The Holidays 2011!

Sometimes “The holidays” equal “Stress with a capital S” and as the daylight hours of November shortened and Thanksgiving neared, I wondered how Duke and Daisy would behave with a house full of people, including two little ones. How long would the Christmas tree stay vertical rather than horizontal? I felt my concerns were legitimate, based on the dizzying level of excitement Duke exhibits in random bursts. And whenever Duke overreacts—usually to a doorbell or dog barking on TV—Daisy immediately copies, even though she’s clueless as to why.

In the midst of company arriving from out-of-state and the house filling with guests for a late Thanksgiving celebration, Daisy began showing signs of illness. She wouldn’t eat and one morning we woke up to find a bloody discharge all—over—the—carpets…and I do mean all over. That necessitated a call to the carpet cleaners and a couple trips to the vet, first for antibiotics, and eventually surgery to have Daisy spayed.

Surgery meant an overnight separation for Duke and Daisy, possibly their first ever. Duke wandered the house, room to room, lost without his constant partner. Our verbal reassurances and hugs didn’t seem quite enough to console him. Meanwhile at the vet, the doctor found a mass of infection inside. Although long overdue, all went well and the surgery was a success. To say the dogs were happy when the hubby brought Daisy home is a great understatement.

With the carpets cleaned and Daisy back to her old self, the family celebrations continued…a granddaughter’s baptism, followed by a grandson’s first birthday. Although absent of snow, December’s days led into Christmas and all the prep and pressure that goes with celebrating Christ’s birth. To my surprise neither dog gave the Christmas tree a second glance. Even Daisy, who must rely on furniture staying in place, never once bumped into the tree. For each family get-together, whether two people or twenty people showed up, Duke and Daisy were on their best behavior, gentle around the little ones, making us proud adopted parents.

It’s been five full months since this mother-son pair of Labradors arrived on our doorstep. As 2012 begins, the ground now covered in white, Daisy and Duke have their routines in place and favorite spots to snooze, I’d say it’s official—they are here to stay.

Hoping your holidays were wonderful and wishing you all a Happy New Year!

Barbara

Pants on the Ground!

Remember that catchy little song from General Larry Platt on American Idol last year? Here’s a clip to jog your memory:

Pants on the ground
Pants on the ground
looking like a fool with your pants on the ground...

Like most working women, what I put on in the morning depends on what I’ll be doing: cleaning house, gardening, (oops, gave that up already—see the last post!), a book event, work, church, you get the picture. The closets of today’s modern woman hold outfits that will fit every activity:  office clothes, dressy clothes, dressy-dressy, casual, dressy-casual, work-out, and comfy lay-on-the-couch clothes.

One of Duke and Daisy’s interesting characteristics that we discovered is they both tend to slobber like crazy. Not sure if it’s a lab thing or we just got lucky but every time they take a drink of water, they do what I call the “drink-and-run”. Take a big drink and promptly run around the house. Mouth open, water dripping all over the floor. Drink again; run again; trails of puddles everywhere. Even worse are the slimy strings of drool that sometimes form, hanging from their jowls with elastic tendencies, wagging back and forth almost in slow motion. Upon seeing this strange mystery-liquid swinging in my direction I quickly realized I needed to add a new category of clothes to my closet: Dog Clothes.  

I raced to the mall and found two pairs of cargo style pants in a lovely shade of army green on the clearance rack at JC Penney's for $2.80 each. Perfect, right? So what if both pairs were slightly loose around the waist. At that price who cares, right?

So now when I get home from work I immediately change into my new Dog Clothes before I take Duke and Daisy outside to run off some of their pent up energy. Duke’s favorite game is to fetch a giant tug rope, although it’s so heavy I can barely throw it 20 feet. Still, he chases after it with zeal, time after time, while Daisy trots around the yard in crooked circles, stopping by off and on to “play” with us.

After a sufficient amount of playtime we head inside through the back door, which goes directly to my studio. I try to catch up on emails while both Duke and Daisy remind me (not so subtly, I might add) that they’ve been home alone all day. I guess the panting, pressing up against me, and constant tail wagging means they missed me.

The windows are low enough for Duke to see outside, so within minutes he’s spied a squirrel and sprints to the door. And wherever Duke goes, Daisy follows. In, out; in, out they go, Duke always leading the way. And each time they go through the doorway, Duke whomps Daisy on the head to direct her, like “C’mon, ma…this way!” If Daisy doesn't move fast enough, she gets a double-whomp, first with one paw, then the other. “Faster, ma! Move it!”

Like a good mom, Daisy takes it all in good stride and trots in or out with a smile. Deep down I think she’s thankful for her sidekick son, the one who’s been her guide, watching out for her since she went blind, double-whomps and all.

Above all though, their favorite “activity” is our nightly walk to the end of our street and back. With no sidewalks in our suburban neighborhood, we learned to wait until late in the evening so there are fewer cars and we can walk up the middle of the street, since I have to make sure Daisy doesn’t bump into street signs, mailbox posts, parked cars, or stumble into the grate of a storm drain.

The instant we grab their leashes, the drum corps shows up (a/k/a happy tails against the washer and dryer). With leashes on and plastic doo-doo bags in tow, we head down the driveway, the hubby with Duke and me with Daisy. Familiar with the routine, as soon as Daisy’s front paws hit the tarred street she takes off at a full gallop, ears a'flopping. This has become her one chance to run free, no holds barred. Duke runs alongside at a leisurely trot, letting Daisy set the pace.

Keep in mind I’m not a runner, so in the beginning I had all I could do to keep up with Miss Daisy. The first few nights I barely made it two houses before I was out of breath and panting like, well, a dog. Running at lightning speed means my feet flying are out of control as I try to stay vertical and keep Daisy on a safe path without tripping over her. (Reason Number Two we wait until dark.)

So one crisp fall evening we were on our way back down the street when Daisy bolted off on another full sprint. I started running alongside her when I felt my lovely dog pants sliding down my hips ever so slightly. All smiles, Daisy was running her little heart out and in the next instant my pants dropped to the ground. I screeched to a stop and let out a scream. “Aaaah! Stoooop! I just lost my pants!”

The hubby turned around and also let out a scream. “Aaah! Look at how white your legs look in the street light!” And just like the song, there I was, looking like a fool, with my pants on the ground.

Barbara

The Fence is Up!

Halleluiah! Freedom returns!

Well, in limited amounts…because Duke and Daisy still believe ‘where we go one, we go all.’ In their minds, they think I should stay outside with them at all times. They have yet to grasp the whole purpose of the fence is so I don’t have to stay outside with them at all times. Trust me—come winter, they better figure it out, pronto!

Fence?! Who's crazy idea was this??

Because one side of our yard has a significant slope we had to rig up additional boundaries along the side of the deck and boulder walls in the perennial garden so Daisy won’t fall and hurt herself. To see her outside now it’s obvious that she’s as thrilled about the fence as I am because she plods happily along at a pretty good trot, sniffing and snooping her way around. Most of our landscaping is bordered with good sized rocks, which alerts Daisy when she’s at the edge of the grass.

As you can see by the pictures we have a Good News/Bad News report from this summer. The Good News is…it hasn’t rained much since we got the dogs, which has been really nice for taking them out the whole time they were on the leashes.

The Bad News, however, is since it hasn’t rained much, our yard and perennials look like we moved to Alaska and didn’t tell anyone. Typically it’s my job to water the yard and care for the flowers.

Summer 2011 Disclaimer: I-AM-NOT-SUPERWOMAN.

And here’s my reasoning. Late last year I contracted with Joaquin Guerrero to write his memoir, with a goal of having the book out by the 10^th anniversary of 9/11. Part of Joaquin’s story takes place at Ground Zero when he responded with his K9 service dog and worked search-and-rescue. I started writing the manuscript the last week of December and pretty much wrote day and night, night and day, through the winter and spring. On May 8^th I turned the manuscript into the publisher and raised my arms in jubilation.

Quick reality check.

Just because the mansucript was done, didn't mean I could slack off. I had to switch gears and begin a frenzied schedule of design work, editing process, proofreading, writing back cover text, seeking endorsements, designing photo inserts, and so on. Keep in mind I also have a job and family.

Squeezed in-between of all that was:
·         road trip down to Shreveport to see granddaughter Dottie Layne, born on May 20^th

Grandpa John with Baby Dottie

·         family camping trip to Zumbro Falls

·         weekend camping trips with friends

In other words, ‘something’ had to go…and that ‘something’ was my flowers. With it being one of the coldest springs on record, I’m not so sure I would’ve been willing to go outside anyway, preferring instead the comforts of my studio.

About the time the book process wrapped up, I was finally ready to acknowledge the pathetic condition of my perennials out my window...and that's when Duke and Daisy arrived. Yeah, another quick reality check.

(All of that to explain why my flowerbeds look the way they do!)

So now that the fence is up and we can have the dogs with us in the yard, the other Saturday the hubby revved up the ol’ chainsaw to cut up a large tree that came crashing down in a wind storm. (The other reason my flowers look, well, crushed!) After hubby cut up the tree trunk, he went after the infestation of buckthorn that makes up about 95% of the greenery in our tiny strip of “woods”. Buckthorn, for those of you that don’t know, is a nasty invasive species that grows into giant tree-size dimensions. And because the perennial garden is positioned up against the “woods”, instead of having beautiful peonies, iris, and lilies, I now have a gazillion buckthorn shoots. (Anyone have a backhoe or garden tiller we can borrow? The plan is to start over from scratch next spring.)



Flower beds before the buckthorn took over

So the hubby and I spent the whole day outside, cutting brush, pulling weeds, picking up dead branches, stacking wood. I started a fire in the fire pit and burned some of the branches. Meanwhile Duke and Daisy trotted around the yard exploring their new territory. Noses down, sniffing the ground; noses up, sniffing the air.

As the sunlight faded, the hubby and I sat down—okay, collapsed—by the fire pit. Tired and sore, we felt good in all that we’d accomplished, knowing too that Duke and Daisy now have a safe place to play. We ended the evening with a ‘gourmet dinner’ of old-fashioned style hotdogs cooked over the open fire and a glass of wine. Duke and Daisy were content to lay at our feet, noses up, sniffing for a stray hot dog. Too quick for me, Duke got a little taste of mine. I think sharing “dogs” with the dogs solidified their sense of home.

Barbara

Tails a'Thumping

I’m happy to report the hubby and I braved it out and took Duke and Daisy on another camping trip. This one went much smoother, partly because of our campsite. We were at the Bluff Valley Campground on the Zumbro River where we’d spent a week earlier this summer (BDD—Before Duke and Daisy) with most of our extended family. Each site in that section of the campground is 80 feet wide, which gives us our own private slice of the river. Love it!

Wally & Kim and Jim & Donna, two other camping couples, joined us for the weekend. As usual we had plenty of good eats…check out the Friday night “snack” table!

Kim’s Crème Brulée French Toast was out of this world, and Donna’s key lime pie was beyond scrumptious. The hubby made his famous bruschetta and BBQ ribs.

Lucky for Duke and Daisy, Jim and Donna brought Buddy to play with. Having three dogs tied up, we humans had to do some high-stepping dance steps to keep from tripping up in the dog lines. And come Sunday afternoon, we had a couple of tuckered out dogs on the ride home. 

After Secondhand Hounds rescued Duke and Daisy back in July and got them situated with their foster mom Leslie, some of the folks wondered if Daisy was a candidate for cataract surgery and could possibly regain her sight. Thanks to Leslie’s kindhearted generosity, we followed up on her offer and took Daisy to a special veterinarian to have her eyes examined. The doctor determined that somewhere along the way Daisy had had an eye infection that wasn’t treated, which resulted in the nerve severing behind the eye. Bottom line, even if the cataracts were removed there was still no chance for her to recover her eyesight. The good news that came from the visit is that Duke’s eyes are healthy and the blindness was not hereditary.

Even knowing Daisy is completely blind, sometimes we feel like she can "see" us. It's eerie the way she holds her head as we walk around a corner or come toward her, we get the sense that surely she can "see" us! Meanwhile Duke, we've since discovered, can see through walls. This morning the dogs were outside with the hubby while he cleaned up some brush along the back of the yard. I came down the steps inside the house (in socks, on carpet, so no sound whatsoever) and before I got halfway down, Duke charged all the way across the yard to the window and watched me come down the steps. Somehow he’d seen me from across the yard and through the full depth of the house!

It’s been fun to see their distinct personalities emerge. Duke is still the protector and often won’t go through a doorway or into the yard until Daisy catches up. Sometimes when we feed them, Duke won’t eat until Daisy is ready. That all changes when it comes to treats…Duke automatically drops his and watches his Mom. If she so much as drops any pieces, he snatches them up and waits until she’s done before he eats his own. Daisy gets back at him on our nightly walks though…funny as it sounds, she likes to lead and if Duke gets in front, she plows right into him and resumes the lead by a nose. The instant Daisy hears another dog bark as she’s doing a full trot down the street, she does an abrupt turn and runs right toward them—without having a clue just how BIG that dog might be!

So yes, our house is a little noisier these days with dog paws and thumping tails following us from room to room. We keep all the dog paraphernalia in our laundry room which is rather narrow. When both dogs stand with their tails a’thumping Bang! Bang! Bang! against the washer and dryer it sounds like a marching band tromping through the house. And there’s no need for an alarm clock when we have dual thumping at 6:15 every morning. I’m no dog expert, but I’d say with that much tail-thumping a’happening, Duke and Daisy are a couple of pretty happy pups.

Until next time,

Barbara

Progress...and Sacrifice

Believe it or not we’re making progress day by day, week by week, especially when I think back to the first few days when I couldn’t move more than a foot without both dogs turning the house upside down in their excitement to see where I was going. Yeah, glad that’s over.

Since Day One the hardest part’s been taking the dogs in and out (to do their business). With Daisy being blind I have to hook the leash to her collar before we can go out the door for obvious safety reasons, and lead her across the deck, down the hill to the flat part of the back yard. Meanwhile Duke, who is built like an ox, wants to bulldoze his way right over Daisy “to show her the way”. And without a fence, I have to keep Duke on a leash so he won’t run off on me into the neighbor’s yard or down the street. It never failed the first week or more the leashes continually got tangled together or caught on something or wrapped around my legs. And with Duke’s strength, he’d take off like a rodeo bull, dragging me and Daisy with him. It’s no wonder my arms are now three inches longer.

Somewhere in that timeframe, the hubby and I decided we should take the dogs on a practice camping trip. We have a fifth-wheel toy-hauler camper that we’ve used every summer since 2006 and really enjoy camping. Most often we put the Harley in the toy-hauler “garage” and camp with our good friends who all have campers and motorcycles. Other times we take the whole family and use the garage part for extra storage and sleeping space.

We have a Ford F350 4-door (which I affectionately call The Semi) to pull the fifth-wheel, which sits up pretty high. Since Daisy can’t see where she’s going, it was next to impossible to get her jump up into the back seat area without knowing where she’s going…and I can’t blame her. So the hubby made a trip to Fleet Farm and rigged up a very nice ramp for Daisy to use to get in and out of the truck and camper.

By the time we rounded up an extra-large metal crate that fit both dogs comfortably, packed the dog food, dog treats, leashes and leads, dog bowls, and the newly-crafted ramp, Duke and Daisy had completely taken over the garage. We arrived at our destination in beautiful southeastern Minnesota and the hubby backed the big ol’ fifth-wheel into our campsite like a pro. Now it was time to get the dogs out of the truck. Of course Daisy was still pretty frightened by the whole concept and wanted to take it slow. Duke had no time for that. See, he’s the kind of son that likes to “help out”, which means plowing right over his mother—and not just once—to “show her the way.” Keep in mind, his excitement escalates as he’s “helping”, so he doesn’t respond to any of our commands (nor does he know any commands.)

Stop? Wait? Stay? No?

What are they talking about? I don’t get it. Watch how fast I can run up this thing. And down this thing. And back up, man, this is a blast!  In, out, up, down, in, out, c’mon Ma, get with it, follow me! Hey, there’s a fire pit, whoa, ashes everywhere. Alert—I smell food next door! I’ll run over and see if I can get in their camper. Great they have a dog too! This is gonna be FUN!

Add to that scene, think RAIN…and crushed limestone dirt-gravel-mix…which equaled a whitish MUDDY PASTE all over the truck and camper...and the dog’s feet.

Welcome to the campground.

Luckily our campsite backed up to a big open field so there weren’t any campers directly behind us. After the rain stopped I hooked the dogs to a stake into the ground while we finished setting us. After another wild round of “ramp-time” getting the dogs inside the camper that Duke turned into an Olympic-level of difficulty, we were too exhausted to get the grill out and cook outside. Instead we sat in the camper and grabbed the first thing we found in the fridge. By then Duke and Daisy had calmed down and seemed perfectly content to lie on the floor like a pair of sweet angels.

Miss Daisy all tuckered out

Is this close enough?

Around 10:30 we garnered up the energy to take them outside one last time and in the darkness I walked right into the iron fire pit. Yup, a nice sized bruise on the left shin bone.

Come Saturday morning though the sun was shining, and--as they say--it was a new day. We took Duke and Daisy for walks and found a little creek across the field that Duke loved to play in. Daisy took careful steps along the edge, but with the slippery, uneven bottom, she didn’t venture in too far. Later in the day our son David joined us, so we fixed a nice dinner on the grill and relaxed outside with a campfire, like normal campers.

David & Duke & Daisy

Walking the trail

Time for a swim

Mr Duke right at home in the water

David & Duke

By Sunday Duke and Daisy were getting the hang of the ramp, although Duke still had to plow over Daisy once or twice, just because. And with the dogs having pretty much taken over the garage area of the camper…there was no room for the Harley.

Fast-forward another week: the Harley sold…and a fence will soon be erected in the backyard. Yup, the hubby gave up the Harley to give Duke and Daisy a safe place to play in their new home.

Pretty cool sacrifice in my opinion.

Barbara

Duke and Daisy - Week One

One time I left for a weekend trip with my sisters and when I came home twin sisters had moved into our home, (upping the number of teenagers in our house from five to seven!) Last week I was on a weekend trip with my sisters once again and this time two yellow labs moved into our home.

My husband had seen the unique tale of Duke and Daisy on KARE-11. John’s big ol’ heart melted and he fell head over heels for the pair of lovable labs in need of a good home. He texted an urgent message to me, “We have to get these dogs! Trust me," he said, "when you see the story you'll see why!"

Having no clue about their circumstances I caved in to his passionate plea. “If you feel that strongly about it, go ahead and throw our names in.” By the time I got home I found out that all the local networks had aired Duke and Daisy’s story. The idea of a pup serving as a seeing-eye dog for his blind mom captivated so many people that the news clips had been picked up by affiliates all across the country, including CNN. Given the exposure I doubted we’d even get a call?

Right?

My own heart was torn…we’d lost our Golden Retriever a year ago and we’d been talking about whether or not it was time to get another dog. Should we get another retriever? Or should we get a yellow lab? Should we adopt a dog from a shelter? Or get a puppy? I wanted us to make the decision based on what was right and not pure emotion. So when the phone call from Secondhand Hounds came and the adoption process unfolded in a matter of a few days, I had the distinct sense that divine orchestration was at work.

Our first night with Duke and Daisy was far from idyllic; both dogs were over excited and anxious…and who can blame them after so many changes. The next day came a broken lamp, rope burns on my ankles, nervous, panting dogs following my every step. Above all, Duke would never leave Daisy's side, leaving no question that his job was to protect her. Day and night I had two four-legged furry shadows underfoot at all times. If I so much as moved six inches it became an “event”, both dogs up, all excited and panting, tails wagging, like don’t leave me…

The next morning, overtired from lack of sleep, I asked God whether or not this adoption was the right thing to do. I made a pot of coffee (Lunds & Byerly’s Mississippi River Chocolate Caramel—a must have for every morning!) and sat down on the couch, not sure what to do next. With both dogs pressed up against my legs, I turned on the TV. The very first segment on The Today Show featured Matt Lauer and the NBC crew outside on the plaza introducing a lineup of dogs…all in need of adoption. There was my answer.

By the end of Day Four I was in need of a little “space”. When John went to bed, I retreated to our screen porch to read. Duke immediately followed me out to the porch while Daisy stayed in the bedroom—the first time Duke left Daisy’s side. The trust was beginning to build.

Yes, we have some work to do…both dogs need basic obedience training. We need to figure out the best way to get Daisy up and down stairs and reconfigure fence lines in our back yard. Those issues will all fall into place one by one. How do I know? Well, God sent His reassurance in a way that I was sure to grasp it.

Over the summer while John and I had been thinking about getting a dog again, I’d been longing to see “Old Yeller” again. On Day Two with Duke and Daisy, John was out of town on a business trip and wouldn’t be home until late. After a full day in my studio with the dogs, I took them upstairs, ready to sit down and hopefully relax. I flipped on the TV and to my surprise “Old Yeller” was just starting on the Hallmark channel. I hurried up and popped some popcorn and plopped down on the couch. Daisy curled up on one side, Duke on the other. For two hours both dogs were calm and quiet as I watched the classic Disney story about the love of a faithful lab.

I suppose the moral of the story is a) don’t leave my husband home alone anymore, or b) be willing to open house and heart to those who are in need of a place to call home.

Daisy under my studio tables

Duke under my desk

Duke & Daisy's first visitor - David's friend Sasha

Duke and Daisy with David

Mr Duke and Miss Daisy

Barbara