Buddy the Dog, Juvenile Offender

Well, he's not really a juvenile; he's eight. But it's like having an obnoxious, rebellious Eddie Haskell in the house, lately.

He actually isn't adjusting to city life very well, at all. I'm not sure what's up with him. He digs being more of an indoor dog, but he just loves to get out of the fence. The maintenance guys haven't found a way to secure it that he can't undo. (We'll keep trying, though.) I'd love for him to be able to have more free time outside, but as of right now, he can't be out there unsupervised, at all. When we let him out to relieve himself, he'll do his thing, then head straight for the fence line. He'll glance back and if he sees one of us watching, he'll sit. Not ready to come in, and he doesn't want to play. He just wants to sit there, looking innocent. You can stand there and watch him for half an hour and he'll not move, just sit and keep glancing back at you. We've then moved to observe from a spot he doesn't know we're at, and the moment he sees you've left your observation spot, he trots straight to the fence to get out. If you call him, even with the most innocent tone, "Hey, Bud, what'cha doing?" He scrambles like mad to go back to a neutral spot with his head down, again trying to look innocent.

He's also turned into a total trash panda in the house, even when there's no food stuffs. He's never gotten into the trash before. He's started hoarking food from the table (again, never been a thing in his life), and I caught him up on the counter in the kitchen the other morning. On the counter! It's like having a cat. A 65-pound cat. Nobody wants a 65-pound cat! We've gotten much better about securing all temptations (along the same lines of setting them up to succeed), but with six of us here (three of us being fairly young, still), something occasionally falls through the cracks. He pounces on those opportunities like an entrepreneur at a seminar. We can't even keep the candy bowl on the coffee table anymore (something we've had for his entire life, and he's never once even stuck his nose in it). I got up one morning last week to find he'd sampled all the Lik-em-aid packets in the bowl. Blue powder all over the carpet!

He surprised us with a new trick yesterday. Aunt B and Aunt Sally arrived and came for supper, so we got to visit for a bit. Buddy got to visit with Toby and CW (Aunt B's pups), which he loved, but then, out of nowhere, he decided he needed to go ahead and mark John (or rather, John's things) as HIS, just in case the interlopers got any bright ideas. So he had to spend the rest of the visit outside (and, of course, he immediately got out and came around to the front porch to watch through the living room window the entire visit). Not so much fun. This is not something he's ever done before. We've had dogs (male and female, spayed/neutered and intact) come and stay for hours, days, even weeks on end, and that hasn't been an issue, ever. Why now? I don't know.

Anyway, we've had him checked at the vet and he's healthy. He's eating fine. He stays hydrated, but doesn't appear to have excessive thirst. All his physical traits are rock solid and healthy. He has no interest in chew toys or balls or other things of that sort. He's definitely not bored. We spend a ton of time with him - both play and training.

He does listen much better, in general. Em can even walk him on a slack lead now, which is fantastic. She said if she needs to get something out of her satchel or take a drink of water, she can lay the lead across his back and he just maintains the same distance while she tends to whatever she needs. Then she can take the lead back up when she's done. (Jase has not had the same experience yet. Buddy mostly walks him. But that's not new.) The toy poodles up the road terrify him, but the neighbor's dogs don't phase him. He loves to visit the housing office, and he's not aggressive toward anyone or any thing.

He just waits until he thinks nobody is looking to get into trouble. He also knows pretty straight up when he's not doing the right thing, and he'll backpedal just as quickly as he can if he hears you coming. Basically, he's developing some low-level juvenile offender tendencies and we have no idea what to do about it.

I guess, in the big picture of things, if someone in my house had to become a bit of an obnoxious vandal, I'm glad it's the dog and not one of the kids. There is that. Have you ever had that happen? Any insights, or things we might look for that we haven't thought of?

Be encouraged!

Dy

Eggs!

The hens aren't using the nesting boxes for anything other than naps, so these were a pleasant surprise.

James came back from putting up the chickens and announced, "We have 18 chickens, and FIVE EGGS!" It took us all a second for it to sink in, but then we were excited.

Unfortunately, the roosters are all pretty into doing their jobs, and we have no clue how long those eggs have been there... so we'll have to crack them outside, in case they're bad. Still, it's exciting to have some progress.

(This was last night. Jacob found another one today. We don't know who is laying, but they're all in the same place so far, so that makes it easier. How exciting!)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Sweater Weather!

It never got above 60 in the house today! I had all the windows open and made everyone put on sweaters when they complained about the cold. It was glorious. (The odds that it'll be warm enough to cook outside at Christmas are pretty high, so I have to grab it while I can. I may not be able to get away with wearing a sweater again until our mid-January cold snap, and by then, the windows will be sealed up tight.) Jacob asked for soup, so I'll put some bones in the crockpot to simmer overnight and we'll enjoy a lovely stock for soup tomorrow! He knows how to get in on the excitement, that one does.

We got in a great mix of academics and general grunt work this week. ("Great" being a purely subjective term. But they read and talked a lot, and we stayed on target with school. Plus, the basement looks magnificent, the Suburban is full of donations and things to go to friends, and the trash haul is going to be massive this week -- so if you're grading with a Mom Rubric, it was Great!)

And, you know how I mentioned that the boys had a blast on their ride? They've talked about it, shared stories from it, gushed about the things they loved, planned for the next one, brainstormed some amazing route ideas -- all on their own. All week long, they've been at it. I've received texts from parents telling me what fun their sons had, too. But at the meeting this week, when the SM asked for feedback from the boys, it was like they were all surprised there was a quiz and they didn't know what to say. So the only feedback he got was, "The hamburgers were good." :sigh: Really? Well, so much for breaking the inertia. I don't know how much support we'll be able to maintain for completing the badge as a group. I have asked some trusted friends what that is (that weird Beavis-ization of the man children that occurs the minute they walk into the Scout meeting - because it happens more often than not), and several of them swear it's normal for this age, and that they do get over it. I don't care so much about the normal part, but so help me, if they don't get over it soon I'm going to start drinking before we get to the meetings. And in the meantime, if any boy wants to ride, we'll ride. That's just how we roll. Er, ride. Whatever.

And - hey, we have a rooster! Actually, two confirmed roosters, and it sounds like we may have three or more, which would be a bit of a glitch on the hatchery's part, considering we ordered the all-hen layer mix. But they're fun and loud and healthy. Thank God for healthy! Oy. And so beautiful! James started looking up info today on how to get into showing chickens. There's a 4-H club somewhere, I'm sure - not here, but nearby. Anyway, I'm leaving it up to him. If he wants to show chickens, and is willing to do the legwork to get started (and handle them), then we'll buy a chicken hauler (or... a what? Let's hope he figures out how best to transport chickens) and we'll give it a shot. Still no eggs, though. I really hope we didn't end up with 19 roosters...

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Whoa! Where'd the week go?

John turned twelve this week. (He lobbied to be promoted to 15, as he swears he's been 11 for three years and we need to set the balance right.)

Thanks to the envelope system, there was enough cash in the gift envelope to take him to the drive-in to see The Avengers. Do you remember going to the drive-in when you were a child? Yeah, it's still awesome. Of course, as an adult with children in town, it is also a little aggravating. (The Bigs totally "got" it, and they were fantastic. My plan to set the littles up with their own cushy paradise inside the Suburban, where they could play quietly? That didn't pan out. So, even having braced myself to be okay with a certain level of aggravation, the littles far surpassed that. Crazy little overachievers. :eyeroll:) Friends came with us, which was doubly cool. (And you know they're loved, because the children spent half the time in their car, as well!)

We'll pop it in the queue with Netflix and watch it again when it comes out. I don't think Zorak or I have laughed so hard, or enjoyed a movie quite so much in a long time. (Even when you factor in the littles.) I do think we'll try the drive-in again, though, after making some adjustments (or finding a sitter) for the littles. The Bigs really got into it, and they were a riot.

The last of the chicks are now in the barn! Hallelujah! They all seem happy there, and I know I'm downright giddy with reclaiming the space.

After an embarrassingly long time, I've finally painted the two bedroom doors that never got painted. Most of the delay has been that the basement is always in use as something far too messy for painting to occur concurrently. So this week, while it was empty and relatively clean, I went to work. It's impressive how nice a freshly painted door looks (especially when one's standards have been lowered, by notches, to a shocking degree).

We are down to one toy shelf, *and* there's an empty bookshelf on the front porch, slated for life with someone else. It's a pretty crappy bookshelf, and we've used it well beyond its appointed time. But it still stays upright, the shelves aren't too saggy, and so it's functional. I can't bring myself to toss something functional. Not sure how to get it to the donation site, though. (DAV will come pick up, but we'd need to have a pile to justify asking them to bring the truck out and use more in gas than they'd have spent just buying a new shelf.)

The okra is doing beautifully with our system of gardening by benign neglect.

We did get James' desk and computer into his room, and he's standing ten feet tall right now. Possibly even bulletproof.


So. That's where the week went. Makes perfect sense.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Hot 'n Sticky Holiday

Zorak worked on the project with his co-worker most of the day, Saturday. I don't think they got it finished, as he needs a torch. I wish I'd known that before Father's Day. Someday, we will manage to figure out what he needs and get it for him before he runs down to Home Depot or the Welding Shop and buys it for himself. Not that he minds. Gifts don't say I love you to him - time, thoughtfulness, naps, kind words, affection - those things wrap him in a big hug and whisper, "You mean so much to us." And humor - a family that laughs together is happy and solid. We're fortunate, and we've got it good.

Father's Day was spent working in the garden. Sort of. I like to think we'd be better at it if our lives depended on it. I may be wrong, though. It's pretty miserable down there in the afternoons, and we haven't disciplined ourselves enough to get down there and get it over with in the cool of the mornings. (Of course, there will be no cool, ever, in another two weeks, so maybe it's just a pre-emptive adjustment on our part?) Thankfully, okra will grow with pretty much no input from anyone.

We graduated a couple more chicks from the basement to the barn. I cannot tell you how glad I will be when I no longer have livestock living in my home.

The kids and I made lunch for Zorak (shredded BBQ brisket sandwiches, tomato/cuke/sweet pepper salad, green salad, pintos, and cheesecake). We enjoyed lunch and then laid down -- and stopped moving. Z got a Father's Day nap. (Best Gift, Ever!) The rest of us watched MacGuyver and lolled about, with our limbs dangling off the ends of the furniture.

If I haven't done so already, I need to go on record now as saying I am SO wholly on board with the implementation of siestas in the South. Nobody wants to work during the hottest part of the day, and in the summer it's light late enough that you can get more done after a refreshing nap, anyway. When you add in the humidity and the lunch... Oy! Siesta is the only thing that makes any sense. But it's never caught on here in the South, for whatever reason. A shame, really - it's a lovely way to get through the hot'n'sticky part of the day.

This week? This week we don't have to be up at 5:45, so we're not going to be. That's about as far as we've made it on the planning end. And we're okay with that. :-)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Hot!

The HOT has started. Yesterday was 95 (officially - our thermometers registered higher, but if I'm going to complain, and I am, then I'll at least try to keep it to the official numbers). It wasn't the heat so much as the air - the air was thick, tangible, suffocatingly present. It never moved, other than to wrap itself around us. An in-your-face air, from which there was nowhere to turn for a break. Wow! And it's only May! Thankfully, the water park opened this weekend.

The last two weeks have been great. We got to meet a long-time invisible friend and two of her awesome kids. The visit wasn't nearly long enough (but the beach beckoned, and we can't beat the beach - if we could have pulled it off, we'd have stowed away and gone with them). At the end of the visit, though, we all felt as though we'd gained new Friends. Real ones - the kind you can feed, and who will feed you - the kind you're comfortable stopping in to visit, the kind who will be in your life for years to come. I'm so glad she came!

We've been busy with projects and repairs - coops, trailers, windows, and culling. We got some semblance of a garden in. It's late, as usual. Last year, we let it go and didn't have one. By September, we sure missed the okra and cucumbers. (That's all we seem able to grow successfully.) So this year, we figured it's better to be late than to blow it off entirely. We'll see if we still agree, come August.

The boys are prepped, stoked, and ready for Scout Camp. They had their physicals last week, coming away with admonitions to wear the ankle brace at camp (or it's useless), keep your epi pen ON you (or it's useless), and many other things it's nice to have reinforced from someone who isn't just saying that because she's your Mom.

Jacob bridged up into Webelos. He's looking forward eagerly to Day Camp and Webelos Resident Camp. Today he finishes his course of antibiotics. Three weeks, and he never missed a dose. I'm proud of him. (And us. This was a definite team effort, and even if he or I had forgotten ever, the day was filled with, "Did you take your medicine" reminders from all angles. He felt loved. Probably a little annoyed after three weeks of it, but still, loved.) He took cookies to the doc when the boys went in for their physicals.

We've only lost two chickens from this last batch. One was operator error. There were many tears and reminders that these are unpredictable little critters and that's why we have to be super cautious in how we handle them. One was random - who knows what happened. The difference in a healthy brood is fantastic - they're so flappy and active! It even catches Zorak and I off guard to see them alighting atop the boxes, or doing the Benny Hill races when a fly or a moth gets into the box. (This one, below, Jacob told me, "I call him Jasper Fforde. I don't know why.")

The first batch of chickens (all four of them) are now feathered out and living in the barn coop. They're a bit runty, so James built them a little shetland-sized roost. So far, though, they seem content. It's nice to hear quiet burbling noises coming from the coop while we tend the garden. We've returned the silky chickens we were sitting - the chicken tractor Zorak built works like a charm, and the chickens settled right in for the two weeks that we had them. The kids already miss the daily egg finds!

Mokka is still here - Buddy's buddy - she's a sweet, dainty little thing, and Buddy loves having someone to wrestle with. (Especially since the kids don't seem to appreciate the fine art of dog wrestling with a 70# dog.) I'd have taken a picture from inside the yard, but neither of them cares to pose when they could PLAY (think of the Rottweiler from Over the Hedge), and there's no taking pictures when you're in the yard to PLAY!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

How is it Thursday?

I'm exhausted! We awoke this morning to the dim light and soft murmurings that mean rain. I was ridiculously refreshed by six, so I jumped out of bed, made coffee, and sat on the porch swing, reading and sipping until I got damp and felt chilly. Those days are numbered. I plan to wallow in every delicious one of them.

The wide-awake-rush wore off by ten, though, and I found myself fighting off a coma on the couch. Not sure if it was the adrenaline wearing off, or the general pace of Things, or if I didn't eat enough breakfast. (We had chorizo and eggs with green chiles, colored sweet peppers, and provolone cheese. It was so good. I made a ton. John sliced apples, and we had fresh milk to go with. Still, there was absolutely nothing left. The pantry locusts are getting larger.) Nobody seemed terribly motivated today, though, so we read and talked, read some more, napped. Jase is coming off a short virus. Em's fighting it off. It seemed like a good day to rest.

I went down before the children got up this morning and dealt with the chicks that didn't make it through the night. Five chicks survived the ordeal. They are tough, perky, and on the ball. We're pretty sure we have The Avengers of chickens assembled down there, now. One is obviously a runt (compared to the total badasses that are left), but she's a trooper and has already stolen James' heart, so I'm sure she'll be looked after well. Now we get to enjoy the fun part. They've already begun chasing stray bugs that veer into the box, and two of them have a weird love/poke-in-the-eye relationship going that's a total riot to watch. They're pretty evenly matched, and it's definitely a two-way street between them as they figure out the pecking order. Chickens are like Benny Hill sketches, without the innuendo.

Zorak's been on the road all week. He left Sunday and is due in tonight -- hopefully within the hour. I miss him any time he's gone, but tonight I'm particularly anxious to curl up with him and let him keep the Bogeyman at bay.

Tomorrow, we get to go play airsoft with some boys from our homeschool group! John and Jacob are stoked. Absolutely, thoroughly amped up and ready to GO! James isn't so much interested, but tomorrow is also skate day, and he loves that, so he'll get to have some fun and he's got a stack of projects to take with him to the airsoft gathering. (When did he get that organized? I love it!) I have no clue what this event is going to look like, or whether I got the right gear, or how this works, or... but I am excited for the boys to have a day of fun, and it will be nice to get to know another Mom from the group. (We have a very welcoming group, but everyone is So Very Busy at the functions that if you don't already know people, you aren't likely to get to know them there. It's odd, but that's how it pans out. So, from an Isolated Mom perspective, this is kind of exciting, too.) And I imagine Zorak will appreciate having us out of the house during the day, so he can recover from the 11.5 hour drive in peace.

After the kids wake him up and beg for waffles, that is.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Chickens, Redux

After our first experiment with chickens (the trauma of the raccoon massacre, and then Romeo Rooster from next door who wooed the few remaining lovely - yet decidedly PTSD affected - girls away), we took a couple of years to regroup, learn more, prep better, and see if we can make a go of it this time around. We ordered 26 chickens from the hatchery, waited anxiously for the shipping notification, then stalked the post office regularly enough to make local law enforcement a titch nervous.

It took too long. And it's not just that it *felt* like it took too long - it really did. They should have arrived Sunday or Monday. Tuesday was the "at the very latest" date. Come late delivery on Tuesday, there were still no chicks. The hatchery had been wonderful, but what could they do? The chicks left the hatchery on Sunday morning, early. The USPS doesn't always know what's going on within its own system, so there wasn't anything they could do, either. So we waited. And fretted. And called. And waited some more.

This morning, they arrived. The lady who works the lobby at our branch is a dear. The Post Mistress at our branch is also great. They met us at the door, asked the children to wait just inside, and ushered me off to "have a word". (Remember the stalking bit? Yeah, I contemplated running for a split second, there. Kind of tense. And awkward.)

But it wasn't us. It was our poor chicks. They hadn't fared well in transit. At all. The ladies wanted to warn me so I didn't toss the box to the boys and let them open it up like an Easter box from Tim Burton.

We've spent the day nursing traumatized chicks. I was going to say "back to health", but I don't think we've been wildly successful. Four days without food or water is hard on anyone - on a newborn? *pfft* It's amazing that any of them have survived, at all. At the most optimistic point today, I thought we would have eleven left. Tonight, I think we'll be lucky to have saved four, come morning.

It's been a long, hard, draining day. The kids are amazing. James is like having James Herriot in the house. John's a wee Dr. Dolittle. All day long, stopping only for meals, they've been at it. I'm proud of them. I'm sad for them. Sad for the chicks, too. (And yes, the hatchery will square everything on their end. But it's not about renumeration. It's about how darn hard it is to explain to your 8yo that while his songs and gentle caresses won't make it all go away, they are Good, and they are Worth Doing. Because comfort and compassion are arrows that never miss their marks. Keep them in your quiver. Use them generously and well. You'll never regret it, even when it's hard.)

And now, I do believe it's time to slip a little Irish Cream into my coffee.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Autumn, the Legend

It's coming. We can't smell it, yet, but there's a change. The heat is not as oppressive, and it doesn't spring up with the sun, having waited just outside the window all night. Now, the mornings are lovely, and the evenings (mosquitoes and sweat bees, aside) are also enjoyable. This time of year is like the herald who forges ahead of the convoy, to announce its coming. We like this messenger!

The chickens have a cool set of nesting boxes, made from reclaimed deck boards. There's a great cabinet at the top, and a simple ledge in front of each row of boxes. The hens loved it. Until they defected. *sigh* The free-range thing didn't work out so well, and now the remainder of our hens are living at the neighbors' place. Ah, well, we'll build a large fenced yard, and try again. At least now, we have nesting boxes!

The Farmer's Market is still going strong. We've been enjoying these bad boys this summer. These aren't your grocery store style peach. They're... oh, my gosh, they're the kind of peaches you hear old-timers talking about picking after a day of walking fence lines and skipping rocks and catching tadpoles. So plump and ready that you have to eat them right then and there, the juice running down your arms, exploding in your mouth and quenching both your thirst and your tummy. Yep, that's what we found, the stories are true -- They are *that* sweet, and juicy, and delicious.
And now, with the start of September, we have birthdays and school days and dove hunting. Me-Wa and Me-Tae made sure the kids were ready to go, this weekend. James and John had a great time with Zorak and Me-Wa Saturday. Today, John and Jacob are out, doing the bird dog thing with Zorak. (I loved doing that with my nieces when we were little. Can't wait to hear how their day goes.)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

More Bird Pictures

(Shhhh. I'm posting these while I know Amy's on the road and not likely to see them. She'd thank me for it, if she knew.) :-)

Here are a few closer shots of the individual breeds. Because... Um, I can't think of anything else to blog right now. So, there you have it.

The Spartanly attired little white one, there, with the yellow head, is the other quail. They call her Smart Balance. I thought for sure she was a goner, after the drive home. She's doubled in size, and finally sprouted feathers. (She was almost completely nekkid for about a week. It was both fascinating and horrifying. I have a feeling that will sum up the overall experience, to be honest.)

This is a Welsummer. It's a Dutch breed, and such a strong, gorgeous bird. I love their plumage. The eggs are a terra cotta color, too, which is cool. These are James' picks.

Here's Navajo, one of the Ameracaunas. Isn't he gorgeous? I think this was the only male Ameracauna we had. Sadly, we've now lost all but two of them to some mystery depredation. This one and another, and, I'm sorry to say they went into sick bay this afternoon.

This one is Pingu. Have you seen the cartoon? Yeah, same basic personality. Cute as a button, but without the random yelling, "Pingu!" every once in a while.

John and Jacob had to be dragged away to baseball games tonight. They wanted to take rounds trying to find a way to help the little birds. James, who has utterly redeemed himself for not being able to narrate from the last chapter he read for Literature by filling me in on all kinds of little details about the sickly birds, is down there, now, coaxing some electrolyte fluids into the wee ones, and trying to get them to eat. It is amazing what he's learned so far!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Project Blogging: Chickens and such

Well, the promised chick pictures. This is the only shot we have of all of them (yep, tucked into the wheelbarrow while we finished up the details on the brooder box), as once they got into the brooder box, they scattered. Can't blame them.

So far, it's been bittersweet. The chicks are adorable and funny and mildly insane (I would give money to know what goes through their heads). The children are learning an extraordinary amount, and they're completely enamored with the chicks.

This one's a quail - the boys named him Java. We're 90% sure it's a male, anyway.

They love the roost Zorak put in, as an after thought. Well, some of them love it. The others stand beneath it and peck at the roosting one's toes. (Again... what goes through their minds?)

The bitter part is that we've lost three, today. That's a total of four, out of 30, and I'm trying hard not to freak out. We've touched base with Chicken People, who've helped us brainstorm ideas, and it seems this may just be part of the Bad Stuff Happens category. One got trampled the first day, when a bug got into the coop and they staged a food riot trying to catch it. But the other three have gone from fine, to "not quite right", to "stone cold dead" in a matter of hours.

There's no sign of mites or lice (hold on while I shudder, ew) or injuries. We keep checking and re-checking the temperature, food, water, space, litter, look for pasty butt... temperature, food, water... bet they're wondering what goes through our minds, too.

See the shavings in the food trough? They *just* put those there. I swear, they watch, snickering under their breath, as we clean out the food and water, wait for us to go wash our hands, and then one of them (I suspect the little black/cream mottled one, pictured below - she's ornery) chirps,

OK, everybody! Start kicking! Get it in there! WooHoo! Wait til you see their faces when they turn around!

They do this. I'm convinced of it.

The upshot is that none of the losses seem to be due to Toddler Depredation, or visits from the Bad Idea Fairy. That's a plus. (Ohhhh, I can't describe what a plus that is!) And, of those that remain, all look healthy, strong, and full of spunk. The boys and I, however, will breathe a sigh of relief when the chicks are a little bigger, a little stronger, and a little less fragile. Is there an animal version of poison ivy? Because, that, we have no problem keeping alive.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy