Tag: dogs

Back to RiverBend

Shirleyjdietz2 Comments

I finished the trip to North Carolina yesterday. The second half of the trip is always the prettiest, and challenging in a completely different way than going through the flat midwest. Coming down off high ground on I-64 is a little like a scary carnival ride. The traffic always seems to be almost bumper to bumper, around serpentine curves and at 60 – 70 miles per hour. Also, like the roller coasters, it’s expensive, with a $5 toll booth every few miles. Focusing that hard on driving gets me all tensed up, and I’m aware of all the beautiful views I’m missing.

The end of the second day of driving is the city of Greensboro itself, and I usually hit it at rush hour. That’s not relaxing either, unless you count the time sitting in a long line and measuring your progress in feet instead of miles. 

I was tired that night but it always takes me a couple of hours to position my things in new surroundings. I didn’t lie down to sleep until nearly midnight. My room is in the basement, and so is the room where the two outside dogs sleep. Penny, the loud lab who eats rocks, has been wearing a bark collar lately and it has been quite effective. But tonight the battery was weak and she started barking around 4 am. I have a soft heart toward anything that needs to pee and can’t, so I got up and let both dogs out. That required a trip outside in the fresh night air which left me wide awake and unable to fall asleep again. My fitbit said I got 3.5 hours of sleep. It said it was a fair night. I’m not sure I agree. 

I was glad that I arrived at River View Farm with a nearly full tank of gas. I’ll have to remember to do that whenever I come. I never know how quickly I’ll be doing some errand for the family, like early this morning.  I got to play taxi for Tessa, Julie’s elderly dog with a swollen back leg. Kevin loaded her up in my car and I drove her to south Greensboro to the emergency vet clinic. 

Tessa is used to sitting in the front passenger seat, but I thought that would be a little too distracting for me. I put her in the back with plenty of room instead. She didn’t like it. I could tell she was thinking of leaping over the seats to the front of the vehicle. Then she started barking, which always makes it seem like some next step is imminent. Looking back at Tessa, while looking forward at traffic, while watching my GPS for directions made the trip exciting. I guess I’m glad I can still do exciting. To her credit, she was much better on the way home.

What a nice, sunny day it was. In the afternoon, during Gwennie’s nap time, I decided to go outside for a walk, and maybe a drive to town. I went to the car to put my purse (with my key fob) in it while taking my walk, but remembered that shutting the door with the key inside causes the horn to alert. I didn’t want to wake the baby, so I decided to put my purse in Julie’s truck, which was parked beside my car. I opened the truck door and for some reason, which no one can figure out, the truck alarm started up. It honked for four or five minutes before I got inside, found the truck key and shut it off. Needless to say, the baby woke up.

I took my walk anyway. One change the last couple of visits is that I am no longer Gwennie’s main resource when I am here. Her regular nanny is still on the job, which leaves me free to help in other ways, or to actually rest. I still get to watch the cuteness but am not responsible for the “terrible two” times. Because I drove down this trip, I brought the small bike that I bought for her this summer when she visited me. She is very excited and possessive about her “Bluey Bike” and helmet. She hasn’t gotten the idea of how to pedal it yet, but wears the helmet and sits on the bike numerous times during the day. 

There you have it – some of the highlights of Day 1 at Riverbend Farm. 

Being Grandma in 2024

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This year has produced three times with GwennieRu so far. The first was in December – February when she had her heart surgery, the second was when she visited Wisconsin in April, and now I am with her and the family again at the end of May.

I chose this date to come because Daddy Kevin and the boys were traveling to a baseball game in Baltimore for three days. During that time, it was me, Julia, Gwennie, Ryleigh and her girlfriend, and Reagan and her girlfriend holding things together at the farm. We all helped with baby care. I helped with farm chores and some landscaping projects. We women can do some awesome getting along when we set our minds to it.

The boys left Thursday afternoon, earlier than I was expecting. I was out getting my food supplies when the nanny called me and wanted to know who was taking over, as she needed to get home. I did a U-turn and came home to relieve her. Julia was soon home from work and we started our time without the men.

Friday morning – well, first I must explain about the dogs. Back in February I mentioned the mating of Penny the lab, and Hanky Panky the poodle. Eight puppies resulted from this union. The planned kennel area in the basement had not materialized and the puppies had been born and raised in the living room and kitchen, upstairs. Sales of Doodles have dropped off since Covid time and the six remaining puppies are now 10 weeks old. Previously, it had been a challenge living with the three adult dogs who are good at being in the way at every opportunity. Now there are nine dogs. Six of them are still in the process of being trained. Six of them are small enough to slip under the chain link fence when left outside. Need I say more.

We are so cute, and we know it.

Friday morning my first trick was mixing cereal, getting Gwennie in the high chair and feeding her. It didn’t go quite as planned. When Gwennie doesn’t want something, like sitting in the high chair, she makes it impossible to happen. Fighting her and the newfangled baby equipment resulted in a bowl of cereal upside down on the carpet and a distressed child (not to mention a distressed grandma).

Julia left for work, and I took Kevin’s usual job of watching Gwennie until the nanny arrived. I had not quite caught on to the morning routine, and Gwennie could tell. I picked her up to comfort her and walked to the kitchen in time to see several puppies, outside, on the wrong side of the fence. Babe in arms, I rushed out to secure them before they ran away.

Calling “puppies, puppies, puppies” as I had heard Julia doing, I opened the gate expecting them to come back in the yard. Instead, the puppies who had still been in the yard ran out to play with their siblings as I struggled to control the flow. Gwennie was mesmerized, clinging to me as, one handed, I tried to scoop them in the right direction. Once in the yard, they followed me into the house and I shut their doggy door. Thankfully, the nanny arrived and I went out to find the new escape route and block it.

Doing that, the feeding chores, and a good bit of weed whacking took most of my day. Later that evening, as I was telling Julia about my morning, she dejectedly asked me if this visit was turning out to be as bad as the last time. Seeing the situation on the farm through the lens of my writing had been kind of hard on her. That is the tricky thing about writing experiences of the kind where one has to laugh to keep from crying. In reality, Julia has to do this ALL THE TIME, and I know she is doing the best job she can. I am now learning to laugh more while in the midst of the normal chaos. Just so you know Julie, my visits to you and the family are rich with all kinds of experiences that I do not regret or shy away from.

Tomorrow, my week of substitute nanny begins. I am looking forward to being with Gwennie, the family, the dogs and puppies. Just sayin’…

Don’t worry Grandma. You will get the hang of it, eventually.

Adventures at Julia’s House: Just One of the Pack

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In case I haven’t mentioned it lately, Julia is an equine veterinarian. But that does not limit her love of animals to horses, not at all. When I list the animals on Julia’s farm, cats and dogs are usually at the end of the list, and that probably does not give a true picture of the magnitude of effect they have on the family. Specifically, the dogs are an inescapable part of life at Julia’s house. I know, having tried to escape them. So, I will introduce them to you to round out the picture of life on the farm.

Tessa is the oldest, the diva of the pack. She came to Julia years ago as a stray, and has been her faithful companion through vet school and at least four different homes. She is getting stiff and sore, and a bit owly at times. I identify most with her.

You’re getting old when your eyebrows turn grey
Diva dog

And then there is Penney, who was added a year before Kevin and Julia married. I think they got talked into keeping Penney without full knowledge of her. Penney is a yellow lab and her outstanding characteristic is that she’ll eat anything. This was discovered early on when she filled her stomach and esophagus with rocks (yes, they were under the grill and they did taste good) and had to have them surgically removed.

Penney
Penney and rocks

Next comes Moses. One of Penney’s redeeming characteristics is that she is a pretty good mother. Moses was the family’s choice from her first litter of puppies. He is a labradoodle. All I know is that there is a lot of hair walking around and he is in there somewhere.

Moses, Penney’s fine son

All three dogs spend a lot of time in the house. Their favorite places are anywhere that food might be dropped – always the kitchen at meal prep time and under the table when the family meals take place. They also like the same relaxing places that people like, namely, the couch. They are big dogs. They have big paws and dangerous tails, well, except for Tessa. She’s never had much of a tail and no one knows where she lost it.

Life with the dogs includes lots of barking, lots of letting them out, letting them in, feeding, watering and petting them. GwennieRu is already finding them fascinating, particularly when they loom over her and lick her face. When they are turned loose from their kennels in the morning, there is a mad scramble up the steps from the basement and out to the kitchen – you don’t want to be in the way.

One day, I came upon Julia and Kevin discussing ways to find money to cover projects on the farm. I shook my head in amazement when I heard them talking about puppy prices, and how they could have six to eight more labradoodle puppies to sell in fairly short order. Talk turned to action and in a few days Penney was taken to visit her “puppy daddy”. Since mating was not an easy event to schedule, the male poodle came home with Julie and Penney. Now there were four dogs dominating the house, and of course, one of them was in heat. Interesting. Fittingly, the poodle’s name is Hanky Panky.

Hanky the poodle

He stayed for a few days, and kept Julia up all night with his lonesome barking and whining. We were glad when he got picked up and taken home. He did his job though. I have pictures but you’re not going to see them.

You might have gotten the idea that I don’t like dogs all that much, but really, I do. I don’t like the dirt they bring in, the hair they drop everywhere, the dog scaze on the windows, and the barking that wakes the baby and anyone else who’s sleeping. But I do like them as individuals, and they must know it. I have been accepted as one of the pack. In fact, I’m often the one they come to for food or water or petting. They are part of the adventurous life at Julia’s house, and in a couple months it’s going to get worse… just sayin’.

Penney “you’re going to drop some of that on the floor, right?”
You might have thought you were going to sit here, tough.
precious (and rare) moments

April A to Z Challenge: Glancing out the Window

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Welcome to the April A to Z Blogging Challenge! This year my contribution is the story of my great grandmother Alzina. She lived in the style of “Little House on the Prairie”and kept a record of her life through letters to family and her own journals. I find her story fascinating and intriguing. Each post will start (sometimes strangely) with a consecutive letter of the alphabet, just because they have to. My hope is that we can “catch” some of her courage to help us face challenges in our present times.

The Mad Dog Story, Part 4`

By Sarah (Sadie) Pomeroy Postlewait

There were no rabies vaccines in those days so when a rabid animal showed up in the area, the after shocks went on for a long time affecting farm animals and pets – and scaring children.

Around 1889

Glancing out the window of the schoolhouse, one day the next spring, I saw our neighbor’s dog out by the hedge fence. The teacher had already dismissed the two lower grades and let them start walking for home. Just then I remembered hearing my parents talking at the supper table the evening before. They said Merdicks had tied their dog up because it was acting strangely. They thought a lot of that dog.

When I saw Merdick’s dog out there I wondered if he was all right and had been turned loose, or had he broken loose and was he a dangerous dog! The dog went up the road and I was almost frantic for I knew my little brother Wilbur, had not had time to get home. I held up my hand to attract the teacher’s attention but for some reason she paid no attention to my hand. I felt almost desperate for I could think of only the worst. My feelings were a bit calmed as I saw a man in a wagon driving past the school house, going in that same direction. I hoped he would overtake the children if there was really any danger.

As soon as school was out, I hurriedly gathered up my books and dinner pail and started for home. I had told some of the others about the dog. When we got into the road we could see that the man in the wagon was driving very slowly and was crowding over near the fence. Then before he had gone very far, the man drove on, going very fast.

As we neared our home we saw my mother and Mrs. Merdick motioning us to come quickly. We all came running. They told us the dog had been having a fit and broken loose so Mrs. Merdick had followed at a distance to give warning to anyone she might meet. The man in the wagon told them he had seen the dog at the edge of the road in a real fit and had to drive near the fence to get around it. He said the dog jumped up and went through the fence on the other side of the road.

I asked about Wilbur and Mother said he got home ahead of that wagon. They had sent the children into the house. I went in with tears of joy. I clasped Wilbur in my arms and told him how frightened I had been. He said, “I guess Jesus was just taking care of me.”

Of course kind neighbors were ready to assist in taking care of the mad dog since the Merdick men folks were away from home.

And where was Alzina when all this was happening? Wilbur in this story was born in 1884 so by the time he was old enough to be in school, probably age 5 or 6, Alzie would have been 18 or 19 and was most likely at her teaching job in a neighboring school. We’ll be getting back to her in the next post.

Real Conversations, Real People

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December continues with the dual (and totally compatible) goals of writing and walking, although not at the same time.

The weekend is always refreshing because I have the opportunity to interact with the world and reassure myself that there are still real people out there. Breaking news! We are not just talking heads on computer screens, figments of our imaginations and the internet. I was able to identify several people by their eyes and hair (or no hair, whatever…). Today I had three or four socially distanced, but meaningful, conversations with friends. Today, I went to “in-person” church.

Yep, hair and eyes, people.  That’s all we’ve got. Frightening.

The husband also looks forward to going. We’ve been talking this week about the value of face to face, eye to eye, contact and how good it is for the brain to be stimulated that way. Evidently, imaging studies have shown heightened brain activity with this kind of contact. I think we knew it was important for babies to have eye contact with their caretakers for bonding purposes, but this goes farther.

Supposedly, the only other animals, other than humans, that show this response is dogs. The person I heard this from was very apologetic to cat owners, but perhaps they need to do more studies. My cat looks me right in the eye and I know she’s thinking. I am also trying to think what she might be thinking, which means we both have heightened brain activity. I really like dogs too and am in awe of the uncanny knowledge they have of their owners. Dogs have the eye thing down, perfectly, I might say.

My cat wants to bond with me every time I sit down, but her whiskers tickle too much.

So we went to church and were reminded that this is a natural time of the year to be nurturing our sense of hope. Not just hope that pandemics end, but hopes that there is a real God and that he came once, and he has plans to come again and make all bad things good.

Following that I spent another afternoon packing boxes and bags, helping my friends who are selling their northern house. And then, of course, the 10,000 steps on the treadmill, while listening to two hour-long podcasts. I’m listening to writers, authors and editors talk about various aspects of writing. Even online, this kind of connecting gives me ideas (and makes the time on the torture machine go much faster). Maybe you’ve noticed on the sidebar of this blog that I’m a Hope*Writer. It’s a valuable group for all kinds of hopefilled reasons.

Last but not least in any way, my accountability pic of the day!

Dog Therapy

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Five days to go, then the adventure starts. I’m worried.

It’s another rest day, with only about 4,000 steps. My legs are feeling tired very quickly and there’s a hint of shin splints. I’m worried that this will continue, or that I’ll do something unwise like switch my shoes out, or forget something important, or get sick.

For some reason this is also the week when we have meetings with a lawyer to get our wills settled (a two hour trip to the city), and the week when paperwork for our house sale closing is being mailed back and forth, a physical exam for a new life insurance policy, and the week when youngest daughter is flying here to be with her dad while I’m gone. There is a lot going on. A lot to get ready for.

Yes, right around that ear, and don’t stop.

That is why I took time yesterday to run away to the empty sun porch over at my brother’s house. It was a time to just sit, do some journaling and thinking. It was a time for “dog therapy”. Scruffy came and sat on my lap.

Scruffy and I have gradually gotten used to each other over the last few months. I sometimes take him for a walk, and I’m usually along when his mom and dad take him for a walk. I always pet him and try to make him feel special. He didn’t always come up and want to sit on my lap, but we seem to have bonded now.  I pet him, and since he can’t really pet me back (but I think he would if he could) he licks my hand. I think that’s dog language for “pet me more”.

Scruffy and I have things in common. For one, we have hair the same color. We both love to go for walks and are easily distracted when we are outside. We’re both a bit aged. I could think of more, but that will do. All this to say that when we sit somewhere together and just chill, it is relaxing, for both of us, but especially for me. I think I worry about more things than Scruffy does. Dog therapy is quite effective since I take my cues from him and don’t worry about anything except whether my lap is comfortable for him to lay on. He is most definitely a lap dog.

Cricket, Ellie? Hope you’re having a good dog day!

Scruffy says hi to Cricket and Ellie and wants them to know he enjoys their astute comments. Dogs really have it together. Just sayin’…

Making Sense of Life

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Sometimes it is just too hard to figure out what is happening in life.  It is hard to think of something to write, something that is a finished thought, when you get nowhere with thinking.  I have been on a very simple track of just doing what seems necessary and not a lot of questioning for weeks now.  And I still don’t feel anything worthwhile on the verge of appearing.  What I do know is that even in times like this, especially in times like this, a cute dog or cat is still undeniably cute.  That is why dog and cat videos abound in cyberspace.  We run to their cuteness like we run to comfort food.  Even better is having your own cute dog or cat in your house.

I have been thinking a lot about cute dogs since I am with two of them.  They belong to my daughter but they’ll settle for me when she’s not around.  How can a dog appear so content just lying in one place or another, most of the day, waiting for it’s person to move so it can follow? How can that be enough?

WIN_20150705_133559
Appearances deceive… this is not a headless dog.

As I said, any person, even myself, can be adopted by a dog if they can be closely associated with food and petting. I have been here only a week and already this dog knows my patterns of sleeping, waking and taking walks, all of which he accompanies.  His name is Charlie and he “dogs” me all day except when my daughter takes him for a walk without me.  I get to observe a lot of his cuteness.

On a walk. He's trying to read my mind (and I his).
On a walk. He’s trying to read my mind (and I his).

Charlie looked like this when I first came.  He seemed to have a lot of fluffy hair. That changed when I got to take him for a session at the doggie spa.  He had “the works” and although he probably didn’t lose much weight, he looks a lot thinner now.  He was so hyped up when I came to get him, I could hardly make him sit still for a picture.  All the grooming girls said he was very cute – they noticed, and how could they not?

Thinner looking but still cute after his buzz cut.
Thinner looking but still cute after his buzz cut.

Like most dogs,he likes taking walks.  The first one we took together was a little ambitious for us both.  There was a lot of hill climbing and I had to lift him over some fallen trees.  But perhaps it bonded us that I was able to get us back home in one piece. He slept very well that night and so did I.  Over the 4th of July there were fireworks being set off all over the neighborhood.  Dogs, as a rule, do not like these loud noises but Charlie didn’t pay much attention to them.  I think he may have had a little anti-anxiety medicine to help him, still he went to bed and didn’t whine or be restless, and I would have expected some of that. His night cuteness is that he curls up in his bed on the floor and sleeps pretty much until I get up. He’s there a lot during the day too, just being cute.

Busy being cute...
Busy being cute…

And being cute some more....
And being cute some more….

Being cute in t he house,
Being cute in the house,

And being cute outside with the other family dog (he just can't help it)
And being cute outside with the other family dog (he just can’t help it)

I’m just sayin’ that this reliable cuteness seems like a gift from God when the rest of life is not making a lot of sense and is not being very reliable. I’m thankful for Charlie (and for cat videos – I watch them all).

A to Z Family Stories: F for Fred and Friend

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They just showed up one day and started hanging around our back porch for the shelter, I guess.  Fred and Skippy, two dogs probably out having fun, but of course we thought they were homeless, starving, needing love. So we named the big, fuzzy brown one Fred and the short legged black and tan one Skippy, and adopted them as our new farm dogs.  My brothers were always happy to have a dog or two around to play with and this curious looking pair was friendly and seemed to have adopted the boys too.  Then Fred had puppies.

Obviously, the naming came before anyone cared what gender they were, and looking at them it was much easier to imagine the big one being the boy and the little one being the girl. But, no. We don’t talk about Fred very much past this point and I think it’s because he she ran out on us – too much family responsibility I’m guessing.  My brothers decided to raise two of the puppies, again picking noble doggie names for them – Steve and Andy.

Everyone’s memory is kind of fuzzy about what became of Steve and Andy as well.  One of the problems with farm dogs was that they often craved the excitement of chasing cars. That was a problem with this rambunctious pair and likely the cause of their demise. Which brings me back to Skippy, the one we remember most fondly.

It became apparent that Skippy had at one point been someone’s house dog.  He was very comfortable coming in and generally well behaved.  Even mom liked him.  He was always willing to eat leftovers that no one else wanted and that was his main diet.  No one ever thought of buying food specifically for the dog, not on the farm.  There were always other “things” for them to eat.  And here comes the part of the story that we always laugh at when talking about Skippy.

When we milked cows, the milk was poured into a funnel like strainer with a heavy paper filter at the bottom, and into large metal cans.  Washing up the equipment, we always took the filter out and tossed it – into Skippy’s mouth.  He loved the wet, milky circles and pretty much swallowed them whole.  Evidence of this would come in the spring as the snow melted and exposed the little white piles all over the lawn.  They were composed of milk filter material and tin foil, swallowed with his leftovers.

Skippy was an adventurer though.  He considered us his home but the world was his playground and he would be seen at neighboring farms and sometimes out in the woods. He often came back with wounds and bite marks, looking as if he had been fighting with other dogs.  For a small dog, he had an amazing amount of hormonal motivation leading him to wanderlust.  He may have just disappeared, like he came.  No one remembers exactly.  We’ll just say that maybe he and Fred found each other again and lived happily ever after…