The Hound with a Home: Adventures of Tilly

The hound is coming along, but it's a slow go, and she reminds me of Drew Barrymore's character on 50 First Dates. Our life with her starts over every day, sometimes several times a day. She is getting more comfortable here, and she loves the other dogs. They are really where she is consistently comfortable, which is what I suspected would happen in the beginning of our relationship together. 

It has become real obvious to The Nurse and I that this girl will not be able to live in a normal pet home at this point, and I'm not sure that she ever will be "normal". She requires a lot of life modification to survive, and I don't know too many "pet people" who would know how to do this without losing patience and making her worse than she is, if that's even possible. 

In my last life, I was fine with having many dogs, but as life has progressed, I can say I don't enjoy having a bunch of dogs anymore, but sometimes God gives you what He wants not what you want, and I feel like it was no accident this girl entered The Nurse and I's life. After a lot of discussion and being honest with what this girl needs, The Nurse and I have decided to adopt Tilly the Hound.

I don't know that she will be a permanent member of our family, but I do know that we are going to continue on with her rehab as part of our pack. My prayer is that she will eventually recover enough to be a pet in someone else's home, but now there is no pressure for when that has to happen. She can take her time, and move at her pace. It's said that it takes the average rescue dog a year to feel 100% comfortable in their new home, and I imagine we are going to need every bit of that time frame with Tilly. 

We found a veterinarian who has been gracious enough to spay her on a Saturday so their clinic is quieter, we can drop her off at the last minute, and wait for her to be done, so she doesn't have to be without people she knows for very long, and so we minimize anyone handling her who might not be as dog savvy as she requires. It's another step towards being an "owned" dog in this house, and we are happy to give her that opportunity. 

I needed to know her future was wide open, and we have secured that for her this weekend.

  

Recipe: Spaghetti with Shrimp, Garlic & Broccoli

 Several nights ago, I shared this picture on my personal Facebook page, and several people reached out wanting the recipe. As always, with any recipe I offer, you can guarantee it's easy to prepare, and tastes good, otherwise I wouldn't bother, because a chef I am not!

Enjoy!

 

Spaghetti with Shrimp, Garlic & Broccoli

1/2 lb. spaghetti, uncooked

3 cups of broccoli

1/2 cup Italian Dressing

1 lb. uncooked, deveined, peeled large shrimp

4 tsp. minced garlic

1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese

1) Cook the spaghetti in a large saucepan as directed on the package, and add the broccoli to the boiling water for the last 2 minutes.

2) Meanwhile, heat the dressing in a large skillet on medium, adding the garlic and shrimp. Cook and stir 3-4 minutes or until the shrimp turn pink.

3) Drain the spaghetti mixture, return to the pan. Add the shrimp mixture and cheese, mix together and top with a sprinkle of parmesan cheese.

Serve with garlic bread.  

Breathing blankets and broken dogs.....

Last week, The Nurse and I went to our local animal shelter to purchase dog licenses for out dogs. While we were there, we walked up and down the kennels saying hello to all the dogs that were there. The Nurse stopped at one kennel, and said: "Look that blanket is breathing." I looked in the kennel, and could see the blanket and the bed moving up and down in a rhythmic fashion, indicating something was alive in the kennel, but there was no dog to be seen. 

We were talking to the shelter staff about the dogs and cats, and st some point there was a discussion about me getting a puppy out to play with it. It was during that conversation that one of the employees said, "Go look at that dog in Kennel #6. She needs someone to get her out." 

The Nurse nudged me and said, "That's the kennel with the breathing blankets, but you can't see the dog!"

I walked back to the kennel, open the door, and lifted the bed. There was the most terrified dog I have ever seen in my life. Her fur was wet and yellow with urine, and she was laying in her own feces. I picked her up, and she instantly released her anal glands in fear. I carried her up to one of the "meet and greet" rooms and she coward on the floor under the bench, just trying to get away from us. 

The shelter staff explained that she had been at the shelter for a week, and that they had used a live trap to catch her, because she was running loose in some woods out in the country. The went on to say she was so scared that she wouldn't walk, hid behind the toilet when they attempted to work with her, and never even moved to urinate or deficate, she just voided and laid in it.

My heart broke.

There wasn't much discussion between The Nurse and I on what we were going to do, I think we both knew this dog was never going to recover in the shelter, and that was IF she could be rehabilitated at all, so we decided to take her home and try to foster her. 

In my 22 years of dog rescue, I have only fostered one other dog this broken and shutdown. That dog was Wigzi, whom I ended up driving to a sanctuary in Nebraska because he never recovered enough to make it in a home. Usually, when you have a dog this broken, they don't like people, but they like dogs. This girl was so shutdown that she didn't even like dogs. We have been working with her and where she makes no sense, she seems to be making some very small steps towards being a dog.

We will see where we go as we work through the idiosyncrasies that this little girl has, and my prayer is she will one day function well enough to at least live a life that is fulfilling to her. Really, that is all I hope for any of my rescue pups..... 

Happy New Year's!

    

When I originally sat down to write this New Year's post all I could think about was the negative that 2020 brought, and I originally wasn't going to make resolutions (Gasp!), but that's not me, and a lot of great things did happen this year, and while I'm looking forward to the new beginnings and hope that a fresh year brings, I will miss 2020 a little bit.

    2020 taught me what was important to and made me realize how much I had to loose. It demanded I slow down and pause, something I'm not very good at, and it also brought with it the chance for re-evaluating my life, who I am, and where I want to be. 

    2020 outlined just how important "my tribe" was to me, and it showed me who was real and who was hiding behind a mask. It gave me a chance at closure, and it took away the sting of what was once a painful "goodbye". 

    I was able to wrap up the first draft of my first lesbian fiction piece, and get a pretty good handle on my next book, a memoir on emotional abuse. Without the stillness of a pandemic I would have never had the time to write to the capacity I did, and boy did I write: 1,138,112 words! (Santa brought me new journal inserts so I can go into the new year with my pencils flying....)

    As we enter this new year, let's do so with a reckless abandonment, in awe of the possibilities before us, and let's listen to our heart's desire, for the heart knows what we are made of and all of our potential. 

    

    

    

Death Threats, Diet Pepsi, and Post Election Crazy...

     

    This last week has been a trying week. I have wanted Donald Trump out of office before he was even in office because of the vile person he is. I have seen the man behind the curtain for decades, and I knew he would make a mockery of our county with his antics and he did not let me down. What has let me down though are some of his followers.

    I am struggling with the folks who I assumed were my friends, and were people I respected, as I watch them lash out and spew things about racism, homosexuality and thump their chest while spouting off false rhetoric. It makes my soul hurt. 

    I don't care who you voted for: Trump, Biden, or Kanye West. It really doesn't matter to me. What does matter is decency, equality, and respect, and that has been missing over the last 4 years due to the fact it has been perfectly acceptable (and even encouraged) for deplorable people to act stupid according to our President. 

    Today they have been out in full force, and I had to unfriend someone who I considered a friend as he, yet again, derailed on my Facebook and I received a death threat from another friend. (Classy!) I guess this might be the new norm for awhile. 

    The question I have struggled with today is, what do I do about the friends who I'm seeing in a different light now? Ignoring their behavior doesn't seem like the thing to do, because if I ignore it, then I'm saying their behavior is acceptable. And where voting for whoever you want is okay, being an asshole to other people is not. If I confront it, then I'm in for a fight and I'm tired to my very core. 

    The one thing that made my day today was my friend Tim. 

    

    Tim is a Republican and he wanted Trump to win the election just as bad as I wanted Biden to win the election. Last week, Tim and I placed a friendly wager on the election where the loser would buy the winner a soda. Well, Tim came through, and he made my day! I have laughed and laughed at his arts and crafts skills. Timmy didn't just come through with the soda, he had that thing blinged out with Trump paraphernalia! This is going on my desk and I will save it for forever, for 2 reasons.

    1) It makes me laugh and brings joy to my life.

    2) I wish all of my friendships could be like my friendship with Tim. We banter back and forth, but respect each other for the opposing views we have. Those are the types of people I want in my life. 

Prayers for Extinguishment Soon!

     I have been in an absolute creative funk as of late. I need to write, I want to write, but the words just won't come. I know this is due to the impending election. 

    If the word was flat, and I could put 3 people in a canoe and send them over the edge, I would pick in this order: 

    1) Donald Trump

    2) Martha Stewart

    3) Sarah Palin

    I knew our country was going to be one giant dumpster fire under the direction of Trump, and I kept my mouth quiet about it 4 years ago. Actually, I thought it was such a joke that people would vote for him that I wasn't worried about him winning. (And I guess technically he didn't, he only won because of our country's archaic electoral college voting system...)  However, our country is so far gone, I refuse to keep quiet this time and am praying for extinguishment soon. (And before you all blow up my blog, and start sending nasty-grams, just know I refuse to fight politics with anyone. You have your opinion and I have mine. We will agree to disagree...) 

    I am waiting on pins and needles for this election to be over, and with any luck Trump will ride on out of 2020 and it will be the best thing to happen to me this year. I've done everything I can do on my part including donating to Biden's campaign, volunteering with the HRC, MoveOn, Working Americans, Planned Parenthood, MeidasTouch, and Educators for Ohio. I have encouraged other people to vote, and will once again be offering rides to the polls on election day. The only thing I have left is to pray with everything I've got that there is a wave of blue next week, that our country will return to some normalcy, and that my creativity will return with gusto. 

    

Lost and Found.....

    

        Wednesday evening I went to tuck my chickens in for the night and when I performed my chicken count and I only had 15 hens. There should have been 16. 

    I counted my flock several more times, and my heart was in my stomach, because as a "chicken tender" you put a lot of effort into your flock, and it takes a bit of time and effort to raise them from day old babies through the egg layer stage of life. We all acknowledge the realization that something could, and usually does, happen to your flock, but it's never easy when it happens and perhaps because this was a project I started during Covid and in the wake of losing a much loved friend, but I have put a lot of emotion into these birds.

    The Nurse and I searched and searched Wednesday night, but still came up empty handed. When the hen wasn't there Thursday morning, I knew she was gone for good. Thursday morning we did notice the top of the ceramic bird bath was overturned, therefore we assumed it was a raccoon or fox who had stolen our girl.

    I just left the birdbath where is was, honestly because I was a little pissed off. How dare a woodland creature come by for a drink to wash down the chicken he stole from me! 

    I thought this was over.....

   Saturday morning, I was talking to my mom on the phone via Facetime, and was showing her the chickens when I noticed a cicada walking across the top of the still overturned birdbath. I decided to flip the top over, and to my complete and utter shock, out came Thirteen, stumbling like a drunk who had been on an all night binge. I screamed to my mom, "Oh, my God! I found her!" Then chaos ensued.

    Immediately the other chickens started chasing her as she ran towards the coop, trying to attack her. I was screaming at them to let go of her. She was confused and visibly not well, but wanted to be in her coop. She was covered in feces and blood. She was dragging her left wing and her left foot, but she was still very much alive. I caught up with her finally, separated her from the flock, who had clearly forgotten her in the 60 hours she was missing, and by some stroke of miraculism she started eating, drinking and protesting that she wanted to be with her flock again. 

    I gave her a bath, left her in a dog crate for the rest of the day, and by that evening you really couldn't tell anything was ever wrong with her. I have no idea how that little bird could have knocked that birdbath over on herself, perfectly, to cover up her body completely, but what is even more bizarre is that that she survived being under that ceramic birdbath top for 60 hours in the blazing heat and direct sunlight. 

    We have now saved this bird's life twice in the last 14 weeks, and I have decided that she is like a cat but with thirteen lives instead of nine. Well, 11..... She's down to 11 now, and lets hope she stays there. I can't handle the stress of saving her again or being without her.