Cash the hero

Let me tell you about our black Labrador——Cash in Black. This is not an obituary. No, he is still with us. We got Cash from Howard's bird-hunting friend and his wife, Bruce and Phyllis Hawkins. Cash is almost 14, and that's really old for a Lab. He has bad skin. He sports little tumors all over his body. One of those nasty things is the size of a ripe canteloupe. His eyes are cloudy from cataracts, and he can barely walk. Most days he can be found on the back steps, sleeping in a coma-like slumber. I stand there sometimes to watch and see if he is going to take another breath. He always does. When people come to our house, they look at him and then look at us, as if to say, "Why don't you let him go?" I've asked that question myself. Howard just says, "He's not ready." Cash proved that recently.

In anticipation of being left dogless except for my aging Silky Terrier, Howard got a heeler mix wild puppy (Katie Barr the Door) which he loves more than he does me. They ride on the Mule every afternoon that weather permits. She sharpens sticks, has dug up all my flower beds, has chewed through a leash, pulled the weather stripping off the back door and anything else she can get her needle-sharp teeth into. That includes Cash——his ears, his tail, his feet. He puts up with it. That's why he is still here. To raise that wild thing and Sassy the kitten. When Cash has enough torture, he puffs out a semi-growl, and she quits for two seconds. He doesn't have enough teeth left to bite anything. When she is tired he lets her snuggle up beside or on top of him. When she was still tiny she slept on his head. Katie is not the only animal in the dog pile. He (Howard) also brought home a kitten, Sassy cat, while I was on a trail ride. She has funny markings but is mainly white. When it rains (I think it has rained twice since we have had them),they line up single file and truge at Cash's pace down to the horse barn to sleep in the hay. Katie chews on the kitten too. She is young and fiesty enough not to let it go too far and gets out her boxing gloves and works poor Katie over good.

I think Cash must remember what a bad baby Lab he was, and that's why he is hanging around and putting up with all this nonsense. He ate the pool cover, chewed the gas lines on the grill, ate every kind of bed I got him, and destroyed beach towels just for the thrill.Even this past summer he swam laps in the pool. Well this year, maybe just a dip. I tried to make him behave. He went to obedience school when he was about four months old. He would do what he was told——sit, stay, heel, etc and then fall out at my feet and sleep like he was drugged. We went to another obedience class and by this time, he was awake. He was fine until a little poodle passed by and he wanted to get in her personal space. I had to take him out of the class. Then my friend Mary, who raises and trains dogs, took him for two weeks. She is stronger and meaner than I am, so he did great for her. When I got him home, he could tell I was a wimp by just looking at me. For Howard, he was Mr. Perfect.

So I miss him already—the handsome, confident boy that he was. If we hadn't had him, how in the world would we have raised the wild puppy and silly cat? He knows it's not time. Not quite. Hope you enjoy the pics.

Dogs work miracles in Wilson's novels

Review Time

I have read two books by author Susan Wilson in less than two weeks. That says something. She has written two moving novels that spotlight exceptional dog heroes—One Good Dog and The Dog Who Danced. 
These two books have great dog heroes—not like Rin Tin Tin or Lassie—who run through burning buildings to save their masters. The heroics of these animals is more realistic and more lasting.

In One Good Dog, Chance, who is a pit bull mix (not my favorite breed) takes us into the world of dog fighting. This street-wise dog brings healing and closure to the deep wounds of his new "owner."

The Dog Who Danced features a blue merle Shetland Sheep Dog (Sheltie).  Buddy/Mack also has a profound effect on both of his "owners."  With him we travel through the world of on-the-road trucking, Therapy Dog work and the new phenomenon of Canine Freestyle Dancing.

The great thing about Wilson's dogs is that they have a voice. She weaves her story from the point of view of the dog, of the owner or multiple characters in the dog's stories. Through the dog's perspective we learn about their fears, likes and dislikes, and what brings them true happiness.  Both these dogs work magic in the lives of their humans—loving them, healing them, making them feel safe, and even dancing.

In case you are wondering, my dogs have worked magic in my life too.  Such a blessing—most of the time.

Riding or reading—both wonderful on sunny afternoon

Yesterday my friend Terry invited my daughter Olivia to accompany her on a trail ride.  She wanted her to ride her husband's horse, Henry's Last Shadow, a spotted saddle horse. Joe has been a little "under the weather" lately, and Henry hadn't been ridden since spring.  Since I am a rider too, I thought, "Well what about me?  Am I chopped liver?"  She probably didn't want to hear me complain the next day about being sore, my back hurting, and more aching body parts.

Terry, Snowball, Olivia, Henry

She said since Henry hadn't been ridden in months, he might be a little frisky, and she thought Olivia could handle him.  I must be getting old.   Terry was riding her spotted saddle horse/Tennessee walking horse cross, Snowball.

Snowball waiting for the ride

So they brushed and saddled and off they went, leaving me at the house. That turned out to be a pretty good deal. The Pegrams live in an old farmhouse, built around 1880, located several miles outside of Sardis.  They bought the old Sanford Place in 1974 and have made several improvements while honoring the home's original look.  The house had been owned by the same family from the time it was built until the Pegrams purchased it.

Dining room fireplace

While Olivia and Terry rode, I sat in the sunny kitchen sitting room with Belle, Terry's therapy Collie. She and Terry visit schools and medical rehabilitation facilities—letting Belle work her healing Collie magic.  Kids pet her, tell her to sit and sometimes even get to brush her teeth. She makes seniors smile and helps them with balance as they walk her down the halls.

Belle

On the back porch were other Collies, Hattie—a conformation show dog, and Tanner—a recent national Collie champion who specializes in herding and obedience.  Sheltie Blue is making his comeback in the obedience show ring.

But that's not all. There are four cats, the alpha being Kittyman, who sat with me while I read.  What could have been better—riding through the beautiful fall woods on a perfect day or sitting in this wonderful home, reading a good book and the latest Cowboys and Indians magazine, surrounded by great animals?  It's a toss-up.

Kittyman

Retirement—Adventure Begins

Look at my picture. Do you see me smiling? I never knew I could have so much fun. Talk about mixed blessings. I worked in a place and at a job that I dearly loved. Health issues forced me to come home. I'm having so much fun I don't have time to feel bad!

Today I went back for the second day to a dog show with one of my dearest friends. You have to understand, as a former equestrienne and horse show person, it is a little dangerous for me to be around people competing with animals. I love looking at the over-priced wares of the vendors. (I bought a pair of Silky terrier earrings!) My husband said it was a little strange to have little yappy dog heads hanging from my ears. I love all the dog equipment and gadgets.

I loved looking at the different breeds and watching the techniques of the handlers and owners. I will go to as many dog shows as I can. Better than horse shows, not so hot, no dust, no hauling a trailer. Dogs could bite you, but they can't step on your foot or knock you over or throw you or make you wonder why you are in this expensive, frustrating, business in the first place.

But I still feel a twinge of wanting one. Anyway, back to the retirement fun.This week holds the promise of dinner with friends, a quilting lesson, another dog adventure, lunch in a tea room in a small rural community and not setting my alarm clock.