a couple of horses too. Everything there is has to be scheduled around twice daily milkings, thrice daily feedings, cleaning of stables etc. It is such a habit...I have worked in situations where I at least had to feed animals morning and night since I was sixteen...even when I have time off I get restless at 6 in the morning and 5 in the evening.....

However, it is often the little animal tributaries that bring the most fun and drama to our world, payback in triplicate for all that we give them.

The pup, Gil, is a devil dog, bowling people over with his fat, fluffy bum, tossing milking inflations, about the only toy he can't destroy, through the air with gay abandon, endangering all and sundry, and barking at everything and nothing.


However, just a few minutes ago, he managed to get his collar off. It lay on the floor, collapsed and lonely. 

Cat-riona

At first he was astonished to see such a thing. Then he bowed to it, twisted his head all sideways and pawed at it.

Barked at it, nudged it, nosed it, pounced, danced, paraded in circles around it with one foot in the air in case it might run away and need to be smacked down.

It stayed all sullen and grumpy there in a heap though all his efforts until he decided he had gotten all the good out of it and went on his merry way.

 We were hooting and gasping by the time he was done.

And those kitties our logger brought are pips. The little cats are hilarious, spending hours playing in a pile of sand we keep in an empty stall for shoveling on the floor to keep the traction good. There must be ten thousand kitty tracks in it now, from pouncing, digging spaces in which to hide, all the better to jump out and and surprise you, and hours and hours of patty-paw. They are the happiest, funniest kittens we have seen in years.

 Mama is a fine hunter. She wasn't here three days before she was up in the overheads and mows ratting and mousing.....clearly a business cat and good at her job. We like them all a lot.

Yesterday they were missing at evening milking. Normally they are right there waiting for noms and chances to hide in Alan's pockets and drink fresh, hot, milk, and other such fine kitty activities. However, there wasn't so much as a flash of tortoiseshell to be seen anywhere.

I had a sad. I figured mama, who is an enterprising big, black and white cat, had taken the kids and headed back home. Their former location is just a few miles away and cats do what they want to. I called and called. 

No kittehs.


At the end of chores I came in to cook dinner and get things ready for the boss to head off to an auction. Just as I was getting washed up Becky came in and reported that Alan had seen the cats, all up in the overheads with mama. She is starting them young and starting them right I guess. At least they are safe from big cow hooves up there!

This Dog

Scours the floor for little rocks...which the kind folks who surround me track in with alarming regularity. The small ones he simply devours. The larger ones he chomps and crunches and drools over until he gets someone's attention and they exclaim, "Trade!"

Then he drops his tasteless morsels and hurries over for a softer, friendlier snack. I think we have created a monster.

He does it with hats he steals too.....and towels.....

He's nabbed two biscuits off me in the last five minutes.

Ranger Gilan of Northview

Somewhere an Inventor

Look at this face! 

We should have known when we got him 

that he was a timber wolf in fluffy brown fur.

Is missing his prototype ecologically sound, "green" garbage can. 

And we have found him. It's been a while since I updated you about Gil, the English Shepherd pup Becky got last March. He was so cute....the little rascal.

Nowadays, he is a big, strapping, forty-pounder, lush with orangy-brown fur with black trim, huge expressive brown eyes, a fox's brush of a curly tail, an attitude that would do a bucking bull proud, and an insatiable appetite for......

Everything. Rocks, leaves,  dirt off people's shoes is a big fave...certain individuals wear those Godawful cleated boots with deep grooves in the tread. No matter what I do they tromp through the house without taking them off....gotta use the john, or pick up a letter or some other urgent objective that precludes taking time for shoe removal.  (Those of us with slip-on rubber barn boots leave them on the porch where they belong.) The cleated clan leave trails of dried up little lozenges of mud (and no doubt all the other good stuff they step in every day) all over the floors. And they must be delicious, yummy, nummy, better than tiramisu with fine wine.

Because Gil loves them. You will be sitting there quietly when, crunch, crunch, crunch, he is chomping on something he found. (Wouldn't be a problem except he has a delicate tummy.) You may have just swept the floor with the big broom that gets every grain of sand...or so you thought...when chomp, slobber,drool, he's at again. At least he chews his food....so you can snatch it from his jaws of death

Talking as he revs up to gnaw ankles

Woe betide the snippet of hay that falls out of a pant cuff. He's on it like a duck on a June bug. Bread bag ties must be extracted most urgently. The rings off milk bottles, heck even the milk bottles if they fall. This morning he was worrying a burdock, slurping happily, soaking it with drool like a full time bloodhound. At least he will usually give up his treasures for a kibble.

And did I mention the moaning? When he gets in the mood for crazy play he first yodels and moans and groans and yips like he's talking. Don't talk back to him though or you're in for it. He will roll on your feet then...and bite them...tenderly...just a little around the edges, pinch, pinch. Maybe a nibble or three on your ankle bone.

 Bigger smile, bigger teeth

I will give him credit for being smart in some ways. Just for the heck of it I taught him to sit when I look at him in a certain tone of voice. It helped that I was eating crackers. He stood beside me, his entire soul reflected in those big brown eyes; you could just tell he would offer up his kingdom for a crumb. I stared until he plopped his butt down, then tossed him a bit. 

A couple of crackers later all I had to do was glance his way and his fanny hit the floor. Isn't it fun to teach other people's doggies useless tricks?

Anyhow, that's what's up with Gil these days....quick Beck, he's got another rock.

....oh, and I forgot. When I got iBird Pro for my phone I discovered that the call of a blue jay drives him crazy and he barks and barks. Not too much of a problem...just don't listen to jays on the phone. Except that now, there are really jays hollering up a storm out in the yard. 

Will somebody please shut that dog up!

Spoiling Them

This is how we do it at Northview

Please may I have some????

Son of a Pup

Waiting for his "mama"

The boy's uncle, who is truly a prince among men, has picked him up in NJ and is bringing him home. It takes a pretty special person to drop everything and drive about 8 hours round trip like that. Thanks, Mappy, you are a good 'un. He had his truck towed, dunno what the verdict is there yet.


The pup has been to the vet, a new vet to us, and is back home. Not sure what is going on, but thinks he will be okay, thankfully. He now has antibiotics and anti-nausea meds and can have some food tonight. Can't wait until he feels well enough to act his usually naughty little self.


The little wretch has had vomiting and accompanying back end symptoms, but is enough better to be hungry. He knows he gets biscuits in trade for object of theft so he is being hell on the towels and hats. Dagnabit.


Anyhow, we are still full of lots of worries, but not quite as many.

Give a Dog

A sour strawberry, and he will patty paw and sneeze at it, and snort all silly, nilly.


He will dance and prance and cavort around it as if it had a fuse and was lit and shrinking, fizzing, blinking.


He will take it to the toy box and wrap it in his towel. Push it away with big, soft feet and tuck it underneath the counter


Roll on it,


Stroll on it and drag it round the kitchen. After a while, when it is too dirty to recognize, no longer food, no longer useful, not much more than a red flannel scrap, he will choke it down with grimaces and groans that would do a toddler proud.


Give a dog a sweet strawberry.........and he will eat it.

Ren

Yesterday was crazy busy...more about that later...let's just say there were strawberries involved and new calves...with more of both on today's agenda. Sandwiched in between was a quick visit with Liz to see little Ren, who in a few weeks will be her new puppy and a frequent visitor to Northview.


She is another English shepherd like Gil from the same kennel. We will be looking forward to seeing more of her soon.

Opposable Thumbs

My little grandpuppy, be thankful that he does't have them

Gil is getting to be a big boy...and smart in a way that is new to me. I am used to border collie smart, where once you get the dog's attention it is all about working together. Gil is different. Some of his intelligence seems to be aimed at getting into trouble and getting away with it. Thus we must put the dish towels in ever changing places because he will get them...every time....and damn the consequences. 


He can leap straight in the air, reach out without touching anything, snatch one off the middle of the kitchen table and be gone before you can grab the squirt gun. Hell hath no fury like grandma when one of Aunt Lisa's home woven towels is his victim. He does not care. The fun is worth it to him. I have had to teach him the word, "trade" so he will give me the things he steals without a chase. I am too old to chase...and I know it is encouraging him and enabling him to be a bad boy to give him a treat under the circumstances, but I cannot run as fast as he can, especially under the chairs and tables. Even I am too tall for that.

Anyhow, I babysit for the grandpuppy when Beck is at work and he has learned to be quite a little leash hauler. He has darned near dragged me off my feet a couple of times. Old Arthur Itis was visiting yesterday so I put the pronged training collar on the little monster, for the first time ever, and purely in self defense.


He raced to the end of the leash to pop me off the porch, hit it, stopped and looked at me, as if to say, Well, dang! and NEVER tugged again the whole walk, even after I took it off.
Wow, can you imagine if that little dog had opposable thumbs? 


No dish towel in the world would be safe, ever again.

Play Signals

Trying to get biscuits out of our improvised non-kong

What do you when the pup, which you just brought in from outdoors, leaves a large and odoriferous "calling card" right next to your chair?


Why you scold, of course, and point at it and exclaim, "Bad dog!" in cogent terms. And strongly worded, yes indeedy!


Then what do you do when the pup comes over to see what you are yapping about, takes a look at the pile, play bows, and begins to bark at it as if saying, "Bad poo, bad! What are you doing there by Gramma's chair huh? Shame on you poo, shame, shame!"...????


Well, I didn't know exactly what to do about the situation except laugh myself half to death and take that idiot dog out for yet another constitutional. Prolly was wrong to laugh but I couldn't help it.


I have had dogs all my life, most often five at a time, as five is a nice solid number, but I have never had one bark at poo before.


Never. Now if only he would "bark" outdoors.

Caption This

In the comments, please. Thanks

Rain with Orioles

 Growing up and beginning to outgrow some of the helldogginess.

 He will now sit at the pointing of a finger..........sometimes.......

Kinda creepy out, low-hanging clouds leaking slowly, spreading gloom and mud in their wake....a plane is rumbling by, seems to be flying very slowly, or maybe just the sound is going slowly. The Orioles are stabbing the oranges, ripping out the red-gold hearts-how cool to so perfectly match the food....although I don't suppose that I would like to resemble either a steak or a potato...oh, wait.


We keep Velvet in the barnyard every night, so she stays out of the swamp in the night pasture. Thinking about running a temporary fence around that puppy. Never been a problem before, but years of rain seem to have changed that.

One of the reasons those robins get so emotional when I go out on the porch

At least it is green, an almost eye-searing green, I can't stop looking at it.


Stay dry!

Is it Possible to Outsmart a Dog?

Well,  you can try. As usual, yesterday, I would really rather have done something interesting, like hoe up the garden for some peas or see how the men are coming along with the big fence. However, bookkeeping is relentless and I have writing chores to complete if I want to get paid.


So, inside it was for most of the day. And a crazy little puppy who wanted me to playplayplayplay was not much help. I needed to go through two checking accounts for a certain set of checks, work which I hate with a passion, plus at least start the Farm Side. 


It is not, however, fair to keep Gil in his crate all the time while Becky is at work...and he is an unbelievable distraction, barking, peeing, and dragging everything he can get his teeth into all over the place.


He was driving me nuts. (I know, I know, it's not a long trip, )


Finally I took a plastic milk crate, stuffed every single one of his toys inside, and set it in the middle of the kitchen floor.


Wow! It kept him busy for hours, digging out his favorite towel, finding his nasty elephant man so he could grind his teeth on its eyeballs, unearthing his tennis ball, and extracting his yogurt cup so he could make sure for the thousandth time that there wasn't any yogurt left inside. He totally entertained himself, without a single bark or hose down of the kitchen floor. For ages.


It was great. It was also so funny that I still didn't get much work done, but what are you gonna do? That's what puppies are for.

Workin'

Some is workin' off farm jobs. Some is fencin'. Some is bookkeepin'.
All is workin' though.

'Cept for this little guy, who is havin' a stick.

What to Do if Your Dog is a Collie

Even a farm collie, and the company that makes the heart worm preventative that is safer for collies suspends production?


We don't know the answer to that question and it is beginning to seem like no one else does either.


We want to use Interceptor for Gil, as collie type dogs have been known to have life-threatening adverse reactions to the more common heart worm medicines, but Novartis suspended production in December.


We searched the net, called and emailed veterinarians, and looked into all kinds of suppliers to no avail. 


Although many online sources claim that production will resume soon, I called the company today and was told repeatedly, "We don't have a date yet for resuming production," with no further details.


This is troubling as English Shepherds are among the breeds prone to Ivermectin toxicity....


which is bad news indeed.


There is a test for the mutant gene, which causes the dog to be susceptible to toxicity. Maybe that is the answer for Gil

Square Dancing with the Broom

The boss is sometimes a pretty good fella about sweeping out the mud he tracks into the kitchen. Yesterday he had a little more help than he really needed....and I was right there handy with the camera.