RoseByAny @-;----

What Positive Training Can Do

2010-09-27T19:46:00.002-04:00

The Story Behind The Greatest Video Ever Made

Chief of Security (and Deputy Dog)

2010-09-01T11:03:00.001-04:00

He who shall be named

2010-07-06T14:24:00.001-04:00

Meet Sterling!

I didn't come up with it, but PugsAndKneedles (who suggested it) was dead on - it matches his color and his personality. He's such a sweet little charmer, and a real looker to boot. Shame he finds my house so dreadfully uncomfortable...

America's Dog - The American Pit Bull Terrier / American Staffordshire T...

2010-07-04T22:59:00.001-04:00

Happy 7th birthday to my very best friend - Oscar!

How to wash leather

2010-06-28T09:13:00.003-04:00

So the new chap is fitting in quite nicely, follows me around when the other cats let him, doesn't mind them at all, and is still trying to figure out the rules (which the other cats are changing, because, they're cats and obnoxious is in their job description). Additionally, his tail is looking better (now about three weeks post amputation) and he's getting around far better on his gimpy leg than I expected.

The vets say the leg is nerve damage, and will either heal on its own in the next few months or be a permanent limp. Either option is fine with me. He does use the leg, gesturing, in the litter box, and to slap the dogs when they sniff too close, he just doesn't like to put weight on it. He just carries it off the ground (like in the picture) when he moves, unless he really needs it for balance, in which case he leans on the elbow, rather than the foot.

Anyway, this weekend the shelter held a yard sale, and I saw something that I thought would go nicely with the sock monkey collar Oscar wears, or the floral filigree pink collar Liberty has:

A spiked black leather cat collar for the gimpy amputee.

He is unimpressed.

Nevertheless, I think it's pretty fabulous, but am thinking I'd like to clean it before putting it on him - any suggestions how to do that?

(and no, he doesn't have a name yet)

Hello, My Name Is {insert name here}

2010-06-18T21:23:00.003-04:00

So someone came home today that needs a special name. (here is where my parents take a deep sigh and roll their eyes). He is an iron grey (not tabby at all) and white cat, about two years old, that I pulled literally out of the hands of the euthanasia tech at the shelter. I understand the choice - he's not particularly adoptable - but he's really an amazing cat. And now he lives here. Because I needed another animal - especially a male - like I needed a dozen new holes in my head. His shelter name is Domino, which I'm not crazy about, and here's his (often unpleasant and graphic) story:

About two weeks ago, I was cleaning "Kitty Korner" (one of the cat rooms) and I saw this grey cat who seemed to have something sticking to his tail. The cat had been in the shelter for about two days (had been a stray before) and I assumed it was poop or litter or something. So I got a soapy rag, reached in and ran the rag down the cat's tail. The cat didn't struggle or complain, just nuzzled up against me sweetly. When I pulled the rag away, it was covered in blood and maggots.

Upon closer inspection, there were four large open and obviously infected wounds running down his tail. The end of his tail looked like it had a string with a puff ball hanging off of it. It didn't - the tail was open to the bone all the way around, with an inch of furred tail beneath that. He never complained that I touched what must have been excruciatingly painful, he never did anything but react like he though I was a pretty righteous chick.

It was quickly determined that Domino needed to have his tail removed, or he wouldn't make it - we put him on antibiotics and got him in for surgery the very next day. The day after that, with signs up about how terrible he must feel, warning people not to touch him and trying to explain the predicted groggy behavior, I went in to check on him. I opened his cage door, and he jumped into my arms.

I put him back gently and went up front, asking them to put a note in his file that if it came time to euth him, I wouldn't let that happen.

In addition to the tail injury, there's something wrong with his shoulder that prevents him from putting any weight on his right front leg. He doesn't mind his leg being manipulated (he's not crazy about it - he is a cat after all - but he tolerates it) and he can move the leg around on his own, but he has an extreme limp when he accidentally puts weight on it.

And right now, we have no space. None at all. Every time animal control brings in a new cat or dog, it means we have to pick a cat or dog we already have and put them down to make space. Summer SUCKS in shelters. Earlier this week we got rid of (through euth, rescues, or taking them to our cat barn) all the cats who had behavior problems or were sick. And today it was time to pick cats that have nothing wrong with them at all. I couldn't let Domino be one of those. I just couldn't.

So he's home now, and is more comfortable in his new surroundings than I have ever seen a cat settle in - ever. Everyone here has had a chance to sniff him (while he was in the carrier) and he just sat there, gazing at everyone calmly, and now he's in the spare room settling in. He won't be allowed out for a day or two, I think, and will be put back in the spare room while I'm not home for a few weeks after that. Technically he's a foster at the moment, the shelter will cover his shoulder being looked at and any treatment resulting from that, and then once that's done an adoption can be made final.

But he needs a name - something strong and brave and sweet and charming and encouraging...
Not too much for one little cat, right?

Vote for Liberty!!!

2010-06-02T16:19:00.001-04:00

People's Choice Pitbull Calendar

A $1 donation to PBRC helps Liberty become a calendar girl!

2010-05-31T20:25:00.000-04:00

Our Heroes

2010-05-17T09:54:00.000-04:00

An "editorial cartoon" was recently brought to my attention. The cartoon, pictured here, depicts a large, pseudo-militant man in camouflage pants with a leather jacket covered in chains and studs, a motorcycle helmet, and a sour look on his face. The man is clearly intended to look scary - criminal, even. Two women walking small dogs say "even without the dog, you can always spot a pit bull owner."

I'm not sure if you can imagine the shock I received from viewing this. Why, it was like looking in a mirror. Having been a pit bull owner for over six years, to finally see myself so perfectly depicted in ink was like a huge weight off my shoulders. Sure, I've been leading this double life as a well-educated woman who has worked in the (recent) past as an educator of autistic children, and now works for both an animal shelter and a humane positive-only dog-training school. I donate a high percentage of my income to charities, and am President of a non-profit organization dedicated to responsible dog ownership for all. I am a knitter, a spinner, a cancer survivor, and was raised in the church. I have the two dogs, but also three cats, and currently two foster kittens as well, that I fed from a bottle when they were two weeks old until they were old enough to eat on their own. But all that is false, right? Because I'm a pit bull owner.

For the less intelligent, that was just a touch of sarcasm.

Let me show you what this pit bull owner looks like *with* her dogs, since you could obviously recognize me without them.

This is my dog Oscar. This photo was taken at a two day seminar for search-and-rescue work, where Oscar was frequently complimented on his obvious love for people, his determination, and his fearlessness and heart in tackling new obstacles - all life-saving qualities in a SAR dog, and all very, very typical qualities in pit bulls. Oscar is a rescue dog, coming to me at about nine months old, and has trained in formal obedience, rally obedience, agilty, and SAR. He loves school and going for hikes, and is always tolerant of dogs whose irresponsible owners have let them wander off leash. He plays gently with his family cat members and foster kittens.

Liberty is the newest addition to our family, having come to me just over a year ago when she was three years old. She has recovered from unthinkable abuse at her previous owners' hands, and falls madly in love with every person and animal she meets. She has trained in basic obedience and tracking (similar to Search-and-Rescue), and is in training to do therapy work - visiting nursing homes and children's hospitals - since one of her greatest joys is snuggling up with a human who loves her.
And I assure you, everyone who meets Liberty loves her.

Still, what we can learn from this cartoon is that none of the above matters, because we can tell what "kind" of person would own a pit bull. It isn't someone who wants a people-loving, goofy, energetic and athletic dog. It's a criminal, a thug, a bad person.

Consider for a moment nearly any other stereotype in the place of that cartoon. Let's say instead of "pit bull owner" the cartoonist had inserted "racist" or "drug dealer" (that is what was implied, isn't it?) What if there had been a black man pictured, and the cartoonist had said "gang banger"? If the person had a large nose and the caption read "Jew"? Why is one despicable cliche more acceptable than any other?

The fact of the matter is that the only thing you can tell by a person's appearance is what they look like. You can't determine my education level (college grad, thanks), my health (cancer-free!) or my what I had for dinner last night (homemade pasta puttanesca). And you certainly can't determine what breed of dog I own, or infer anything about my character from it.

What I can infer, on the other hand, is that a media source willing to run such a prejudicial smear-campaign under the guise of being an "editorial cartoon" maybe cares more about sensationalism than actually producing a trustworthy, ethical, and objective news source. Which means, this isn't actually a news source at all, it's trash.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go walk my dogs. You might not recognize me as a pit bull owner with them, since I don't look like that cartoon. I'll be the one with the two well-mannered dogs wagging their tails happily at every person they see.

Clicking in Shape

2010-03-23T21:42:00.002-04:00

Oscar and I have used a variety of training methods over the years. The more I learn about training, the more I lean towards positive reinforcement methods, but there are hundreds of styles out there, and Oscar puts up with most of them pretty well (though he is what is called a "soft" dog, in that he responds very personally to his handler's reactions, and can get his feelings hurt relatively easily).

With Liberty and her fear issues, I have done only positive reinforcement. Her negative behaviors are completely ignored, so long as they don't cause danger (ie: she is distracted from eating dangerous things, not yelled at for trying) and anything positive is rewarded. There are those who don't understand the method that call it "bribery" but it's nearly anything but that, and we had a nice training session the other day that illustrates why that is.

Liberty has a pretty severe case of separation anxiety. That means when I leave the house at all, she goes into a raging panic and is unable to calm herself down at all. It makes sense, she had a pretty horrific past, then came to live with three silly cats, a dog that she adores, and the first person who's ever been consistently kind to her. She's pretty attached to me, and when I go away, it's very, very scary to her. She was crated for a while, but ate a huge hole in the side of her crate, and that became dangerous for her to be in safely without hurting herself. So we've started over with her crate training, with a new crate, but until she's improved a little, I worry less about her doing damage in my house than I do about her hurting herself trying to get out of a crate.

And so Liberty is being clicker trained to love her crate. A clicker is like a little personal United Nations delegate. It means I don't need to speak dog, and she doesn't need to speak English, that little toy will do the translating for us. It lets me tell her "yes, that specific moment right there - that's what will earn you goodies". First we charge the clicker, which just means clicking it, then treating her immediately after, until she learns that when she hears that click, food is coming. Once she's solid on this principle, I can start getting her to do whatever I want, by working in small increments. That's called "shaping a behavior" because you'll start with something closer to the behavior than what you had, and use the clicker to maneuver it into the final behavior. Seeing a dog (or any animal - it'll work on anything, even humans if you're sneaky enough) figure out that they have the power to make that thing click is pretty exciting, for them and you!

This is video of our very first session of clicker training Liberty to lie down and relax in her crate. She did lie down in class the week before, but that was the first work she'd done similar to this, and it didn't have that super scary crate involved. In theory, clicker training can be done without speaking at all, but I'm talking a lot here to explain to you what's going on. This is one session long, but had to be split into two for the sake of upload limits. You can see that she isn't cued, lured or tricked into any behavior - she comes up with the action on her own, and isn't bribed to do anything - she's just rewarded when she does.

Liberty is Fearless!

2010-03-12T21:43:00.005-05:00

We needed some canine body language photos for a project of B-More Dog and figured Liberty would be good for some "fear" examples - she throws pretty clear signals, and freezes up, so that's nice and photogenic. Plus, I always look for training opportunities to take her someplace new and work on that issue with her, so it was a win-win to meet up with a friend who would take photos for us.

Except it turned out to be a lose-win, because Liberty decided she wasn't afraid anymore.

How much is that doggie in the window?

I ain't skeered o' nuttin!

Yes, I'm cute, do you have food?

A lousy pen? I wanted a liver snap!

(and then we got kicked out for taking photographs and violating trade secrets. Seriously.)

What are "trade secrets"? Can I eat them?

Hey - you with the camera? You got treats?

Really? Nothing?

Woe is me. I am so hungry!

I am wasting away - a mere shadow of my former self!

If I sit like a lady can I have a treat?

What if I do that "nose" thing we learned in class?

What if I do that "nose" thing like a basketball star!?

(no dogs were starved, harmed or frightened in the making of this post. she got treats. lots of them. honest.)

a lazy girl's exercise regime

2010-02-07T12:12:00.005-05:00

Was your New Year's Resolution to lose weight?

Well, Liberty Sue just might have the answer for you! Inspired by the cats she lives with, Liberty has developed her very own work out program*. In just two minutes a day, you can do this, too, using just the items already found around the house!

First, gather together an old armchair and a sunbeam. Then, for two solid minutes, attempt to lie comfortably on the top of the armchair in the sun, changing positions as comfort dictates. Because you're focused on that sunbeam, you won't even notice that you don't actually fit, and that you are having to hold yourself up using the strength of your forearms, biceps, and abs! It's a full body workout, and it can be yours for not $199.99, not $99.99, not even $9.99! That's right, for the low low cost of just the time of your life spent reading this post that you'll never get back, you can have a body like Liberty's!

*Please consult your physician before attempting this or any other exercise program.
Side effects are bruising from slamming your face against the window as squirrels pass, heart conditions as cats jump up behind you suddenly, and shattered dignity if your workout is posted on the internet. Please see another couch if any of those conditions occur.

Oscar's Day Out

2010-02-04T08:47:00.001-05:00

About two weeks ago I noticed a small lump on Oscar's "arm". I decided to keep an eye on it - it could have been an ingrown hair, or a bug bite, it was that size. But it got slightly bigger this week, and lumps don't have a good track record in my family, so I immediately made an appointment at our vet and went into an emotional tail spin of nearly crying each time I hugged him.

Today was the day, and I tucked Liberty neatly into her room and dressed Oscar, who was thrilled that we were finally going out without that pesky little girl following him around all the time, and we drove to his vet. He was frantically hyper in the office, being slutty and tolerating the odd receptionist (who was new to us) who took his weight while displaying poor canine-body language. We went back into the room, and because he's been muzzled in the past, he was muzzled for his temperature (which was normal) and then again for the exam. He's had a rough time at vets in the past - he's very frightened there, and tends to go into "Must. Protect. Momma." mode where he doesn't let anyone near me. This vet has been lovely in dealing with that, though, and he's improved a lot in recent years.

On inspection, the vet decided that the lump was too small to do a needle biopsy on, but she understood my desire to get it the fizzle off my dog. She said "well, I don't know if he'll let me do a local on him... you know, he's being really good, do you want to try it?" which made me proud. And yes, I did want to try it.

So they got two techs to hold him, I stood where he could see me (he growled less that way) and shaved a small patch around the area, and did a punch biopsy (where they basically take what looks like a hole punch, poke that in to cut out the lump) and removed things. We decided they would hold onto the little tumor rather than biopsying it right now (for financial reasons) and just keep a close eye on him for other spots of changes in behavior. I really hope this was the right thing to do.

He was being held by strangers and having very scary things done to him, while muzzled, for about twenty minutes, and I think he handled it like a champ. My favorite part, though, was when they took the muzzle off, and he was instantly happy and lovey to them again - so much that the vet burst out laughing. As we were leaving, several of them told us he was a very good boy and had a great temperament.

In the end, this thing about the size of a large pea came out of my dog

leaving him with three staples and a messy leg

and some new head gear

which is succeeding in depressing him

but failing to keep Liberty from licking at him.

Agile and clever dog that he is, he's figured out that the e-collar is impeding on his mobility when he runs into things, and so is walking around the house backwards. Seriously.

Kseniya Simonova's Amazing Sand Drawing

2010-01-20T09:04:00.001-05:00

Happy Holidays, everyone!!!!

2009-12-24T09:25:00.001-05:00

Snow Bunnies we are not

2009-12-19T20:12:00.004-05:00

You may have heard the Mid-Atlantic had a bit of a snow sprinkling today.

A little over a week ago, I needed the AC in my home. Today at about three pm, it looked like this:

Taking the dogs out involved coats, obviously.

It also involved Oscar, who is bigger and stronger, bounding bravely and happily through the snow, and Liberty, who is shorter, lighter, and not a fan of temperatures below 65F, only able to follow in his tracks, muttering foul things about me under her breath.

On occasion, Oscar would veer off course to use the bathroom...

...leaving Liberty stuck up to her chin (and only that shallowly because she doesn't weigh enough to get all the way to the ground) until I could make my way to her to break her loose.

(I will spare her dignity and not show you a photo of when the wind blew her hood over her eyes, she got disoriented, and got herself wedged head-first in a snow drift with just her little red butt sticking out)

When Oscar decided he was done, he went back up his path, with Liberty, thankful at last, following behind.

And at eight pm, my AC looks like this:

And I have a self-made pit bull-rito that looks like this:
(you have no idea how mortified Oscar would be if he knew he was touching another dog while he slept)

Are you an animal lover? DON'T support the HSUS!!!

2009-12-05T16:28:00.006-05:00

They talk a good game, but they don't quite play by the rules. Time and again, the Humane Society of the United States (which, by the way, has nothing to do with local Humane Societies in your communities) has asked for donations and done so using names and faces of dogs they have had no hand in assisting. They make it sound like they're sending money to help that dog, and dogs like it, but those animals are NOT benefiting from HSUS funds, and it is reprehensible to suggest otherwise.

Check this out:

This is Faye. She survived because of you.

I’ll never forget Faye’s story. I bet you won’t, either.

Our team met her in Missouri, when The Humane Society of the United States helped rescue hundreds of animals from the horrors of dogfighting. She’d been wounded badly in a fight, and a dogfighter had mercilessly cut off her lips. She was in tough shape, but we found her in the nick of time.

Watch our moving video to see Faye’s happy ending — then become a Humane Hero with your monthly donation to our 2010 Animal Survivors Fund.

Faye’s a lucky survivor: She now sleeps in a warm bed in a safe place. To help save thousands of animals just like her in the new year, we’re doing something we’ve never done before, and it’s BIG: We’re hoping to raise a million dollars online by December 31 for our 2010 Animal Survivors Fund.

It’s ambitious — but so are our plans for saving animals next year. We’ll not only continue to help bust dogfighting rings, but we’ll also take on the individuals and industries that profit from animal suffering — from people who club baby seals to death, to those who confine animals in factory farms, to those who abuse dogs in puppy mills.

Your gift of $20.10 a month for 2010 — just 66 cents a day — can help thousands of animals like Faye not just survive, but thrive in the new year. Click here to watch Faye’s video and make your tax-deductible monthly donation today. Thank you for everything you do for animals.

Sincerely,
John Goodwin
Manager, Animal Fighting Campaign
The Humane Society of the United States

Sure sounds like they've taken your money and done wonderful things for sweet little "Faye," right?

Then why do you suppose this was in the comments in an earlier post on the topic?

I am rather sad that HSUS has chosen to use Fay (not Faye)in their fund drive. Fay has never received a dime from HSUS. How do I know? Because I am the one that is fostering Fay. Fay is currently going through expensive surgeries to recreate medically need lips so her teeth do not fall out, her jaw bone stops deterioating, and she can live a normal life. HSUS never contacted us regarding Fay. In the video John states she is in a loving home…really…thanks for the compliment but Fay is LOOKING for her forever home.

If you really want to help Fay, please go to our website, http://www.muttsandstuff.com and click on the donate now button. If you want to help the other 35 dogs we took with their own health issues….please donate. We are a small group that can use the help.

There are endless stories of similar claims from the HSUS, for good they did with survivors of Bad Newz Kennels, for good they did during a recent fight ring bust in MO (when the group working so hard there was the Humane Society of MO, NOT the US) which brought Fay to safety, and countless others. The HSUS has no problems taking your money or the credit, they just have a little problem with follow through, and actually doing the work.

Know where your money is going, and who is receiving its benefits. Generally, donating to smaller, local groups is best - they need the money more, and it will affect your general area more directly.

Vote for B-MORE DOG!!!

2009-11-29T17:24:00.003-05:00

Once every twelve hours per computer!

Some days, the Snuggie just won't do...

2009-11-28T08:29:00.003-05:00

Good Morning, Starshine!

2009-11-16T21:22:00.002-05:00

This is Oscar's room. It was obviously storage when he showed up almost six years ago, and he wasn't supposed to stay, because I didn't want a dog, so it stayed storage. Liberty's room is much nicer. There is floor space, a crate, a chair, a dog bed, blankets, all kinds of comfortable things. But her room doesn't smell like Oscar. So Oscar's room is where Liberty sleeps.

In the morning, Fiona and Trevor wake Oscar and I up, then we all wander as a herd down the hall to wake up snoring beauty there. (Aslan sleeps in the front of the house usually)

(Oscar was sitting next to me the whole time. When I said "Oscar do you want to say hi to her?" I looked down and he shook his head)

Who needs Halloween candy...

2009-11-02T19:41:00.004-05:00

...when you're surrounded by sweetness like this?

(Oscar's head is in my lap, Fiona is on my shin)

Be More on Pit Bull Awareness Day!

2009-10-24T13:36:00.004-04:00

Today is the Third Annual Pit Bull Awareness Day!

In past years I've shown you videos and thrown facts at you.

This year, I need to ask you a favor.

B-More Dog has been chosen out of all the animal organizations in the country to be one of sixty four entered in Rachael Ray's Mutt Madness competition. It's run like a football playoff, with half the groups each week moving on to the next level. Each time they do, they win money. The last group standing wins $50,000!

There are some really amazing groups in this competition - sixty-four really amazing groups, to be exact. And B-More Dog is still fairly new, having been an official non-profit for less than a year. But we've done terrific things already.

We've gone to a few schools in Baltimore with our dogs, and taught the kids how to behave around dogs, taught them why abuse and dog fighting is wrong, and encouraged them to work with their own dogs in training classes - after we left, one youth said he wanted to be a dog trainer when he grew up!

We've collected leashes and collars for free distribution to those who don't have their dogs properly secured.

And our biggest accomplishment, in my opinion, is B-More In Control, a program the city backs fully, that we've given at several area shelters. Targeted towards people who've received citations on animal issues, but free to anyone who wants to attend, we're teaching people how to better judge canine body language, where to find activities they can do with their dog that will help keep the dog happy and healthy and within the confines of the law.

$50,000 could go a long way for a group like this in spreading these programs to a larger audience, finalizing lesson plans and audio-visual additions to the program that would allow us to go beyond Baltimore, and helping everyone realize that breed of dog doesn't matter, taking responsibility does.

Please, please sign on to Rachael Ray's website and register to vote in Mutt Madness.

As I said, it's like a sports play off, so you'll have to vote for a group in each of the brackets. Also as I said, all sixty-four groups are really amazing, so you can't go wrong no matter who you vote for. The first round ends tomorrow, October 25 - Please vote for B-More Dog to continue!!!

And tell everyone you know!

Can You Handle The Truth?

2009-10-22T17:16:00.001-04:00

Pit Bull Awareness Day is this weekend! Will you think of rumors, or will you know the truth?

Whisper or scream

2009-10-08T13:01:00.005-04:00

Today Oscar and I went to get his rabies vaccine. He isn't a fan of the vet's office, so we decided to try a low price clinic our local humane society does. Lots of places do of this - check your area! - it's just $5 for the shot. We went in, and discovered I didn't have the right paperwork. It took two phone calls to two different vets, but we finally got it so they would fax it to the humane society.

While we were waiting, Oscar was alternating between uber slut and screaming banshee of excess energy. Everyone was very patient and kind, and I spent almost an hour just trying to practice obedience - by which I mean, I would give very basic commands that he does in his sleep and he would vibrate and shriek and occasionally sit, down, or heel. A bit hyper-stimulated was my boy.

But he still loves him some people, so he was allowed to meet everyone who was interested. One man came over, and I knew right away what television show he watches too much of. The man apparently decided that Oscar should be allowed to sniff his hand, right hand only, but not lick. So he reached for Oscar, hand neatly curled up as though he were hiding a treat, and would say "good boy" when Oscar sniffed and then, when the tongue came out
PSSCCHHHT

Which succeeded in having Oscar look at him like "Oh, I'm sorry, did you just have a stroke?" and then try to kiss him again. And get a response of
PSSCCHHHT
from the man.

This happened three times, with me going from mildly amused to pretty dang irritated (I kinda really, really freaking hate it when people reprimand my dog when he's just being a dog)

Finally, the man looked Oscar in the eye, wagged his finger at him like an 18th century school marm and said, quite sternly,
"You are not the boss of me. I am a man. You are a dog. You are not the boss of me."

Well, now that we have that clear. We'll look past the fact that dominance is a thoroughly out-dated behavioral concept, and that most behaviorists and animal experts think a certain television show is teaching people very dangerous methods that are harming animals. We'll forget all that and focus on the fact that I really, really hate it when people reprimand dogs for being dogs. And I hate it more when it's my dog.

Jackass.

Oh, well, Oscar obviously isn't any worse for the wear -

we went to Petsmart after where he was stuffed full of treats by every employee they have, and where he didn't even pee inappropriately, after I stopped him that once from attempting to claim the toy aisle as his own.

Lest you think I've given up the lure of the sheep, I do have a very few pictures from a recent project. A friend's mother had some pet sheep for a while, and they are starting to get old, the sheep and the mother, and the family has decided not to replenish the herd. So the friend (who collects geckos and has an extremely cute pit bull named Newt) asked me if I would be able to help make something memorable as a surprise for mom. And yes, I can!

So I was delivered a big box of wool, about a pound of it, which looked like this

Then I washed it

laid it out to dry

carded it

(with help)

and now I have this pretty stuff to play with

I'll spin it up and knit a hat from it, a really lovely Christmas gift.

This never happens when I go to the barber...

2009-10-01T15:25:00.001-04:00

DOG - TRATO IGUALITARIO - TREAT EQUAL IGUALDAD ANIMAL - STRAY ANIMAL FOUDATION

2009-09-25T14:59:00.001-04:00

2009-09-11T08:29:00.002-04:00

Two thousand, nine hundred, ninety-six.

One thousand, eight hundred, twenty-six.

It’s hard to picture any one thing in an amount like either of those two numbers, isn’t it?

So how about these numbers: Eight. Three. or One.

Eight years of little anniversaries, romantic gestures, dreams, and planning for the future. Eight years of marriage. Eight years that aren't enough.

Three children, growing and learning and loving. Three sets of school plays and football games and high school proms and moving into adulthood. Three children doing that without a father.

And just One Benjamin Suarez.

One man, father, husband, brother, uncle, friend.

One Benny, who can no longer show of his tattoos signifying his two great passions - the name of his wife Sally on one arm, and a dragon entwined with the emblem of the New York Fire Department on the other.

One Benny who was tender and romantic, often remembering little anniversaries even his wife forgot.

One Benny, who had dreams of buying a house with his wife. Who wanted nothing more than to make Sally happy, saying “'I could live in a cardboard box, but I have to make sure you have the house you want.'”

One Benny who grew up in Brooklyn always active in church and the community, so that becoming someone who spent his life working for others was a natural progression.

One Benny who was a familar face to all in the neighborhood, who could go no place in the district where he wasn't known and loved by all.

One Benny, who loved his job as a firefighter in Manattan’s Ladder Company 21, at 38th Street for the excitement, the time with the community and because the flexible schedule allowed him to be with his children and attend their events proudly, sometimes bringing the whole ladder company along with him.

Two thousand, nine hundred, ninety-six lives were lost on September 11, 2001.

That was two thousand, nine hundred, twenty days ago, when
One Benjamin Suarez, at Thirty-Six years old, after working a Twenty-Four hour shift, called and said his last words to his wife:
“I have to help the people”.

~~~~~

The Tower

Into the Tower, we must go
There’s people in trouble,
We all know.

The towers stretch into the sky
Over one hundred stories high.

As people run out every way
They are in trouble they can not stay

Down the stairs, they must go lower
To leave the danger of the tower.

For damage caused to the towers beauty,
We must go in, it is our duty.

As we go high we have to poke
Because the thickness of the smoke

Its getting hot as we go higher
The intense heat of burning fire.

This is real, its no dream
As people run, and people scream

As things drop of the damaged tower
People hide and people cower.

We did not know it would fall
We done our duty
We gave our all.

Written by David Boyce
On the 30th of May 2004

South Wales police officer sc7061 Boyce was one of 340 to attend 9/11 memorial 2002 at Ground Zero and says:

Since returning to the United Kingdom after the 2002 memorial visit I found my spiritual side and I started writting spiritual poetry.
This came to me one morning on 30 May 2004 by a fire fighter by the name similar to Suarez. Until a short time ago I did not know if this was correct.
I have just looked at the lost list and found the name Benjamin Suarez who was lost at 9/11 WTC.
I had the visions of actually going up the stairs within the tower whilst the rescue was taking place, although I [had] never actually been to New York until the 2002 911 memorial.
Please send this to the relevant people who may appreciate this poem.

God Bless them all
Dave Boyce
~~~~~

Janine of Staten Island made this quilt for the family of Firefighter Benjamin Suarez, in his memory. The quilt was delivered in person to the fire station in August 2002.

Focus and Clarity

2009-08-29T08:38:00.005-04:00

Four months ago, when Liberty was still at the vet after being hit by the car where rescuers found her, when we were trying to figure out what would happen to her when it was time for her to leave the vet, a woman from a local rescue was talking to me about her and kept saying "wow, she reminds me so much of my girl". Probably in shock from actually considering bringing another pit bull into my already full home, I didn't make the connection. But that woman, and more so her dog, were "famous" in a way. Because of one particular man who returned to work this week. You might have seen the dog. I'm sure you've heard of the man.

That cover dog is Sweet Jasmine, one of the dogs rescued from Bad Newz Kennels, likely born there, through the blessings of God and hearts of people that never fail to amaze me, not destined to die there. For her first four years of life, we don't really know what happened, though there is a great deal of evidence that it was nothing short of torturous. For her final year, Jasmine had a loving family, other animals that she lived peacefully with, and a truly blessed final few months, before she was hit and killed by a car this week. Many in the pit bull community consider Jasmine's cover article to be a major (positive) turning point for our breed. I hope that's true. And yes, Liberty does look a great deal like her, down to the wonky ears, questioning eyes, and pouty lips.

The temperament, too, seems similar. To read about the dogs as they recover from those disgusting horrors is to read about Liberty. The fear, the hiding, the timidity - and the relentless love for people. From day one, Liberty would cower to the ground, tail glued to her belly, refusing eye contact... and do it while crawling towards the person she feared; wanting so much to be by them, even certain they would beat her. That's the heart of a pit bull. So unwaveringly full of love it puts the rest of the world to shame.

And we should be ashamed.

We will remember that man's name for decades to come. Partly because he can throw a ball. More because of the unspeakable acts he now claims to be sorry for. Whether he is or he isn't truly sorry, I can't and won't say. Because I choose not to spend more time dwelling on him than is absolutely necessary. I can't focus on the evil in the world - there is too much of it. I have to focus on the beauty.

I have to focus on the full body hugs I get from Liberty every time I come home. I have to focus on the way she gently licked away my tears last week at the end of a sad movie. I have to focus on the way her tail wags when anyone - Trevor, Aslan, Fiona, Oscar, or myself - walks into the room where she is napping. I have to focus on the jello-like wiggles that overcome her body when she sees a human. The pogo-like bouncing when she realizes it's someone she's met before. I have to focus on the uncountable numbers of people that say "oh, she's so beautiful - what a sweet face!" and not the handful that say "she looks mean" (it must be the pink collar, or maybe the Tinkerbell tee-shirt.)

I have to focus on Hector, Zippy, Jonny Justice, Leo, Sweet Pea, Uba, Iggy, Audie, Grace, Jhumpa Jones, Ernie, Frodo, and Teddles. And on Sweet Jasmine.

And when I think about Jasmine, as I have often this week, I will think about the wonderful, peaceful life, over-flowing with love that marked the end of her time in this life. She deserved that.

Rest in peace, Sweet Jasmine. Your gifts to this world weren't about being unusual at all, but about how very typically pit bull you were. It's clear to me we could use a little more of that.

A Monster Movie

2009-08-16T18:11:00.003-04:00

Deep under the heart of Amie's shed
lurks something so horrible
so terrifying
only the bravest souls could dare face it
and dig it out

(No, I don't know what it is, but I know I don't want them to find it)

Give me Liberty, or give me Oscar!

2009-08-11T18:30:00.002-04:00

A friend of mine is a professional photographer, and he very kindly consented to photographing two of my beasts a few weeks ago. I took the dogs for a long walk in the woods, then met Rob at a football field that could be completely fenced in. Rob is brilliant. Here is proof:

If you're wonky and you know it wag your tail

Liberty likes to run fast

faster

fastest

She likes to bunny hop

and show off her bunny ears

Time for a moment of meditation

But what do I see over there?

Treats!?!

Maybe big brother can get it

But sometimes a girl needs a break

a little breather

"I don't like heat"

"... but I like peoples!"

I"ll just chill out in the shade here while you look at that handsome Oscar

I mean, he is awfully good-looking

with a great smile

and what girl doesn't love a jock?

Hey, ma, do you know where the treat box went?

Can we play a game?

How about Hide and Seek??

I love my momma and my momma loves me!

Thanks for looking!!

Oscar and Liberty Go To the Pool (that's TO, not IN)

2009-07-20T20:43:00.003-04:00

Our friend Cristyn invited Liberty and Oscar over to her back yard to see how they would like swimming. So off we went...

and in some especially brave moments
but never actually got IN.

There was a lot of exploring of the yard,

and trying to find the dogs that were barking inside

And there was also peeing with the shockingly impressive quantity only Oscar can manage, but I'll spare you photos of that. (Let's just say Cristyn's male dog may have dehydrated himself several times over trying to cover all of Oscar's marks)

But mostly Liberty tried to point out that even though she bunny hops, she is not a beach bunny.

However, Oscar felt this sign was appropriate

because if you aren't wary, there will be a great deal of this

and this

and occasionally some of this

And for the last two photos, Oscar gives his impression of a Great Dane:

And Liberty says "Thanks, Cristyn - can we come play again soon???"
(how's that for a fearful pit bull, huh?)

... I hope he'll stay Six forever and ever!

2009-07-05T06:44:00.001-04:00

(Generally we celebrate Oscar's birthday on the Fourth, but YouTube took so long to upload this that we're stretching it out a little)

Liberty Learns Physics

2009-06-18T21:20:00.004-04:00

If someone outweighs you by fifteen pounds, and is six inches taller than you, and you want to wrestle with them

STAND ON THE COUCH!!!

And here's the little lady all dressed up with no place to go

(Her shirt says "What part of PRINCESS don't you understand?")

Why has Amie been so busy?

2009-06-05T08:28:00.000-04:00

She's been hanging out with great dogs!

WrestleMania!!!

2009-05-30T06:50:00.002-04:00

In this corner...

Weighing in at 7 or 8 pounds, most of it fluff, wearing the pink floral collar and bell,

Fiona "The Dog Catcher" Mishelle!

In this corner...

Weighing in at 39 pounds, most of it scar tissue, wearing the lupine collar and purple tag,

Liberty "No Really, She's Weird Looking" Karma!

With several left hooks from Fiona, Liberty tries to head butt -- but then the illegal move from Fiona, who Mike-Tyson's Liberty into submission!!! In a great comeback, Liberty recovers from that, and attempts her trademarked "Back Scratcher" move to shake Fiona from her perch. Failing in that, she is forced to resort to girl-fighting like an elementary school play ground and win the match!

2009-05-25T17:57:00.002-04:00

Oscar and I took a walk today (as we often do) with my mother and her favorite daughter Jackie. This is a typical walk for us - we meet at a park about half-way between our homes, and walk about five miles or so:

and as we get to the end of the walk, Jackie stops anytime there is shade

but Oscar just wants to know where we're going next

Well, next we're going home, where Oscar got to go inside for some water, and I took Liberty outside for some school! This is her fourth training session, all of which have been about this long. I think she just might be brilliant!

http://s282.photobucket.com/albums/kk268/RoseByAny/Chapel/?action=view&current=100_3630.flv
(obviously sit, down and a little come)

Recalling Liberty

2009-05-18T13:28:00.004-04:00

This is an awful lot of video of my grass growing, because I didn't get the camera angle quite right. But she walked all the way out on her own, since I discovered she'd go anywhere as long as Oscar went first. And she's improving every day.

Nevertheless, you see a glimmer of bunny dog in there, and sparks of what a happy girl she can potentially be.

Please forgive my high couture, I had just crawled out of bed. Likewise, the screeching voice is, I would like to believe, not the norm for me. It takes some effort still to get her ramped up.

And ramped up it did get her, because this is what she did for the rest of the day (turn up your speakers):

Flirting with Oscar

2009-05-06T18:08:00.003-04:00

Admit it. You would too. He's hawt.

The Start of Liberty's Journey

2009-05-03T10:45:00.003-04:00

This is what cowered in the backseat of my car for 40 minutes Friday evening.

She didn't move, but sat curled up in the tightest ball she could maneuver, just shaking for the entire time.

At my house, she has her own crate.

It looks like a mansion around her little body, but it's less than 36 inches in any direction.

I leave the door open when I'm in the house, so she can come and go as she pleases (since none of the other animals are pestering her, and she doesn't seem bothered by their occasional visits) and this is about as far away from the crate as she'll get on her own.

(you can't see the poop on the bottom right - she's so terrified of being outside, that even though I do believe she's housetrained, she got out of her crate, pooped, and covered it with a towel. Fiona actually found it for me.)

She has no problems with any of the other animals, but only one of them will sit where I want them to sit long enough for me to take a picture

Not a great angle for size comparison, and I'm not super crazy about the body language going on here, but that's as tense as the language got, and Oscar was excused immediately after I took the picture.

(I do NOT recommend inexperienced people try to throw two dogs together to take a cute picture. I know Oscar pretty well, and pay very, very, close attention to body language. And I realize that if I'd been wrong about what I was seeing, this could have been a photo of a dog fight that ended in death. Use extreme care and patience when introducing a new animal to resident animals, and always, always be willing to accept that they might never get along.)

Freedom for Liberty

2009-04-30T17:31:00.004-04:00

On Sunday, April 19, about ten minutes after I left a meeting with the woman who is mentoring me in my quest for Animal Behavior certification, said woman left her office on Wards Chapel Road, pulled out onto Liberty Road, and saw a pit bull hit by a car.

She immediately pulled over, got two other co-workers who were following her to pull over, and they started the chase to see if the little dog was alright. They attempted to get cars to stop, or at least slow down, and most of them responded with much profanity and gestures which involve limited numbers of digits. At one point, one man did pull over to help. Then he saw the dog, yelped "Is that a PIT BULL????" got back into his vehicle, and locked the doors.

Oh, did you not know that pit bulls are the breed most likely to carjack you???

Anyway, it took over an hour, but they finally ran the little dog down, got her into one of their trucks, and immediately took her to the vet hospital where one of those leading the chase just so happens to be a vet tech.

A few hours later, as the most out-spoken pit bull proponent my mentor knows, I got the call telling me the above details. Being the bleeding heart that I am, I said "Jeez, I wish I could afford another dog, but there's just no way I possibly can, otherwise I'd offer to take her in for a while." Any sane person would hear the true meaning behind my words, which is "thank goodness I can't afford another dog, I don't have the time or energy for that."

Also, any sane person wouldn't spend a few hours trying to catch a strange dog in the middle of rush hour traffic. Audience is a very important thing to remember when you make statements like the one I made.

My mentor said "oh, thank goodness - I just can't possibly fit her into my house [the woman has eight dogs, seventeen cats, several birds, and a herd of herding animals, she is one of the few people who really means it when she says "no room at the inn"], so you can take her home and I'll pay for her food and vetting while we find her a new home."

This is what you may refer to as an EPIC FAIL.

*sigh* But the thing is, I really, really can help in this situation. I have a small room she can stay in that can keep her separate from Oscar and the cats as long as that is needed, I understand how to deal with the crap pit bull owners have to deal with all the time (like idiots who lock their car doors to keep dogs out), I understand dog behavior, have an animal behaviorist on speed dial if there's an emergency, and am more than comfortable with basic manner and obedience training.

So how could I turn this girl away?

I really couldn't turn her away once I'd met her. She has very obviously been badly abused in the past. She is covered in scars, one of her ears is ragged, the other is missing the bottom two inches, her lips are terribly uneven and the vet who looked at her initially said it looked like they'd been stitched up at home by an amateur, and her legs are malformed, whether through bad breeding or injury it's unclear. And she was intact (was - we took care of that). She's terrified of everything - has to be coaxed to go outside and then spends the whole time asking to come back in. She flinches dreadfully at any sudden movements, and she has no idea what to do with any toys I showed her. She's about three years old, (at a little under 40lb) about a dozen pounds lighter than Oscar, and just looks TINY.

And she is the sweetest thing. Gentle as can be, and has shown textbook ideal reactions to both dogs and cats (in fact, the very first time I met her, I asked a vet tech to bring the office cat in, and while the dog was eating a treat out of my hand, the cat sniffed her lip - the dog didn't even lift a lip or make any kind of "back off" gesture in dog - that's better than Oscar would have done!)

So May 1 begins a New Life for the little one, who we have called Liberty, both for where she was found, and for her freedom from whatever horrible life she had before. In my house, she will be given training and love, and will never know pain again. The behaviorist has said she respects my decision on who should end up with her, and I will be sure she finds a forever home that will respect and cherish her as she deserves. And I already know my heart will break when it's time for her to leave.

(here's video of her on a potty break with me. she has seen the door to inside and cannot for the life of her figure out how to get me closer to it. so she does this odd backing-up-to-rev-up-for-a-jump thing I've only ever seen one other dog do. That would be Oscar. )

You can fly!

2009-04-16T19:21:00.002-04:00

When there's a smile in your heart
There's no better time to start
It's a very simple plan
You can do what the birdies can
At least it's worth a try

You can fly! You can fly!
You can fly! You can fly!

It's the Easter Platypus, Charlie Brown!

2009-04-12T10:01:00.004-04:00

I have a thing for platypi, so when I saw this in the store, I knew Oscar would be getting a new toy for Easter.

Nevermind that he doesn't usually play with toys (he does sleep on them but seldom does any actually playing.)

He sort of sees all of life as a game anyway, so the need for props hasn't yet occurred to him.

But he seems to like the Easter Platypus!!! The body crinkles, the head squawks and the feet squeak. I got to hear all of that as he discovered it, and so do you!

(in the beginning, he puts it down and comes closer to the camera - he does this every time I give him a new treat or toy - he'll put it down and come give me a kiss. He says "thank you!")

So from all of us to all of you, Merry Easter to all, and to all a good time with a platypus!

Stand in the place where you live

2009-04-05T21:10:00.004-04:00

Session One of trying to teach Oscar to stand, last night:

In watching the video, I see that I am a lousy trainer! I got better towards the end, though, which is (coincidentally, I'm sure) when he started to respond as well. Theoretically, I should click only when he's in the position I want, or, if possible, headed towards it (ie, in the process of standing up). Unfortunately, he's too fast and I'm too slow, so there's no way I'll get the upward motion of the butt. The first step is to get him to offer the "stand" position on his own, which we obviously haven't mastered yet. For the sake of time and upload space, I had to do a quick edit, so the odd blurp isn't a glitch in your computer:

What you see is, he knows we're training (look at that tail and tell me if this dog likes school or not) and so tries to do what's called "offering behaviors" - he does all kinds of things he can think of that I've asked of him before (you'll see him try sloppy versions of the heel, jump, come, sit, and down that you saw yesterday). In fact, the down position that starts this video was one he volunteered, without request. That's expected at this stage. He'll speed up with offering the correct behavior if I can get better at my side of things.

Once he does get to the point of offering the stand intentionally and consistently, we put the command on it. That's a bit down the road. It's best to learn new things in very short sessions (this first was under 7 minutes total, the second was about five and a half) and finish on a positive note (which is why I had him do the commands he's already solid on) to prevent frustration. I get frustrated AGES before Oscar does when it comes to school - he'll keep trying things over and over - so it's more for my sake that we keep things short, but it's good for the dog, too!

This morning we tried again with Session Two:
(yes, I'm wearing the same thing. I changed after work and slept in the shirt, then threw on the jeans before going outside first thing this morning. This was filmed at about 6:30) You'll see fewer "down"s offered - he doesn't like to down, it's very submissive (he often refuses it in tense, uncertain situations) and since it didn't pay off yesterday, he's obviously not going to bother with it today.

Already some pretty impressive improvement. And the dog's getting better, too!

Stand by me

2009-04-03T19:34:00.004-04:00

When Oscar and I start competing in Rally, at the upper levels, he's going to have to "stand" on command. I'm pretty sure the odds of this happening are as likely as those of him baking me a cake on command.

The dog does not stand. He wiggles and shimmies and jumps and bounces and prances and paces and dances and wags and bounds and leaps and... he does not stand.

Here's an example of Oscar in our yard. This is a very typical day, he'd already been out a few times, and he's burnt off the top edge of energy, perhaps, definitely not amped up at all.

the commands he's given are
a) "c'mere" which just means... well, get near me, I don't really care about details
b) "heel", which is a position on my left side,
c) "come" which is come to a seated position directly in front of me
d) "finish" which means go to a heel position by crossing behind me right to left and
e) "jump" which he taught himself and apparently means "pretend you're a pit bull on a pogo stick."

I have no idea how I'm going to get this dog to stand calmly. I guess I'll have to stop giving him prozac as training treats.

Help Stewie!

2009-03-30T22:26:00.000-04:00

There's a great new program in Baltimore called Spay Maryland, which offers low-cost spays and neuters in our area. Recently that organization has been working with another group called Baltimore Cares About Pets to help a cat named Stewie that was caught in a housefire. His owner was disabled and unable to pay for the vet care the cat needed, so the two groups stepped in and are trying to help.

Here are the details:

On Tuesday, March 11th, a house in Brooklyn Park, Md caught fire. The homeowner, who uses a wheelchair for mobility, was able to escape with his dog but could not find his cat. Luckily, firefighters found the cat, Stewie, and quickly treated him for smoke inhalation. Stewie was taken to a local veterinary hospital for treatment but his owner, who lost everything in the fire except his beloved pets, was unable to pay for the rising costs of Stewie's care. An organization called Baltimore Cares About Pets was contacted about Stewie's case and they contacted our organization to see if we could help. We are now making special accomodations to provide for Stewie's care. Right now, we are looking for donations to help Stewie's owner pay off his remaining balance at the hospital that originally treated Stewie. We are also taking donations to use towards caring for Stewie at our hospital.

Through all of this, Stewie has maintained his sweet personality. He's a very nice young cat (only a year old) and he still purrs at our doctor and technicians as they provide him with care. Baltimore Cares About Pets has made a couple of Craigslist postings about this as well. The first is located here: http://baltimore.craigslist.org/pet/1087628774.html and the second, with pictures, is here:
http://baltimore.craigslist.org/pet/1091562732.html

If you could help us spread the word about Stewie's case I would be very grateful! I know that cats are outside of your normal focus, but as an animal lover I thought you might be able to help us out. Maybe a blog post might help? I'm not sure if there are any good email lists you know of where I could post this, or any other well-trafficked blogs for the area that might be interested in the story, but if you're aware of any please do let me know! We're trying to reach out as much as possible to raise funds for a very deserving little kitty.

If anyone out there has a soft spot for cats, please contact Chris at chris@baltimorecaresaboutpets.org

Looks like Stewie's got some good folks in his corner.

The Story of Trevor

2009-03-28T19:59:00.003-04:00

Years ago, when my precious Misha was an only child, people started telling me she was getting old. Now, this is a horrible thing to say, especially to someone as close to her as I was. Would you go to someone and say "wow, your mom's getting old. Bet she keels over at any minute!" Nevertheless, everyone mentioned how old she was (at NINE!). More and more I was thinking about her leaving me, which I knew would kill me. And I knew if I didn't have another cat in my life when Misha passed, I never would. If I had one to keep caring for, I'd get by, but if all I had was memories of her, no one else would live up to it. So I started thinking about getting a kitten.

Just then, GB announced that Elvira was pregnant by Meathead. This is not the scandel it could be, since Elvira and Meathead were the names the soldiers on the Naval base where GB worked had given to two stray cats who were seen 'round and about together.

So it was decided that I would have one of Elvira's kits - my pick. I had heard that alternating genders makes cat integration easier, so I'd decided to get one of the boys. Since Misha was named after a male dancer (Mikhail Baryshnikov) I had decided that my little boy kitten would be named after a female actress - Antoinette Perry, the only woman to have an Academy Award named after her (the Tonys).

About a week after the kittens were born, in early April of 2000, I went to visit GB and see a movie with him and with his son. During the entire movie, I heard a mother talking to her son. I never heard her son. I never saw her son. But throughout the entire movie I heard a contstant stream of
TREVOR-SIT-DOWN-TREVOR-BE-QUIET-TREVOR-WOULD-YOU-TREVOR-PEOPLE-ARE-TRYING-TO-WATCH-THE-MOVIE-TREVOR-I-MEAN-IT-WOULD-YOU-COME-HERE-TREVOR-IM-NOT-GOING-TO-TELL-YOU-AGAIN-TREVOR-BEHAVE-YOURSELF-TREVOR-I-MEAN-IT-TREVOR-SIT-DOWN-RIGHT-THIS-INSTANT-TREVOR!

And people think the cosmos doesn't give warnings.

We went to see the kittens after that, and they all looked almost identical. There was one of the boys who had the tiniest white fluff on the tip of his tail - maybe 15 little hairs. He was running around, slapping the other kittens around, jumping on them, bossing them around....
and as soon as I picked him up, he fell asleep in my arms.

Yep, this was my little guy.

A string was tied around his neck so no one else would take him (eventually all the kittens found homes, and Elvira was fixed) and when he was old enough, he came home with me. For a while, he was Trevor Perry, but on visiting my parents, my mother decided that "Trevor Miguel" had much more "yellability" - and he knows the middle name means trouble!

Misha hated him. She didn't want a kitten (she might have liked a puppy). And he was fearless. Lungs like you'd never believe something his size could have. He was sick a lot when he was tiny. The vet told me he was small for his age, and that his inners hadn't caught up to his outers in growth, so things weren't processing as smoothly as they could be. He outgrew it, and hasn't had a problem since. He jumped on everyone and everything - the world was his playground (the picture above is him spelunking through a pair of my father's pants at about 6 months old. He'd started at the cuff).

When he was eight months old, I came home from work to find uncooked spaghetti all over my apartment. The box was still in the cabinet, which was above my head. He had climbed up, opened the cabinet and the box, and knocked it over, to pour noodles down to play with. He could turn on and off lightswitches by jumping up and hitting the toggles (I'm sure my neighbors thought I had some sort of freaky disco going on most nights.) He turned on the air conditioning once doing the same thing. I had to have GB raise the chandelier in my dining room on one of his visits, because Trevor would take a running leap at it, catch it with his front legs, and swing like George of the Jungle. You know how most cats poke and prod, and finally settle, and then start purring? When Trevor wants to cuddle, he starts at your feet, walks up your legs (with the pressure of what feels like four little ball-peen hammers pounding on you) purring loudly all the while, before he ever makes it to your chest to lie down and cuddle. It's as if the whole way he's thinking "oh, man, this is gonna be a good snuggle!" He still plays fetch with the little plastic rings from milk jugs, or his favorite toy, a little green and white stuffed chicken, which he knows by name
(Stephen - ).

I almost lost him a year-and-a-half ago, but thank God, my Trevor Miguel is nine today. He'll get extra cuddles, and a little bologna for a snack, and maybe I won't yell quite as loud when he pesters Aslan or chases Fiona tries to ride Oscar or any of the other trouble I know he'll get into. Any minute now he'll outgrow that kitten behavior, right? I'll cry that day.

He is everything a cat should be. Ferocious, and curious, and fearless, and loving. He will get into trouble where you think there is none. And then he will want to cuddle until the fear goes away. No mouse stands a chance with him around. And strangers better be ware, as well - I'm his mom, don't bother to try to steal my love (it took him years to accept GB!). He is by far the most affectionate cat I've ever lived with, though no one (myself included) would say he's the sweetest in temperment. He is my Spud. Spuderball. Trev. Monkey.

Happy Birthday, Trevor Miguel.
I love you.

Dogs and cats don't get along

2009-03-24T21:11:00.002-04:00

Just ask Oscar.

The poor guy just wants to sleep in his dog bed, next to the couch where I sit.

So he curls up and tries to go to sleep. But then Fiona comes along and pats Oscar on the fanny until he gets up and lets her get in the bed. So she's in the bed for about thirteen seconds and lint or something distracts her and she leaves, and so Oscar gets back in the bed.

Then Trevor comes along and tries to sleep on top of him, so Oscar gets up and leaves. Then Trevor realizes no one is pestering Aslan, so he leaves, and Oscar gets back into the bed.

Then Fiona comes along and pats Oscar on the fanny until he gets up and lets her get in the bed. So she's in the bed for about thirteen seconds and lint or something distracts her and she leaves, and so Oscar gets back in the bed.

Then Trevor comes along and tries to sleep on top of him, so Oscar gets up and leaves. Then Trevor realizes no one is pestering Aslan, so he leaves, and Oscar gets back into the bed.

Then Fiona comes along and pats Oscar on the fanny until he gets up and lets her get in the bed. So she's in the bed for about thirteen seconds and lint or something distracts her and she leaves, and so Oscar gets back in the bed.

Then Trevor comes along and tries to sleep on top of him, so Oscar gets up and leaves. Then Trevor realizes no one is pestering Aslan, so he leaves, and Oscar gets back into the bed.

Then Fiona comes along and pats Oscar on the fanny until he gets up and lets her get in the bed. So she's in the bed for about thirteen seconds and lint or something distracts her and she leaves, and so Oscar gets back in the bed.

Then Trevor comes along and tries to sleep on top of him, so Oscar gets up and leaves. Then Trevor realizes no one is pestering Aslan, so he leaves, and Oscar gets back into the bed.

Are you starting to see a pattern?

If you are, you might also see a pit bull who looks like this

(grumpy)

2009-03-17T10:37:00.000-04:00

Photo and video editing at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Make Your Next Search a Good One!

2009-03-15T17:52:00.004-04:00

Next time you need an internet search engine, consider www.goodsearch.com - if you select B-More Dog as your charity of choice, we'll get a small donation for each search that can add up to hundreds of dollars over the course of a year - all without costing you a cent. In addition, if you shop through the site, we'll earn 3% of your purchase price in donations.

There are also more than 700 online stores giving various donations in the same manner through - a percentage of your purchase price goes to B-More Dog, without changing your cost at all.

All of this, without costing you anything. It's an easy way to make a difference for pit bulls and responsible dog owners everywhere!

Oscar says "Please!"

Warning:

2009-03-11T21:07:00.001-04:00

If you are an owner of a dog that belongs to a 'dangerous breed' category, and you also have a small child, please heed this warning!

Do Not leave your dog with the child unattended.

A short period of time was enough for this to happen.

Hands in the air, screaming WWWWWHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

2009-03-09T18:27:00.003-04:00

I came to a difficult decision last weekend that I needed to leave one of the two places I've been working lately. I like the guys in the office, we laugh like crazy whenever we're together, but the office itself is so very disorganized that they've been costing me money. So after another straw got laid on my camel-like back, I decided I'd had enough and told them I wasn't going to be working there anymore. They spent several phone calls trying to convince me to change my mind, but it just wasn't working out. So I finally got through to them today.

I hung up the phone feeling frustrated, disappointed, guilty (I hate quitting) and angry.

Then I went to check e-mail, and got an e-mail from a lawyer friend/associate that B-More Dog got our notice today of being approved for 501c3 status by the IRS. This is mind boggling. I very well may have screamed out loud. We were told the average time for a decision was between six and twelve months. That there may or may not be at least one time that the IRS wrote to us asking for clarification on issues. We submitted our application almost exactly two months ago, and they didn't need clarification on anything. That's FAST. In fact, our lawyer (the aforementioned friend/associate) said she's never seen a group approved as fast as we were.

That amazing news that still has me giddy comes less than twenty-four hours after a very productive meeting to discuss one of B-More Dog's programs. Called B-More Responsible and already approved by Baltimore City officials, we'll be doing a program for people who've received citations from Animal Control teaching them about how to be responsible dog owners, why leashes are important, how health and behavior are linked, why "letting dogs do what dogs do" isn't necessarily appropriate for human society and how owners need to take accountability for the behaviors of their animals. We've secured a video crew and several experts to help us with pre-taped portions of the program, and are scripting out the interactive discussion sections.

In addition, a local film program is doing a documentary on B-More Dog for a class project, and we're getting clips for that. Oscar and I will be doing a demonstration of Rally Obedience:

(this is a class a few months ago - we'll do a new course for the doc)

and we'll be interviewed as well (well, I'll be interviewed, Oscar will likely just toss a little Blue Steel their way).

So it's been a bit of a roller coaster today, but what a ride.

If you don't know how to fix it, stop breaking it

2009-03-03T07:56:00.001-05:00

Time Marches On

2009-03-02T10:12:00.003-05:00

I'm not exactly sure when exactly it became March. The snow is blowing outside, the weather reporters are all a-twitter, I'm snuggled up on the couch with the animals, most of us under blankets, and it's hard to believe Spring is a scanty three weeks away. But it is.

Along with Spring comes a time of rebirth. Things that you were convinced were dead somehow find it within themselves to push for warmth, and burst out into green and growth again. Some things, you discover, really have died. They fertilize others, though, so even in death, more life can occur.

Always a fan of metaphors, my life has been in a bit of a long cold winter. And I'm looking forward to Spring. I've made several career changes, people have come in and out of my life, and I've felt much of the time that I don't even know who I am. To paraphrase Inigo Montoya, there is too much to explain - let me just sum up.

I've gone back to school. Again. I'm studying Animal Behavior and Training, with a focus on working/service animals and exotics, through a program grounded scientifically in operant conditioning. That means I'll be learning positive methods to work with behavioral issues of many species of animals. No, I don't know exactly what I'm going to do with that yet (I don't want to be a "dog trainer"). But the timing worked out that I had a minor (I thought) disagreement with one supervisor and then coincidentally was falsely accused by her of somethings that I couldn't disprove, so it was a good time to make a little switch I'd been contemplating (and in fact taken early steps towards) anyway.

Some friends have slipped from my life as well, which I suppose means they weren't the friends I thought they were. I do believe that people come into our lives for a reason, and I guess that means they go out of our lives for a reason as well. The friends who are still in my life stand beside me as I make some big changes, laughing and crying with me. If a time comes that they no longer belong in my life, I will miss them and these times with them.

I'm of course still knitting and spinning, though not as much as I would like. I hope to resume blogging with a little more frequency, even though time is so short.

No matter what, I'm on my way to becoming healthy, wealthy, and wise!

... it's what's for dinner

2009-02-08T19:10:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I went into work for what I thought was going to be a nice, short, four-hour-or-so day. I wasn't hungry before I went in, and figured since it was a nice, short, four-hour-or-so day I didn't need to eat to prevent hunger.

Can you see what's coming here?

Yeah. Miscommunication meant I was there for eight hours, not four. By hour six, I had a headache and was feeling a little jittery.

And there were these dog cookies.

I would like to say I mean cookies shaped like dogs.

I don't.

In my defense, it was 100% organic, vegetarian, mostly rolled oats with some apples and coconut, sweetened with honey, brown sugar and with yogurt icing.

Dammit, I ate a dog treat, and if I had to, I'd do it again.

You have to admit it - if this is what stood between you and certain death (or at least certain crankiness) you'd probably give in, too.

It was actually pretty good.

Oscar Cinema - Double Feature!

2008-12-14T12:54:00.002-05:00

[read with dark and exaggerated voice]
In a world where commands are given - will you answer the call? This ADD pit bull is ready to fight - but can he win? Find out in Oscar Cinema
[/movie guy voice]

in Agility (please note when he's being obnoxious and refusing to come, he does come when I call him "Doodlebug" - what a dork)

What's so enthralling off camera to the left, you ask? Laps. Without pit bulls in them. Also faces that need to be kissed. What's a guy to do?

Right after that we go to Rally, which is a form of obedience in which a course is given by marking commands on signs.

There's a toy and food bowl in the middle of the course, but of course he ignores those, because they have no draw for him when he could be working.

A pile of stuffed animals

2008-12-04T11:54:00.003-05:00

Work Out!

2008-11-11T11:28:00.003-05:00

For my birthday this year I decided to give myself the gift of a nice treadmill. I shopped around, researching like crazy, as I tend to do, and then found exactly the one I wanted at 50% off. AWESOME.

But the thing is, I have this dog that likes to walk and play outside, so I feel a little guilty justifying a big purchase that theoretically takes time away from that (it doesn't, actually, because I can hop on the treadmill for five minutes at a time, which I can't do for actual walks outside but still...) And there are a lot of times when I'm too tired to take Oscar for a full walk and then do the other things I have to do during the day. Add to that, his agility class makes his head explode a little bit (as in, he is "in control" like your average two year old hopped up on sugar then put into an inflatable room filled with balls and circus clowns would be "ready for a nap") and I need something to take the edge off of that but still makes me able to stand for two and a half hours of dog school. So it's pretty clear the treadmill is for Oscar as well.

Here's the set up, along with the kitten, showing her usual extreme fear of all things new (ha)

And here we are on week 2 of the training! The first day he got praise for standing on it (off) or reacting calmly when he was nearby and it was on (when I was on it). Neither of these were the slightest problem, nor did I expect them to be. After that, we worked on having him on it when it got turned on. The first time he stayed on once it was turned on he was on it for ten seconds before turning it off. (There's a cool emergency function, where there's a little tab you're supposed to tuck into your waistband (or, you know, collar) and if you go too far back, it unattaches itself from the machine and the treadmill turns off.)

We're up to about 30 seconds now, with constant feeding (and, as usual, tail wagging) throughout, although to be honest, in this video he finishes the food in the first few seconds and is simply gumming my hand after that.

I can do much, much longer than thirty seconds, but that's only because I'm in SO much better condition than Oscar. *cough* Okay, but really, I can run for two minutes straight and not collapse afterwords, so that's a pretty huge change from just a few years ago!

Waking up?

2008-11-04T23:02:00.004-05:00

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection:
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is lead forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action--
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

--Rabindranath Tagore

Oscar says "Happy Halloween!"

2008-10-30T14:46:00.002-04:00

(his other costume is much scarier!)

Happy Pit Bull Awareness Day!

2008-10-25T11:26:00.002-04:00

For those of you who have watched Oscar grow, who admit that he's adorable and sweet and funny and charming, but suspect he's an unusual pit bull, please watch this. I assure you, Oscar is extremely typical.

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

TIme Flies

2008-09-17T09:32:00.005-04:00

No matter how busy I get, Fiona refuses to stop growing!

This little girl

turns six months old today, and is now tall enough to touch the ceiling!

And so, like every young woman, she must learn to earn her keep. Being a long-haired cat, Fiona is considering a career in the fiber industry. (that or bug exterminator, she's keeping her options open)
We start by predrafting the wool

(no wool was ingested in the predrafting process)

and then learn all about the mechanics of the spinning wheel!

The wheel was in motion during her exploration. Growing up with an adoring pit bull has warped her survival instincts.

(please ignore the mess, I was trying out a new location for the wheel, but the wheel is a bit bigger than I realized and so doesn't fit there without expelling several other things from their hiding places and putting them in plain, and ugly, view)

Alright - back to work for me!

once... twice... four months a lady

2008-07-17T18:35:00.006-04:00

Princess Fiona is four months old today. Oscar is still smitten with her. Aslan is allowing her to be in the same room with him without growling. Trevor is tired of having a baby sister and wants to trade her in for a pony.

So if you'll remember Fiona at 5 weeks old, she looked like this:

and at four months, she looks like this:

and may be the answer to why tissues haven't helped my allergies this season

(best to turn off the sound for the video. I was flipping through channels and stopped to get the video of the cruel attack, so who knows what that noise is)

And for those who wonder what Oscar does when he doesn't have a kitten swinging from his head, check out this blog!

The Story of Oscar

2008-07-04T17:08:00.002-04:00

It was one of the first comfortable days back in late March of 2004, and my husband and I decided to go for a walk together. It was the first time we'd gone for a walk since I moved in the previous fall, and we had just set out, not more than fifty yards from our door when suddenly we heard tires screeching. Looking towards the large road by our house, we saw cars skidding to stop to avoid hitting a very wiggly buddle of energy that came careening across the road to us. I heard a voice in my head say "Oh, that's Oscar" - and it was! Soon I was being licked and wiggled against and wagged into by what felt like a warm and fuzzy brick - handsome spotty dog with a belt around his neck and no signs of identification. I looked at my husband and said "You knew who I was when you married me," he sighed and we turned back home, bringing the dog with us. One of the feral children on the street ran up to us and said "oh my gosh, that's a PIT BULL" in a shocked and excited tone. I replied quickly "oh, no, he's much too friendly. He must be a mix." Like most people I didn't really know what a pit bull looks like, and while I didn't believe that an animal could be inherently born evil, I didn't think pit bulls were naturally friendly, either.

Before long we'd had the dog tied to a tree (he couldn't come inside until I knew he was healthy and safe enough to be around my cats!) and we were inside making phone calls. He was obviously extremely friendly, and also obviously completely untrained. Manners were not something this dog had an excess of. Energy was, though. He would jump on anyone who came near him, able to knock them over with his enthusiasm. After a lengthy game of "if you jump, I'll back up, if you stand calmly, I'll come towards you" I got close enough to really look at him and found his tail was split open and bleeding. I know most animals are uncomfortable having strangers handle injuries, and fully expected growling or aggression as I tried to see how bad his injuries were, but I got none. The hardest part was keeping the tail still - it kept wagging so much! - but before long I had it cleaned and put neosporin on it, and had him doctored up.

Calls were made to every local shelter we could find, as well as the police. We posted signs in area pet stores, called businesses near the area he'd come from, and sent e-mails searching for his owners. None were found. I knew I couldn't just take him to the pound - he had way too much energy to be considered adoptable, and I suspected his lack of manner compounded with his breed meant he'd just be put to sleep before my car left the parking lot.
After two weeks of searching, a shelter about an hour from my home responded to an e-mail. They were in a different county, but had read my e-mail about this very sweet pit bull that didn't deserve to die but needed a home. The confessed that they had no room to take in a dog from a long distance, but said they knew how friendly and sweet pit bulls could be, and they were willing to put him in their system if I would be his "foster parent" - they just needed a name to put in the computer. And so it became official. Like that odd voice said when I first saw him, he was, in fact, Oscar. The shelter had us bring him in for a neuter, and said in a few days when the hormones left his system he'd be much calmer. That is apparently one of those lies they tell you, like childbirth is a "slight pinch". He wasn't calmer. Vets couldn't decide how old he was - some said six months, some said a year, we chose to split the difference and call him nine months old and chose the 4th of July as his birthday. He was deemed healthy enough to begin introducing him to the cats, so that was a big step. It soon became clear that he would bow to the cats in all their needs, and was no threat to them (though he is still to this day not allowed unsupervised with them if no one else is home).

We were his foster parents for about two months with no nibbles. I researched pit bulls until my eyes were sore, and learned how misunderstood the breed is (a sound pit bull will have basically no human aggression in nearly any situation, but will often have aggression towards dogs in particular, and animals in general) We went through a basic puppy course, where he learned things very, very quickly. I got my first taste of what would become a common response - Oscar walking up and being flirty and friendly with someone, them enjoying him immensely, asking what kind of dog he was, and then leaping away in horror to find they'd been kissed by one of those killer pit bulls. And then the calls came. Two within a week. The first was a woman with a toddler. I thought it might have worked, but just didn't feel like Oscar could be trusted not to knock the small child over (what I know now is that he's mind-bogglingly gentle with small children, and likely would have been a wonderful little nanny dog). The second call was a single man, about nineteen years old, looking for a pit bull specifically. Something didn't sit right. I may have been guilty of the same stereotyping Oscar deals with all the time, but I decided then and there Oscar wasn't leaving. We may not be the ideal home for a dog like him, but with me he would get love, and training, and safety.

And so it turns out that Oscar knew something on that very first rush across the highway, something I didn't know. He knew that he was already home.

In the past four years, I've faced a lot of battles no one should have to face. A lot of them have made me want to give up. But then this fuzzy warm brick crawls into my lap and licks me and wags his tail and plays with my cats, and gives me something else to fight for. Fighting for him allows me to fight for myself. Fighting for him has saved me. So even if he never completes his Search-and-Rescue training, I know that he's already a hero. My hero. My dog.

My Oscar.
Happy birthday, Doodle-bug! I love you!

From Neil Diamond to Tracy Turnblatt

2008-06-15T19:29:00.009-04:00

All weekend I was singing Fee, you'll be a woman soooooon.... but this evening I got to start singing Fifi, you're a big girl now!

Today, one day before her three month birthday, Fiona went in for her spay, the rite of passage that makes her no more a little baby. She barely looks like one anymore anyway. I spent a lovely day Saturday with an old friend and several new ones, and brought along pictures of the whole crew. The two I selected of Fiona were taken just about three weeks apart but showed a striking growth in the little woman.

She's home now and groggy but recovering, despite very clearly needing and wanting some snuggle-with-Mom time when we first got home! She can still get under the door and therefore cannot be contained (without also keeping her from food, water, and a box) even though she's more than doubled in size since she came home (was 1.8 lb is now 4). The boys missed her today and barely knew what to do with themselves while she was gone. (well, Aslan knew, he did what he always does, which is contemplate the frustrations of there being other beings in his world). I've got a little barracade set up so that none of the boys can get into her space but she can get in and out easily, and she's spending time in there and occasionally coming out to make sure I haven't abandoned her yet.

Oscar says "het is over tijd"*!

2008-06-10T09:44:00.004-04:00

(he already knows English and a little Scottish Gaelic - he's willing to learn Dutch for a good cause!)

Banning breeds doesn't reduce bites!

He also encourages you to check out this great site and video of a wonderful therapy dog!

(*he says that's Dutch for "It's about time!")

We all pitch in...

2008-06-06T19:51:00.013-04:00

Over the years my extremely high quality home has developed water damage (that is to say that sarcasm isn't the only thing dripping around here). For a while I could pass it off as a security device, since only those invited in were allowed to know which areas had flooring underneath them, and which were magically levitating carpet. But with the rain this season, it became clear that if the weight of the dog was causing the carpet to pop through, I didn't stand much chance of making it out alive. So a large section of flooring by my front door has been removed (which happened one day while Oscar and I were at school and freaked us both out when we opened the door), rebuilt, puttied for smoothness (the kitten's footprint is one inch in size, for those wondering) and is being re-tiled right now.

Good times.

So there's been a lot of extra dust and grime and bugs and fun things around, and that means everyone has to do their part, as members of our family, to clean things up. Even wee Fiona has a job.

And for posterity's sake, Fiona, who looked like this at five weeks old,

looks like this at eleven weeks.

Definitely getting bigger. Her body is starting to change, too, face getting a little more angular instead of that generic baby roundness, starting to have actual long hair instead of just puff, starting to look like a little cat instead of a kitten! I don't think anyone else is interested really, but I'm enjoying watching her grow.

The Inmates Are Running the Asylum

2008-05-28T09:41:00.009-04:00

When I was asking a few friends about ways to make little Fiona's growth a positive and healthy one, what with her not being around cats except for the first hours of her life, I kept hearing was that she would learn quickly from Trevor and Aslan. This gave me high hopes. Trevor is very devoted and loving and has a great sense of humor, and Aslan is extremely loyal and dignified and wise and well-behaved. Still, I didn't really envision things quite right.

She seems to have mastered Aslan's .... um.... fuzziness?
And Trevor's sense of adventure.

(the poor dog was doing his required sit-stay while I prepare his food. The kitten is not very good at sit-stays, but is good at helping herself to someone else's food.)

(please note the dog walked in just a step before me, and wasn't actually boogy-ing down with the "Guilty Party" going on here)

(playing in the dog bed with one of her favorite toys - a small stuffed bulldog)

(the large hungry bulldog is unamused.)

And here, a wrestling match, complete with occasional (waggy) referee. Aslan was in the box seats, purring away behind me, probably enjoying that Trevor has someone else to play with now!

Becoming a cat

2008-05-26T09:46:00.005-04:00

Another week of Fiona growing and she's getting bigger and stronger every day. I've had several kittens in my life (who all grew to happy, perfectly neurotic cats) but never started with one as young as Fiona (who came to me at six weeks) so its been fascinating to watch her progress from silly little escape artist into someone with cat-like qualities.

Yesterday she weaved in and out between my feet for the first time. It's a vaguely affectionate act (it's actually designed as feline marking, rubbing all the gland-points on the person's legs, so strange cats know whose person this is in case it gets lost) but she hadn't done it yet. Apparently that behavior develops at nine weeks!

Oscar is training her (really) not to go near the door. She enjoys playing with shoelaces, which tend to hand out by the front door, and she plays hard. So she'll be throwing her tiny body all around and thump into the door accidentally, and it sounds like a knock. And Oscar barks. And the kitten gets scared and runs away from the door. So now she hangs out by the front door slightly less. Conditioned response and all.

She's also becoming a little more vocal, probably learned from the great orator Trevor, who likes to narrate that he's walking down the hall, or especially to perform original compositions on the subject of "everyone else has gone to bed and I'm in the living room all aloooooone." Aslan is a talker, too, but he tends to only want to discuss things of importance, whereas Trevor is more a "shoot the breeze" kinda guy. We'll have to see how much of a gossip Fiona turns into.

So here's the weekly shot of her with the pompom toy at 9 weeks:

and here is how the dog bed you saw in last week's video is getting used all too often:

(here is how it should be used:

sometimes you have to stretch all the way out to get full benefit)

(pardon all the cords, I'm rearranging furniture, and there are cords everywhere)

More kitty-cam

2008-05-18T07:44:00.008-04:00

Baby Fiona
(here at about five weeks)

turned two months old yesterday!

She celebrated her new found maturity by abusing the pit bull

So I was doing dishes ...

2008-05-15T22:43:00.003-04:00

...and I stepped away from the sink for a moment...

(One of the nicknames for a Turkish Van Cat is "Swimmercat")

And here a quick lesson on proper toy-mousing technique.

Gone Fishin'

2008-05-11T06:12:00.003-04:00

Attempts to keep Fiona contained and secluded from the boys failed, because of this:

So they've all met her, with careful introductions. Trevor likes her and plays with her very well, Aslan doesn't mind her as long as she stays on the other side of the room, and Oscar is so smitten with her it's a little embarrassing. The other night I couldn't get him to go to bed, he wanted to stay and play with the baby. For the two of them, playing means he stands or lies still (aside from the ever wagging tail) while she attacks him, jumps on his head, chews on his lips, wraps herself around his legs, kills his tail, bounces off his side and so on.

Until I get video of that, you'll have to make due with today's kitten cam:

Fiona is fitting into her home quite nicely, and keeping to the calico reputation with pride. (Yes, Catherine, I do think she's a Turkish Van - a breed noted for being white all over the body with color on the head and tail only. I admit it took me a bit to get used to the look, but she's pretty darn cute, even with the unusual coloring.)

To track her growth, here's the picture of her at 5 weeks old again:

And here she is now at 7 weeks:
Please note the only way to guarantee she'd play with that toy while I was pointing the camera at her was to move it near the dog. Please also note that now that I am no longer pointing the camera at her, she is dragging that toy around the room by its pom-pon.

And Oscar has a little upset tummy today, and wants to be babied like the kitten is. So he's sitting in a cat hammock until he gets his way.
(the hand-vac doesn't live there, I was cleaning this weekend)

And baby makes 4 (...or 4) (...or 2)

2008-05-04T21:00:00.000-04:00

Do you ever get into ruts? I've fallen into them in nearly every area of my life at one time or another, but I must confess that "color ruts" are most common with me. The worst part is that I seldom notice them until it's too late.

A few weeks back, I felt like I was bored of my purse, so I switched to my lightweight summer purse. As I was transferring stuff, I grabbed a ball of yarn I've had for years (even started a sock on it about two years ago) and just never finished anything. I thought just a simple stocking stitch sock would be easy and simple, and would fit the yarn, so it would make for nice purse knitting.

And then the other day while I was out and about, waiting somewhere for something (who knows what at this point) I glanced down and realized the color rut had hit me again, only this time it was far more detailed.

I have been knitting my purse. (It's Lorna's Laces, in a colorway called Daffodil which should clearly be called Mojito instead)

Anyway, possibly in an attempt to get rid of the ruts in my life, it was a busy weekend in the Rose Garden.

A long-time love came home where he belongs

as the amazingly saintly Lisa from Spinners Hill forgave a great many miscommunications and packed the wheel into her already full truck. (I also bought this roving from her, to make a sweater on the wheel...)

(and one hank of this lambswool/alpaca from Brooks Farm, my only purchases of the weekend)

... And most exciting and disruptive to the household, our family grew by just a little tiny bit.

I had decided it was time to start looking for another calico in my life, even though I still miss the first one, and found Feline Rescue Association on Petfinder.com. This little girl was taken from a date with the needle when she was just a few days old (her birthdate is estimated at about March 17, so she's about six weeks now). She was put into a foster home with an amazing young woman who bottle fed her and nursed her back to health (she had an ulcer that may have left her blind in one eye). Foster mom said they'd considered keeping the kitten, but her current dog didn't really like her, and they were really looking for a second dog. Her breed of choice? Pit bull. Sometimes I think God doesn't think I'm very smart, throwing such glaring signals at me. (I've already put her in contact with a few friends who do rescue, so she may have a new family member herself before long).

(one week ago, at 5 weeks of age)

(yesterday, at 6 weeks of age, same toy)

She has not yet officially met any of her big brothers, but I did find out that if you weigh less than two pounds and move into a hovel that's a little off-kilter (physically and cosmic-ly) you can fit under the door. Girlfriend has busted out of her prison by sliding underneath a closed door no fewer than three times, and fortunately I was right there every time Oscar found her. He's tickled pink we have a kitten, but has a tendency to play rough and will need very strong supervision until some of the thrill is gone and he can be calm around her.

*true story*
A few weeks ago I was having a discussion with Oscar about kitten potentials. I explained to him that some terriers don't like any small animals at all, but I could see that he loves his cats, so I knew he wasn't one of those. I told him that some terriers only like their own cats, and some terriers don't mind any cats at all, and I didn't know which one of those terriers he was. As is typical of Oscar, he wagged at me happily, but didn't really respond further.

A few hours later, I took him out to potty. In an extremely unusual move, he pulled the leash out of my hand and ran across our lot. Before I could catch up with him, I saw him run up onto a neighbor's deck. When I found him, he was sitting there next to their cat. He looked at me, licked the ever lovin' cat, and walked off the deck to come home with me.

Sometimes I think Oscar doesn't think I'm very smart, throwing such glaring signals at me.

So indeed Oscar is a terrier that likes cats, and that means for the first time on the RoseByAny blog, I give you....

Kitten Cam!

This weekend brings the current tally is four spinning wheels (Lendrum upright, Mecchia Norwegian, antique castle, and the new-to-me Norm Hall saxony), four animals (Aslan, Trevor, Oscar and wee Fiona) and two Fiona's (those who remember that the Lendrum is named after the character in Shrek, because she looks like an ogre but spins like a princess, will be tickled to find out that the woman who bottle-fed the kitten named her Fiona because of that same princess - she felt the wee one would need a spunky name to help her overcome her challenges.)

Welcome to our family, Fiona! You're going to be very loved (I may have a lot of flaws, but I am one hell of a pet parent)

For the dog people

2008-04-09T09:38:00.008-04:00

For most of his life, Oscar has been a dog who wouldn't play fetch. This never really bothered me, because he's certainly entertaining in a lot of other ways, but it was rather remarkable, the conviction with which he would NOT play fetch. We'd be out with other dogs, someone would throw something, and he'd look at it, then look at me. Occasionally, if all the other dogs ran, he'd go too, but it was clear he was running after them for the sake of running, and really had no interest in the toy. I did try to teach him once a few years ago. I threw a toy down the hall, he rolled his eyes at me, walked down the hall to get it, and put it in his room.

As I said, this wasn't a downfall in my eyes, except that a retrieve is needed for the RH training we've started. I need to put a retrieve on him, as they say, and the problem with that is that most of the methods involving teaching a dog to fetch who doesn't want to fetch employ a great many forms of negative reinforcement and negative training that I feel strongly against doing with my dog.

So I had to come up with my own way.

Wednesday, March 26 was the first day I started actively training Oscar with a goal of a retrieve. I decided to do clicker training for this, because so much of the behavior needed to be away from me and I didn't want even my voice to bring him back before he was ready. He's done a little bit of clicker training in the past, though it isn't our primary method, so he was already familiar with the clicker being a good thing.

For the first day, anytime he mouthed the toy he would get clicked. The next day was much the same, but by the end he had to pick it up in his mouth to get the click.

By the end of day three he was very interested in having that toy in his mouth and I could toss it a short distance (less than ten feet or so, I have a lousy arm) and he'd go to get it and pick it up. Possibly by accident he'd come to me with the toy still in his mouth to get his treat after being clicked for picking it up. I moved the clicker to him coming towards me with the toy in his mouth, and attached the command "bring" to the action.

Day four he would consistently go to the toy when it was tossed, and if he got distracted by something else, the command "bring" would remind him to pick up the toy and bring it back to me. He was still bringing it in my direction and dropping it towards my feet, but since we'd had such a hard time getting to this, I didn't want to push this and make it not a fun game anymore, so I kept on this step for a while. As days progressed, the ball would get tossed further away, in different directions. Sunday in class it bounced underneath a section of fencing on the ground and he was so motivated to get it he tried several times to get under the fence, and to lift the ball with the fence.

Yesterday I decided it was time to start shaping towards the "out" - thirteen days from our first day with this method - I stopped rewarding for him simply coming back to me and made a strong effort to get my hand under his mouth before he dropped it. I'd say "out" and pull the toy from his mouth. If he dropped it before I could get it, he wouldn't get a treat, or any other kind of comment, but I'd simply throw the toy again and ask him to bring. In this session, less than ten minutes long, he was holding the ball until the "out" about 30% of the time, most of that towards the end. I'll keep on this level for a time and gradually extend the amount of time he needs to hold it in his mouth before I give that out.

We did a second training session yesterday, and 100% of the time, he waited until I said "out" to drop the ball. It did hit the ground a few times, because I didn't have a good grip on the slimy part - when it did, I said "bring" he picked it up, and waited for the "out" again.

Today I videoed it. Not the most exciting video, unfortunately, thanks to this giant tree in the center of my tiny yard that blocks a lot of views. But you can see how prissy he is about picking up the ball if a leaf is sticking to it (he'll shuffle it around until he can get to where the leaf isn't in his mouth), you can see how truly terrible I am at tossing the ball (don't worry, that's my hovel I hit) and you can see that he's doing it, if not with his highest level of enthusiasm. At one point we're just off camera (you can watch his butt wiggle) and I say "bring" and "out" very closely together. He had dropped the ball on "out" which he's supposed to do, but my hand wasn't where my hand is supposed to be, so he missed. So I asked him to bring it again, he picked it up, and I asked him to "out" and he gave it to me.

There's also a long segment where my lousy toss caused the toy to go inside a storage shed, and bounce up onto a shelf into a coiled hose. I could see it only because it was a drastically different color than anything else in there, but it was above his eye level. He spent some time sniffing it out, then found it and brought it to me. This is really exciting to me, because it's so close to the final goal - where we need to be in about a YEAR - that it boggles my mind.

ETA: New Object (this is the one we'll use for the test!)

Colons and Yarn

2008-04-02T11:11:00.007-04:00

(just figured I'd make it easy for the freaky searchers)

The walk went very ~~cold~~ well. We weren't last, even after a potty break, although I still think they should have waited until everyone had crossed it before pulling up the finish line and cleaning up.

I'd say about half the people were walkers and half were runners. The route was a simple down and back, and we'd walked less than half a mile when the first runner passed us coming back. Fast guy!

Despite the very odd sites at the beginning of the walk,
like the giant inflatable colon, with polyps inside,
the warm-ups by large groups of people in matching clothes,
or just the over six-thousand participants,

there were a lot of really beautiful things we passed on the actual walk.

It was a good day.

And just to throw you all for a total loop, because I'm sure you don't think this ever happens around here anymore.....

YARN THINGS!
the cable-spun mittens
a handspun Japanese vine hat,
and these obviously in-progress Schaeffer Anne socks that I started while watching Becoming Jane (the second time) yesterday.

They remind me of Johnny Jump Ups

The (Rear) End

2008-03-29T09:55:00.002-04:00

(the rear beginning)

Today's the day.

I woke up before five this morning and I'm now fighting Trevor (who wants his morning snuggle) to get this typed in time for me to leave to meet my parents and head out.

Since September 1, 2007, I have walked 270 miles (original goal = 200) with Oscar. My parents' dog Jackie came along for many of those and one or both of my parents joined her. It wasn't much more than a year ago that I literally could not walk a third of a mile - a friend had to get in her car and drive that distance and pick me up. Now that I've shared that humiliation with you, I'll casually mention that for the past several weeks, we've been walking five miles a day.

Today I will walk 3.1 more.

You've helped me raise over $700 (original goal = $500) and there may be time for you to get another few in there (I'm not sure when the Active.com site stops accepting money for this event) - if everyone who reads this gives just a few dollars, we could easily double that original goal!

Thank you all for your support on this - it has changed my life. And hopefully, the awareness and money that we raised could change someone else's as well.

Can't write more - gotta ~~run~~ walk!

Last Chance!

Support a Search & Rescue Dog... Get Lost.

2008-03-16T22:22:00.009-04:00

(isn't this a gorgeous poetic photo my friend Greg took?)Oscar and I took part in a Search & Rescue dog seminar this weekend. We are very lucky to train at a school that greatly enjoys the company of a spotty class clown and that is maybe two miles down the road from a junk site that is used in training rescue dogs all up and down the East Coast. NYC K9, Miami K9 - all kinds of big-wig K9 units come to teach their dogs how to save lives. And this is why:

A whole lot of every kind of tricky terrain you can think of - natural rocks, sand quarries, heavy brush, broken down vehicles, wooden scrap, and cement piles. Anything that could happen in any disaster, natural or otherwise, can be found here (okay, I don't think they've figured out how to get lava here, but I'm sure that's only because they wouldn't ask their dogs to work in it). So these training groups come here, hide, and ask their dogs to find them. And that's what we started learning to do.

Here's Oscar in his Search & Rescue uniform rescuing someone.
No? Okay, this was actually a dog who works with FEMA, who happened to be there training. Her handlers took her off to play somewhere, the instructor for our seminar hid somewhere in there (this cement pile was easily two stories high, and none of the people knew where she hid). The handlers waited a bit and asked the dog to find her (with no identifying items).
About three minutes later, she'd climbed up to the top of the pile, wandered around just a bit, then started barking here.
And out popped Stephanie. (By "popped" I mean, it only took two FEMA handlers and the dog to pull her up out of the hole she'd gotten herself into) It was amazing.

One of the other cool things they had at the site was the main reason I knew Oscar would excel at SAR work. My boy is an agile little clown. And they had an agility training set up.

Time after time I've seen dogs struggle with these sorts of things. People always say to me "dogs forget they have back feet" and watching most of them try to walk a ladder for the very first time, I believe it. Some dogs really freak out and shake. Some dogs freeze and need to have their handlers pick up their feet and move them. Some need to be coaxed every step of the way.

And some take off at a run, never missing a step, with their handlers dangling along behind them.

Never forgetting their big grins and wagging tails.

There were a lot of fun obstacles that we haven't seen before - we've done a horizontal ladder, but the rungs were very different on these. The poetic photo at the top was a chain link fence suspended between two platforms about five feet off the ground, and the dogs had to walk across it. The bridge below was very floopy and made loud noises. Not enough to slow my friend down, though.

And is it my imagination, or has someone been doing his "Buns of Steel" videos?

One of the times we went through the course, we got towards the end of the line. The dogs in front of us got a little slow. (Oscar and I were very well behaved and neither of us laughed nor called them chicken) (we thought it, though) After waiting a few minutes, Oscar was sitting at one end of the above platform, decided he was bored and would head for another obstacle. The obvious route (to him, anyway) was jumping off the platform, over my head (which tops off at 5'6"), to the ground. It took a few minutes, but my heart is now beating again, thank you.

We don't have pictures of the attempts to get him to retrieve an item or bark, because both of these tasks were embarrassing.

Oscar is motivated by ME first - he wants to be with me, he wants to be praised by me, he wants to be touching me. And then waaaaaayy down the list, he wants food. He does not care one iota for toys. So for the segment of the seminar that involved the dog finding an item in the woods, we made several attempts at getting him excited by a toy, and then decided that I had to be his item. So there I go into the deep grass, hiding much less successfully than the last tennis ball, and he came to get me. I loved the teacher. Oscar was the only dog that completely bombed at this exercise and she said to me "which is more important - that he doesn't want to find a tennis ball or that he really wants to find a person?"

As for barking to alert that he's found that person... well... He doesn't bark. That is, he can, he just chooses not to. He has a big, booming, scare-the-pants-off-of-you security bark that I hear maybe once a month, if that frequently. He has a "theresadogoverthereandireallywanttogoplaycanimacanipleasepleaseplease" yip that sounds a good bit like what I'd imagine a chipmunk orgy would sounds like. I generally only hear this on walks, and and that's pretty rare too, but I thought we might be able to get this out of him. We didn't. We did learn that when I am buried in rubble, including a large chain link fence that is too heavy for me to lift off, he will run back and forth between me and the person on the other end of the leash, licking both of us madly, and then climb the fence. That's actually another method of alert, called "recall refind" so that's what we would use for him, and that's how he found Stephanie in her tunnel.
It's a very intense training, with competition style tests at each level. We won't go far in it (no point - at four-and-a-half years old, by the time Oscar passed all the tests he'd only have a short time "in the field" before retirement) but he loves school so we'll go as far as we can and still have fun. The seminar was based on a fairly new program, called RH (aka Rettungshundtauglichkeitspruefung) started by the IRO (International Rescue dog Organization) to formalize a standard of training, so that all over the world, any time a dog is called in to work a disaster, the people making the calls know what kind of training each dog has had.

Obviously these groups are founded and organized by German Shepherd fans. Oscar and I very graciously choose not to hold it against them that they spend their time with lesser dogs. This was not at all influenced by the fact that we were the only pit bull team and were in places where the question "where should we hide the bodies" had many plausible answers. Some of my favorite moments were when Oscar was being flirty and slutty and lovin' up on the teacher and she looked at me and said "I've never been this close to a pit bull before but this is delightful!" She may or may not have gotten someone else's tongue in her mouth at that moment, I'm not sure. Other times, when Oscar was being flirty and slutty and lovin' up on other people in the class (are you seeing a trend in my dog's behavior?) and I would try to pull him off of someone's lap saying "honey, they don't think you're as cute as I do" - every time I said that, someone (with their shepherd right there, where they could hear!!) said "Yes we do!"

(please note it took three photos for them to get one of Oscar not climbing in my lap or licking the ear of poor Jack next to us. Notice my straight arms - I'm actually pushing him off me)

It was an amazing weekend and I was kinda hoping he'd be tired enough that I'd get extra sleep today, but he's asking to go for a walk now. Since I hurt all over (and have little dog foot sized bruises all over my body) it'll just be a short one today, and then we'll pick up work for the cancer walk tomorrow. Two weeks to go and I'm 68% to the goal!!!

This is NOT what pneumonia looks like

2008-03-14T17:07:00.010-04:00

Obviously I have been remiss in keeping Oscar's fans up to date on his recovery. I've gotten no fewer than a dozen phone calls, e-mails and various messages asking how the beast is doing. I can't tell you how much that tickles me!

One week after diagnosis, we went to his regular (non-emergency) vet for a follow-up. We'd taken the week off completely from class, training or walks. When the vet asked how he was doing, I responded with "you either need to give me permission to walk him or a frying pan to knock him out." She gave us permission to walk at 50% for the next week (she actually said "well, we did have some Pampered Chef dropped off in the back...) and said we could resume regular activity after that.

So to our knowledge, he's 100% better now. Monday morning we went back to full walks, and in fact I walked five miles a day Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday of this week. Oscar and I have a very big weekend ahead of us (I may tell you about that next week) so we took off today and will probably take off Monday as well.

But once we were given permission to walk and train again, we went back to training on that formal heel I mentioned a few weeks ago - where he's supposed to be looking at me. He's improved a great deal, and here's proof!

For those unfamiliar with doggy bling, the training collar he's wearing looks pretty harsh - it's not. It's called a prong collar, many trainers recommend them (when used properly) and a slight tug on the leash pinches ever so slightly on his neck to clue him in. If you'll watch, you'll see I don't need to do that all that often. (It's not pushing into his neck, that's a shadow - I have rubber tips on his because otherwise he gets ring around the collar from the metal.)

He's really improved a lot at both looking at me and not leaning. If you watch his elbows when I ask him to down, you'll see his little cheat - he levitates there until I say "all the way". About halfway through the video you'll see me intentionally drop a bunch of treats on the ground in front of us, then move on to what we've been working on most recently - the about face, in which I spin to my left, but he comes around behind me and ends up back in the heel position. A moment later, you'll also see me stop and down him right on top of the treats - Oscar for the most part ignores those, until I point them out to him directly. That's what he's supposed to do, so he did good.

Even if you aren't interested in the training, you may want to take a peek at the very end to see what happens when I say "YAY!" to Oscar. You gotta admit, that's a cute dog.

And the tail never stops wagging.

What Pneumonia Looks Like

2008-02-24T10:17:00.003-05:00

See? MUCH less energy....

*sigh*

To clarify, that really is much lower energy than normal (see how he's not vibrating when he's waiting for me to release him?) Every single time I take him out, that's what I get - it's never been any worse than that. But that's why I didn't realize how sick he was. He's still not feeling great, but he's not getting worse, and he's eating like a champ, so I think he'll be getting better soon.

Damn Pit Bulls

2008-02-22T14:29:00.005-05:00

About a week ago, I noticed that Oscar was wheezing slightly and sort of spitting. At the time, I shrugged it off, thinking it was occurring when he was excited, so he'd probably just eaten too fast or something (I just said to my brother on the phone, it occurs to me that this was a pretty damn stupid rationalization of a dog that's as high energy as he is. Comatose for Oscar is like the average family dog having a good day. Excited and awake are the same thing for him.)

But he was eating normally, drinking normally, and (delicately put) eliminating normally, so I didn't really worry too much, though I did keep an eye on things.

Yesterday, the spitting up went from a teaspoon or so of frothy grossness, to what a herd of really pissed of slugs would leave behind if they were all frightened suddenly, now measurable in cups rather than spoons. He was still behaving normally, eating, drinking, eliminating, all fine. I made an appointment for the vet, pointing out that a breed trait of the American Pit Bull Terrier is that something hurting isn't a reason to stop (this is a reason they are good with kids - being poked in the eye isn't worth stopping the love-fest. It's also a reason they can be a bitch to diagnose - they don't show signs of pain easily.) An appointment was made for late this afternoon, and instructions for what to look for that would require emergency treatment rather than waiting.

After a sleepless night of checking on him frequently, I thought he was feeling much better this morning. He had very close to his typical response to a snow day (imagine a short, furry child who doesn't have to take the world's hardest exam because of the snow) - he ran and jumped and twisted and turned and smiled. I left to run an errand, came back forty-five minutes later, and he was shaking and holding his head in a way that lead me to believe breathing wasn't the easiest thing he'd done all day.

Off to the emergency vet, right then.

He was very well behaved, until they tried to x-ray him. They took him away from me for the initial exam, and I heard his name a few times, and then someone came around the corner and said "would you mind stepping --" and he came trotting around the corner, naked as a very naked jaybird, very pleased that he'd found me. I caught him, brought him back, got into a very heavy lead jacket, and held him while they did the x-rays and drew blood.

And there they found normal blood counts, but a little congestion in his lung.

Pneumonia.

Early stages, with an excellent prognosis. But pneumonia.

Damn pit bull, if only he'd shown me he really didn't feel good instead of just cheerfully doing every little thing I asked of him. If only he'd let me know sooner, instead of just sucking it up to make me happy.

He's going to be fine, after a three-week break from dog-school that both of us will miss. He's going to be fine, and that's all that's important.

But still.

Would you pray for him, please?

Be More

2008-02-18T20:47:00.007-05:00

Tonight, I was in the parking lot of my housing complex practicing with Oscar on his obedience (we're working on making heel look more "formally trained" and less "two drunks losing a three-legged race"). After a few minutes, one of the feral children came running up and (in a demonstration of the only evidence that she actually has caretakers) asked if she could pet Oscar. Well, not really, cuz we're training, but he's now wiggling so much the heel is out the window, so sure. So as she's petting him and he's generally making a fool of himself kissing and wiggling at the little person, I notice three dark figures circling one of the units further down the street. After a second, I realize that the dark figures are wearing badges and guns. And making those gestures that I've only previously seen on Law & Order that clearly mean "you go that way and cover the exit, Smitty's gonna go left, and I'll cover the front". I chose to end Oscar's training/snogging and get him inside, very grateful that they had seen my pit bull doing training and cheerfully nuzzling a small child.

About two months ago, not too far from here, police shot and killed a boxer in its owner's yard. The dog barked at them when they tried to enter the abode. The police had the wrong house - they were off by something like two doors. I understand a police officer has to keep him/herself safe (my husband is in law enforcement, I really, honestly do get it). But I'll be damned if my dog is going to be the victim of someone else's mistake because he warns them not to trespass on his mommy.

Anyway, it's stories like that boxer's that bring me to an explanation of why I've been so busy lately.

A few months ago - October, maybe? - one of my doggy friends (that is, friend from the doggy world, not that she herself is a canine) said she felt the need to do something about the causes of BSL (at the time, legislation was proposed that would have forced me to either give up Oscar - NOT going to happen - or move - not financially possible). Erin wanted to know if we could take a page out of BADRAP's book and make some differences in the way the Baltimore area looks at pitbulls.

So we did. A group of women - all pit bull owners, all responsible, legally sound women - got together to make a difference. We have officially formed a Maryland State Corporation, are in the process of filing for non-profit status, have by-laws and officers (I'm secretary) and are going to make a difference to make it a safer place for us to have our dogs.

We call ourselves "B-More DOG" - which stands for the Baltimore Dog Owners Guild - and our mission is to teach dog owners to be more - be more responsible, be more safe, be MORE.

We'll go to community centers and schools and teach children how to behave properly around dogs. We'll provide opportunities to learn the most basic training all the way up to the most advanced, competition levels. We'll help connect people to vet services and teach them how to keep their dogs healthy. We're targeting areas that are "pitbull" dense, but not excluding any breed of dog.

As you can tell, this is so exciting and inspiring to me. The way Oscar has changed my life is inexpressible - how he's saved me in the past four years of living with him, how he's opened my heart, given me courage, made me laugh in the darkest times... and now I have the opportunity to do something to repay him that will last - he's like a raindrop in the ocean, causing this amazing ripple.

And that's why there's been less blogging, and more dog stuff when there is blogging. The starts of a non-profit are a little all-consuming. And I am honored to be a part of it.

Also honored am I to be friends with that woman who had the idea to begin with (watch how I deftly turn this back to knitting). Her birthday was about a week ago, and she spent it in the emergency vet with one of her dogs. Not a fun day. So I sat down and decided to make her a little something to soften the blow.

A doggy hat in neutral colors based on the "dogs" pattern from Anna Zilboorg's Simply Socks (love that book) - two simple stitches made it hearts instead of triangles.

The brim is a garter slip-stitch, wrong-side out.

(and the top view, cuz I like how things come together like that)

Anyway, of course I'll still talk knitting and spinning here, because that's who I am, but who I am is also someone who loves animals - as I said to my husband when we first brought Oscar into our home "you knew this is who I was when you married me" - so you're probably going to be hearing more about B-More DOG along the way. I hope you'll be interested, or at least read with an open mind, and help me make a bright change in a dark world.

Cabling Without a Needle

2008-02-14T08:09:00.013-05:00

Fiber-folk are a tricky people, aren't we? We gain your confidence by using straightforward names like Knit-2-together (in which two stitches are knit together as one) and yarn over (in which the yarn is wrapped over the needle) and then just when you think you've got it all figured out, we tell you that worsted is a yarn type and a yarn weight and you could have a worsted spun lace weight or a woolen spun worsted weight, or we mention that a cable is a stitch pattern involving changing the order in which stitches are knit, and it's also a kind of yarn that, while involving multiple singles and plying and yet is not considered a plied yarn.

Anyway, today, for ~~Single's Awareness Day~~ Valentine's Day, I'm giving you a little tutorial on how to make that confusing "cabled yarn."

A cabled yarn is, in essence, a plied yarn plied with a plied yarn. It's stronger and more visually interesting than the equivalent yarn made from only once-plied singles. More on its specific properties in The Knitter's Book of Yarn (specifically, page 177) but for now we're going to talk very simply about making your own.

You can do whatever combination of this you'd like - spin three twelve-plies together if that tickles your fancy, but in this case, out of laziness (and so as not to waste a drop of fiber) I worked from opposite ends of the ball twice, giving me a two-by-two cable - a two-ply plied with a two-ply.

Follow the process, and in no time, you'll be cabling without any needles at all!

Of course you'll start with roving. This method is lovely on a solid roving, but particularly stunning on handpaints that can otherwise be tricky to spin. You'll want colors that would blend nicely together - like this pretty purple/blue concoction Coleen gave me for my birthday.

Do think about that color blend - things will merge together, so too strong a contrast in your roving could appear muddy.

You'll begin by spinning your singles.
Most people spin singles with the flyer going clockwise - called Z-twist because the resulting twist on the yarn follows the direction of that center bar of the Z.

In a cabled yarn, you're going to want to spin these singles a smidge softer than you normally would. We'll talk about why in just a bit, but for now remember soft Z.

Next, you'll ply your singles.
Just like any other yarn, you'll ply by putting the yarns together with the flyer going in the opposite direction - if you spun the singles Z, you'll ply them counter-clockwise - S (same reason for the same, just check out the main direction of the letter)

Generally this would be the step right before setting the yarn, so you'd be shooting for an appropriate balance in the ply depending on the intended project. But in a cabled yarn, there's more to be done, so you're going to want to ply this a little tighter than you would for a normal yarn.

Now you've got plied yarn, and you need to ply it back on itself. That means going back in the same direction your originally spun the singles (or ending up with a big mess). Back to the beginning, or Z. Gosh, that's not confusing at all, right? It's easier if you think of this step as "re-spinning" rather than plying, and you always spin in the same direction. So you'll spin, then you'll ply, then you'll spin again.

Remember how, in the first step, I mentioned that soft Z? You'll have that again here.

Think about it - you're spinning Z twice. The second time, you're actually undoing a little twist from the ply where you spun S. So the Zs need to be a little softer, and the S needs to be a little tighter.

You can see here in these very-off-color photos that the resulting cabled yarn looks really bumpy and textured. It's not - it's actually very round and smooth. But those little blips of color have a similar effect to a fabric of seed stitch - visually bumpy, but functionally flat.

It's even more obvious in the knitted fabric - the stocking stitch has great depth and texture, but is in fact perfectly smooth. And you can also see why you'd want to pick colors that blend together well in your roving - everything mixes and melds, and you'll have sparks of the original colors and flames of the blends of them.

It's really a fun way to play around with spinning and roving combinations!

~~~~~~~~

I haven't given any official updates about the walk to Kick Cancer in the Butt lately, and today seems like a good day to do so.

The biggest news is that you can now give directly to the charity here. We've gone over 200 miles so far, and will keep on truckin' so if you want to give by mile or whatever, watch that ticker up top to see how much to donate!

The donation tally on the blog will remain accurate, the tally there won't be because of registration fees and such, but all the money will go to the charity (and for the record, I "donated" my own registration fees).

Six weeks to go - let's break a thousand and really Kick Cancer in the Butt!!!

More boring dog stuff (aka "When Squirrels Attack")

2008-02-10T21:45:00.002-05:00

I promise I'll have knitting later this week - and (gasp!) maybe even a spinning tutorial!!!

But for now, a Public Service Announcement: If you have a dog, please take a brief moment to check your dog's equipment. You never know when an evil, bushy-tailed mastermind will recklessly taunt, and by then, it could be too late.

Early Saturday, while harmlessly minding his own "business", Oscar was the victim of just such a squirrel-on-dog crime.

Yes, my friends, this sweet, innocent dog was mocked.

But he refuses to be a victim, I tell you, refuses!

He took off after that squirrel - determined to give it a stern talking to.

Unfortunately, through no fault of his own, there were apparently some trees that may or may not have been in different places than they have been for the past four years of his life, and the length of his tether was misjudged.

The rogue squirrel reached one of those migrating trees just seconds before Oscar reached the end of his (literal) rope. The little bastard (I have it on good authority his parents were not married) is lucky with his timing, because when Oscar reached the end of his rope, Oscar did not stop running (after all, he thought he had a good ten feet left to run, and he would have if he'd run to the right of a tree instead of to the left of it).

Nope, Oscar did not stop running at all. He did a funky kind of little flip, landed solidly, and kept running.

Fortunately for everyone involved, most fortunately for my cardiac health, Oscar is not completely untrained in the recall.

Because when he did come back, hanging from his collar was this.

Now, Oscar is about 48 pounds.

That right there is the clasp for his tether, packaged as the "Monster - for dogs 250lb and up"

*calculating on fingers*
48 is still less than 250, right?

And yet that metal (I'd guess 9 or 10 mm around - so a US 13 needle) snapped like a pretzel. Sure, a little rust around the edges, but the thing was probably less than six months old, and certainly not corroding away.

Just a motivated dog, I suppose. Or an evil plot hatched by the rodent population?

You decide.

Completely unrelated except that it seems to be a pit bull
I bought this on "clearance" at AC Moore the other day. It's an odd shape, so will be tricky to frame, though I'd like to do that eventually.

In the meantime, it's held to my fridge by four magnets.

One, the contact info of my wonderful vet, and the other three say "Beware Pickpockets and Loose Women", "Warning: Strange Dog" and "Attention Chat Lunatique"

Testing... Testing...

2008-02-03T17:50:00.000-05:00

Okay, I'm planning on using my actual camera for some video of Oscar I need to send to someone (nothing exciting, just getting a third or fourth opinion on things to try to correct the lean before he breaks my neck) and so took this in the yard today. If anyone knows how to get the Mac to turn the movie sideways (I turned the camera on its side to get the long shot, and can't figure out how to get the computer to compensate for that), and can explain to me, I'll do so and repost. As it is, please take a break from the Puppy Bowl (which has everyone in the house absolutely fascinated - we like the high percentage of bully breeds) and tilt your heads so that your left ear is on your left shoulder.

As you may be able to tell, Oscar is around the corner and can't see me in the beginning. I think it was a distance of about 100 feet. That was the first (and only) time I asked him to come, and with energy like that you might be able to see why one of my dog friends told me she was trying to teach her dog to do "an Oscar come". Shortly after passing the large tree, some of the feral neighborhood children ran by behind me. He stopped just to my left (and then leaned on me) so he could watch them. He had a hard time focusing on me after that (thanks to those same feral children, Oscar is pretty sure small people excrete Cheetos and he's a firm believer that you should always be ready just in case they want to give you some.)

While I'm sure you are smart enough to recognize the extreme adorable-ness that is my dog, my main reason for posting that is to see if I've figured out the camera.

To compensate for my gratuitous doggy shots, I give you....

the hat that I forgot to get pictures of:

(I really love the top view)

A few weeks ago I was commenting on how much I hate corrugated ribbing. Three guesses what I cast on mere hours later. (hint, if you can't see it, the ribbing for this hat is purple and black... corrugated.)

***EDIT FOR SALLYJO (and anyone else interested)***
He "missed" by going slightly past me. He's supposed to stop directly in front of me and sit automatically. This is tricky, though, as it took me ages to convince him to slow down before he got to me, and when he doesn't slow down he hits, and when he hits, he hits HARD (it's a bit like being hit in the shins by a sledgehammer that wags). The same friend that's trying to teach her dog the "Oscar come" pointed out that I tend to flinch when he comes running like that. Conditioned response, and all. My instinctual response to this was to step to one side right before impact, so now he tends to go just to one side. We're working on that together.

The yarn for the hat was I think Cleckheaton 8-ply Superwash. I really, really enjoyed it - very soft and pleasant to work with, came in a good bunch of colors, and of course superwash for the handknit virgins is a good thing. Inexpensive, too.

I've never sought out commission knitting work - it seems to find me. It doesn't happen a lot, which is good, but when it does, that's okay, too, usually. I try to be very honest with myself about how much I'll hate doing someone else's idea of a knit item (having learned the lesson from the god-awful stockings a few years back) and don't ever count on the income.

Top to Tail

2008-01-29T12:36:00.000-05:00

SallyJo asked about the pattern for the blue/brown hat. I kinda made it up. The basic pattern is a pretty standard colorwork snowflake. I obviously didn't make that up. (I think I took it from a selection of a mitten book somewhere). I completely winged the small mostly brown section between that snowflake and the decreases, the little 'x's because I needed a little more length.

When it came time to do the decreases, I basically continued in the same pattern, using only that center box with the light blue points, and put decreases starting at the halfway point.

Those lined up perfectly with that center box, and gave that little star-like design you see from the top. Because I did a decrease on each side (directionally, so SSK on the right side, K2tog on the left) with one stitch of alternating brown or light blue between, it gives that double bar look.

I did ask for photos of the other hat I made, so hopefully I'll get those soon.

I also have a cute video of my goofball if I can get it to work right. One of the things Oscar and I are working on in doggy class is "heel". Ideally the dog should stay at your left side and look at you as you walk, then come to an immediate sitting position when the handler stops walking (this is for obedience, not agility or other dog sports). For some people it's hard to get their dog to stay close to them, rather than running ahead (which is doggy disrespect) or lagging behind. I do not have these problems. I have a dog who's too smart for our own good and loves me an awful lot. (I think I turned the volume down, but you may want to - it was windy/buzzy and you hear my mother trying to figure out the camera, nothing else soundwise happens. Do be proud of her for only taking two attempts yesterday and four today to push the right button though). This video was taken after a 2.5 mile walk, so he's not super hyper.

Please notice that he almost never looks at me at all. He doesn't have to look - he knows where I am because he's leaning on me (I don't actually walk with a limp unless there are 50 pounds of muscle and energy pushing against one of my legs). You may also notice at the end, when we come to the same spot in the parking lot that I stopped last time we attempted taping, a unique little dance. That's his "she's about to stop and I'm ready to sit whenever I'm supposed to" butt bounce. He's actually walking in a sit position. We first saw him do this in class, when, after watching several other dogs do the exercise one at a time, which involved stopping (and being told to sit) various times around a circle, Oscar figured out what was expected, and decided he didn't need to be told to sit.

Have I ever mentioned that "class clown" is a common description of a pit bull?

You may have also noticed the tail never stops wagging (literally, he's across the room asleep right now, and the tail is wagging). This is how he became victim of a condition known as "happy tail" - he wags until he whacks his tail so hard it bleeds... and then he keeps wagging. I have tiny blood spatters 18 inches up on all my walls, several pairs of jeans, and often on his own sides.

Vicious monster, my foot.

PINhead

2008-01-22T18:50:00.001-05:00

Has anyone seen my camera? I was cleaning house, and now it's missing...

Otherwise I would show you a photo of the dog sweater I'm making for Oscar, which is currently incredibly unimpressive, looking a good bit like this
but darker and in yarn.

I do have this photo of a hat I knit for a holiday exchange (one of those things where you don't know who's going to end up with it)

I did enjoy knitting that a lot, but decided I liked it the most when it was evenly balanced between the colors, so if I knit anything like it again, I'll change the bottom part of the pattern to be a little less background-heavy.

The person who ended up with that hat was extremely unimpressed at the time, but called the party-host a few weeks later saying "you've got to thank her for me, that's the greatest hat ever!" (my guess is they've never worn wool, which is a good bit better in all ways than the generic acrylic stuff you get in most stores) So that person, who is stylishly bald, asked me to make a hat for him.

I like him a good bit, so I did, with the caveat that I didn't care how much he paid me. When I do charge people to make them a hat, it ends up being close to $75, which I think is fair for the number of hours it takes (I'm a fast knitter - a simple ribbed or stocking stitch hat will take me two hours, fair isle takes slightly longer - maybe four hours, cables take just a touch longer, and lace might take till the end of the millenium, depending on how idiot-proof the pattern is). But I know this person doesn't have $75 for a hat, I know he really and truly would have appreciated it, and I would enjoy knitting it, so I just told him how much the yarn cost, and he gave me an additional $25, which is fine. (He has no concept of how long it takes to knit things, and thinks I knit faster than anyone on the planet, so it was even more fair by what I'm sure he thought went into it.)

Plus, he was very easy as far as pattern and color - jokingly he said "if you feel the need to knit a hat that would make people question my sexuality, I'm fine with that" to which I replied "can I pick colors that would make people question [your wife's] gender?" and he nearly choked on his drink. So basically, super impressed, easy to please, fun pattern and happy colors (I went with Ravens' purple, black and white so people will still know he's a boy) and I'm happy to knit cheaply. There's often a lot of discussion about how much to charge for "commission" knitting, and I think it's important to have a sliding scale.

And all of that doesn't matter, because I forgot to take a picture of it. I'll see if I can get a picture from him. He loved it, and I really liked the pattern (and set it aside in my mind for a sweater I've been thinking about, too).

In other news, did you know if you mistype your PIN more than three times when you're trying to buy something with your debit card, they'll cut you off?

There are just way too many PINs in my life anyway, but I was trying to buy gas today (Shell gas is five-cents off a gallon on Tuesdays, and because I'm pathetic and have no life, this is very exciting to me.) I know there's money in the account, but I apparently don't know the PIN, because I typed the wrong one.

Twice.

And then I realized it and typed the right one but my finger slipped.

So now the line of cars behind me is extended outside the gas station lot and into the street.

And I go inside and see if the guy can swipe it.

And of course he can't.

So he comes with me to the pump and does everything I just did, but hits the buttons more angrily. And it still doesn't work. Telling me to just pump the gas and then come in, he goes inside to flip the little switch.

And now the folks behind me are honking. So I go back in, and the card still doesn't work.

Another customer in the store looks at me and says "I'm pretty sure you're going to need a bodyguard when you go back out there" and we discussed whether or not he was brave enough to take on the job, or if I should try using stale donuts as a shield. (He did offer to go out first to try to distract the masses)

The attendant was still fighting the machine and said "they say anything to you and I'm shutting down all the pumps!" (note to self: wear this color lipstick more)

Eventually (using another card) I did get the gas paid for, and pulled out quickly without getting shot or anything.

And then I stupidly went to Home Depot. I needed weather stripping and a bigger pot for my jade plant and I swear, there's money in that account! But the card didn't work. Again.

Apparently, I cannot be taught.

This time the line was shorter and their car horns were out of reach, so it was much more peaceful.

I just made sure no one was following me when I drove home.

Hopefully I can convince the bank that I didn't steal my own card and go back and get the pot and weather stripping tomorrow. Maybe by then I'll find my camera and can take pictures of the angry villagers behind me in line.

I know he was here a minute ago...

2008-01-08T12:35:00.001-05:00

I was doing a few household chores today, and after pulling out the laundry pile and tossing a load in the machine, I decided it was time to give Oscar a bath.

For some reason, though, as soon as I called him from the bathroom, he vanished... any ideas where he went?

(this is not a staged photo...
I heard grunting and scuffling noises, I found this)

Here's Hoping 2008 Doesn't Stink.....

2008-01-02T21:09:00.001-05:00

2007-12-23T11:36:00.000-05:00

I can't remember the last time I went to the bathroom alone. Closing the door means there will soon be six tiny feet with varying degrees of furriness poking under the door, often accented with the percussive sound of a pitbull skull bouncing off the door as the boys try to break in, convinced that, without supervision, this might be the time I accidentally flush myself. I find it much easier to just leave the bathroom door open - because of the layout of my house, it's the only room into which the neighbors can't see, and I hesitate to offer any motivation for the boys to do any remodeling as intense as removing a door when I can avoid it.

So the door stays open, and I am without fail joined by a herd of lifeguards when I'm at my most vulnerable. It's usually Oscar first, because dogs aren't burdened with the feline need to appear irritated and unconcerned. Plus, he's pretty sure he will explode if forced to wait one more second without a hug. So he corners me when I'm sitting, and snuggles up to give his patented mommy-approved kisses. Then Trevor will "happen" along to yell something at the dog, and sometimes swat him. Aslan will then remember an important errand that needs to be managed in the sink, and he'll skulk by, grumbling at the other beasts for whom I have yet to provide satisfactory reasons to their existence. This all happens in a matter of seconds, so the cats' ability to look so perfunctory every time is rather impressive.

This morning, however, I thought I had a shot at a private moment.

I woke up on my own, with it still pitch black outside. As both a morning person and someone in a lifelong battle with insomnia, this in itself isn't too unusual, but I decided not to make attempts to go back to sleep until I had... er... powdered my nose. Because it was slightly earlier than my usual rising, my alarm clock (aka, Trevor jumping up and down on me while yelling in my ear) had not yet gone off, and was in fact no where to be seen. Oscar sleeps in his own room, and since the temperature has dropped below 70 F (21 C), I knew Aslan would be asleep under the space heater, so I had a small window of opportunity for private ablutions.

Without turning on any lights, I tiptoed the twelve feet to the bathroom, moving so silently I was sure no living being could possibly hear. I sat down with the grace of Margot Fonteyn so as not to rattle the seat even the slightest. I didn't even allow myself a sigh of relief when I realized I was alone in the room.

And less then ten seconds later, I heard the telltale rattle of a dog collar as a groggy little man made his way down the hall from his room. Then came Trevor's little chirrup at the dog. And then the thunder of fluffy little feet as Aslan went about his business. Once again, "alone" was vanquished from my vocabulary as Aslan sat up on the sink, Trevor wove in and out of Oscar's legs, and Oscar leaned against my knees, kissing me in his special way (I don't actually like dog kisses, and Oscar has learned this, so he - for lack of a better description - dries off his tongue. He can be as sloppy and slobbery as the next guy, and often is kissing others, but usually when he kisses me, they are dainty, prim, dry little things - it's really rather endearing how he's found a way to kiss me that doesn't make me need to wipe off after).

So there I was surrounded by three furry little gentlemen who love me madly, who don't want to be away from me for a second longer than they have to be, who would no doubt give their lives for me, who make me laugh and cry and laugh again... and suddenly it occurred to me that being alone means being away from that indescribably pure love. And that can't be a good thing at all.

This holiday season, may you be surrounded with more love than you know what to do with, and realize that you are never truly alone.

Before you go shopping this holiday season...

2007-12-09T21:25:00.000-05:00

...think about this:

...then think about this:

It's a good thing cats can't tell time...

2007-12-01T22:35:00.000-05:00

Due to some plans changing on me and a generally chaotic life anyway, I'm posting Aslan's annual birthday story a bit late in the day. He's purring on my lap now and promises not to hold a grudge, being mature and refined like that. My own birthday song (which many of you have asked about) I am told will be coming. It was performed live in concert to a full and confused audience last night, breaking many birthday-song rules, but all will be forgiven as soon as an actual sound file has been produced. But for now, let's get back to the serious business!

The Story of Aslan

In 2002, I lived near Buffalo NY and worked at a radio station doing the morning show. I lived on the top floor of a crochety old house, with neighbors in the bottom floor. My birthday happened to fall on Thanksgiving weekend, so my parents flew me down to Baltimore for the weekend. I flew back up on Sunday, December 1st, and ended up driving home from the Buffalo airport in one of the many blizzards of the year. The drive took about three hours longer than I expected, and by the time I was close, there was two feet of snow on the ground. Trusty Norman was quite cranky, and I was no chipper Princess myself. A car ahead of me kicked a rock back, and it cracked my windsheild all the way across.

Exausted, but pushing forward, I called my friend who was babysitting for my two cats Misha and Trevor while I was away to tell him I was close. He was a cat lover as well, and both my two liked him a lot, so I knew he'd want to know if he needed to go back out into the blizzard to check on them again that night.

"Great! Glad to hear you're safe," said Al. "oh, by the way, your neighbors cat was asking to come in, but they weren't answering the door. I let her into your hallway, and put out some of your guys food and water for her."

"Okay, great. Um. Al? My neighbors don't have a cat."

"Yeah, the sweet little white one."

"Nope."

"Oh. Well, then there's a strange cat in your house. Um. Sorry?"

Hmm.

I got home, trudged through the snow, which was nearing three feet in depth by now, and stumbled up the stairs. As I rounded the bend, dark eyes glowed back at me, and a tiny, shivering cat peered out, clearly asking if I could be trusted... and quickly deciding I could. A timid squeak was uttered, and almost immediately the hall echoed with the sound of purrs... It was bittter cold, even inside the hallway (which was probably around 40 degrees F, compared to the 10 degrees outside), but I couldn't let this strange creature into my house when s/he might have deadly parasites. I refilled his food and water, and brought out a blanket and cat bed.

I woke the next morning, checked the food in the bowl in the hall, and went into work, announcing that I'd found a cat, and please call the radio station if you're missing one. No one called.

I called the pound, and told them that I didn't want to give the cat to them if he was going to end up being killed - adult cats are adopted out quite rarely - but if anyone called looking for him, they could contact me. I continued the announcements on the air. One woman did call the station and say she was missing her cat Rosie -the little sweet white girl that Al had found was actually an orange male, but an orange so pale he was almost pink.

Hoping against hope, I picked up the little cat, and nearly dropped him again in shock. This cat hadn't just wandered off before the storm. He should have been between eight and ten pounds, and was closer to three, ribs sticking out painfully through his scraggly hair. His feet, which had been declawed, were bloody and raw. He drooled massively, but offered no resistance when I checked his mouth for wounds and found none. I took him to the woman's face, and watched her face drop when she opened her door. This wasn't her Rosie.

But something had to be done.

I went to the pound and said "whoever lost him either doesn't want him back, or doesn't deserve him. What can I do to make this cat officially mine so they can't come and let this happen to him again?" They knew me from my radio show (celebrity is a good thing) and were able to bend a few rules for me. He still had to be taken into "solitary confinement" where he would be given a vet check and watched for parasites. But I could come visit him as often as I wanted - and I did. It broke my heart to take him to the pound and leave him there - it goes against every fiber of my being. But I was back every day, and he grew to know my footsteps on the stairs at the pound. I had resisted giving him a name until I knew he would be mine, but had been toying around with two, one of which was "Dickens" in honor of the season and the book A Christmas Carroll. But one of the women at the pound said "We just love that little cat of yours, he looks just like a lion," and I knew the other name would be his, the one that I thought would give this sweet, timid little thing some strength and courage, the name of the great and terrible lion from The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe.

My life of late has been more difficult than I thought possible. Many, many times I've come close to giving up - giving up and going back to an office job where at least the pay was consistant, giving up on my marriage and home, just giving up. Every time - really, each and every time - I've hit that wall and said "that's it," Aslan has come to me. Within seconds of my saying "I can't do this anymore," he's been in my lap, nose in my face, chirping away at me, giving me love and, somehow, giving me strength. And I've been able to go on. The other boys usually pile on pretty soon after, but Aslan is always first, the calm little soldier whose cotton-ball looks are beyond deceiving.

He was lost, and found me on December 1, 2002. I was lost, and he found me again and again since then. Happy, happy "re-birthday" Aslan.

What Haven't I Done?

2007-11-26T20:49:00.000-05:00

It's been a very hectic month, but I'm alive! So much has gone on, it may be more concise to explain what hasn't happened, so let's try that.

First off, this is not the computer I'm using.

That computer completely died, of similar symptoms to those I've been noticing (and complaining about to anyone who would listen, including Apple-lack-of-customer-service) since I got it. Thanks to a particularly wonderful relative, I have a loaner computer for now. Thanks to Apple, I lost something like 500 songs from my iTunes library, and I'm still battling that one out with them. Apple hates me.

This is not my cell phone.

My cell phone decided it hates me almost as much as Apple does, and after one attempt to run away from home (thwarted by a nice stranger in the park who found and returned it) it decided to drown itself in the dog's water bowl. Sprint says I have insurance, the insurance company says I don't, and until I can get the two to agree, I don't have a cell phone.

None of these dogs are mine. Left to right they are Esco (2nd place), Doc (1st place) and Jesse James, all sweet and beautiful rescue dogs who won in the faux-Conformation competition at the National Pitbull Championships this year. Faux because neutered animals can't technically win conformation. But they are lovely, fun dogs, and isn't Doc cute how he never takes his eyes off his mom?

My dog did not compete in any events that weekend. I've told him it's because he's so cute it would have embarrassed the other dogs. Please don't mention that the real truth is that with all the stimuli around he would have peed himself into a severe state of dehydration and then just stroked out trying to bounce around and say hi to everyone and everything.

These are also not my dog. This is Foster and puppy Pebbles, also at the Championships, but just as spectators.

I am not knitting this hat. I did knit a very nice hat that will be a gift for someone who has relatives who read this, and therefore posting photos would spoil the surprise.

And I'm also not knitting this (but I'd like to be, so if any family members/friends/secret admirers/adoring fans want to buy this, the kit is on sale here and I have loved and wanted it for years.

I am knitting lots of gifts, so I'll do my best to remember to photograph them once the recipients see them.

And that's all the catch-up I have time for now, what with all those gifts to finish making.

For Oscar...

2007-10-20T00:01:00.000-04:00

October 20th is Pitbull Awareness Day

What do you know about the Great American Pitbull Terrier?
(adult language and images)

Do you know the real stats?

...why you shouldn't trust a pitbull?

Do you know where they come from?

...and why BSL is unconstitutional?

Do you know what one looks like?

... and what humans have done to them?

Do you know how to help pitbulls?

... or what it's like to love one?

Pop Quiz!

They aren't monsters, they're pets.

More than that, they are family

It's time to understand that the breed is getting a bad rap

...and so are their owners

It's time to hear the good news...

believe the truth, not the hype

This is for Pitbull Awareness Day.

It's for Esco, and Star, and Puppy, and Paige, and Gus, and Reeses, and Bauer, and Hunny, and Atticus, and Vienna, and Tess, and all the other beautiful sweet pitbulls in the world.

It's for Oscar.

But mostly, it's for love.

Kickin' It

2007-10-01T07:00:00.000-04:00

One Month's Progress on Kicking Cancer in the Butt:

I have upped the financial goal to $1000 (from the original $500) when we broke it in the first week. I am still accepting donations (and still counting the money only after it is actually in the interest bearing account set aside for the walk) but have some news from the organizers of the walk itself. They held off on having a website as long as possible (because that costs money, and that takes money away from the donations) but have succumbed, and will have a website set up to accept donations/sponsorships by December. So if just giving me money without being able to get that tax receipt didn't sit by you, you can give freely in December (or after) and have all the documentation you should need.

As for the walking, I pledged that in September and October I would walk at least one mile, at least three times a week. As I clarified, I was counting miles and half-miles and only ever rounding down. I've had to up the "goal" on that as well (it was previously 200) since based on my pledge, I should have walked 12 miles in September (3 miles a week times four weeks) and if you'll check those numbers up above, you'll see I've gotten a little obsessive and done over two and a half times my pledge amount! (Um, hello? Three point frickin' Five miles TODAY!!! A 5K is 3.1! I did 3.5. Three. And another point Five. Miles. ME! Today. One walk. Three and a half miles.)

I can't tell you how much I've been enjoying the walking, and how much better I feel - I know this is only possible because of finding a doctor who was willing to get my meds straightened out, but I'm feel healthier and happier and find myself looking forward to each tomorrow's walk nearly as soon as I'm finished today's!

Thanks everyone for the support and encouragement!

Oh, and Trevor is still on meds and fluids (and my chest) for now, but his bloodwork last week showed good improvement and he's acting very near normal now. So it looks like y'all are stuck with Trevor stories for the next few years after all. Thanks for the prayers, even if he wishes you'd sent baby birds instead.

I promise to provide some craftier entires in the near future.

~~~~~~~~
ETA: Rachel, this totally cracked me up:

Your Score: Cheezburger cat

77% Affectionate, 63% Excitable, 62% Hungry

Sure, you deserve one. You helped popularized lolcats from a running gag to an online sensation. Now mainstream media writes asinine columns on this 'phenomenon', students write theses on the topic, programming languages adopt the grammar, and losers write tests about them on dating sites. Now take your cheezburger and never touch the internets again.

To see all possible results, checka dis.

Link: The Which Lolcat Are You? Test written by GumOtaku on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Walking My (Re)tail Off (photo and beg intensive)

2007-09-30T10:09:00.000-04:00

Did you see the totals up above? We broke the $500 goal in less than a week (actually, it was broken by the end of the weekend, I was just waiting for paypal to transfer the amount to the Cancer Walk Bank Account.) So I've upped that total and fully expect y'all to rise to the occasion (go ahead - make me up it several more times before we're done!).

In addition, I've been walking my little tail off (and Oscar's, too, since he's been joining me for nearly all the training), so I'm over my anticipated mileage goal, too. Just so you know, I'm rounding down all the distances to the nearest half mile. If I walk 1.9 miles (as I did the other day) it gets rounded down to 1.5 for the tally. The two days in a row I did 2.1 miles (ME! TWO MILES!!!) got rounded down to 2 miles even (each). That's to guarantee that anyone who chooses to sponsor me by-the-mile training is getting their money's worth! I'm feeling my health/stamina improve pretty quickly, and find myself really looking forward to the time out walking with the dog (despite his rolling in raccoon poo today, literally cutting off my sentence explaining that I wasn't worried because he's never rolled in anything gross. My only theory is that he was thinking like those hunters who spray themselves with deer urine before they go in the woods, and was thinking he'd catch himself a raccoon. I didn't have the heart to tell him pitbulls are not hunting dogs. I did have the heart to let him pick the shampoo for his shower when we got home - he picked the Green Apple scented dog shampoo over the Johnson's baby wash.)

My walks are nothing compared to what Mokey just finished though! While she's resting up from that, she has VERY generously donated some lovely things to the cause - two causes, really, because she's donating half of the sales to my Walk Funds, and the other half to bandwidth fees over at Knitter's Review.

I've added a little info about the fiber content and yardage where I could, but otherwise, I'll let her explain it all (my additions are unbolded):

Please keep in mind that the proceeds will be evenly split between RoseByAny's walk and Knitters Review. You won't get a tax receipt but you will be helping out a wonderful board member, a wonderful web site and your wonderful stash!

Everything can be mixed and matched, provided someone hasn't gotten to it first. If you want sock pattern A with yarn Z instead of yarn B, be our guest.

I can only accept PayPal, prices include postage (to Canada or US) and all prices are suggestions - feel free to make a different offer if anything interests you.

Just e-mail if you're interested in anything!

OPAL CROCODILE (brown)

divided into 2 50gm balls

OPAL CROCODILE (green)

sock unravelled for you on request!

Opal Crocodile is very hard to come by!
(Opal Crocodile: 75% wool/ 25% polyamide, 425 m per 100gm ball, Superwash)

RBK MEXICAN DANCE $20

Another great sock pattern, this one is perfect for knitting a bit at a time since it is based on building up squares. You can really make your feet dance with the yarn, Fortissima Colori 1000, Colour 9057, a mix of pink, red, white and black with sparkle.
(Fortissima Colori: 75% wool/25% nylon, 550 yds per 100gm ball, Superwash)

NORTHERN SUNSHINE "WATERFALLS", $12

A lovely pattern that would actually work with this variegated yarn. The blues and greys will enhance the waterfall effect!
(Schachenmayr Crazy Cotton: 100% Cotton, Approx. 137 yds / 125 m per 50gm ball, Machine Wash)

RBK SQUARE DANCES, $15

As with all patterns from Red Bird Knits, well written and creative. I don't know exactly which yarn that is, but I am 95% positive it is from the Schoeller Stahl/Fortissima Disco series. This one is blue, brown, grey and white with some sparkle.
(Schoeller Stahl/Fortissima Disco: 71% virgin wool/ 26% Polymide/ 3%Polyester metallisiert, 460 yards per 100 gm ball, Superwash)

RBK PARTY STRIPES, $20

This is part of a trio of modular style sock of the month kits from redbirdknits.com
The yarn is Lana Grossa' Meilenweit Party in marled grey/blue, gold/brown, and blue black. A good yarn to knit socks for guys without getting bored.
(Lana Grossa Meilenweit Party: 80% wool/20% nylon, 462 yards per 100 gm ball, Superwash)

ASSORTED FINGERING/SOCK WEIGHT COTTONS, $10 (lot)

The beige, off white and medium green are all Scheepjes Cotton 8. The blues and dark green are Mandarin Petit
(Scheepjes Cotton 8: 100% Cotton, 170 meters to 50 gm ball, Machine Wash
Mandarin Petit: 100% Egyptian Cotton, 197 yards per 50 gm ball, Machine Wash)

NOVELTY YARNS, $10 (lot)

This is one of thsoe love it or hate it products for knitters. If you love it, buy it and support a couple of good causes.
3 x 50g Red Heart Twinkle(Black)
3 x 50g Moda Dea Frivolous(Garnet)
5 x 50 Red Heart Treasure(White)

ROWAN YORKSHIRE TWEED $20

4 x 25g of the lovely and discontinued Yorkshire Tweed 4 ply in Shrew, a greyish brown. One of the balls was started up for a swatch but it is all there.
(Rowan Yorkshire Tweed 4-ply: 100% wool, 120 yds per 25 gm ball, Hand Wash)

KNIT ONE, FELT TOO, $10

An excellent book for those wanting to get into felting, or for experienced felters wanting to add to their collection.

E-mail Mokey if anything catches your eye!

Again, all purchases include shipping, prices are negotiable, and as long as everything's available, things can be mixed-and-matched as you wish. Half of the purchase price will go to KR, half to my walk sponsorships. Thanks SO much for looking, for purchasing, and (most of all) for supporting!!!

If Jackson Pollack Worked With Catfood...

2007-09-20T21:54:00.000-04:00

It's been a hectic, emotional, draining, tear-filled, week.

Thank you all for your prayers for Trevor, and your cyber-hugs on Sharon's "anniversary".

Things are still pretty shaky, to be honest. My little spud who would eat anything he could catch has had to be force-fed several times a day, with a syringe and a can of special high protein/high fat catfood to try to get his liver to stop eating him alive. He did not enjoy this. I did not enjoy this. Probably all of the people I came in contact this week did not enjoy my "odeur des aliments pour chats" (it sounds better in french. Basically I have had catfood in my hair, on every article of clothing, and splattered on many walls in my house for nearly two weeks now).

Worst of all was that my extremely devoted, extremely snuggly monkey has been hiding from me, not coming when I called, and sleeping who knows where for most of that time.

In addition to cat-food-modern-art, we've had to see that this

went to this

(which was actually the easiest part - he had a much easier time being injected with fluid under the skin than injected with food via the mouth... if only I'd made that realization earlier, I could have watered down the food.....)

Tonight, though, we had a bit of a breakthrough, in the form of this:

Do you see the Heavens opening? Hear the angels singing? Are you considering naming your next-born child "Fancy Feast Beef Chunks in Gravy"?

Then you haven't been living in my house.

In any event, Trevor ate, on his own, for the first time this evening. He didn't eat a lot, maybe a third of a small can of the kitten food, but he ate. He had a few nibbles on his own (at which point I began sobbing for joy and thanking God) and then I gave him his pills, and he had a little more. When he stopped eating, I put him in my lap, put the food in front of him, and inserted the needle to start his fluids. And he started eating more, with the fluids going right in him.

When we finished dinner and the internal drink, there was a brief ticker tape parade in Trevor's honor (yes, in the bathroom - there are relatively few corners of my house that can be closed off from the other furry gentlemen in my life without damage to the baracades. As it was, there was a fuzzy sort of thudding at the door of Aslan trying to break the door down, and he and Oscar were waiting outside when we opened up.)

About an hour later, Trevor hopped up on my lap to snuggle and made a few "I'm hungry" mews - I pulled the bowl out and he had a few more bites.

It's starting to look like my little man might live through this. Thank God.

Still...

2007-09-15T21:30:00.000-04:00

Missing you...

and you...

Adventures of the Monkey Cat

2007-09-11T19:10:00.000-04:00

Well, things have settled down slightly around here, and your extremely compassionate comments (Trevor has never been kissed by so many strange cats!) and e-mails deserve an update!

For most of his life, Trevor has had a voracious appetite and energy/talent for finding trouble level, and the waistline to match. He's never been full-on obese, but he's generally a bit pudgy. So I've been working on this, and in the past few weeks, Trevor actually has been losing. Yay!

Well, about a week ago I began to be concerned that he was losing too much weight. And this weekend, I realized that in fact, not only was he losing too much, but he wasn't eating. The cat who would eat anything (seriously, the only food this cat has ever turned down in his life was imitation crab, so think about that next time you go to eat it) was turning down deli ham. And when I realized that I could feel his spine, which is not good in cats, I went into a panic (panic being defined as "incoherant sobbing staggered with manic babbling which leads at least one friend to think I'm on the ledge of a high-rise." Sorry, J.) Which of course happened on a weekend when the vet was impossible to reach. My parents have a different vet that they are very happy with, so I called her first thing Monday morning, and shortly thereafter had an appointment.

So we went to that vet, where they discovered just how much fight my sick little boy had left in him. It took three vet techs and a vet to hold him to get x-rays, and while they were doing that and getting bloodwork, I could hear him yelling through a door, down a hall, and through another two doors.

After the x-rays we learned that his kidneys are two very different sizes, and we don't know why, and after the bloodwork we discovered that his liver is wonky (that's a technical term that means "isn't happy, but we don't know if it's an infection, a chronic disease, or what"). Because of the liver, I was instructed to get food into him as proficiently as I could (keeping in mind that cats throw up for sport, so putting a bunch of food in his throat and having him vomit it back up wasn't the goal.) She also wanted a urine sample, which involved segregating him from Aslan (which, frankly, Aslan has been petitioning for since he moved in) so that I could keep their output properly identified, and asking him to pee in a litter box that had been scrubbed with rubbing alcohol to sterilize it, and "filled" with 3 tablespoons (ie, about 1/10 of the amount needed) of special sterile litter, then suctioning it up, putting it in the sterile cup, and storing it in the fridge until I could get it to the vet (I don't think they were providing a helicoptor for medi-vac transport, but we didn't get that far).

So I spent all night waiting for him to pee (which is like "Waiting For Godot" but more fun) giving him several eyedroppers of food on the hour, every hour, and managed to get maybe 25 ml into him. Not good. But this afternoon I went back to the vet (without him, but one of the techs had a new bandaid on her neck, and they all said the name "Trevor" in hushed, reverant tones). There I was given an appetite stimulant to get him to eat, an antibiotic to kill any infection in the liver, a food of baby-food consistancy (the better to syringe into his mouth), and a bag of fluids, which I have to inject into him under his skin. They gave me a little lesson on the fluids, letting me practice on the office cat ("he has to earn his keep somehow!") and let me know they were extremely skeptical that I would be able to pill and inject such a fiesty little monster, all while force feeding him with a syringe.

When we got home, I went to the bathroom and gave him a squirt of food, the appetite stimulant, two squirts of food, the antibiotic, then three squirts of food, before he got "fiesty" and put a paw up (claws in) to stop me. Mama's boy. I gave him an hour break, then went back and injected the fluids under his skin, with him sitting on my lap and purring. Somewhere in this time I realized that a) perhaps they should have put more stress on the "turn the fluids off before pulling the needle out of the cat" part of the process and b) I was glad I chose to do this in the bathroom and c) his shoulders squish now when I squeeze him. I gave him two more squirts of food, then set him free.

We don't really know what's wrong, and he's still not feeling good at all, but we've made strides to getting him healthier, which is really all that matters to me in the world. I'm really, totally, thoroughly, completely, and, in all seriousness, DONE with shit happening to the ones I love.

So please keep praying for my little monkey, and I'll keep chanting "Fluid off THEN needle out"

ETA: The vet's office called this morning. Not with test results, not with billing questions. Just to see how Trevor was doing. Possibly to see if I still have all my apendages (I do - no claws have come out yet). But still.
This is a Good Vet
.

Prayers Please

2007-09-09T19:21:00.000-04:00

I know it may seem very trivial to some of you, but my little spud needs some prayers - he's not feeling well.

And I'm very, very, scared for him.

Please pray for Trevor.

Kickin' Cancer In The Butt

2007-08-30T23:16:00.000-04:00

Some of you may already know, but someone special got some lousy news a few weeks ago. The kind of news that chills you to the bone, and makes you remember how weak and mortal and helpless you are.

And I don't deal well with being told I'm helpless. It doesn't sit right by me.

So I'm gonna do a little something about it. I'm hoping you'll help me.

I'm getting my rear in gear to show my support for John

The walk takes place March 29, and is 5km (about 3.1 miles). This is a pretty big deal for me, since my own health issues have meant that it's only just recently that I've even been able to walk one mile. So I'll be "training," starting September 1st, as follows:

in September and October I will walk ONE mile at least three days a week
in November and December I will walk TWO miles at least three days a week
in January and February I will walk THREE miles at least three days a week
and in March, I will walk FOUR miles, at least three days a week until the event (March 29.)

I tell you this for two reasons -
One is that I would love your help in sponsoring the actual walk - I've set up a walk-exclusive (interest bearing) bank account to help gather your donations (and started it off with the first $25, which will go to my registration fees - I'll add more later) with an initial goal of $500 that I would love to blow out of the water.

but the other reason is I also thought perhaps sponsoring my training might be a more "active" option for you. Perhaps you'd rather sponsor me per day of training (3 days a week times 30 weeks = 90 days of training) or by mile trained (200 minimum, give or take some faulty math on my part) or some other progressive way? Perhaps you'd rather give donations after I've passed several milestones, rather than waiting for the event?

However you want to support - even just a "get off your butt and walk!" cheer - is more than appreciated. Friends in the neighborhood who want to walk with me (and don't mind some goofy canine protection) can let me know. Friends out of the neighborhood are welcome to spread the news to let others know where they can donate.

And friends in any neighborhood should, please, please, please be aggressive with your doctors, and listen to your bodies. Doctors recommend routine screening for this after the age of 50. John is 36 and at Stage 4. Not being in the high risk group is not the same as being safe.

Thanks for your help.

To support my walk, you can PayPal donations to
CancerWalk [at] MingledYarn [dot] Net
Please note that it's for the Cancer Walk in the subject line.
I will be collecting funds until March 28, 2008 at which point I will empty the account (remember that paypal will take a portion), take a photo of the cashier's check for y'all to see, and donate the entire wad to the Scope It Out walk charity, or another colorectal-cancer related charity of John and Jody's choice.
(the tickers at the top will be adjusted when I put contribution funds into the bank account, and will reflect that account's balence)

Thank you!

a cell-photo message for the universe

2007-08-29T21:55:00.000-04:00

(translated as "oh yeah? right back atcha")