Drumroll, Please?

Nicole, the Lady at Lunamoth with the "Socks of Hideousness" contest, has found her winner: Michelle, who picked #117. And she has also found my winner for the consolation prize, consisting of the pea soup yarn and a copy of Nicole's sock pattern: Dawn, whose mother has perennially cold feet in the winter. Dawn, I think I need to send you a copy of my brother Dan's pattern for felted boot socks as well. Some of the farmers in my family swear by them, and my grandmother wore a pair during her last years. And they're fast to make up, which sounds like it will make your life easier.

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Meanwhile, the puppy is continuing her efforts to win over Dorian, the older cat (who continues to be apathetically disgusted with her). Rick likes to whisper little subliminal suggestions into her ear while he's petting her: "Luna, eat the gray cat." He's joking, of course - but either she was trying to groom Dorian cat-style yesterday, or she was experimenting with how he might taste.

He finally tagged her on the ear, which discouraged her for 90 seconds or so.

Too Smart For Her Own Good

Guess who has figured out how to open her kennel door with her teeth?

When I got home at lunch the other day, she'd dissasembled the cardboard cat-scratching pad, rearranged my knitting artfully across the bedroom floor, and was gleefully exploring this whole other section of the house called "upstairs" that she'd never known existed. She's very, VERY proud of herself.

Please don't eat the forsythia leaves

. . . or the bunny poop you found in the grass, or the bottle of yellow food coloring that Nora left unnoticed in the toe-kick of the kitchen cabinet, or the paper towel I'm trying to use to clean it up, or the power cord for my computer, or even my toes (thank you very much).

My God, a puppy is exhausting! I really loved having a dog to keep me company on long walks, and to settle happily by my side as I knitted through a movie. And Luna, of course, has the potential to do all of these things for many years to come, once we get through this puppy stage. But meanwhile, she requires a frustrating amount of my attention. I'm having trouble finishing a simple garter-stitch shawl (due tomorrow) because the baby has to be let out on pee breaks every 20 minutes or so, and can't be trusted out of sight even when she's safely behind her puppy gate. And of course, I need to be home at lunch and immediately after work for her potty breaks, which should at some point allow her to keep her playpen clean. (Not yet, though.) And we start every morning with a pre-dawn rush for the door (followed by yet another kennel cleaning), and end every evening standing there in the darkness trying to make sure her bladder is absolutely empty before bed.

I've always picked out older dogs - admittedly with a mixed success rate, but I generally knew what I was getting into. But everybody loves a puppy, I guess. And she was pretty darn adorable last night when 4 of the neighbor kids offered to "walk" her around the back yard for a bit. They actually had her jumping into piles of leaves with them! But I can't wait until she's just a bit older.

Puppies and Knitting

I bought a gate to keep the puppy on the tile until she has a better sense of discretion, but the only one wide enough to span our 48" kitchen entry needs to be screwed to the wall (rather than relying on some sort of spring-loaded mechanism). Or more precisely, it will need to be screwed into the wall on one end, and the kitchen bar on the other. The wall needs to be painted anyway, and patching sheet rock is fairly easy; but there is no way I'll be drilling holes in the cabinetry before Rick gets back. So for now, we've worked out a system of barricades and constant supervision. And the puppy is working out methods to outsmart them.

And did you notice how her favorite squeaky toy (shown) is remarkably similar to a loose ball of yarn? She keeps trying to steal the shawl I'm working on right out of my hands, and this morning got away from me and dove into my bedroom. Two seconds later she's back, happily trailing a stream of alpaca with a wad of lacework in her mouth. (No damage, thanks.)

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I was originally looking at a five month old dog, whereas Luna (chosen by Rick) is only 3 1/2 months. I figure that entitles me to voice my frustrations for the first 6 weeks, right?

New Puppy

I know it's fast. I'm still collecting little drifts of Nora's sheddings from various unexpected parts of the house, and am barely past the point of expecting her greeting when I walk through the door. But another dog was definitely going to happen, since it seems to be an important part of the way I deal with Rick's travel schedule. And after a week of mourning Nora, it gives me someone else to concentrate on and distract me from too much useless emotion. So meet Luna:

That's not some weird reflection in her eyes; they are actually blue on the bottom and brown on the top. She's about 14 weeks old, and the vet report hazards a guess that she'll be about 40 pounds as an adult. And with those eyes and her brindle paws, he thinks there's some Australian Cattle Dog in her genetic makeup.

In any case, I was actually looking at another dog (older, and at least partly house-trained) when this little girl stole Rick's heart. She does seem to have everything we could wish for in temperament, even if she did manage to both pee and throw up on me in the car on the way home. She's smart enough to have figured out in less than 24 hours how to get through the barrier between the tile and carpet areas of the house, and also smart enough to learn that she's not supposed to do it (at least, while I'm watching). And she sleeps in her crate just fine at night, even if she's not wild about it during the day. Does anyone have any idea how long potty training might take with a little girl like this?

Today is also Lucas' 19th birthday. I made him sweet rolls for breakfast, and gave him a big birthday hug. He's been sweet and caring of feelings around home, is doing well in college and is highly conscientious about his work and class schedules as well as his financial obligations. I told him I think adulthood is working out well for him thus far.

A Difficult Thing To Do

Goodbye, Nora. We loved each other as much as we dared.
I hope life treats you better your next time around the wheel.

Everything dies, Baby, that's a fact.

But maybe everything that dies, someday comes back.

Nora

My dog has the most unbelievably soft nose and ears. And she always bows to me in the morning, and then comes up to me with the most polite of junior-to-senior dog greetings. And she loves to run up to me in the driveway and explain to me how much she missed me and how nice it will be when I sit down and give her supper. And she is the best piece of exercise equipment I have ever owned - and probably the one I've actually achieved the most actual exercise with. And she is incredibly smart, picking up tricks and new obedience commands effortlessly. And she would LOVE to do agility training and competitions; she's already a huge fan of the tunnel and the ring.

But she's still biting. Tasha put a cup of hot chocolate down on the floor by her chair yesterday, and Nora tried to nip her when she reached for it. She cornered Rick in the kitchen two or three weeks ago and nipped him on both hands, one right after the other, for no reason. She lunged for Luc the last time he tried to put her leash on. She's developed a habit of stealing food from the pantry, and growling at anyone who tries to take it back. She even curled her lip at me this morning, again for no apparent reason. And it's getting worse.

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The dog trainer is strongly implying that she's just not safe to have around, and should probably be put down. Elizabeth agrees, and I suspect Noelle would as well (based on our last conversation). The fact is that after 4 months with us, if Nora is not safe in a quiet country home with patient adults, minimal disruption and lots of exercise, she's not going to be safe anywhere. I just hate to give up on her.

Wedding Garter

Here's the results of my attempt at Eloping . Frankly, I'm just never going to be a lace person. I thought I'd bang it out over a Sunday afternoon, and instead I spent two Sunday afternoons and three more stolen bits of midweek evening time to finish it up. The blue is that Glimmer alpaca, and it twinkles prettily even though it's incredibly soft. The silk for the ties is Debbie Bliss' Simply Silk - gorgeous stuff, but very slippery. I used my favorite washable and "dries flexible" fray check to secure the ends, or I'm sure it would slip right apart. The pattern called for narrow strips of elastic to be run through the eyelets below the ribbon (in this case, I cord), but I substituted some round elastic cord I found in Wally-World's fabric notions, then secured the ends together using the kind of crimp tubes one normally uses to finish off the ends of a ribbon or cord necklace. The result was kind of like those old hair elastics we used to use 20 years ago with the metal crimp. I wove it through so that the elastic crimp is on the private side of the garter, opposite the silk bow on the public side. Then I slammed it into an envelope and sent it to Maine, priority mail. The last bridal shower is Thursday - let's hope it makes it!

Meanwhile, Nora and I made a trip to the emergency vet on Friday night because the poor baby had a urinary tract infection. She had all the classic symptoms, and I have reason to be sympathetic towards this particular ailment. Besides, she was desperate to go out every 15 minutes or so on Friday evening, and then cried every time she squatted. So off we went. I called ahead and explained to them that I had a dog who did not like strangers on principal, had a history of abuse and neglect, and was now in a foul mood due to her illness. (Just last week the trainer was telling me that she "didn't know how this dog was ever going to be vetted.") But they were waiting at the door for us, then put us straight into a room where she could calm down and feel a little safer. Then I fed her bits of treats through the end of her muzzle while they swooped in quickly behind her and stabbed her in the butt with a sedative. Fifteen minutes later Nora was flying at altitude and we had no problem with the exam. $220 after that, we were discharged with two kinds of pills and a dog that was temporarily in love with everything that moved. So all is well.

Oh, and great day at market on Saturday. My best yet. I'm told that the couple who walked away with about $100 worth of prints were the owners of a major kitchen implements company you may have heard of. I really wish I'd remembered to print some more business cards out so I could have passed them one.

Our Garden is Famous

Look! We got a front page feature in the local paper. Isn't that cool? The reporter called me for an interview the other day, and then they sent reporters out on Tuesday night to photograph us doing the harvest. He even had the good sense to photograph my backside from a distance (if it must be photographed at all).

I just hope I don't catch too much grief for my little comment about it taking a few years for the idea of a garden to percolate through the approval process, and how it was a shame that the girls who first came up with the idea didn't get to actually work in the garden before leaving for college. I'm sure someone will bristle over that.

And speaking of church-related activities, at the last council meeting (which I missed), the minister passed different books out to all the ministry area coordinators with a request that we read them and present a book report to council. Let's face it - I've done my time with book reports. And between projects I've adopted for the upcoming wedding, my volunteer stuff with the garden/shelter/children's sermon/Habitat for Humanity/etc., the stuff I need to keep cranking out for the farmer's market (one more pirate hat . . . ) and my commitments to my real job and my family, I just don't have an extra 20 hours for "homework." So this morning I finally gave up and e-mailed the council to say I wasn't going to do the book report - maybe next month, but certainly not by Tuesday. I'm holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Meanwhile, it seems odd to say, but this morning was the first time Nora and I walked in honest-to-goodness rain. I think she would have preferred a ride.

Ancillary Factors

Trixie has decided there may be some redeeming benefits to having a dog in the house.

Where did Monday go, again?

I haven't been feeling well for the last few days; just general malaise stuff, possibly the result of too much snoring and not enough sleep. But I keep feeling like I'm behind the 8 ball and frantically trying to catch up. I was reciting the remaining steps of my morning routine the other day as I raced down to let the birds out, and I realized I had 8 things left to do and 4 minutes in which to do them. (1. Let the birds out. 2. Feed and water the chicks. 3. Pick a few handfuls of fresh switchgrass for the rabbit, who has been feeling poorly. 4. Feed and water the rabbit. 5. Feed the dog. 6. Retrieve my phone from the bedroom. 7. Retrieve my phone from the other car. And so on . . . . )

But market was good on Saturday, if not as great as the prior week. The pirate hats continue to be all the rage - I finally finished one in an adult size which went to April, the young lady who works at the market and had first asked for it a month ago. Then the lady who had ordered three stopped by, and I managed to sell her one of the undersized ones for her 8 year old while promising the other two adult ones really, really soon. Then an older lady from Rhode Island stopped by, having seen April's hat, and decided it was just what she needed as a gift for her goth granddaughter and asked me to mail her one. And April's younger sister asked for a corn-stitch hat in plain white, with a caution that she did NOT want to match her sister. And another lady ordered a baby hat, rolled brim with squared off top, with matching mittens in a frog theme. All told, I need to make 4 more adult hats and a baby hat & mittens by Saturday, just to keep up. That's one per day.

So yesterday, still feeling lousy anyway and a bit overtired from attending the horse pull at the State Fair on Sunday (very cool - I still find it amazing to watch thousands of pounds of horse go airborn for the sheer fun of hauling) I called in sick. Slept until noon, which made me feel a little better, even if I was down again with a migraine by afternoon. And then I knitted.

Knitting soothes the troubled soul, Elizabeth Zimmerman said. (Or something like that.) It's also nice to concentrate on something repetitive and not too demanding when my head hurts. So I did this:

I figure if I do one "not-pirate" project in between cranking out pirate hats, I will get what I need done and still won't go crazy. The hat on the left is the requested frog hat, using the frogs from Pondemonium. (Embroidered eyes and mouth will follow.) Standard recipe, using 66 stitches on size 4 needles. I still need to do matching mitts, but I will have to do some research first to find out exactly how large 6 month old mitts should be. I'm thinking I'll do them in the same blue/white/green space-dyed cotton (Peaches & Creme, of course) I used on the top & bottom of the hat, and then embroider little flies on them.

Meanwhile, Nora seems a bit out of sorts as well. Maybe it's because with me not feeling well, her walking schedule has been a bit off. She also endured a much needed bath at the dogwash on Saturday, after we established that she didn't like waves and was NOT going into the lake. But she growled at me yesterday afternoon when I was trying to teach her to "shake"; then Luc took her for a walk and she panicked and snapped at him when he tried to free the leash she was sitting on. I put her in her kennel and isolated her after that last incident to emphasize that this was not socially acceptable behavior, and the trainer has warned us that there will be ups and downs as she learns to trust us. Still, Tasha is coming home from camp tomorrow and it worries me when Nora gets like this. But today we managed her two mile walk without incident, and she had a great time on the deck helping me photograph hats. So every day is a little better for her, more or less.

Spotting chickens.

Walking

Four miles a day. So far I'm not seeing a big change in my size, although I'm hoping for a noticeable difference when I go back to the clinic for a re-check at the end of the month (especially since I'm finally off the medication with the bloating side effect). I'm not stiff after walking any more, and sometimes the walks are really enjoyable. And Nora not only has experienced a huge shift in personality for the better during the course of our walks, but Rick says she is starting to assume a vaguely "dog-like shape." The trainer agrees. But boy oh boy, sometimes I'd really rather not get up!

The guy on Calling All Pets last week was talking about the benefits of having an animal as an exercise partner. You can't call in sick to a dog, or tell a dog you have too much going on in the office. The dog needs to walk, and expects to see you on the other end of that leash rain or shine. For the next ten years or so.

I keep fantasizing about a scooter, and just letting the dog run beside me like Shelly Long and Steve Gutenberg in Don't Tell Her Its Me. And I keep picturing myself trudging through a blizzard in a few months, wearing Dad's down mittens while the dog is geared up in little fleece booties.

Nora is great - we've bonded well, and I really enjoy having her around. Rick has even warmed up to her. But gawd, the walks . . . stretching on in front of me ad infinitum . . .

Can't Get Much Better

The weather over the last few weeks has been generally fabulous - the kind of climate that we're really, really going to miss in about five months. Days where the sun plays across your face but doesn't try to beat you into submission; and warm clear evenings that envelope you like a soft dark security blanket while providing an incredible display of stars. (I even saw a shooting star last night, the second in less than a week. I love the Perseids!) Perhaps it's due to my much increased walking schedule with Nora, but I've just been in awe of how wonderful a Wisconsin summer can be.

But the days are already noticeably shorter, and it's only going to get worse from here. It's getting harder to fit in the time for 2 or 3 miles before dusk, so for safety reasons I popped into Fleet Farm last night and bought a reflective vest for me and a reflective collar for Nora. I was really hoping for a reflective vest for her, something with a little more area which would show up better when she's facing traffic; but since Fleet Farm failed me, I may have to swing into PetDumb or someplace like that. In the mean time, I hung a thumb-sized mini-flashlight from her collar and carried a mag light in my inside hand, and we both felt very virtuous and safety conscious. (Nora kept sniffing the ground in front of her for the first mile, trying to get a scent on that dot of light by her foot.) I put her gear on again this morning, so she could model her "safety dog" look for the blog.

I remembered all that gear, and my camera, and my phone. What I forgot was training treats, which really would have been handy when we passed the cows again. Nora is still highly suspicious of cows - especially curious ones that walk towards her making unidentifiable noises. The best think I could think of was to put her in a down/stay and make her see that I was in control and nothing was going to happen. Treats would have been better, since I think she doesn't always trust my judgment when a photographic opportunity presents itself. Oh, well.

"The Secretary Next Door"

The attorney in the next office over had to leave the building and asked if I could hold something to be picked up later in the day. (No problem, of course.) Then he called the other party to tell them he'd left the materials with "the secretary next door."

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Let me say that again: "the secretary next door." I mean, I'm sitting here on the Group W Bench - sorry, I mean, in my tastefully decorated office with all the diplomas on the wall, doing that legal thing and billing for it at a pretty impressive rate thankyouverymuch, and looking back on my 16 years of legal experience and 7 years of college and all . . . and suddenly I'm "the secretary next door." (Tears hair out, bangs head against wall, takes deep breath, and moves on.)

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Lessee . . . Saturday was one of my better days at the market. To top things off, Patty Akers from Gaelic Sands (the silk painting lady) stopped by my booth with several lengths of silk, so we could pick out exactly what size and weight to use for my next project. You see (and this is very cool), I'm going to paint silk shawls for the wedding party to use during my brother's wedding this fall. Doesn't that sound great? The dresses are going to be a copper color, and the flowers will be mums in warm fall palate, so Patty has invited me to her studio to make floralesque swirls and abstract resist images and generally just play. I need to make a run to Appleton as soon as my bonus check arrives to pick up my dress and give us a target color, and then order the silk blanks from her company - and then it's playtime!

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I got a call from Rick just as I was packing up from market on Saturday. I'd stayed up late the night before to finish one of the pirate hats, then left the remote on the beat up little couch which is the only piece of furniture where the dog is allowed. The next morning she was sitting there when he went in, and in no uncertain terms told him that he was NOT getting near "her" couch or the remote laying on it. Keep in mind that she'd met him a week ago Sunday, then not seen him again until he got home late Friday night. So from what she knew, this was an occasional visitor to the house with undetermined privileges and a big question mark in the "trustworthy" category. Just the same, this kind of behavior is not going to work. I talked to boss lady about it, and she gave me the name of a local trainer. Nora and I had an emergency first session with her on Saturday evening and signed up for a full series starting tonight. But I did learn that Nora knows her obedience commands very well (whereas I'm a bit hazy about the whole thing), and that she needed a better collar, a better leash, and at least 4 miles of walking a day. Oh, and an umbrella insurance policy wouldn't be a bad idea.

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Gulp.

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So we walked 4 miles on Sunday, after which the dog just kind of lay there for the rest of the night. Me too. But I'm not ready to give up on her yet.

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Finally, I present you with an image of my new hen, who replaces the little red hen killed last week by someone else's dog. Notice how many feet she has sticking out from underneath her feathers? She's supposed to have 13 chicks under there, but she's not planning on letting me count them just yet.

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Highs and Lows

When I got home from my meeting last night, Nora was in a fabulous mood. It seems Isaac had fished some left-over chicken thighs out of the fridge, then decided they were a little too ripe for human consumption. So Nora got some attention, and some nice greasy chicken bits, and bonded a bit more with Isaac and Lucas (who sat on the floor and played his guitar for her), and generally had a good time. Then I took her out in the field to practice some obedience commands - which of course involved cheese - and she was the most relaxed and happy that I've seen her yet.

This morning, we took off on our walk as usual. She's much better on a leash these days; she understands that when I say "car," she has to come over and walk immediately next to me. But the rest of the time she is free to follow interesting smells, lag back a little or range ahead a little, so long as she stays within the boundaries of the retractable leash. This was working out beautifully. I set the pace and direction, and she didn't pull or give me any trouble at all. But as we were walking past a field, she was trotting along in the ditch with her nose to the ground. She must have caught a whiff of something and tried to follow it into the field for a bit before I called her back. Now this was a hayfield, being used for cultivation rather than for grazing animals. There was some tall grass along the edge, but I had no reason to think there was an electrical fence. As a matter of fact, with all that dew-covered grass, you'd think any electrical fence would have been shorted out anyway. But all I know is that just as Nora hit the edge of the field (and just as I was calling her back), she let out a huge yelp and came running to me for protection. She cowered on my foot for a while, then finished the walk strictly on the pavement, occasionally shying at things like banana peels and twigs. And now she just wants to lay on the living room carpet and look depressed.

I don't know if it was a fence, or maybe a thorn, or even a snake. But after her being so happy & cheerful last night, I hate to see her so depressed.

There ought to be a law

What a freakin' gorgeous day. Who could be expected to work on a day like today?

I took Nora out for an early morning potty break, and kept her on a leash just so we wouldn't have to discuss when to go back inside. She stepped off the porch and then gave me an expression like "Walk! Cool!" - and then headed for the road. I slowed her down long enough to pull on some sandals I'd left on the porch, and off we went.

I'd had some concerns about whether she was ready for the whole walk thing, what with the fear anxiety and all. I still need to buy her a muzzle and then get her comfortable in it before I'm really interested in introducing her to a lot of strangers. And she still needs some training on how to walk on a leash - she tends to wander after every interesting smell, whether that be into the bushes or across the road. But we went down the road just a bit (with me in my t shirt and pj bottoms), then turned onto the path through Sybil's woods and walked down to the chapel and back. We ended up back in our East field, and I had time to grab my camera out of the car while Nora got a good long back scratch in the wet field grass. She looked like a doofus, waiving her feet around and snorting; but she also looked like a very happy dog.

Steps in the Right Direction

It's not that I often make anything directly from the patterns on theanticraft.com (although a friend did crochet Maiden's Glory for me to wear at our little ceremony last September). But their patterns seem to trigger an endless number of ideas and useful bits and pieces. Take that baby pirate hat. The chart came from a project on that website, a shrug that I can't find just now which had colorwork skull & crossbones symbols on the wrist of each blousy sleeve. But I went back there tonight to try to dig the chart back up for the adult version of the hat, and came across this instead:





Cute, eh? The chart is 17 stitches wide, which works out well on 80 stitches worth of hat as a 4 pattern repeat with three stitches in between. I got my sticks, I got my string - I'm ready to rock.
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Dog report: in a moment of joyful abandon fueled by sunshine, uncut grass and several bits of cheese, Nora let me hook a 5' web leash to her collar and lead her back into the house at the end of our after-work romp. She's a little less sure of herself with the leash in place, so it seemed best to leave it on so that she could get used to it (and so I wouldn't have to fiddle around under the neck of a nervous dog who is still learning not to snap). This meant that when I threw some tortellini and veggies in a bowl for my supper, I was able to hook the retractable leash onto the handle of the web leash easily, step out on the porch, and let her roam the full 23' combined length while I sat and ate. She was having such a good time sniffing around in the evening air, we even went for a little "walk" around the field to see how well she'd react to the leash. She did fine. I still intend to pick up a muzzle for her; I seldom run into anyone on my morning walks, but if I did I don't want to unconsciously tense up and communicate to her that strangers are worrisome. Not only do I have liability concerns, but I want to be sure that (a) she can't hurt anyone in a panic; and (b) she learns that fear aggression is not only disapproved, but useless. But I'm still very encouraged by the fast progress she's made so far.

This is going to be a challenge

She's here.
She's scared, and nervous, and defensive. She does NOT want to be touched by us, although she was very affectionate with the foster mother. She's nipped and growled a few times, warning us off and showing her fear (but never breaking the skin). She's even making some sort of "hmmmmmmmm" noise at the cats - I can't read the expression on her face, since her eyes had that "I'm not sure what to do but I'm trying to be submissive" look but her lip was pulled back a bit.

She's willing to obey my commands up to a point, although "come" and "off the couch" have met with some argument. I have reason to believe she's been abused in connection with both these commands; I may have to come up with alternative words for the same effect, then train her to understand them. Allons-Y is a bit difficult to make sound staccato and sharp. Same issue with Binga. Maybe "to me" for come, and "couch" for get down?

The trick is to win her over while giving her as much personal space as necessary to adjust and to her new situation, and yet subtly reinforce my "lead bitch" status and steer her away from any situations where we might have to argue about my authority. (At this stage, I strongly suspect that if she felt cornered and endangered, she would definitely bite.)

The good news is, we have time to work through this.

A dog! A dog! A dog!

It's been over a year since we laid Mindy to rest, and every time I take a walk by myself, or every time a reddish blond dog (or any other variety) passes by me at market, or every time I hear about puppies being available, I think of her and wish for another dog. But, I work full time and couldn't give a puppy the training it would need. And the carpet (and Rick) are still recovering from when Mindy lost her sense of discretion in her last few months. And it wouldn't be fair to stress out the cats with a dog who might not get along with them. And a whole lot of other good, logical reasons.
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So, meet Nora:



She's a 3 year old spayed blue heeler / beagle mix whose owner suffered brain damage in a motorcycle accident and can't care for her any more. She's got a blue heeler's philosophy about only warming up to her "own" people and being a little protective of them; but she's not desperate for a job like most working breeds, and is happy to be a couch potato after her morning walk. And she loves, absolutely adores cats.
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She's coming to meet us and check out our home on Sunday afternoon. I can't wait!!