It took a mere 48 hrs in a real city, and I needed a wide-open-space and fresh-air fix.
Spring Break comes early in New Mexico, as our schools start in August and let out in May. Again this year "the boys" (my husband and son) took off on a road trip. Last year was the mid west and north east coast (all the way to Connecticut); this year was southern and northern California. A mere 2,600 miles in 10 days - and no speeding tickets.
On Tuesday I flew out to meet them for a few days. The last time the three of us went on vacation together was four years ago, when we spent two spectacular weeks hiking in the Canadian Rockies. We met in San Francisco, a beautiful city by any measure. Captivating, contained, under constant construction. Riots of muted colors. 
As civilization goes, San Francisco is great - countless great restaurants, unique architecture, endless views (after the fog lifts), great public transportation, shopping for any budget, and one of the world's best parks. I greatly enjoyed my time living and working in The City many years ago, but I don't miss it.
After spending some time at Ocean Beach
we took a leisurely drive through Golden Gate Park... crazy to see bison in a pen full of green pasture, they looked quite out of place to me:
But the ceaseless noise and all-night-lights are quite wearing on my nerves, and by Thursday morning I was very happy we headed to the NE to Sacramento. After driving around our old stomping grounds, I needed a respite. So off we went to Effie Yeaw Nature Center, a miracle carved out of suburbia. We hadn't made it out of the parking lot when we spotted our first wild turkey, and he was spectacular:
After some time enjoying the visitor's center (Anthony reliving some of his fonder childhood memories)
we hit the trail - and were immediately halted by some does crossing our path.
Ahhhhh, to be outdoors in the unpaved part of the world. We wandered over familiar trails to the American River, red tail hawks and buzzards overhead, Canada geese, mallards, and a great blue heron along the way.
The boys indulged in a favorite river game, who-can-skip-a-rock-the-farthest, while I sat on the trail above and enjoyed the lack of man-made noise. And was struck by how endlessly green everything was.
My flight home reminded me of the luxury of vast open spaces, unspoiled by road or power lines.
I'm more comfortable in my niche, as a desert rat.
And a king, I hope.
Regular readers will remember the shed-conversion-to-kennel project as a work in progress. After getting a serious test-run this winter, a spring make-over was in order. While I won't claim more than 50% completion yet, I will say I'm very pleased with today's progress.
After much hemming and hawing and on-line window-shopping, I finally settled on a doggie-door. Fashioned after the creative use of a basement remodel of some friends in Colorado, I had a 3'x3' sliding window installed. Duct-tape marks the glass inside and out to cue the dogs to the "open" or "closed" status (several other barriers were explored, including replacing the glass with plywood, covering with matting, cardboard, or butchered x-pen wiring, before this obvious solution presented itself). The opening is 18"W x 36"H, perfect for borzoi. Currently the "door" is a screen (cut on the sides and bottom, so it opens), which will be replaced with long strips to make a flap and keep out rain.
Progress was needed, as I'm hoping to breed Day next month, and her 
intended mate is due to arrive in a few days. One of which is, he likes x-pens. Here's a shot of the x-pen barrier with the new doggie door (in the "open" position") visible in the background:
The right side of the x-pen is attached to a 700 size crate, the door of which is locked open. Day loves crates; here she demonstrates the easy in/out feature:
The crate is on the raised, heated bed, which I hope will be perfect for puppies once they move out of the house.
Just visible in the first picture is a raised dog-bed, to the right of the dog-door. Here's a slightly better look at it:
To the left of the doggie door is a pool-bed, so-called because it's a cushioned bed inside a kiddie pool. Some of my dogs love these, others ignore them, but it provides options for Day and her visiting beau.
I hope by now somebody has noticed how clean the floor is; say "ooh, ahh" for me would you? The inside of my house is not, at present, as clean.
Outside there's been an addition as well. 
The straw bales that were providing wind insulation have been relocated, rearranged, and a 1/2 sheet of plywood added to make a roof (also based on the friends' in Colorado's set-up):
It's in the center of the puppy paddock, well away from the fences, so any mountain-climbing dogs can improve their view but not escape. The opening will get full sun in the mornings (so will stay nice and dry), full shade all afternoon, and the walls protect against our vicious spring winds. The design will tweak over time, but it's a good start.
Our kennel is a castle! Well, almost... the list of other items still needs to be reduced to zero.
You can't make this up:
"A.I.G. Planning Huge Bonuses After $170 Billion Bailout," The New York Times, March 15, 2009.
It's not higher math: $170B minus $165M equals... a royal screwing of the taxpayers. That's us, my friends.
I'm all for fixing the economy, but throwing more money at the rats down the rat-hole would not seem to be the way to do it.
But I'm a simple country girl, what do I know.
A dear friend of mine is being harassed; I'm just putting it out there in the universe: Knock it off. Or else.
For simplicity's sake, I'll refer to the offender as "Jack" (yes, that's short for jack-ass). Jack has made the mistake of targeting a single woman that lives alone and works for a living. A law-abiding citizen who owns her home and doesn't want to move. I'll call her "Jill".
Jill got a visit from the po-lice last week, after an anonymous complaint. Presumably made by Jack, as he was seen prowling around a day earlier, then his fingers did the walking to 9-1-1. The po-lice took a look around, found the complaint to be unfounded, and left. Good job.
But Jill was rattled. And she let a few of her friends know. And we offered her our unconditional support, in all its forms.
I suspect most of her friends are like me: well past 40, comfortable with our place in the world (if not with the world itself), undeterred by a long road trip, own a gun and know how to use it, and not inclined to allow a loved one to get pushed around. We don't go looking for trouble, but learned a long time ago that running from it doesn't get you anywhere. I call this demographic SOB's: Scary Old Broads. Our kids think we're old but our parents don't. We've done childbirth and lived with teenagers, we've made mistakes and have regrets, we've looked death in the face once or twice. This is not a ladies' social club; we know how to carry the water and which end of the bull stinks.
So universe please give Jack a message from me: Go ahead. Poke mama-bear and see what happens. I suggest you take your over-sized ego and insignificant manhood and find a better use for your dialing fingers.
Or you'll find out what SOB's do to sumbitches who mess with one of our own.
Woke up to snow this morning; it was still falling.
I had to bribe the borzoi back inside in order to go to town this afternoon, as it was still snowing. Huge, wet, sticky flakes. By the time I got back the snow was melted and we had MUD again.
Well, we need the moisture so badly (fire restrictions are already in place for the year) I guess I can't complain about mud. But more snow would be nice. About 3' of it would be great.
No bow required.
Sometimes, surprises are good.
We're approaching another graduation ceremony for the kids at the juvenile offender facility - had to believe that time of year is approaching so quickly! This is the second year we've incorporated CGC testing as part of the preparation for graduation; certificates are presented at the ceremony. There are a lot of reasons we do this, and a key one is that this CGC certificate is awarded to the handler. Kudos to the AKC for sponsoring a CGC format specifically for prisoners.
For our incarcerated kids, the certificate is placed into their record for discussion at a parole hearing, and goes with them after their release. (We also provide contact information so they can get a reference for work or school, if they would like.)
Each student-trainer picks a dog to do the test with. A couple of weeks ago when I explained what was on the CGC test - the do's and don'ts, and that they have to pass all 10 items to earn a certificate - I encouraged them to think about it for a couple of days and then let me know which dog they'd like to attempt the test with.
This process is a continual fascination to me; it's inevitable that some aspect of the trainer's character is revealed. One or two kids will choose the "easiest" dog, one that has been through the training program several times, a near-guarantee to pass. Others will stick with their usual canine partner, either out of comfort or loyalty or something else. This time, one kid picked the hardest dog. I tried to discourage him, but he did it anyway.
AJ is a difficult dog, one with many phobias and fears - noise and novelty chief among them. Rearrange the furniture, and AJ will have a problem with it. Enter through a different gate, work outside on a very windy day, turn on an appliance... AJ will be paralyzed with fear. So afraid he can't take food. From the first moment I laid eyes on AJ I predicted that he will be released from the program, and while AJ has made tremendous progress I stand by that assessment.
Billy picked AJ. Insisted on testing with AJ. Billy is a nice kid, soft spoken, sometimes moody but one that shuts down rather than act out. He's what's called a one-off: never in trouble before, did something really bad and got caught, not likely to be a repeat offender. And yesterday, with a tremendous amount of patience, encouragement, compassion, quiet insistence, and creativity, Billy & AJ completed all ten items on the CGC evaluation. I was so proud of Billy, I could have burst.
One little problem: the Evaluator's handbook states "food and treats are not permitted during testing" and Billy had used treats. Not that AJ took many, but still. I care about being a CGC Evaluator, I think it's a great program and deserves more gravitas than it often gets. But I also care about the rules, especially when they make sense. This time, I felt - very strongly - that what Billy had done was within the spirit of CGC, if not the letter of the rules. He took care of his dog, without regard to the effect that might have on his evaluation. So I called the AKC and explained the situation. The AKC is not know for its... well let's call it "flexibility", so I was prepared to be denied. Much to my delight, they agreed with me, and will allow me to present Billy with a certificate at graduation. I'm very, very pleased with this decision.
I have a lot of complaints about the AKC - every exhibitor does - but this time, my hat is off to a kid that did a great thing and an organization that did right by him.
My kids hear that expression about once a day... and it's always true.
Whether by act, hesitation, denial, or conscious choice, everything we do - and don't do - has at least once result. Even if we don't know about it. Accelerating through a yellow light may mean we're in an accident (or not) a couple of blocks later. Or a lie of omission that comes back to haunt us at the most inopportune moment.
Perhaps worst of all, is making a decision based on the best current information and later learning it was the wrong choice. Particularly when we're making decisions for others, and those consequences have life and death implications.
Years ago I had my border collie bitch, Dot, spayed at about five months of age. That was conventional wisdom and the standard veterinary advice. I now believe that we daily live with the results of that choice, and it was the wrong one to have made. Dot suffered a career-ending knee injury before she her second birthday, a fairly common injury in performance dogs altered before their growth plates are closed. Thanks to the work of Chris Zink DVM I won't make this mistake again; Dot's forced retirement is a constant reminder of that regrettable choice.
The last few weeks I've been planning the castration of one of my males, Ren. A hard-keeper at the best of times, Ren is impossible to feed for a couple of weeks every time a bitch is in season. Many knowledgeable people have reported increasing prostate problems in intact males as they age around intact bitches; Ren's got enough problems with out that! And, my son Anthony will be doing an internship at our veterinarian's practice for a month, and I thought that it might be good timing to have Ren castrated while Anthony is working there. Ren would have somebody he loves and trusts with him the entire time, it would be scheduled after our spring trial season is complete, and Anthony would be able to observe the surgery with full owner consent.
However, comma...
Today I came across a new and recent article on the long-term effects of altering, and it made for some disturbing reading. While castration decreases the incidence of benign prostatic hypertrophy, it also increases the probability of osteosarcoma. One is easy to cure, one is impossible.
What to do? I haven't a clue. My youngest bitch is in heat right now, and we seem to be getting along a bit better this time. The intact males are banished to the barn, pasture, kennel, and puppy paddock for three weeks; Gin is restricted to the house and house paddock for three weeks. Double-fencing and hyper-vigilant supervision, and routine crating in separate buildings, will prevent an accidental breeding - but the thought of going through this four (or more) times per year is a consideration. This time Gin is on chlorophyll; she gets 1 Tbls on each meal. Her poop is bright green, but she seems to smell a lot less interesting. (Thanks to this site for useful info - 1 tsp. per 30 lbs. of body weight, twice a day.) Increasing Ren's quality of life now vs. increasing the risk of a painful and fatal disease... I am paralyzed by indecision.
Another favorite of mine is the law of unintended consequences. The BBC broadcast last year ultimately prevented Crufts from being on TV. (It's being webcast this week - how cool!) The consequences of the backlash have been two-fold: one, by purebred dog fanciers against the BBC (I expect the same against ABC in light of an upcoming Nightline episode); and two, by the public against breeders for producing "freaks". Several KC breeds have had to change their standards. Sweden has already followed suit, many people anticipate the AKC will force American parent breed clubs to do so as well.
Is this good or bad? It depends. I think that breeds - not individuals, entire BREEDS - that can't copulate ("live cover") or free whelp (routine cesarean is mandatory) have fundamental problems. Fanciers that accept a life expectancy of 6 years or insist that ear cropping and tail docking are functional... are asking to be a target. Aesthetics are all well and good, but when the unnatural is promoted as normal... "Freaks" seems an apt word to some.
But the old expression about lies, damn lies, and statistics bears review: just becuase there are detailed data about breed-specific health issues doesn't mean the purebred dogs have more problems. The absense of data on mixed-breeds and random-bred dogs does not prove they are healthier. In fact, Jerold Bell DVM said at a seminar I attended less than two years ago that x-poo breeds have MORE thyroid problems than any purebred breed, primarily because the "hybrid vigor" myth deludes a lot of people and most mixed-breeders don't do any health testing. Yikes.
My mother used to say: indecision is still a decision. Mama's always right, again.
In case you're unsure, this is more Strunk & White than another good book.
I've had this thought for quite a while, and several weeks ago during a desert-walk conversation with a delightful young gentleman this topic came up again. So here goes: my thoughts on what the use of pronouns reveals about the speaker.
"I've bred five Champions."
"I got six MACH's on two dogs."
"I have put twelve different titles on Rover in three sports."
Compare that to this:
"He finished his Championship this weekend!"
"She picked up her second ADCH in Phoenix."
"He's a three-way performance champion, with points toward five more."*
What do these sentences reveal about the speakers? Well, from my perspective, a couple of things. One, all are proud of the accomplishments discussed. Two, some people think they earned the titles, while others think the dog did something wonderful.
A human taking credit for a dog's accomplishments is petty, and very little makes a person look smaller to me than this use of language. That's like taking credit for a sixth-grader's spelling test result because you helped the kid study. Now, if one is a professional handler and is describing one's qualifications to a prospective client, that's different. But for people that own, train, and handle their own dogs, well... And I'll grant you, I am completely aware that some things are team sports (e.g., agility, obedience, rally) but get real, people... taking credit for a dog's accomplishments is absurd.
And regardless of team sport or not, the judges are judging the dog's performance, so I stand by this: the credit goes to the dog. Last time I checked, only a couple of venues award titles to handlers (CPE and USDAA), and to JUNIOR handlers only.
The proof is in the pronoun; perhaps grown up's should consider how revealing the use of I vs. s/he is.
*the dog is mine, but the titles are his ;-)
