Here's To A Happy New Year 2015 For You and Yours!

It’s been an awesome year for our household.  I’m expecting nothing less in 2015.

Which says a lot, given the price of oil has tanked.  My hope, however, is in the Lord.  He is our provision…our peace…our Savior.

2014 was a year of great restoration for us, in that we were reconciled to our younger son, and blessed to meet all three of our beautiful grandkids.  By the way, have I told you, they all hung the moon?  We are totally in love with our grands and I so get it now when people say all the goofy grandparent things…I so get it.

Zack and Zanna the Wonderdogs are both thriving and doing well.  They continue to provide us a huge sense of enjoyment…I believe our boys still swear that the Wonderdogs have stolen their inheritance.  And they may be right.  I swear, I think Zack gets younger every year…but the gray on his muzzle tells another tale. He still acts like a pup most of the time, though.

I was introduced to Young Living Essential Oils at the first of 2014, and we have fallen in love with the benefits of living healthy with the oils.  They’re an amazing God gift to us, and we love all the people we’ve come in contact with because of the oils.  

Work has been a joy for us, we both love what we do in this crazy energy industry.  God is good.

The Lord has knit us into many relationships in the past year, and we are totally enjoying the healthy flow of those relationships.  

It’s been a very good year.  Thanks for being a part of it!

I pray you good health, peace, prosperity, great friends, and most of all, many blessings in 2015. May the Lord bless you and keep you and yours.

They're Gonna Live - All Three of Them

After a couple of rough days and nights, and vet visits,  Zack the Wonderdog is way better.

Unfortunately, Zanna followed suit and had exactly the same symptoms.  Fortunately, we had her at the vet a day earlier and on treatment, so her symptoms haven't been as rough as those of Zack.  Plus, she's younger.

I found out she was sick in the early morning hours, as I readied myself for work.  She was curled up under the covers, and I was traversing the house in the dark when I slid upon the evidence on the rug in the living room.  Ugh.

The second time, in the dark hallway, an hour later, I had to be rescued by ThatManILove at 6 a.m.  Yes, the same ThatManILove that took his darn.sweet.time.getting.to.me.with.wet.wipes. 
You know, because he was overcome by such a bad case of the giggles and snorts.

He got there in the nick of time.  I was seriously considering running for my shotgun, stinky feet and all.

GRRRRRROSSSSSSSSSS.

Late Night Emergency Vet Visits

It always happens late…ya know?

When your Wonderdog presents symptoms, and you realize the Zackamundo isn’t feeling well, at all?

And it might be bad enough to go to the Emergency Vet, in another town, and it’s almost 10 o’clock, p.m.?

So, off we went, with Zack the Wonderdog, to the Emergency Vet Clinic.

He’s feeling so badly, he’s laying down in the backseat.

He. Never. Lays. Down.

Just saying.  Because, you know, HE HAS TO SEE EVERYTHING.

We have to wait for a while.  Because it's an emergency clinic.  And we aren't the only emergency.

They test his blood.  Perfect.

Take his temperature.  Yup, he’s running temperature.

Zack the Wonderdog at the Emergency Vet Clinic

Xray his gut.  His gut is full of distention, but not twisted, thank God.  No obstructions.  They walk him.  They observe him.  Yup, definitely walking like he's in pain.

Finally, about 1:35 a.m., they let us go, after shooting Zack full of antibiotics and giving us anti-diarrheal and anti-nausea meds, plus pain pills.  And a copy of his Xrays to take to our normal vet.  And a receipt for a huge bill.  

I was super tired.  

Zack was super passed out.

Hopefully, this will pass, and the old fella will be fine.

Same position the next morning as when we got home...Snoozebucket.

We shall see.  This boy definitely has my heart in his paws.

The Trained, or the Trainers? Another Zack and Zanna The Wonderdogs Story

My dogs are idiots.*

No, wait.  Let me rephrase that.

I am an idiot.  ThatManILove is an idiot.

In a most God-fearing, dog-loving, type of way.

My dogs?  Are off the wall, supernaturally smart.  And before you start the dog lectures, they are exercised (yeah, don't go all Cesar Millan on us) 1.5 hrs a day and are highly trained.  They have jobs.  All that.

But on top of all that, we have enabled, no, make that totally empowered, our dogs to freaking run this house. By that, I mean, they run us.

Zack is the easiest dog in the whole wide world.  If he can lay by your side, he’s happy.  If he can stand and look at the back door and you recognize he might need to go outside sometime, oh, within the next 30 minutes would be good if it’s okay with you, my wonderful master, he’s ecstatic.  He is amazing.

If Zanna?  The younger one?  And more possibly, the smarter of the two?  Yeah, her.  The spotted one. If Zanna the Wonderdog wants something?  She sidles up to me.  Or TMIL.  Or anyone she thinks may listen to her.  And give her exactly what she wants.  And she starts her act.

And this is her M.S.O. (Modus Spotted Operandus)

She is a communicator.  To the nth degree.  

First, she nudges you with her nose.  Acts all sweet. (It is a lie...the sweetness part.  She is ever the calculating manipulator.)

You, (reading, or watching TV, or working, whatever, it doesn’t matter, or at least to her, it doesn’t) reach down, and nuzzle her sweet face, pet her head, stroke her sweet back, let her know you know she’s there, and you care.  You really do.

That works for, oh, about...33 seconds.

She then steps it up a notch.  Gives you a little whine.  Almost so short, you don’t realize it’s a whine.  You certainly don’t realize that it might be… the beginning of a serious trash talking session, if you don’t pay attention.  This spotted whirling dervish girl can flat-out talk some trash.

Which, of course, you don’t. Pay attention, that is.  Because you’re busy, right?  You’re busy reading.  Or facebooking.  Or watching a movie.  Or, God forbid, even working. So…

You reach down, and give her a sweet little pat.  Rub her ears.  Her eyes.  Her forehead.  Again.  Even make eye contact with her, and talk sweet to her.  Which, by the way, does not suffice with Zanna in the least. But another 33 seconds go by. Maybe even 37 seconds.

Then, she prances around, jumps at you like she wants to play, and gives you a short bark.  You should really really really  (did I say really?) take this as a warning.

Again, you make the mistake of ignoring her.  You are an idiot!!  Can you really not tell, you Cesar Millan dog-whisperer wanna-be, that she really is trying to tell you something?

Zanna will now get on your lap and bark in your face.  It's almost scary. Like movie-type scary.  Like "The Exorcist" scary.  And if you don't make a move like you're gonna get up?  Well.  She will wander off.  Ruh-roh. Warning, warning, Will Robinson. This is not good.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Next thing that happens is:

Option A (not necessarily the best option)

At that point, you’d better not have one item of clothing or anything rippable laying anywhere within her reach…including a high dollar egyptian cotton towel on a towel rack.  Zanna is now on the hunt.  She is going to go around the house hunting for SOMETHING.  That something is definitely going to be a high dollar item.  And that item is going to be history in 2.3 seconds.  And though she be a trained gun dog, the verb “here” or “come” doesn’t work when she’s in full rebellion or just flat out pissed because you, her gracious master, didn’t obey her every look, whine, or cry for attention.  

This, my friend, is the beginning of  Zanna's revenge.  

Option A is where Zanna takes the term Bitch to a whole new level.

Option B

Now, if you're very very good, Option B can also happen. If the planets are aligned,  you’re on your A game and tuned in on a physic level to her royal highness-ocity of spotted dognessicity.  And, by the way, it doesn’t matter how many years she is old, or how many days we’ve had her (since she was a baby), ThatManILove still cannot read this girl Wonderdog of ours.  It’s like she’s a canine enigma to him.  (But, I digress.  Again.)

Option B is where one is "listening".  Attuned to Zanna's every move (and she has several) and one is ready to move, and I mean, move, quickly, at a moment’s notice.  She wants attention, and NOW.  

Attention usually manifests itself by rewarding in the following methods:

(1) Grabbing a pig ear rawhide out of the package and giving it to her

(2) Grabbing a greenie out of the cabinet. Giving it to her

(3) Opening the back door so she can go out because

a.     She needs to relieve herself or

b.     There is a SQUIRREL!  A SQUIRREL!  A SQUIRREL!

She is a hunting dog.  Any of those are valid reasons for attention.  If you’re Zanna the Wonderdog, anyway.

And we, idiots that we are, pretty much cater to her every whim, when we’re paying the right amount of attention.  Because we’ve paid the price in Option A shreds by virtue, or lack thereof, of a pure lack of attention.

Her favorite item to shred?  TMIL’s Ralph Lauren jockey shorts.  They gotta be Ralph Lauren.  I kid you not.  After that, any shirt that costs upward of $50 will do.  She has been known to kill a Livestrong wind shirt.  Last time I checked, those were about $90 or so.  Anything Polo, she runs to, grabs, and is gone. 

Did you know that even a medicine bottle can be shredded?

A razor? The disposable kind?

An essential oils diffuser?  You cannot make this stuff up.

Yeah.  So it's of utmost import that you pay attention to this little heifer Zanna.  Shredding can lead her to stuff that can seriously hurt her - not that it will stop her.  So you absolutely have to be on top of it.   

ThatManILove gets extremely frustrated with Zanna’s behavior.  Mostly because it's his stuff that is left laying about...but I (again) digress.

I am a little easier to pacify. After I have exhausted every avenue of "What on earth could Zanna possibly want?" I give TMIL a look, Zanna a look, and head to the heater closet, where several of my best tools hang on the door.

They are called…(wait for it)…leashes.

You clip a leash to Zanna the Wonderdog’s collar, she hops up beside you on the couch, lays down, and is fine for hours.  She think she’s "working".  A leash is part of her gun dog training.

I’m not even kidding.

I, gentle readers, am not averse to a little mind manipulation of the canine kind. Especially if it buys me an hour of peace and quiet and dogs snoring by my side.

Where do you think she learned this stuff, anyway?

No drugs were used in the taking of this photo...though it might be a good idea. Just saying.

*I just want y'all to know I scared the pee-diddle out of myself by putting all this down on paper.  I don't think I'd ever thought about the width and breadth of Zanna's destructive tendencies.  Will one of you pass the Valium, please?

The Neverending Saga Of the Wonderdogs...continued.

I left them for one hour.  ONE hour, people.

They found a SEALED padded envelope, with supplements from  Great Taste No Pain.

They tore it open.

And then, they tore plastic bottles open.  Bottles of Digestizyme Plus.

I will tell you, they seem to be digesting their food well.

Blue Rock Holistics should be proud their product works well on Wonderdogs.

ZACCCCKKKKKKK!  ZANNNNNNNNAAAAA!  GET IN HERE!

Dogs...Are Expensive. And Worth It.

Ah, for the love of a dog.

Or two.

One of my Facebook friends, Joe Murphy, posted a little note on his account.

“The cost of raising a medium-size dog to the age of eleven: $ 16,400.”

Shoot.  I bet it’s more than that.

If you add the arthritis diagnosis, because you chose hunting dogs to be a part of your life, and now, they’re older and can’t get around as quickly...you should add the cost of 1.5 Rimadyl pain pills daily to that cost.  And now, we've started laser treatments to battle the arthritis.  Not to mention the bags of all natural dehydrated food.  And the natural supplements.

And if they’re still hunting and doing what they love to do, well, all I can say, is S&^* happens.  They might run through the barbed wire fence and have to have $250 stitching job.  Or, step in a gopher hole and have to have their leg set (can’t remember $$$$.)  Or, run a 12" mesquite thorn up their leg, which somehow went into the paw of their foot, and ran, under the skin, where normal humans can’t see it, up the front of the leg almost to the knee??  Took about 2 days to figure out he wasn’t just sore - so, another little operation.

And what if you have a stitch licker?  The kind that tries to “Heal Thyself” by licking any and all wounds?  Thereby dissolving the stitches before their time, and the 6” wound comes gaping open, causing yet another trip to the emergency vet for restitching?  Then, a rerun, so this time, stapling?  Ughhhh.

I think we are at around $20,000, and we’re right at the 11 year old mark with Zack.

Zanna has been relatively painless, but she’s so weird, she probably doesn’t dive right in like Zack.

But add up dog-sitting, dog-walking, dog-going-to-the-park time? I’m not even going to say.

Our boys have it right when they say they have been replaced by two Wonderdogs.

But when we die, guys - you can have Zack and Zanna, the stainless steel dog bowls, the kennel, AND the pooper scooper.  (Oh, joy!)  Irregardless of what you think, you’re still in our wills.  We do so love you both.

And oh, by the way -  the exotic granite, gold leafed doggie tombstones, engraved with Zack and Zanna's birthdays?  They're in the garage.

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Random Thoughts About Early Morning Life at My House

Yeah.  Mornings.  I’m allergic to them.

I want to sleep in.

But...I have dogs.  That wake up around 5:30, wanting to go outside.

So, while I’m up, letting them out, I feed them.  And I go back to bed while they eat.  Just for a minute.

Then, they roll back into the bed, taking up all the space, and absolutely having to be under the covers, where they snore.

People, if I know one thing, I know this:  it is so hard to get up when there are white noise makers (dog snorers) in your bed.

You have never heard anything more peaceful than my dogs snoring.

It’s rhythmic.  It’s sonorous.  It makes your breathing slow down, and your stress dissipate.

I could record and market this stuff, I swear.

Happy Tuesday!

Snooziness

Cool weather and a little bit of moisture were welcomed in the West of Texas.

And fall inspires quite a bit around this house.

I cleaned out my purse stash.  Found crazy treasure in that hoard, by the way.

Cleaned out my shoe stash.  Away!  Begone!

And somehow, the dogs like sleeping in the cooler weather.  So...

There was a lot of this going on this weekend.

If that looks weird, I'm in a chair with an ottoman.  Zanna is buried halfway under my blanket.  And Zack is snoring on the floor...bone in easy grabbing sight.

Great weekend.