The Price of Eggs

Posted on January 26, 2025 | 1 comment

Since Trump II began less than a week ago, have you heard anything about lowering the price of eggs from inside the Beltway (Washington D.C. insiders, natch)? I’ve only heard rumblings from fellow shoppers, and my m-i-l when I told her that the brown, cage-free eggs were $1.50 less than the regular eggs. Shocking, indeed!

Instead we’ve had over 1,500 criminals let loose, persons who attacked police officers during an attempt to thwart Constitutionally mandated procedure of certifying votes of the Electoral College in 2020, and those who’ve physically harmed women and others from entering abortion clinics. Oh, and raids that scooped up legal and legal immigrants, American citizens and military personnel just to sort them out as to official status later. Oopsie!

I thought Trump II was about lowering prices and easing the lives of everyday Americans, like the campaign pledged to do On Day One. Yet all I hear about are about how excited we should be to have a drunk, sexual offender who mismanages small veterans’ organization budgets as our DOD chief.

If MAGA=GOP=Party Of The People, why is Rep. Andy Barr (R.. KY) demanding that his constituents, instead of getting cheaper eggs, get better tax treatment for depreciation of racehorses?

Now, I know that’s a valid concern for a majority of Americans. After all, if I can’t depreciate my racehorses fast enough, I might have to resort to polo again, and put off the Learjet upgrade I had my heart set on.

If you don’t think this is an oligarchy, with Elon Musk now peeing inside the tent rather than outside (inside he has access to all government data on all Americans, and perhaps other countries as well, that is not classified) I’ve a bridge to sell you.

Who wins in the end? Certainly not rural farmers counting on the CDC to let them know what’s happening with bird flu and their chickens, as well as potential spread of the virus to people. Not hushing it up like Trump I tried in vain to do with COVID.

The winners of this Trump specialty, the Zero Sum Billionaire Tax Cut Game, will certainly not help the working poor who already live in healthcare deserts and will now not have Medicaid. Or Seniors who depend on Social Security and Medicare. Or Veterans, for that matter, quitcher complainin’, all you did was lose your leg in the military action. It wasn’t a war, and also burn pits are nothing serious. Promise.

Wake up, America. It’s up to us to fix this mess. I don’t want a king in the White House. I certainly don’t want Donald Trump to have a third term handed to him on a silver platter. Congress might help a little if they realize that when their districts lose the Biden infrastructure funds they voted against but have taken credit for, their seats aren’t safe anymore. Ditto when Senators vote for completely inept leaders of key government institutions and a disaster strikes, as it inevitably will (nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition), and their response is unsurprisingly insppropriate… you get the picture.

Strap on your work boots (thought I was going to say gun, didn’t you?) and get involved. It’s now or never, folks. Nearly fifty years ago when my US/Canada family celebrated July 4, 1976, I never would have thought we could end up with our favorite pastime being hating other Americans or immigrants who want what we, as immigrants ourselves, have today. Hating people for worshipping another God or loving someone the hater deems “wrong.” Get involved. Tens of millions of eligible Americans are not registered to vote. That’s something positive to do. Register, and vote! Dee

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One Fish, Two Fish

Posted on January 25, 2025 | Leave a comment

When I walked into the room, a young man immediately came up to me and asked if he could ask me a question. Of course! “What day is it?” I told him it was Wednesday. He said “no, it’s my birthday!” He was six years old and I congratulated him.

I proceeded to read the wonderful Dr. Seuss book One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish to the entire first grade class. Thus, my first foray into local volunteering.

It had been a long time since I’d read that particular book, and I didn’t recall how lengthy it was or how short is the attention span of a six year-old. I also did not recall locks on each classroom door, or a sign outside stating that every adult there has a gun and that these adults will protect the children. Now that’s scary.

Several of the children were quite vocal, all while being well-mannered. As I introduced the book I gave the author’s name, Dr. Seuss. One child called out “Like the Grinch!” Yes. “And The Cat In The Hat!” said another. Right again. I was impressed.

For the most part, they were interested, especially when I used the book to interact as in the character having one hair on his head and having to go and get it cut every single day.

They’re open, interested, wondering at the world around them. Not jaded yet. No grudges to pursue. It was an eye-opening experience for me, and also the day on which I received my second assignment.

I’m here temporarily, but I have experience in organizational development and volunteerism, having worked with a Cares/Hands On group for several years as a leader. Apparently I’m now a member of their leadership group. Now I’ve homework to do about the organization, and the area, and rural volunteering to be ready for my first meeting in less than two weeks.

I’d like to write for you a retrospective of the past few months and my brief foray into baking, with an experienced guide. Also the heifers and bulls, and what I see from my limited vantage point. But not right now.

I will give you an update on Sara the little yellow dog that was dumped on the farm end of summer. She’s healing from her dog bite-infected wounds and learning to walk on the injured limb. She hopped out of the crate for the first time yesterday, and for the first time since the attack she ate standing up. She’s eating for three to make up for earlier loss of appetite, and I put her on a zip line yesterday (it was finally warm enough for her to spend a few minutes outdoors in the sunshine) and when I returned a few moments later she had moved about 20′, hadn’t laid down to rest, and actually came about 30′ towards me before she got too tired to keep standing.

Progress! Her vet recommended physical therapy and I’ve just the place, a wheelchair ramp, then stairs. A few more weeks and she may be the sunny outdoor patrol dog we knew BDA (before dog attack). She’s still young and learning, but has great energy and when she decided she wanted to live, I took her on as a challenge.

We’re getting along fine in the countryside, or as the French would say “au milieu de nulle part” aka the middle of nowhere. Things are looking up work-wise and when I’m not playing dog nurse, I am now engaged as a volunteer helping the greater community as well. Keeps me off the streets! Cheers, Dee

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How NOT To Train Your Puppy

Posted on January 20, 2025 | 1 comment

Yes, I’m a fan of the dragon movies. First we should start with what “normies” do in selecting and training a new pup.

First, the family has the umpteenth dinner conversation about getting a pup. Mom finally relents, knowing that she’ll be ultimately responsible and the de facto owner once the kids leave for college.

Family chooses the breed, etc. and loads up on accessories depending on situation (indoor/outdoor, size for collar and bet et al). Wee wee pads are purchased.

Puppy comes home with new name and promises for potty and obedience training to begin asap.

Lots of hugs and family photos. Day one goes OK. Months follow, pup becomes family dog, is potty trained, and knows a few basic commands. Life goes on.

Now here’s how to NOT do it.

Abused, emaciated pup is dumped in front of a farm, calls go out to find a home and no-one will help, including Animal Control (1/2 mile in the country outside district) and Humane Society. Efforts are made to socialize the pup, finally being able to hold up a hand to pet without pup thinking she’d be hit.

Outdoor pup gets chic plastic-covered DeWalt tool box as doggie den, patrols property around house religiously and visits neighbors from time to time.

Little yellow pup gets a name and collar. Goes into heat and is immediately targeted for sexual conquest by neighboring farm dog. Closest spay date possible nearby is three months out, not a possibility. Drive three hours for an overnight in Big City to have spayed at our old vet. Unable to catch her routinely, absorbable sutures are used and medications are given in treats/food. “Come when called” is not an option… yet.

Ten days after surgery, healing is complete and Sara (after Hall & Oates song Sara Smile, because she’s a happy, well-fed semi-feral pup now) goes visiting on her own.

On New Years Day, Sara is viciously attacked by an unknown dog, and is found lying motionless in the front yard. Infection sets in immediately, with inordinate swelling leading to drainage and necrotic tissue. Princess Lulu’s huge metal crate is commandeered and space set up in a warm room for convalescence.

Many wee wee pads are purchased. Sara will not eat or drink. Over the next three weeks she recovers slowly, depending upon humans for all food and water, epsom salt baths, and several weeks of strong antibiotics. During the second week she tries to wag her tail. End of third week and skin and bones again, she’s slowly scampering on a leash, still unable to use fully the necrotic leg.

What we know is that she likes and trusts certain people, hopefully has a healthy fear of large dogs that are not her BFF Princess Lulu (our 36 lb. dog), comes to us but doesn’t associate it with the command Come, does not bite us or complain one bit about her condition, and is finally flea-free and bathed within an inch of her existence.

The future holds promise if the leg heals enough to be used. I’ll continue to put in the time and effort, as she has stopped soiling the crate in favor of being carried out to the grass, and only uses the pads for shredding or piling in the corner if dirty. She’s neat! And despite all odds she has a will to live that is enviable.

That said, it’s not the easiest way to potty train a pup. But in a pinch, it works. Neuter and spay, the kindest way! Cheers, Dee

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Go For Broke, Joe!

Posted on January 15, 2025 | Leave a comment

Send the Equal Rights Amendment to the Archives and really achieve equality for women.

This Supreme Court is going to keep taking away our rights one by one, some in MAGA even want to rescind our right to vote.

It’s time to finalize the ERA NOW! Before my ERA NOW! pin rusts out. Please. Thank you for your consideration and for being the President we needed.

Sorry we lost, but buyer’s remorse will set in big time, as soon as Trump’s base realize they’ve been hornswoggled in favor of the Billionaire Bro’s Club.

You did a great deal for the American people, effects of which we will be seeing for years to come, all that with election deniers and an omnipresent “backseat driver,” Donald Trump. I thank you for your decades of service.

Please do right by decades of campaigning and voting to truly make women equal partners in our democratic experiment. God willing, we’ll still have a country to celebrate on July 4, 2026. Cheers! Dee

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The Art Angel

Posted on January 9, 2025 | 2 comments

Years ago, I went to the Milwaukee Art Museum, known around town as “the Calatrava” because of its bird-in-flight modern design by the noted architect. In the gift shop, I found a little aluminum slug with an archangel on one side, a bas-relief of sorts. I picked it up and put it in the chest pocket of my cotton knit vest where it stayed for a long time. The last time I washed the vest and laid it out to dry, the Art Angel was no longer there.

Sara, the rescue dog we’ve been caring for the past couple of months was spayed three weeks ago. Nine days ago, after she was nearly healed from the spay, she was severely attacked by another dog in the country neighborhood, who we do not know. But she made it home and laid, motionless, in the front yard until I saw her. Puncture wounds are nasty, so even though we cleaned her up, the leg swelled massively due to infection and just today, thanks to antibiotics, the swelling began to subside.

Poor sneaky, slippery outdoor Sara has been in a crate all that time, not eating much and having a generally miserable time of it. Epsom salt baths every day. Antibiotics hidden in sausage meat. I finally made her a meat loaf yesterday because she’ll only eat out of my hand and not much at that. An outdoor dog forced indoors because of the freezing weather (it’s snowing in Texas today), I don’t know how she’ll feel about human companionship if she gets through this. She’s not potty trained so we’re going through wee wee pads like crazy because she can’t move around yet.

Last night she ate her new prescription pill (in a sausage ball) and perked her head up a bit. Her tail wagged slightly. This morning when I went in to check on her she was perky, wagging her tail, and ate two whole slices of meat loaf! The swelling looked like it was going down a bit, and as I was cleaning up I found a small piece of foil on the floor to throw away.

Except it wasn’t foil. It felt funny joining the dirty wee wee pads et al I was taking out to the trash, so I turned it over. It was my long-lost Art Angel. It had been watching over Sara all night, having fallen out of the secret pocket in the jacket I was wearing. Things are looking up in Sara-land! Let’s hope it stays that way, as I can’t wait until she bounds out of Princess Lulu’s crate and goes back to patrolling the farm. Hopefully she’ll not be calling on the neighbors again. She had been poorly treated by her original owners, then dumped so was understandably untrusting of humans, but it appears that other than her new best bud Princess Lulu, some of the neighbor dogs don’t like this 26-lb. sweet mutt very much. Not very friendly for country folk. Wish us well as we go through this challenging phase and hopefully have a happy, healthy spayed pup in the end. Cheers! Dee

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Le Avventure della Principessa di Campania

Posted on January 7, 2025 | Leave a comment

Ok, I’m a city dog. I lived in a tall apartment building up North. Spent my life there, using elevators, meeting friends daily at the Park, inviting guests for social hours during COVID when our parents couldn’t socialize with each other. My frozen raw food was delivered. Peanut butter Kongs were always in the freezer and I loved the maintenance guys, they were way cool and let me jump on them to say hello.

Now I’m out in the country on a temporary basis, at least I hope it’s temporary. I’ve always been a wash ”n wear kind of gal and Mom brought along the shower attachment so I still have bi-weekly baths with my hole-y towels (I get to “kill” the dog towels after each bath, my reward) so no change there, but dogs are treated differently in the country. First off, some get dumped on others, thrown out car windows to fend for themselves. We got one of those the first week we were here, and she’s had a tough time of it.

But more about the newly-named Sara the Rescue Dog later. This is about me and country folk making fun of my Mom for having a spoiled princess. Like when the tractor mechanic saw the setup in Mom’s Acura (not exactly a farm vehicle). There’s a cargo net behind the back seat, an extra large 4″ thick orthopedic bed, and a tie-down so I can wear a harness and not be thrown if the car brakes suddenly. Oh, and two fans directed my way, thanks to the car battery. Too much? He got a kick out of that one. So did the guy who inspected the car so Mom could renew her drivers’ license here.

I brought a winter coat and a raincoat, plus Mutt-Luks in case it snows, which it may do this week. Mom bought the rescue dog a coat the other day but she can’t wear it yet. Sara was abused and abandoned until she found the home of my Grandma M and Grandpa J. She’s always afraid of being hit, and when she came she didn’t even know how to chase a tennis ball, just thought it was going to be thrown at her. Sad tale, she hasn’t told me much about it.

Three weeks ago my folks had to drive all the way to Dallas to get her spayed. My folks were told that the local vet couldn’t get her in for three months and she was in heat with regular visits from the neighbor’s dog so it had to be done asap.

As soon as she was about healed from the spay, she was brutally attacked by another dog in the neighborhood and is still recovering. It’s freezing outside, down to the teens at night. Sara hates crates and leashes and relishes being an outdoor dog with all the freedoms that entails, so she’s usually the outdoor patrol and I bark at intruders from inside depending on which bedroom I’ve taken as my own for the day. Why my own bedroom, where I arrange the covers as I deem fit? I’m the Principessa!

So now Sara’s using my huge crate in the pantry across a breezeway, with a space heater, the crate filled with towels and wee wee pads so she can convalesce. Her rear leg is twice its normal size and she’s on antibiotics and epsom salt baths to draw out the poison from the puncture wounds.

I miss my new friend. We had a great time chasing each other around the yard and through the garden. I have to be on a generous zip line now because once Sara and that cad (her one-night-stand boyfriend) led me out onto the State highway where trucks were zooming by at 70 mph. My folks didn’t like that much so I’m now stuck in the back yard but it’s no fun without Sara playing fetch and tug.

I don’t care much that the locals make fun of me and my folks for being so citified. When we get back to civilization, maybe I’ll write more about it. Mom thinks I’m a pretty good writer. [only pretty good? I said excellent and you edited it, Dee, watch it or I’ll eat your sock]

Oh, the funniest thing is that Sara can’t walk on the leg yet so needs to be supported to go outside. The only coat Mom could find with a handle for support was the bright orange swim vest from my one (thank God) swimming lesson! The other day it was sunny and warm so my folks moved the crate outside, and there was Sara, prone, wearing a new collar and tag, and sporting a bright orange life vest on Christmas week! Imagine if the tractor mechanic saw that, Grandma and Grandpa would never hear the end of it!

I’ll let Dee write tomorrow. She says Happy New Year and she’ll come up with something good for all y’all to read. Thanks for your kind attention to my regal pronouncements. Lulu, the Country Princess

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Dignity

Posted on December 30, 2024 | Leave a comment

It can’t be bought, or legislated. If you’re luckier, you know it when you see it. Better yet, you might actually have it! It’s not something easily put on, but it is incredibly easy to lose with even one misstep.

I can name one person today who had it, for one hundred years. Jimmy Carter. Our lives will be poorer for our loss, but richer for having “known” him. Yes, many of us who grew up with him feel like we knew him even though we never met the man. Oh, the Camp David Accord, that was him? Yep. Also the Iranian POW debacle where Iran released the prisoners under brand new president Reagan just to snub the former president. I remember that. I also remember odd and even days to buy gasoline, living just outside the Beltway, even though it would be years until I would be old enough to drive.

In Carter’s “retirement” he accomplished more than most people do in their entire career. He nearly eradicated Guinea Worm, an amazing and little-known fact. Helped spread democracy and fair elections, and hammered more nails for Habitat for Humanity than most grade schoolers could even count.

Yesterday was a sad day, the end of an era. But I literally broke down in tears when I saw the Mike Luckovich cartoon entitled “Eternal Reunion,” where, at the pearly gates, Rosalynn Carter rushes out calling “Jimmy!” to her long-time love, her husband for over 77 years as he rushed into her waiting arms.

Theirs was (is?) a partnership for the ages, based on love, trust, faith and, yes, dignity. I didn’t know until today that Jimmy Carter met his wife literally on the day she was born. If Hallmark is looking for a love-at-first-sight premise that spans a century, here ’tis. Don’t thank me, the info has been sitting out there for decades.

Clara Jeffery wrote an incredible piece in Mother Jones yesterday entitled “Of Misogyny, Musk, and Men” in which she states that women are not fine with the recent presidential election, “we’re furious.” I believe I know why.

By overturning Roe, Trump and SCOTUS not only removed a constitutional right from women, the entire MAGA playbook is centered on removing womens’ dignity. These MAGA voters and those who went along for the Trump II roller coaster ride pride themselves on putting women back “in their place.” Your body. My choice. Forever. Really? In 2024?

I’m a college-educated, white woman in my 60’s who got her first period the same year Roe was decided in 1973. When I was in charge of talent transport for a major cultural entity, I sentenced my misogynistic cousin to a two-hour airport ride with one of my drivers and guest lecturer Betty Friedan. I wish I was a fly on the wall for that conversation.

I simply cannot understand how women can vote to remove rights from other women, and there’s more to come, including a war on mifepristone, contraception and no-fault divorce. Do women really want to see other women die in hospital parking lots? Abandon Texas babies in dumpsters because of the $10,000 bounty law? Be beaten to death by husbands they’re not allowed to divorce?

As a woman of a certain age, I am childless not by choice but circumstance. That said, I do not see the only path for grandmothers as being permanent free childcare for their children’s offspring. Having grandma around is not an excuse for lack of available/affordable child care, child tax credits, free school lunches, equal pay for equal work and other government laws and applicable safety nets. All so that billionaires can get richer off our labor.

Women are not empty vessels, and empty-headed ones at that, whose only role in life is carrying babies and feeding husbands. I’m in a partnership, nearly 25 years now (22 married) where we both bring talents to the table. He’s tall, he reaches the high shelves, I get the low ones. We both write, the other edits. A partnership based on trust, love, faith and dignity.

You can’t take away my rights without a fight. And whatever you say or do, you will not take away my dignity. Generations of women fought for our freedoms. We cannot afford to let them slip away. If I have the hammer, my husband will hand me the nails, same as Rosalynn and Jimmy. Not nearly the same, but they have certainly been an inspiration. Rest in peace, and thank you for sharing your lives with the nation. Yours in dignity, Dee

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Erasing Biden

Posted on December 27, 2024 | Leave a comment

It started long before Joe Biden withdrew from the presidential race, but the plan is in full swing now. I fully expect the House Investigations Committee, and perhaps the Senate as well, to investigate Joe Biden from his vice-presidency onward, perhaps even his days in the U.S. Senate. For what, exactly?

Senescence. In order for Trump II to succeed, he has to make it seem like the life-changing legislation passed and implemented during the Biden administration happened under Trump I. We knew individual Republican candidates started taking credit for the Inflation Reduction Act as soon as their districts started getting the money. Now they can’t exactly repeal that and the Chips and Science Act just because they were Biden’s ideas. Why? Because red districts across the U.S. are raking in bucks for infrastructure, IT and solar projects.

Jm Comey’s Biden impeachment efforts garnered no smoke, much less fire, so the GOP needs to make sure Americans know that everything positive that was accomplished by the Biden administration was instead done by Trump 1 and then Trump II. Time to wipe Joe Biden from the U.S. history books, along with slavery and anything else that peeves white supremacists.

Let’s see what SCOTUS does when Trump II accuses Joe Biden, his family and White House staff of a multitude of purported sins/crimes. Trump has indemnity, and Supreme Court decisions are supposed to be apolitical and last beyond one administration, so is MAGA going to take this particular decision out for a spin?

Democrats wishing to run on the ACA, Covid stimuli packages, Chips and Science and infrastructure would be wise to credit Joe Biden for making the impossible possible due to his long tenure in the Senate and trust built over decades with his colleagues on both sides of the aisle. Let’s not deny the man the credit he’s due for over fifty years of service to our country.

I hope there are still some surprises up Joe Biden’s sleeve during the last few weeks of his presidency. I’ve a feeling he’s far from being down for the count so, don’t count him out just yet. Cheers! Dee

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Not Christmas Without Charlie Brown

Posted on December 26, 2024 | 1 comment

I admit it, I’m a Christmas purist. Keep all your Hallmark-ness about becoming a princess (what does that have to do with Christmas?) or finding love in [insert exotic destination here], every year for me it’s Rudolph, the Grinch and Charlie Brown and his sad little tree. I enjoy a world where the little guy, even a dorky little dentist, Cindy Lou Who and everyboy Charlie Brown get their day.

Perhaps the media all missed Charlie Brown this year, as I did, because I could only find it paid on all the channels I already pay for. Oh, it’s extra to see Charlie Brown at Christmas, you’ve only been a member here for 20 years so you have to pay extra now.

Anyone who’s ever seen a Charlie Brown episode knows that Lucy tees up a football and promises Charlie Brown she won’t snatch it away when he comes to kick it. No, I promise you won’t wipe out this time, trust me! Then she inevitably pulls it away. That’s life for Charlie Brown so why doesn’t our mainstream media get it yet? It’s been decades!

Donald Trump isn’t even president yet, but he’s threatening to take over Greenland, Canada and the Panama Canal. That is red meat to keep his base occupied while he gives away the store to his Broligarchy of Billionaires (BoB) and leaves the other 99.8% of us holding the bag. Be prepared to lose public education, healthcare, access to affordable meat and produce, and see your Social Security check dwindle before your eyes before it disappears entirely. All while the crazy weather becomes even more disastrous for the American people because this so-called gilded age will glorify the raping of our lands for fossil fuels “like you’ve never seen before.”

There’s a great scene in Charlie Wilson’s War where the late, great actor Philip Seymour Hoffman explains that if people are tittillated by sex and drugs on one hand, the manipulator can hide a battleship behind the other. Trump never fails to put a shiny object of adoration for his fans, of ridicule and derision by his critics, only to grift with the other hand. He tried to steal a presidential election, for heaven’s sake. He stole confidential documents that belong to you and me. He and his family have illegally made untold millions off the presidency and are poised to make even more in Trump II, with the BoB as his co-conspirators.

There will never be a budget reduction or lessening of the deficit. There is no Deep State, it’s just a ruse to dole out political patronage to the MAGA faithful. If anything, salaries for these 50,000 political hack positions will be increased. The BoB wants environmental, employment and other regulations to be axed, but that’s not going to save money either. Why? Because that’s not the point. Instead of draining the swamp, Trump brings it with him into every business enterprise, including his biggest ever, the presidency. There are no ethics rules, and SCOTUS has made sure that anything he does in office is protected.

Did you notice that we no longer have a glaring election integrity problem? We don’t, because Trump won. That means it was never an issue in the first place. Ditto “woke-ness,” which means whatever the person who says it wants it to mean, CRT (critical race theory, never a problem for high schoolers), and the threat that children will be irreparably harmed if school and public libraries (even bookstores) have books that mention gender or racial equality. Or if the two transgender athletes in a state ever wish to use a public restroom assigned to their assumed gender? Not an issue.

Political vendettas have existed as long as politics itself, and the flawed human beings who become politicians. We’re all flawed, silly, not just politicians, we just see their foibles. There’s not one angelic party and one run by the devil him/herself. I’m just mad at that guy for winning, so I’m gonna find a reason to toss him in jail or at least audit his taxes. I do believe in good and evil, but not a broad brush to say all Muslims are bad, or my mother treated me badly so let’s let all women die in hospital parking lots awaiting non-existent medical care.

Aptly, as we celebrated Jesus’ birth yesterday (between shopping for deals on Amazon), WWJD? Do unto others. Respect others. Help out your neighbor. Mentor a young person interested in your field. Say a kind word. Give to charity (a real one, not a PAC). Adopt that stray dog that’s been hanging around your yard for weeks (after you take the time to find out that he’s not lost, he’s abandoned). Stop doomscrolling for a day, hide your phone and take a walk in nature, or read a good book. You’ll be all the better for it. You read this blog and it offered some solutions instead of just ranting, see?

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, New Year, use the time to spend with family, regroup, and get ready for 2025. Cheers! Dee

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One Dog Nights

Posted on December 23, 2024 | Leave a comment

Down south one never gets a “three dog night” as Great Lakes and other folk know it. Whether ithat term originated in the Australian Outback or with the Aleuts, it means a night so cold that one needs three dogs in bed to keep warm.

Of late we’ve had a couple of one dog nights. The rescue we took in a couple of months ago (dumped, abused and fearful) had a rough week. It took an overnight visit to get her spayed, a double dose of meds to get her calm in the back of my SUV and transferred to the vet clinic, and way too much tme driving there and back and recuperating.

Most dogs consent to a leash but not Sara, yet. So it was meds, which we tested. She took a test dose for a 45 lb. dog (she weighs 26 lbs.) and it took her 7.5 hours just to take a half-hour nap. She was loopy, but alert and cautious the entire time. So our vet had us double the dose for the three-hour trip to her clinic.

Instead of a cone of shame, we opted for a surgi-suit, but even Sara’s new owner M, the top-notch seamstress of quilting fame, was unable to make her one that would meet her needs, to not ride up and expose the surgical wound, keep the wound clean and allow for Sara to relieve herself outdoors without restriction. So she bought one, with the latter being an issue.

It’s now been six days since the surgery. Dr. V used surgical glue and absorbable sutures so that we wouldn’t have to trap Sara again and take her to a local vet for removal. She took off the suit herself, yesterday, and the sutures look fine. She’s no longer loopy and the pain seems to have subsided. Sara seems her happy self again, and doesn’t hate us for putting her through this, but we couldn’t have her attracting all the males in the neighborhood and getting pregnant.

The temperature dipped below freezing for a couple of nights. Sara now has a thick cardboard box sized for her and lined with three layers of area rug, clean and treated for the fleas she was diagnosed with. It’s covered with heavy plastic against the rain, and is placed in the coziest place in the carport where she can see everything important. The other day we added a “heating pad” comprised of a rectangular 1 liter plastic juice bottle filled with hot water. She liked it and stays in there a lot on cloudy days.

Keeping to the farm ethos, every eight hours the bottle (two now as we added a 2 liter Dr. Pepper bottle on a really cold night) needs refilling so the cold water is dumped back in the garden. We haven’t had much rain so the hardy red lettuce and kale are still growing and their roots need sustenance as well.

So, if there are any inventors out there willing to make a surgi-suit that allows rescue dogs to do their thing without being taken out on a leash, we’re willing to try it. If we can catch Sara again, that is. She’s actually accustoming herself to all people not being evil. At first, I picked up a tennis ball and went to throw it for her and she thought I was going to hit her with it. It took a few weeks but when the light turned on in her smart little brain, she found that play was indeed fun.

So now we have my in-laws’ outdoor patrol dog Sara formerly of the Flea-Ridden, and Princess Lulu of the indoor Secret Service. Bored with real life indoors, Lulu is considering applying for a job as a quality assurance tester for Indestructible Dog Toys, as within five minutes her latest was breached on the nose and both front paws. It used to look like a speedy hare, not so much now.

Life on the ranch. With Sara’s spay out of the way, in a couple of weeks when she has truly forgiven us, we may try to use Lulu’s indoor bath routine on her so she’ll be clean at least once in her life. Once the vet’s exterior flea treatment has worn off and she’s on a pill form of flea-tick prevention like regular dogs. It’s a thought. As I’m told, ranch dogs don’t get baths. We’ll see.

Merry Christmas to you and yours, and peace on earth to men and women of good will. We’ll need that last part in 2025! Today I thank my in-laws and everyone else in this world who has taken on a rescue. God bless you. Dee

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