peaces

Ahhhh … What a great weekend.  No reason.  Just was.

I struggled yesterday, trying to get my thoughts together for a simple video blog.  I recorded about four different segments.  Just trying to “check in” because it had been a couple of weeks and some friends from the YouTube community were wondering where I’ve been.

It’s just not as easy to record, upload and edit video as it is to post a quick blog entry.  Especially with my older computer and free editing software.  I’m grateful for what I have.  I just can’t do exactly what I want it to do.  Perfectionist.

So I just kept giving up hope of posting a video this weekend.

Then PBX and I hooked up the webcam to send PBX-Jr. a video message and it inspired me to record a quick vlog.  I’ve been inspired to be “quick” before but this was truly a quick vlog.  No editing, no makeup, no notes, very low quality. Total old skool vlogging.  I uploaded it to YouTube and headed out the door to join the Piper-play.  When we came in, it was loaded and live.  Easy-peasy.  The way vlogging, true vlogging, should be.

Now, interestingly, I feel more free.

I can work on my sketch comedy spoofs (I wrote a great one Friday night) and music videos without pressure.  And I can post a new Freeepeace Features — featuring 3 channels I think deserve attention.  So far it’s been a hit with my subscribers.  Because I haven’t posted in a while, they’ve been asking about new features. Slacker.

I really like the pockets of communities I’ve crossed into.  I don’t solely identify with just one YouTube community which is great for the weekly features.  I’m meeting some really interesting people of all ages and videoing styles.  I like that we share our experiences and bounce ideas off each other.  I love love LOVE the collaborative effort.  Some of my future videos will include other YouTubers. Kinda cool.

I’ve also spent a lot of time learning a few cover songs.  Having fun experimenting with styles, tempo and such.  Nothing fancy. Nothing extravagant. Everything creative. Life’s blood.

Went to the beach today with PBX and the dogs.  She biked.  I skated.  The dogs were pulled in a baby trailer behind her bike.  Piper went psycho, wanting to be out running.  Sounded like a seagull … or, a tortured, suffering, dying, screaming child.  We did capture a bit on video but O.M.G. people were scared.  PBX kept telling folks we captured a seagull.  No joke about the similarities in sound.

It cut our bikepath stroll in half.  Hunny did okay in the trailer, for her first time.  She wasn’t happy with it, but she suffers silently, unlike drama queen PiperBoy!  oy.

I haven’t checked the video so I don’t know what was actually captured.  We shall see.

Still it was nice to be out in shorts and a tank top for the first time this year.  Talk about pasty white skin. Ugh.  Can anyone recommend a GOOD no-sun tanning creme?  I’m not a dog walker anymore.  It shows, in more ways than one.

Whoa. Much longer blog post than anticipated.  This is probably why I should update daily.

Day Two in New Hampshire.

Hunny thinks she needs to protect and serve. It’s a dog’s job, I suppose. But she’s a total city slicker when it comes to facing creatures of the back woods.

I was in the house when I heard PBX yelling from the garage, “Hunny just went one-on-one with a porcupine!”

The next thing I saw was my poor baby running toward me with these in her snout.
They looked like extra whiskers.

I ran around the kitchen in a panic (arms flailing and all), “What do we do? What do we do?”

PBX and her dad both said, matter-of-factly, “We take them out.”

Oh.

I looked at my girl again. She was licking and panting and pacing. I was following suit. “I can’t do it.”

Meanwhile, Piper is barking and whining like a madman. He worries and gets anxious enough for everyone.

There was a moment of deciding whether to bring Hunny to the vet or to deal with it ourselves.

We hoisted Hunny onto the table. I held her against my body while PBX ran for the needle-nose pliers.

She returned like a surgeon, “This is going to hurt her.” I think she was waiting for my okay before beginning the torture.

As PBX yanked each quill, Hunny squirmed and jutted her head back, nearly hitting my face with quills. She let out one tiny yelp. I think it was the second quill.

After that, it was a fight to keep her still. I used all my strength to hold Hunny in a hogtie while PBX braved the possibility of getting poked by quills — or bitten by Hunny.

She did get poked. But Hunny never bit her. She never even tried.

I get teary-eyed just thinking about how agonizing the whole process was.

Hunny may only weigh 23 lbs but she put my strength to the test. She nearly escaped twice.

But we had to keep going. The last two quills were killer. In so deep that we could hardly see the ends.

The thing about quills is, they are barbed. They hurt more coming out than going in.
Hunny was a trooper. Amazing. Just a little blood, slight shaking and panting. By the time we were finished getting all thirteen (possibly fourteen because we dropped one) quills out, she was acting like her regular self: “Hey guys, where’s food?”

She knows she gets treats after she “takes her medicine” – and this was some medicine.

After her feeding, we still had to deal with the porcupine in the garage. The peacemobile was blocking an entrance – I needed to move it to the driveway to clear a path for the critter to leave in peace.

I had a rush of fear walking out to the garage without some kind of armored suit, but then I remembered PBX’s dad mentioned porcupines can’t “shoot” their quills – that’s a myth.

We got the little (big) guy out of the garage but he chose the nearest tree to climb. There’s a good chance he’s back – all toasty warm in the garage. But I won’t be reaching for anything in the dark, and Hunny will be on a leash.

Okay, so we’ve had our country-bumpkin initiation. I miss home. These critters put our house-dwelling black widows to shame.

…

PS - We don’t have internet at home yet (next week) so I wrote this last night. This morning, I found another quill in Hunny’s lip. Deep and bloody. Pooooooor girl slept all night, shaking, in pain, because we totally missed another quill.

Ack. Breaks my heart all over again.

We got it out right away. No more shaking or panting. She’s resting comfortably.

They say some dogs learn to stay clear of porcupines after the first experience. Others keep going back for more. Apparently, Hunny falls in the latter category. She seems determined to even the score every time we open the door.

My dog, Hunny is part cocker spaniel, part golden retriever. Yes, the cutest dog ever!

With our messy yard and all the dog park trips during the week, Hunny trails in dried leaves, dirt, and whatever else can get caught in her thick fur. Cute, but not so cute!

During a little heat wave we had earlier this month, her Mauntie (PBX) decided it was time for Hunny’s semi-annual buzz-cut.

I came home to a completely different dog. She’s even cuter without all that straggly, long fur.

The heat wave passed and we were left with a shivering pup. Apparently, senior dogs get cold easier than when they were young spry things.

I’m typically not a fan of pet clothing. Especially designer-type of clothes. But after spending a winter at a small dog park and having met a few small dogs who consistently came with different shirts, sweaters and sweatshirts daily, I began to understand that clothing is actually useful. Not just for show.

I knew Hunny was freezing one night when I covered her in fleece and she didn’t move till morning. Very unlike her to tolerate anything on top of her.

Pet store clothing offered slim pickings - too thick, too bulky, too small, too big, too expensive. I just wanted to cover her back.

No more worries.

Thanks to her Mauntie, the Goodwill store and a toddler’s vest, Hunny is fully covered, warm, comfortable, and seriously cuter than ever - for a buck-fifty.

I’m not so sure it was the wasp.

Piper started feeling better for a day but this morning he was right back to vomiting - constant vomiting. Too much for a little one. On the way to the vet, he was vomiting foam.

Not a good sign.

Baaaaabyyyy….hang in there!!!

So little sicky-boy is back in the hospital - this time for overnight observation. He’s on IV fluids, severely dehydrated. His x-rays came back clear - no obvious obstruction. We’re waiting on blood work.

The vet is confident this is NOT a case of poison food death. He and colleagues have been presented with their first cases of these deaths. So it’s here. And it’s real.

Apparently the killer signs of these food poison attacks start (and end) with kidney failure. Piper’s kidneys are healthy at this moment. A very good sign for the little guy.

It’s tricky though, because it was Hunny I was most concerned about at first this morning. Shaking, almost seizure-like and then vomiting - three times in ten minutes. This was first thing in the morning. No food or water. Just woke up that way.

Things seemed to calm down for a moment. I was about to leave the kids at home while I walked other dogs.

As I prepared to leave, Piper started struggling. Kills me to think what might have happened if I left them at home alone. Had he started vomiting ten minutes later, I would’ve been gone and he would’ve struggled on his own.

Oh the ache.

Once Piper began vomiting, Hunny’s symptoms stopped. It may sound crazy but I believe she may have been trying to tell me how sick Piper was. Like she was carrying some of his pain.

Still, we’re taking no chances. The vet checked Hunny and said to monitor her for 24 hours. No food and only very little water. Bland diet tomorrow. Poor girl. She’s so hungry.

Hunny’s finally able to rest. She was pacing for quite a while here.

As for Miss Gracie-kitty. In addition to her main course, she ate left-over dog food, then spent the afternoon ruling her queendom in the yard.

Clearly she’s torn up about the whole thing.

Yay! We’re in. I was sitting on the couch, facing these beautiful, precious sleeping babies. A photo op not to be missed. It wasn’t until after I snapped the photo that I realized what day it is.

Now I can’t say I always miss Feline Friday anymore.

Are they just the sweetest little critters you’ve ever seen? Makes my heart melt.

originally posted here

Hunny doesn’t like it when I go out without her. She sometimes lets me know how upset she is by either eating my leftovers or peeing on the carpet.

I always try to bring her outside so she can “find it” before I leave. This way her bladder won’t spill too much for me to clean up later. But because I’ve been going out so much lately - holidays, birthdays, etc. - she’s been catching on. She knows I’m dressed to go and she’s determined to make me late.

My cue for her is “find it.” Which basically means, “find your spot, do your business and let’s go.” Works like a charm - unless she thinks I’m going to leave her once she’s finished. So I have to say it in a tone that sounds fun to trick her into thinking we’re about to go somewhere TOGETHER.

The first few start an octave higher than my normal speaking voice and go something like this, “Find it. Atta girl. Who’s a good find-it girl?” [this one got old a week before Christmas] Eventually my voice begins to drop while trying to keep my cool. At some point I lose complete control with a teeth-gritting, low rumble “F.I.N.D. I.T.” This is when Hunny has the upper paw. She stops pretending to sniff for a spot, gets this smug look on her face, looks me square in the eye and sits. I’VE LOST.

Convinced she’s doing this on purpose [usually in the pouring rain!] I throw a tantrum for all the neighbors to hear, “Why are you doing this to me? I need you to find it. Fine Hunny. Don’t find it. See if I care. You little…” I usually stop myself at that point [or I keep the rest to a silent whisper] I want to drag her inside but instead, she prances! [remember, she won!]

Today I came home to the lingering stench of Hunny-pee. How could this be? I scrubbed the carpet last night. And Hunny was with me all day. I thought I cleaned it all - by the couch, under the table, in that corner by the TV. Where could it be now? Frustrated, I dropped to all fours, searching, sniffing. Behold Hunny speaking perfect English, “Find it. Atta girl. Who’s a good find-it girl?”

originally posted here.

Part of the Brentwood Dogpark is temporarily sectioned off so grass can grow.

There are three things really wrong with this.

1) It’s the section that has the most patches of grass already.
2) It makes for a more congested play area.
3) It’s a DOGPARK!

To make matters worse, It rained yesterday!

Yes, we need the rain but I’d prefer it to rain over night and clear up during the day. A friend asked, “What does a dogwalker do when it’s raining?” I answered, “Get wet and muddy.” She grunted and shivered. You know you’ve got it rough when a pre-school teacher trembles over your job!

The mud at the dogpark was thick and slick. I came this close to mud wrestling with an 80 lb black lab (or a muddy yellow lab) - Not a pretty sight. My puma’s are no longer blue. There are still black pawprints all over the backseat of my car. And I’ll be brushing dry mud patches from Hunny’s coat for days.

I’ve been around dogs (daily) for 8 yrs. I’ve learned a lot about their language and behavior. Nothing really surprises me anymore when it comes to dogs. But dog-parents - there’s no predicting.

The other day, Hunny (my small alpha female) was humping another small dog (yes, one of her finer qualities). I usually don’t say anything but it seemed to be making some people uncomfortable so I went to her and told her to get off.

Someone asked if it was a dominance thing. I started to say, “Yeah, she just needs…” One man cut me off, “Looks like she needs a strap-on.” [oh no! he did NOT just say that]

To confirm what I tried desperately to deny, the woman sitting next to him winked at me and said, “Don’t we all?” [Help, I’ve been shot]

I was stunned. I had no idea what to do. I could feel the blood flushing my face. I think I blacked out for a minute while I gathered my muddy pack in hopes of making a quick get-away.

I got to the gate and when I turned around to leash them up, there was one missing.

Behold Hunny still across the park, like a bucking bronco.

Instead of going to her and risking more humiliation I yelled, “Hunny COME!”

Purple. Yep. The color of my face went form red to purple in .006 seconds.