Paws for Reflection

Our Life In Print...

Today I got a wild hair, and while there are some hilarious adventures involving Homer Jess and a patio table that I'll recount tomorrow, for now I'll share some funnies that remind me of my family...

First, there's Mom:  Matriarch, Martyr, Jewish Accountant with a Caffeine Addiction and a Prediliction for Shiny Expensive Rocks.

Then, there's my brother Todd.  He tries his best to be a textbook redneck, and a good ol' boy, but really, he's just Homer in people form.  Sweet, lazy and always up for a pizza.

Then there's my boy Homer.  The sweetest thing ever, with a penchant for driving me crazy.  Maybe he just likes the sounds I make when I go "Aaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrggggghhhhhhhh!"

But no pup story would be complete without my sweet girl, who spends approximately 55% of her waking hours barking.  She spends 35% of her time sleeping and snuggling, and the remaining 10% looking for trouble.  Usually, she's pretty good at finding it.

Last but in no means least, there's me.  Fabulous, stylish, and, you know, MONEY.  And all those other good things.  Sometimes it sucks to the be the only perfect human being in a world of flawed copies, but you know, I manage.

Bad Habits Travel Fast

So Homer Jess  is settling in.  He is a very skittish dog (when awake), and I am beginning to wonder if he doesn't have some sort of dark and murky past.  Now that he is getting sleep (away from the cacophony of the kennel), has good food to eat, and is getting regular grooming, his personality has come out to play.  He is awake longer, is becoming more active (read: he's up for at least THREE HOURS A DAY!), and is interacting with Dora.  However, he startles pretty easily, and flinches when you come up on him unexpectedly.  I am hoping that this is just an adjustment period, and that he will settle down (but hopefully not into a coma), and I sincerely hope that it is not indicative of abuse.  Two of my last three pups were hard core abuse cases, and it took almost two years before they achieved a state of grace and got comfortable enough to be easy peasy lemon squeezy. 

So, as I said, the little Homer turtle is coming out of his shell, and has shown his first wart... he is a lunatic.  I am going to use the word lunatic very deliberately, as in medieval times it was the general consensus that insanity was caused by lunar cycles and such.  Homer Jess, bless his little diabolical and psychotic heart, loves to sleep the day away, calm as you please, and then slip outside in the wee hours to bay his fool head off at the moon.  It's almost 1 a.m. as I write this, and we have just finished the "Hush! Homer Jess, get in the house!  Fool dog, what the heck are you barking at?" conversation, which is accompanied by me walking out into the yard to "see" what he's barking at (big glowy white thing in the sky - can't miss it), him waggling his whole butt until I think he's going to fall over, him walking around me in a circle (hmm...moon worshiping...circle walking... if he starts wearing a robe and talking about sacrifices at the Spring Equinox, I'm outtie) and then the both of us going back in the house.  At which point he will sit and scratch at the door to go back out, I will give in after a few minutes of incessant scratching, he will be outside for about 4 minutes, scratch to come back in, make a perimeter walk around the house, scratch to go out, rinse, lather, repeat. 

After he has driven me thoroughly batcrap crazy with this routine (minimum 45 minutes to complete one full revolution) he will sigh contentedly, wait for me to get up and get a drink or go to the bathroom, then proceed to steal my spot on the couch and slip into a coma.  He is very nearly a professional at this, though it only started a few days ago, and learned it from a master (yes, that would be Dora, who has extended her couch skill set to include my bed and the futon in the TV room).

I have also noted another bad habit developing in our favorite neighborhood coonhound - and that he is particularly suited to this particular habit, though he has only recently learned it... counter surfing.

Remember how I said Monkey-See Monkey-Do was a concern I had.  Oh, so right.  Take a look at the weapon of choice:

Oh - how cute! (you might think)... how soft it looks - nose rubs!... how sweetly his whiskers quiver!  and...it's almost a heart shape - he is full of love, our Homer Jess.  You might be lured into thinking that he is all sweetness and light, and that with his little sweet nose and velvety ears and soulful brown eyes he could never even contemplate getting into mischief... and you would be oh...so...wrong.

Homer has learned to counter surf like a pro (again from a Master, though she is much quicker to desist when noticed) and is on a mission to find ways to supplement his diet.  His cute little fuzzy nose is Cheetoh Death Radar in disguise, and once again we are putting all consumables in the microwave over the stove to stop the random pillaging.  Although they haven't managed to cause any serious damage yet, I can see that there are some snacks who's days are numbered (although I may not be around to witness their demise, since my Evil Sibling fed both Homer and Dora mexican food last night - I now think that the air inside my house is at least 76% methane).  We have thus far added peanut butter cookies to the list of things he loves, and put black olives on the list of things that Dora will spit back out onto the floor. 

Well, we'll see how it goes.  I'm going to give him (well, both of them really) the benefit of the doubt - it took my other pups MONTHS to learn how to open the pantry and the refrigerator.  These guys are just as clever, so let's see what they cook up next. 

There goes Homer Jess again... baying at the moon.

Overwhelmed...

So the past three days have been crazy.  Between getting all of Homer's ducks in a row and scheduling his surgery (September 9th), unpacking and cleaning from vacation, running duty at the firehouse, getting my nephew ready for his first day of Kindergarten (Tuesday - and HOW THE HELL IS HE OLD ENOUGH FOR KINDERGARTEN?!?!? He was just born...the other day!)  and finishing the prepwork for the retreat next week, I feel like I have been trapped in the spin cycle in the Universe's washing machine. 

WHEW!  I'm actually going to bed early tonight, as I need to get up at 6 am tomorrow and get a lot done, so this won't be a long post - well, that, and not much has happened that would be of interest to anyone but the Tax Man, and I ain't tellin' him NUTHIN'!

My girl Dora, as always, has been my staunchest moral support, and I'd like to give her a shout out for her unflagging support. 

Thought I was kidding about it being a short post, eh?  That'll learn ya.

Home Sweet Internet....

Well, we're finally home.  The started out beautifully, birds singing, sun shining, Bob Marley playing in the background (OK - I might have made that last part up, but if Life had a soundtrack, Bob-O would definitely be on it)... and we've left West Virginia to trek on home.

It's been quite nice to be out in the mountains, especially as the weather has been beautiful and everyone has been in a (mostly) good mood.  I will tell you that I have NOT enjoyed the complete lack of internet - I have become so spoiled by my constant connection at home that the sporadic wireless in the backwoods has been like a red hot (fiber optic) poker in the eye!  Surfing the net and posting on a 1.0mbps connection is like being beaten to death with a lead toothpick.  It will eventually happen, but you'll wish most fervently for a guy with a guillotine and a basket for your head before it's over. 

On another note, at least the vacation was useful for the pups - they got to explore the wilds of West VA, experience the wildlife up close and personal (albeit through a screen on the porch) and teach each other new and valuable skills.  Dora has made excellent progress in footpath blockage since Homer Jess taught her how to sleep in doorways, and Homer has come quite a ways in emulating our big girl, particularly in how he sits.

The Master:

The Apprentice:

Now all he has to do is learn to lean, and follow me everywhere I go, even if it's 3 feet away.

Anyway, this morning was low key.  We got up, we drank coffee, we packed to go home.  Lou watched Beethoven IV for the 12th time, and Dora found a comfortable patch of sunshine from which to oversee the proceedings.  Surprisingly, after one aborted attempt to initiate Wubba play, she didn't get up off the couch until we were almost ready to go.  (Seriously, we've been on vacation all week and NOW you decide to take it easy???)

But as usual, she was fabulous.  She spent the entire ride home with her head either on my console, out the window, or worming her way under my arm.  She's such an angel!  She gave a little "hey dude!" bark to Homer Jess in Todd's car when we stopped at 7-11, but it might have had a slight edge of superiority to it, a kind of "I'm riding in the cooler car. Suffer!" that I don't encourage, but really, my car *IS* cooler. 

Homeward, Jeeves!

Other than that, the day passed swiftly, and now we're all ready to hit the rack and prepare to return to the grind. Why can't real life come with 6 months of free vacation for every year you purchase?

Down by the River to Play!

Here we are on our last day in the Sunshine State (Yes, I know that By-God-West-Virginia is actually the Mountain State - but it's been sunny and gorgeous every day we've been here, so I'm arbitrarily renaming it for this post.  Don't worry - I've already got my ticket for the bus trip to Hell.) and it's been astonishingly low key.  The plan for Round Two at the flea market at dawn this morning fizzled out with hardly a whimper, although there was (a little) whimpering from me this morning when my nephew came in at 7 am "just to check" when I would be "getting up and taking a shower and getting dressed and getting my butt out of bed."

I did eventually get up (by 7:15, the third time Lou asked me how long it was going to take before I was awake - NOW I remember why I got my tubes tied...) and take a shower.  My girl Dora didn't feel like sleeping alone, so she went out on the porch and suckered Todd into lovin' on her while I was in the shower.  I am simply enormously grateful she was still in the process of waking up, and didn't grab her Wubba. 

Even Homer Jess was on the "let's lay around and eat Cheetos for breakfast" train - his vote was actually for Cheetos and belly rubs.

We did eventually all mobilize, even if we only made it about 4 miles down the road.  I had seen a sign on the side of Route 9 claiming "Public Stream Access", so we went down there, but after a trip down the long, winding (and somewhat disturbingly deserted on a sunny summer Sunday afternoon - say that five times fast!) road we arrived here:

"Public Stream Access" turned out to mean "Random Boat Launch", and there was not a speck of usable shore in sight once you stepped off the concrete launch.  So, back in the car we went (the pups were like, "But Moooooooooooom...we just got here!") and drove a couple more miles down Route 9, to just over the bridge by Wilt Road where I had seen an old abandoned house with some pretty decent shoreline in the backyard.  It turned out that everything down the road was marked "Private Property" and "No Trespassing" (killjoys) so we kept driving down the road, just to enjoy the scenery and give Mom a chance to look at the properties (she is considering buying a house out here) and Lo and Behold! About two miles down the street (past all the people with their pup tents set up in the shoulder and the illegal trash fires) was a public park with about a hundred feet of shoreline.  There were only about three people there, so we decided to get the pups out and go for a stroll, to see what there was to see. 

Dora and Homer immediately started for the footpath through the scrub, and Mom set up her little camp chair so she could watch Lou frolic in the river.  I was all game to take a walk with the pups, but I somehow had a short in my brain, and I erroneously decided that it would be a good idea to take off my shoes for the walk, as we would undoubtedly be walking in the water, and I didn't want to carry them.

Uh, yeah.  Except for the fact that the path was dirt, and rocks, and really sharp twigs, and ended up parallelling the river a good ten-twenty feet away, not leading down into it.  (It did eventually dead end into the river, but on the other side of one of those pesky "No Trespassing - Private Property" signs).  So we wandered down a bit, and I was about halfway back when I decided to HELL with it, and traipsed through the underbrush to get to the riverbank.  Dora was like, "uh...where are you going?"

She and Homer both were on board with walking in the shallows, given our sojourn on Friday at the National Park.  Homer was his typical hound self, dragging Todd all over creation to smell something new...

Then again, he and Todd are kindred souls - I didn't hear any splashing for a few minutes, and since Dora and I had forged ahead (with no pesky shoes to worry about getting wet), and when I looked back, they were both engrossed in plumbing the depths of the murky waters.

We eventually meandered back to the stretch of shoreline where Mom and Lou were camped out, Louis busily moving the shoreline back by scooping up rocks and throwing them as far as he could.  Todd and I decided to go swimming a bit, and thought we'd take the pups out a bit into the river and swim with them.  (I also figured it would be good to get Homer a bit of exercise, and the water would be way easier on his hips than traipsing through the woods).  That plan went swimmingly (ha! I kill myself!) up until a) we realized that the river was only about knee to thigh deep almost all the way across, and b) Homer let us know under no circumstances would he be going out into the river by pulling a Houdini right out of his harness and hightailing it back to shore.  Well, so much for that plan.

Dora, intrepid explorer that she is, was somewhat wary about venturing out into the river, and it didn't help that the riverbed was rocky, uncomfortable to walk on, and slippery with some unidentifiable slime that is either the byproduct of a million fiber-eating fish or an experiment dumped in the river by the staff of Nickelodeon.

She was a trooper about it, sometimes having to be coaxed, but for the most part just picking her way daintily through the slime to forge on ahead, although there was that one bad moment when the smell of the hamburgers the people on shore were cooking carried on the breeze over the smell of the river...

There was the one scare where she leapt about a foot straight up out of the water (I think a fish brushed up against her) and then hightailed it over to hide by me, but after about 5 minutes of cuddling and promises that I wouldn't let anything hurt her, she calmed down. I, on the other hand, was a bit eeked out, since by that point I not only smelled like suspicious river water but like wet dog and slobber. I didn't have my Treo on me out in the river, but I had mentally scheduled about four showers in Clorox within seconds.

But, true to her nature, she kept on keepin' on, and we shortly managed to reach the large rocky outcropping in the middle of the river, where Dora proceeded to lose her mind posthaste.  She definitely had a thing for the grass growing in the river, and though we explained to her about the whole "can't see bottom, might not be ground underneath" and the "might be snakes or bad things within", she really didn't care, and proceeded to traipse through it at every opportunity.  There was one patch on top of the big rock group that she was particularly enamored with, which was surrounded by a tidal pool full of stagnance and unidentifiable green things floating in it.  Given that it reeked to high Heaven and was probably toxic enough to glow in the dark, judging by the smell and the number of dragonflies darting around it - it should be NO surprise that Dora immediately set about coating herself in it's fragrance.  At first I thought she had found a sinkhole and fallen, but when she got up out of the grass and proceeded to roll around in it about 40 more times, I finally got that she was dousing herself in River Perfume, like a down and out socialite at the Nordstrom's perfume sample counter. Download P8240072.AVI 

It's got to be love, since there is no other explanation that allows for why I thought that this was hysterical, when I am staying in a house with no outside water or hose and a bathtub too small to fit her in.  I'd love to say that it doesn't matter, since she's going to be sleeping with me tonight, and that love is blind - but unfortunately, love's nose works perfectly well, and she is RIPE.

In any event, after rolling in Eau du Scuzz, Exploradora went on to investigate the tidal pools...

...the eddies and hidden pockets of the shoreline...

and how far she could jump from rock to rock.

She roamed and she romped, she traipsed through the grass (to the point where sometimes all I could see was her butt in the air, tail wagging furiously, while she rooted in the mud), she discovered that she DOES NOT like water with a current, and that it's much more fun to grab at the water in big gulping mouthfuls that splash all over than it is to daintily lick and drink like a lady. 

She was astonishingly good today, never roaming very far, and always coming back when I called her.  I tried to not be overprotective and neurotic, but to her credit the very few times I made the "negative buzzer" sound (EHN!), she backed right off whatever she was doing.  Homer Jess, the big pansy, hightailed it out of the water like his rear end was on fire, then proceeded to heartrendingly bay his fool head off every time he heard us laughing out on the water.  *sigh*  Maybe after his hips heal we can go down to the Potomac or out to Great Falls and try again.  You never know - maybe he's not a big coward - then again, maybe I should get set up a kiddie pool in the yard and let him practice.  Maybe if I throw a few fish and some disgusting slime in there with him, he'll work his way up to a river someday. 

Then again, it's hard to compete with such a massive and noble specimen as my girl.  She's like Linda Carter, bracelets, lasso and all, but in dog form.

So, after we had thoroughly investigated all of the rocks, flushed out whatever critters thought they were going to enjoy a Sunday in peace, and cavorted through the mud back toward shore, all of us got into the water to play with Louie for a bit before heading back.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful.  We stopped for pizza on the way home, Mom and I ran into the Goodwill next door while we waited for the food, and I got a fabulous purple velvet blazer and a tortoiseshell bakelite belt for like $6!  We all took showers as soon as we got home to wash the river off (and don't you doubt for a second that Homer Jess and Dora are going under the hose the minute we get home tomorrow) and the pups were sacked out within a half hour of coming home. 

(Yesssssss.... no Wubba tonight!) 

I'm going to try and hit the sack early, get up tomorrow morning and pack - hopefully we'll be home by about 1.  I CANNOT WAIT to get home - a stable internet connection (YAYAYAYAY), popsicles, my own bed, a decent shower, and a house that doesn't smell like mold and have cobwebs in every corner.  It will be DELICIOUS! I've enjoyed the woods, don't get me wrong, but I'm just not a sort of roughing it kind of girl - give me nothing (tent, outhouse, stream) or give me all (Ritz Carlton).  I don't really care for anything in between!

West Virginia Saturday Night...

Well, you get down the fiddle and you get down the bow
Clean up the pee over there by the door
Throw the damn Wubba 'til the morning light,
West Virginia Saturday night!

With all due apologies to Mel McDaniel's and the very lovely Louisiana Saturday Night, I simply could not resist.  Except for the three hours this afternoon when Mom and I hit the local flea market, I have been throwing Dora's Wubba non-stop.  Of course, the only arm I can throw with is the injured one.  I tried throwing with my left, and not only did I throw completely and humiliatingly badly, but I almost put the Wubba through a window that does not belong to me.  West Virginia wrist brace (butter knives and duct tape) it is. 

Dora is also much happier when I throw it far and wide - it allows her to run approximately 73.5 miles a day without having to break a sweat or worry about cramps. After the first few left handed throws, she sat down with me to discuss throwing strategies.  She said, and I quote:

"Seriously, don't use this arm.  You suck with it.  Use the other one."

On the upside, at least one arm will get super muscular while I am here, and thank God I'm not a guy, so I won't have to endure any "one arm exercise" jokes, followed by some salacious winking.  Eek. And Ew.

On the other hand, my brother, who threw the Wubba MAYBE three times, got a handshake and a "Good Game".  I'm beginning to mistrust Ms. Dora's judgment. 

We threw the Wubba at breakfast.  We threw the Wubba during coffee.  We threw the Wubba WHILE IN THE SHOWER because someone has figured out that the door opens with a good push and that shower curtains are not solid.  We threw the Wubba before leaving for the flea market.  We threw the Wubba frantically upon returning from the flea market, since Todd took a nap the entire time we were gone and was not awakened by the Wubba-to-the-face routine.  We even threw the Wubba in between bites of spaghetti dinner, although some pasta sauce may have inadvertently been flung as well.

I did try to hand off the torch, so to speak, but Lou thought it was super funny when she pulled it out of his hands, and he throws worse than I do left handed. 

In the end, what I have discovered about the Wubba is that it is just better to give in.  She will stand, patiently waiting, for HOURS.

And really, who can resist THIS FACE???

My advice?  Don't resist that face. Resisting that face will often bring THIS face out to play:

Seriously people, it could get ugly.

Other than the 23.74 hours today I spent throwing Dora's Wubba, not much went on.  I started the day kind of tired anyway, since there were several "bark alarms" that went off during the night, at least one within 2.75cm of my ear drum.  I never thought that I would be thankful that she has a habit of sleeping with her head at my feet and her ass in my face, but it's probably the only thing saving my hearing.

On the upside, I think I have discovered the inspiration for much of Dora's barking, and have attempted to neutralize the threat:

It could be these guys, but they travel in packs, and I don't think I could take 'em. Sometimes they have sharp and pointy things, which I'm allergic to.

So that was mine and Dora's day - Mom's went along the same lines and Todd's was spent sleeping, eating, and playing Star Trek on the Playstation.  Homer, naturally, spent the day resting up for tomorrow, as he does every day, except for the one 15 minute period he got off the couch, dug a hole in the yard, and proceeded to full out brawl with Dora.  They knocked the food bowl over in the process, but this is nothing new, and something that Homer manages to do at LEAST four times a day.  I spend more time picking up kibble than I do eating my own meals, and I invariably miss a piece only to find it later on with the tender underside of my foot. Poor Homer never seems to realize that strewing his kibble all over creation upsets me, and probably thinks that "Jeezus HOMER, AGAIN?" is his new name.  (Dora doesn't realize I object to the barking either, and I KNOW she recognizes DAMMIT, DORA! as something involving her, as she wags her tail when she hears it.)

Other than that, Homeskillet the wonder dog spent the day just doing his part to keep the couch down.  Rock On, little brother, Rock On.   

Bark at the Park...

Today was the big day at the park - Harper's Ferry National Historic Park.  It's only about 20 minutes down the road, and has miles and miles of trails along with some really prime riverfront on the Shenandoah.  We figured we'd take the pups and Louie down there and everybody could romp in the water for the day. 

We meant to get an early start (say...8am) but, uh, yeah.  Well, hell, we're on vacation - who's really clocking us? So, we got underway a little after 9 am and were at the park before 10, fare paid, map obtained, and Dora and Homer Jess both having had the opportunity to thoroughly examine the environs of the Visitor Center.  I don't know if it's because it's a weekday, because it was early, or because that's just the way they are, but the park employees were FABULOUS.  The lady at the gate made pleasant small talk and directed us exactly where we needed to go, and then the guy in the Visitor's Center (after seeing the ponies on leashes outside) suggested that we park in a satellite lot that is apparently an open secret, as it was much smaller and about half the distance walking from where we were.  He probably saved us a good 25-30 minutes walk to get to the Lower Town. 

The kids were angels for the car ride up, and the pups were SUPER excited when we got out in the park.  Homer immediately went nose to the ground, and I think he ran head-first into at least two signposts while on his Smell-O-Thon.  He is definitely a dog intrigued by the unknown, our Homeskillet - every time we came to an intersection, he had to pause (paws) for reflection. (Ha! Ha!)

Should he take the Bridge to Terabithia?

Or the road less traveled?

Which will make all the difference? (Yes, I *heart* Robert Frost).  Well, I don't know, but since I was the Leash Master, he ended up taking the hiking trail, which led into Harper's Ferry. Don't get me wrong - there were plenty of fascinating things to be seen on the hiking trail, albeit mostly invisible to Man.  I did see some egrets, about a gazillion ducks, and the occasional winged insect, but given Dora and Homer's radar-like senses, I am fully aware that I missed seeing all the good stuff.

Now, given my usually insatiable curiosity, I might have even gone down to look, if every place they went apenuts hadn't been an edge with an interminable drop on the other side.  Seriously - what could be down there? (And it better NOT BE a SKUNK! Otherwise you're WALKING home! Dora's butt is bad enough in the car - nobody needs the stench of Pepe Le Pew!)

Lou even got into the spirit at a certain point, although he also saw nothing other than weeds and grass and litter in the foliage.

Thank goodness the guy at the Visitor's Center gave us the secret parking lot clue - even then it was still well over a mile to the riverfront and Lower Town.  We walked a bit through the town, enough for potty breaks and some strange old lady to tell me that the only Dane she's ever known was a vicious, vicious thing... meanwhile Dora is wagging like a champion and slobbering all over her fingers. 

Since most of the town is shops anyway, we decided to head down to the water, and play for a bit.  We got Mom and Lou settled on a sandy part of the shore, and then Todd and I decided to take the pups and try and forge the river to a big rocky spit across the way.  It looks easy, right?  Shallow water, medium current, sunny day.  Oh, tricky tricky river.

Well, needless to say - everything was gold until about halfway across - Homer slipped into a bit of a puddle and then didn't like a particular rock, so we had a bit of a detour, and then Dora zigged while I was zagging, and given the moss on the rocks I fell flat on my ass in the river.  I actually landed on my wrist (I think I broke one of the little bones, I'll get it checked next week) and got SOAKED.  I hadn't worn a swimsuit, as I had only intended to go wading, but I'm actually kind of glad I wore jeans, since they protected my skin from getting scraped up on the rocks.  It was pretty uncomfortable the rest of the afternoon, since I was SOAKED from bellybutton down, and I shook so much sediment out of my pants when I unrolled the legs (good cautionary measure there - rolling up the legs) that I thought I might have some tadpoles and minnows hiding in the fabric.  I smelled like river for the whole afternoon, but how funny would it have been to get home and shower and find minnows and frogs in my underwear? 

Well, we decided not to go back up the hill, but rather circle around in the shallows to where Lou and Mom were.  In hindsight, it probably would have been less disgusting to just go back up the hill and brave the gravel - I'm not sure WHAT was in the mud in the shallows, but I'm pretty sure I'll be feeling it ooze through my toes in my nightmares for years to come. 

Homer Jess, bless his laid back, up for anything, lazy ass soul, decided it was easier to just walk/swim around the rocks rather than fool with the ups and downs...

...while Dora wanted nothing to do with the water she couldn't see bottom in and Peter Panned her way up through the boulders. 

There was one point where she got stuck and couldn't quite figure out the logistics of getting down, but upon realizing it was literally sink or swim - she came on through.  That's my girl!

We played a bit more with Lou in the shallows, and since my wrist was really hurting and Todd and Lou and I were all soaked (Lou had taken his own butt dive into the river, unsynchronized with ours) we decided to call it a day for the wilderness retreat at about noon and go seek out some lunch. 

Lower Town didn't have many food options where we could take the pups, and I will freely admit being attracted to the restaurant we eventually chose because of the big ice cream cone sign hanging out front.   We grabbed some chow and sat up on the hill with pups to eat.  I ended up having a mushroom swiss burger (it was with DIET coke, OK?  I KNOW I'm trying to be good, nutritionally) and giving my potato salad to the pups.  Dora used Star Trek technology to transfer the potato salad to her stomach, as I never saw her actually ingest it, just her head moving and then an empty fork.  Homer Jess, on the other hand, is a very delicate eater, and does not particularly care for the way that the mayonnaise stays in his whiskers.

After lunch, there was no resisting the lure of the soft serve twist dipped in chocolate, so I didn't even try.  The guys at the lunch place were fabulous - they gave us two cups of vanilla ice cream for the pups, no charge!  Dora immediately went to town on hers, while Homer merely sniffed his, gave us a look, and went to investigate the bubble gum next to the bench.

Vanilla Soft Serve - added to list.

No Worries - Dora says - I'll take care of it!  She's a trip too - when the ice cream got too low in the bowl for her to eat comfortably off of the bench it was sitting on, she simply picked the bowl up in her teeth and put it down on the floor.  Sometimes she scares me with how smart she is - I know she'll find her way into mischief - no road map necessary.

However, Homer Jess, the dog who does not like chocolate chocolate, apparently likes chocolate ice cream, but only in a cone.  When Mom got all of the chocolate shell off hers (she tried to feed it to Dora, and Dora turned her nose up.  Seriously - how the HELL did I get two dogs who don't like chocolate???), Homer came sniffing around her cone and got in a good swipe before she decided to give it to him.  At that point, it was all over but the credits.  Dora's working on her second bowl of vanilla, and Homer was going to town on the cone, drooling chocolate slobber all down my arm.  SEXY.

He also really digs the cone, although it was funny as heck trying to watch him eat it, since he couldn't get the whole thing in his mouth at once.  He went back and forth about four times before he decided to attack it from the edge instead of relying on frontal assault tactics.

After Dora finished her vanilla, she had a bit of Todd's mint flurry, and a lovely lady from the other bench offered Dora her banana ice cream, as she did not care for it.  Seeing the familiar styrofoam cup, Dora had stuck her whole face in it before she tasted it and decided that she did not care for it either.

So, we cleaned up, threw our 4,899 napkins covered in melted ice cream and dog slobber away, and headed home.  We ended up having to spot shot the crap out of Lou's tshirt, between the river water, dog mud, ice cream and ketchup from his fries, but about 20 minutes after walking in the door, the laundry was going and the pups were CONKED OUT.  Dora was snoring like a champ within a half hour, so I think she got her share of energy out today.

I am off to Wolf Trap and the Great Big Sea concert, then driving back tonight afterward.  Hopefully they will sleep peaceful through the night and not give Mom and Todd any trouble.  We'll see how it turns out!

You just have to laugh...

Well, I didn't think today would be very eventful, as we didn't actually leave the house and had planned to just laze around all day.  Oh...how wrong I was.

The fun started early this morning (and I mean EARLY) when I woke up at 6 am in the most unbelievable discomfort you can possibly imagine.  I had finally gone to bed about 1:45, so needless to say I didn't enjoy the dawn as much as I usually do.  I did wonder why I was so uncomfortable, initially attributing my aches and pains to an unfamiliar bed (and the crappy bed was indeed part of it, though not all), but then I happened to raise my head and see the anchor holding down my legs... and leaving me about 6 inches to sleep on.

No worries - I got up and made coffee and started the day, figuring I'd take a nap later on.  I went out on the porch to get a start on my romance novels (quality reading, dontcha know) and Dora came out with, waking up Sir Homer from his slumber.  She was raring to go bright and early this morning, and was already trying to start something while I was getting coffee. I heard all the noise in the kitchen, and once I had my coffee, went back out to see where they'd gotten the herd of elephants from that was apparently helping them play.  I watched them for a minute or two, running like lunatics back and forth, back and forth, and then decided to record it for a bit on my new camera to test it out.  DON'T YOU KNOW, Dora sees this as her opportunity to take it to the next level... she plays, she runs, she HUMPS HOMER.  Oh, the disgrace!  (That's my girl - show him who's boss!)  I almost fell over, I was laughing so hard.  I did wake up Mom, but the boys slept right through it.  I actually managed to capture it on video, though I don't know if it will show...Download P8210029.AVI

Dora chilled out a bit after that, and proceeded to hog the couch on the back porch.  At least I was awake this time for the crowding, so I could move to get comfortable.  I have to tell you, I have been around snorers my whole life - my father can vibrate a glass off a table, my brother is loud and constant, and even my 5 year old nephew can hold his own.  (Strangely, the women in my family don't snore unless they're sick - I wonder why not?)  Dora puts them all to shame.  As I write this, she is sprawled on the couch, feet hanging over the edge, sawing logs like a professional.  I can hear her over Todd's Playstation game, and the cacophony of crickets outside, which given that there are approximately 7.29 million crickets in the yard, is saying something. I tried to capture it on video this morning, but I don't know whether the mic on the new camera is inferior or if the crickets are simply that loud. 

Download P8210052.AVI

THANK BABY JESUS that Homer does not snore - with all the sleeping that dog does, I might be tempted to put him out of our misery. (PS - no, he didn't stay awake long enough yesterday to finish the rawhide bone, though he made an eentsy bit more progress today.) I think at this point it even goes without saying what Homer's day was like, and I'm sure that no one will be surprised when it turns out that:

Early to Mid-Morning (Yes, I woke him up for the picture)

Late Morning to Early Afternoon (he is secure in his masculinity amongst the frou frou)

Late Afternoon to Early Evening (too much travel between nap spots!)

HA! I was just kidding about the too much travel between nap spots.  What really tired him out today was peeing on the cast iron stove (THREE TIMES, DUDE?  You were outside for like 12 hours!!!) and plotting with Dora to conduct a caper the likes of which nearly got both of them booted off the mountain.

It went down like this; Todd went with Lou to meet some friends of his for lunch that live here in West VA - and neither Mom nor I felt like cooking.  We had some leftover chicken breast from dinner last night, fresh bread, sharp white cheddar cheese and mustard... DELICIOUS.  I even had my ultra favorite snack, Baked Cheetos, in all their cheesy goodness.  So, I get my bowl of cheesy snacks and set it out on the patio table next to my laptop, and go back in to make sandwiches.  A few minutes later, I hear the bowl drop, and I trot out to the porch to find Homer licking his lips and eyeing the big strand of orange DROOL occupying the former residence of my cheetos.  ARGH!  Again, more fool I, since my old pups knew better than to go after food on a table, and I am perhaps giving Homer more credit that he has earned.  Dora, at this point, is on the couch, working on her "Who, Me?" and her "No, you don't say!" looks. 

So, cussing Homer out under my breath (those damn cheetos are like $4 a bag!) I return to the kitchen and make some delicious sandwiches.  I give Mom hers, and put mine on the kitchen table in order to go get a Diet Coke from the fridge outside on the porch. (Seriously, who puts two dorm fridges in a cabin for 5 people in the boondocks?)  All of sudden, I hear Mom shout "Homer, NO!" and I run back inside, to find one lonely little scrap of fresh bread and mustard sitting forlornly in the center of my suspiciously clean plate.  I had ONE BITE, and it was so good. *sigh*  As I'm giving Homer the evil eye, I hear Mom shout again "Dora, NO!", and I turn around to see Dora absconding to the porch with the remaining half of Mom's delicious sandwich firmly clenched in her teeth.   They tag teamed us, and quite well, actually.  SO, in the course of less than ten minutes, we lost a bowl full of cheetos, two delicious chicken and cheese sandwiches, and all ability to take these two miscreants in the least bit seriously.  I almost felt like offering them a soda or some cookies to top it off. 

On the upside, when I used the last of the chicken to make Mom and I another half sandwich each, I think both of them got the point of our hunched over postures, and neither tried to charm us out of any scraps.  Of course, it could be because they were FULL!   

The rest of the day was fairly low key - Dora is driving me crazy with her barking - she barks at passing cars, at people out on a stroll, at the owner's dog, at the moths trying to get in... you name it - she barks deafeningly loudly (right in your ear) at it.

She held an almost constant vigil at the window for much of the afternoon (and there were points when I thought she was going to through the screen, no matter that it's a good 15 foot drop) and barked at EVERYTHING that passed by.

She and I also spent a few hours today playing with her Wubba, and she can go for HOURS. Back and forth, back and forth.  She can *almost* entertain herself, but not quite.  I threw her toy for her about 3,476 times, and after the first twenty or so, Homer got up in disgust and went to lay down in the house.  I did notice that I like this toy quite a bit - it was in her mouth for a good three hours and did not get all revoltingly slimy with drool.  Yay for quality!

In any event, we went back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. I had a conference call tonight to do some work on a project that I will be starting as soon as I get back to DC, and bless her heart, Dora brought the Wubba right up to me and STOOD there squeaking like a maniac for a good three minutes.  One of the guys on the call finally asked if I had a squeaky toy or if I was manhandling a rat terrier. 

It didn't do any good on the call (which was over an hour long) to throw the toy, either, since then it just sounded like a (squeaky) herd of elephants galloping on hollow hardwood floors.  She was very good (once I ignored her - HARD) about playing with herself, and the guys on the call were really cool about the strange noises coming from my location.

Of course, once my call was done, it was a whole different story.  She is not a delicate wallflower that is shy about getting what she wants, and we played for a bit at her insistence.  For me, though, there comes a time when enough is enough - and after about another 45 minutes (total play time today was probably 5-6 hours.  How does she get the stamina, you ask?  CHICKEN F*CKING SANDWICHES. WITH CHEESE.)  She tried everything to get me to change my mind... play bowing with the little tail wag... a little whining with a little prancing... laying the Wubba gently in my lap and nudging my elbow with her nose... NOPE.  I AM Cruella Deville, and no soup for you! Of course, when I leaned over to plug in my camera, I then discovered that though it is soft rubber and canvas, it DOES hurt like a bitch to have a Wubba dropped on your head.  That didn't work either, and as a last ditch, all guns blazing effort, she busted out the "Hey Baby, Let's Play..." look, but I am IMMUNE.

NONONONONONONONO - we're going to park tomorrow - the big National park with rivers and picnics and sunshine and new smells and pedestrians and all kinds of fun things to chase, and I am NOT going to inadvertently nap for two hours like I did this afternoon because I am exhausted from playing "Chase the Wubba"! 

I know.  I am heartless.  I am mean.  Sucks, don't it? 

What in Tarnation....

Well, yesterday was quiet.  I didn't post (sorry sorry) because I was on duty, and trying to get a million things done.  I ended up going to bed at like 1 am, and juuuuuust as we were getting ready to unstaff at 6 am we got punched out for call with a woman 38 1/2 weeks pregnant with side pain.  EEK!  I know that some people love delivering babies, but I ain't one of 'em! It makes a mess in the back of my ambulance, so hang on sister and cross your knees - we're going to hit Mach 10 on the highway!

Well, I narrowly avoided having a kidlet in my ambulance, but then I got home late, walked in the door, got called to the daycare for my nephew's rage-out tantrum, got that under control - only to realize I had about 10 minutes to make it to the vet.  I flew home, got the pups in the car (c'mon guys! It'll be fun!  Yay! Exciting! Get. In. The. CAR!) and made it to the vet with about 47 seconds to spare, only to sit in the waiting room for about 25 minutes.  I can't even tell you how much fun THAT was, me still partially in uniform, smelling like yesterday's dinner (the dogs there all LOVED me, natch, but they roll in dead things if given the opportunity) with Dora trying to intimidate everything that moves and Homer trying to yank my shoulder out of the socket so he could smell each individual floor tile.  My vet, Dr. MacDonald (Yes, I know, and he's heard every - single - joke, I PROMISE, but he's MONEY, and the pups loved him) gave me heartworm and tick meds for braving the wilderness, and off we went.  Homer did not enjoy the vet at ALL, even though the visit wasn't for him, the big pansy, and he spent the entire time scratching at the door and whining.  Meanwhile, Dora was prancing all over the room, up on her tiptoes, headbutting and leaning like a champ.  I jabbered all the way home about what fun we were all going to have in West Virginia, but, well, Homer was asleep, and Explora-Dora didn't seem too terribly impressed.

SO. Then I went home, did laundry, got my new camera in the mail ($20 for overnight delivery - YOWZA!) packed for West Va, and was in bed, CONKED OUT, by 8 pm.  I LOVE IT.  Of course, that meant that I woke up at 4:30 this morning, but nobody's perfect.

The whole morning today was spent getting the week's supplies together, food, sundries, dog food, etc. and loading everything up.  Dora was pretty much into everything, and I think she nosed as much out of the bags as we put in them, but Homer did an excellent job supervising...

...and we were on our way by 10 am.   

It was actually a REALLY quick drive (and I, uh, obeyed the speed limit the entire way, I swear), and even though we stopped for gas and 7-11, we were here in a little over an hour. I am super thrilled it's so close actually, since I forgot I had tickets to a concert at Wolf Trap on Friday night, and I'll be driving back for that.

Dora was pretty excited about the car trip actually...

...and Homer Jess just wondered when it would be over so he could go back to sleep in peace.

So here we are, in Harper's Ferry, West Virginia, and the cabin is not what I expected.  The directions to get here involve about 13 "roads" other than the main highway, and I think only one of them was paved.  My poor Tangerina got her undercarraige exfoliated, and I can tell you indubitably that I will not be coming here in the winter, as I think the access road and the driveway become ski slopes. 

The pups really like it here - the house is surrounded by woods, and the whole front of the house is a screened in front porch on stilts about 15 feet off the ground, so they have a great vantage point for watching the goings-on and barking at passers-by.  Dora actually barks at everything - trucks, squirrels, leaves falling, other dogs, Homer Jess... All I have to say is that if she starts barking at the mosquitoes, she's sleeping the car.

In any event, within minutes of our arrival the pups were right at home, with Dora seeking affection and Homer Jess asleep.

I will tell you that it has become clear that Homer Jess is a country dog - he's been more active here than at home, although "more active" has to be understood in the Homeskillet context - he's spent a few minutes sitting up, he's dug a giant hole in the leaves, and he's gone from the floor to the couch to the doorway twice.  I'm amazed, and worried he might tire himself out by overdoing it. 

I mean, he walked around for a good 15 minutes when we got here, and nested in the leaves with vigor - leaves flying everywhere, ears flapping, paws furiously digging - I could just see him keeling over from a heart attack.  Luckily, he cut all that craziness out after the initial spurt, and was then content to just hang out and watch us unload the cars and get things in order. 

Dora was a little more adventurous (which sounds WAY better than recklessly foolhardy), but I don't know how long that will last, or how long she'll survive if that continues. She went with Homer to dig leaves, and found out the hard way that sometimes leaves can pile pretty deep, and just because the leaves on top are level doesn't mean the ground underneath is... luckily she slid to a stop about 5 feet down the hill.  Bless her heart, she's like a little kid - don't you know she came back up and tried to do it again?  I didn't know they let dogs that big on the little yellow bus.

She's the cutest thing, but she is NOSY, and CURIOUS, and her and Lou together in the wilderness somehow spells disaster.  Lou kept asking me if he could walk Dora, and she only outweighs him by about 65lbs, so I can't see THAT being a good idea.  Our compromise was that Todd would walk Dora, and Lou could go with. So I'm in the kitchen with Mom, and I hear Todd yell "LOU!" at the top of lungs - I look out the window, and there goes Todd picking Lou up one handed by his jacket and carrying him away, dragging the dog behind.  Then he starts to beat at Dora's back legs, and I'm like "WTF?!?!?" so I start heading to the door, when all of them come piling in the house quick like bunnies.  I'm all ready to rip him a new one, and then he says "Do you know what YOUR DOG just did?"  Uh-oh...

Dora, evidently, in her passion for exploring, had unearthed a very large nest of ground hornets. Apparently not having any experience with stinging insects and possessing a survival instinct very like her mother's (hmmm...I wonder what would a puma feel like... let's pet one!) CONTINUED to dig, even when they started swarming.  Todd noticed the hornets, grabbed Lou immediately and got him out of the way (thank God, we have no idea if he's allergic and getting stung in the boonies is always BAD MONKEY) and then tried to get all of the bees off of Dora with the end of the leash.  Lou escaped being stung thanks to his father's reflexes and quick thinking, but Todd got stung a few times and Dora got nailed a few times herself.  I pulled the rest of the hornets off her and tweezed the stingers out, but she went right on along as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and has since tried to return to the scene of the crime.  I'm not quite sure if she's convinced it was an anomaly, or if she's willing to brave the risk to find out what else is under that rock, but needless to say it's a good thing she's so damn cute (cause otherwise I'm pretty sure Todd would've killed her).

Homer Jess, naturally, slept through the entire thing.

Well, nothing else really to relate for today - the sunset was gorgeous (damn you, point-and-shoot camera! Though you are fabulous for quick action shots, I miss my SLR for nighttime!) and the crickets are astonishingly loud (Mom wondered if West Virginia had a noise ordinance, but apparently not, or they never got the memo).  Homer got a wild hair, and found the bag of rawhide bones that Dora's foster mom so generously gave us, and managed to sneak one out without Dora catching him.  He's currently going to town, but I'm not sure the energy spurt will last through the entire thing.

So ends day one in the country - Bone Appetit, Homeskillet, see you in the morning!

Dora's Dizzy (and a bit Disastrous) Day One

Today was Dora's first full day home, and man, she was BUSY!!  (Don't believe the innocent face!)

I'm a little cranky today - I didn't get to bed until late, and I have discovered the hard way that our girl Dora is a bed hog.  We spent a few minutes negotiating, but I am so far out of practice that I forgot to specify WHEN these rules about sharing applied, and as soon as I was asleep, all bets were off.  I woke up roastingly warm, perched precariously on the edge of my bed, and with a postage stamp sized piece of the sheet covering me.  I look over my shoulder, and Dorable is streeeeetched out to her maximum limit, sideways, across the bed.  I have become spoiled, with no pups on the bed!  I have the feeling even this much of a reprieve is only temporary - Homer cannot get on the bed now because of his hips, but I have the feeling that soon it will be monkey see, monkey do.

Ahhh... and did I mentioned that I got up at DAWN this morning, when Homer went out into the yard and proceeded to bay like a lunatic for almost ten minutes?  I will admit to hiding under the pillow hoping he would stop, but no such luck, so I figured I'd better get up before my neighbors lynch the poor pup.

Seriously, Homeskillet, what where you thinking?

 

Who knows - but I know what he was thinking later that morning - he was thinking SAVE ME! Dora got a bee in her bonnet at about 7 am, and went into spaz attack mode.  She has a toy from her foster mom called a Kong Wubba that she absolutely loves, and she went TO TOWN on it this morning.  She started on the porch...

 

Wrestled around with it a bit...

Showed it who was boss...

Threw it up the stairs and chased it...

Tried to interest Homer in it...

...and got "The Look". 

So, the list now contains no touchy paws, cantaloupe, fatty meats, and Kong Wubba. Duly noted.

Not to be deterred, Dora Splora found a case of the "zoomies" (probably hidden under the porch somewhere, I'm just glad she didn't find Jimmy Hoffa) and ran around the yard in a crazed manner for a while, ears flapping in the wind and gobs of spit and drool marking her trail behind her.

Our girl finally realized that no one was going to join her in frantically circling the yard, and so she came in (giving VERY reproachful looks to those of us still hunched over our coffee cups), and decided to keep Louie company while he built an empire upstairs.  She was very serious in offering her opinion, and little by little, they worked it out.

It's no small wonder then, is it, that she ended up zonked out by a little after 8 am?

The rest of Dora's day was fairly uneventful - she helped us finish off some french fries from Five Guys, she slept most of the day, both on the bed and on the couch.  I'm fairly certain now that her sleeping on the floor was a sop to my sensibilities for her first night in the house - she has since discovered that the furniture is MUCH more comfortable!

In any event, shortly after her nap upstairs, she nudged my camera out of my hands and onto the floor in the bedroom, and unfortunately it did not survive the impact.  DOH!!! This doesn't seem to be my year for cameras - both of my Nikon SLRs succumbed to the trip in Costa Rica, and now my remaining point and shoot has bitten the dust, and only two days before vacation!

Emergency measures are going to be taken - how can I take the pups on vacation out in the woods and NOT have a camera?!?!

NO WORRIES - we'll figure something out  - I've got my girl on the case!