Shelby Has a HOME!!!

Here is just a hint! Please think safe travel thoughts tomorrow.



Hug the everloving daylights out of your hounds!

Heartwarming

It's a word I've used many times. Heartwarming. Or, seeing such and such just warms the heart. But I'd never truly experienced it, never actually lived it until last night.

I do not like winter. I do not complain in the summer with heat indeces of "a hundurd 'n teeyin" and ninety-eight percent humidity in Western Kentucky, because I know that soon enough it will be under forty, and I save my moaning for the cold. And this winter has been mean and cruel and it seems like this southern city has forgotten its identity. And I come to bed with blocks of ice for feet, and I cannot get warm.

Until last night.

On August 16, 2006 a litter of puppies were born by emergency Ceasarian section. I had known the mom, Maggie Mae, all of her life, and I had shown her to her first point and her last major, and when she got her Award of Merit. Her people are my dear, dear, dear good friends. They entrusted me with Maggie Mae for this litter, so she could be bred to my Maria's grandson, and they would have a new puppy. I love Maggie Mae. During the labor, Maggie Mae's uterus ruptured, and we came perilously close to losing her. Only thanks to the skill, compassion, and talent of my wonderful vet, Maggie Mae and her eight puppies thrived.

Because Maggie needed help after her surgery, I practically lived in the whelping box. Even more than I normally would. I had the "nursery" all set up in the TV room upstairs, but since Maggie couldn't do steps, I slept on the couch downstairs for three weeks with the new family, until they were ready to move upstairs. I loved Maggie Mae more than ever, and I loved those puppies fiercely.

As the pups' personalities emerged, I started the daunting task of matching pups to the waiting homes. In the past, I didn't have to wonder about keeping in touch with the puppies as they grew, because I breed so infrequently that the pups have gone to close, personal, long term friends. In this litter, one pup was going to a home with folks I didn't know. They were referred by one of my very closest friends, and they had been waiting over a year for their first whippet. They were willing to drive the fifteen hours from Pennsylvania, and they passed their home visit by a fellow Rescue Rep with flying colors. But they would have only one dog. My job was to pick which puppy in this litter would do best in an only dog household.

The thing was, I was in love with the puppy who would do the best as an only dog. I called her Leslie, and she was a force of nature. She had a crooked little stripe on her face and she was just born with a laughing sense of herself. And she planted her feet on my heart and wouldn't let go.

But, I was in love with all the puppies, and I didn't think that Lindy Loo would thrive as an only dog, and I was certain that self assured, bossy little Leslie would and what good would it do to put a puppy in a situation that was potentially doomed? So, Leslie became Rexie and went to Pennsylvania. And my heart broke just the tiniest bit.

I hear regularly from the pups; after all they're with friends, and we talk anyway. But I hadn't heard from Rexie for a long time. I have a big old clause that states if the new home cannot keep the dog for any reason at any time ever in its life that dog comes back to me, no questions asked. Period. And I mentioned that my husband has Italian cousins in Philadelphia. I wasn't really worried. And emails can get lost in cyberspace and people are busy, and I could be more insistant, though I didn't want to be a pain, but it had really been a while and I was aching more than a little. So last night I emailed Rexie's folks and asked them please to assure me that she was OK.

And not a minute later my Inbox pinged and there were attachments! And I clicked on the paperclip icon, and I saw these

and I read the email saying she was a wonderful member of the family and my eyes started stinging and before I knew it my entire face was soggy wet.

But then, as I got Bill out of bed to come see the photos, I noticed I felt warm. Glowingly warm. It started in my chest and it spread to my ears, and my blue fingers turned pink, and my ice cold toes melted and I didn't even need to wear socks to bed. Deliciously, heavenly, toastily comfortable. I was transported from the chill of my little computer room to a sunny private beach on Eleuthera.

Synonyms for the adjective warm include, affectionate, caring, tender, and loving.

Heartwarming.


Hug your hounds.

***********************************

And we have recieved an Award!

This award recognizes excellence in blogging

It was given to us by AOJ and the Lurchers whose most excellent blog puts mine to shame, but we thank them and now we get to pass the award to:

• Amanda (who writes better than I think she knows)


• Maggie and Mitch who are smile-makers


• Teka! because we love her too


• Dining Alone (aka Joe Stain's ma), as the most excellent, inspiring cooking blog


• Bill's Blog as it truly is way excellent and he hasn't promoted it


• The Ragracers another whippet blog, whose photography and writing will knock you silly


• Abby Creek Art whose dog portraits you will love, love, love


• Vee whose needle felted masterpieces you won't believe!


• Peanut for writing a post titled "Sickness and poop and throwup"! Does it get better? We think not.


• and Asta whose blog is just E for Excellent and who is Sam I Am's very special hairy friend

Whippet's Fun Monday on Tuesday

(For my Fun Monday, scroll down please.)

The whippets wanted to post their own Fun Monday video:

CANCELLED.

Well, rats and rats.

Sam I Am's first visit as a Therapy Dog was cancelled today because it is simply loathly out. It is sleeting, windy, gray, gross, and disgustful. I was suffering from a contagion of my dear husband's Pollyana-itis. I ignored the dire winter storm warnings. (In Western Kentucky, schools are closed if one-half inch of snow is forecasted.) I packaged up my sold eBay collars for shipment, and threw a stupefied Sammy in the shower with me. No time for my shower plus a downstairs dog room bath for him. It was two-fer time.

Our shower is a stall, no tub, and the shower curtain is clear plastic, and I don't think Sam has had a shower with me before, but he was strangely resigned to this odd turn of fate. He didn't panic, or even communicate his displeasure. He bravely endured his soaking, lathering, and rinsing, and as usual he rather enjoyed the toweling off. I think he understood the gravitas of this occasion. Although I could see his temptation, he resisted the usual post bath time zoomies. Instead, he curled up on our bed pillows, looking important, and watched me get ready to go.

I left him to get toasty warm and dry, while I zoomed off to my noon, non-dog related meeting. I thought I would zoom. The van windows were opaque with a thick coat of ice. We haven't needed windshield scrapers so much since moving to Western Kentucky. I couldn't find one in the van. There might be one, but I couldn't find one. I did find a cassette tape case. (Nancy Griffiths, I apologize. I certainly wouldn't want anyone to use my book to clear the ice off their windshield. But I took your tape out, and only used the plastic case, and I was dangerously close to being late.)

I cleared of a space about six inches by eight inches. I couldn't reach very high, and the van is a big fifteen passenger deal, which it quite tall. Nancy Griffiths' little three by four inch cassette case didn't extend my scope so much. I climbed into the van, and discovered that by scrunching my head below the steering wheel, I could see. I could see the road immediately in front of me. Off I crept.

I came home from that meeting dreading what message Bill would have for me. Sure enough, the call had come and the therapy visits were cancelled. Poop. Sam danced around me, knowing something special was happening. His nails were done, he was clean and sparkly and his teeth got an extra brushing. He had his special occasion collar on with his brand new Therapy Dog tag.

"Come on, buddy. Let's go to the Post Office."

It was a sad, sorry excuse of an activity, and by now the defroster had melted the ice on the windshield, so it wasn't even particularly adventuresome. We drove to the Post Office. I mailed my parcels and Bill's studio newsletters. We drove home. We live ten blocks from the Post Office.

"OK, Sam I Am, we're home!"

Dogs. In great good humor Sammy bounded out of the van, abjectly delighted to be back home again. He greeted everyone with wags and hipchecks, and did his 'I'm to sexy for my coat' dance.

Tomorrow I'm going alone to visit the women's shelter. If it can be arranged for Sam to visit one on one there - I don't want him to be mobbed by a crowd of over excited toddlers - I'll take him there this week.

He is ready to do this, and so am I.

Hug your hounds

Fun Monday

Today's Fun Monday assignment is from the Crown Princess at Ooh A Shiny Pen.

She says:

Music plays a vital role in most of our lives. It is
everywhere. I want to hear the ONE song that is you. The song that whenever it
is heard, you smile. I am not looking for the soundtrack of your life, just that
one song. Your friends hear it and think of you. You can post the video, the
lyrics, the wav file. However you want to post it is great.

ARRGH! ONE???? I can't do ONE! I can do one musician, Paul Simon, though Ienjoy a ton of different artists.

All of the whippets that I bred are named after Paul Simon songs, (Bill co-bred Luciano and Delia, so they are named after his music - Pavarotti and Johnny Cash), and I think there are a lot of people who think of me when they hear the Mama Pajama song.

I smile when I hear any of Paul Simon's songs. And he has such a huge body of work.



That's it. I just can't do one. But here are three that are definitely in the running.



Hearts and Bones. Mama Pajama and Fat Charlie's litter sister's registered name is CH Warburton Hearts and Bones. She is Sam I Am's mother, and his real name is Warburton Heart of the Story.

I LOVE this song.

On the last leg of the journey
They started a long time ago
The arc of a love affair
Rainbows in the high desert air
Mountain passes slipping into stones
Hearts and bones

[Oh if I could write like that.]

And my friends would definitely think of me when they hear You Can Call Me Al. (That's Lindy Loo's brother Nearly's real name, by the way!) Watch Chevy Chase's feet - that's what mine do in all of Paul Simon's music. And watch Paul Simon giggle at the very end when Chevy Chase sticks the trumpet in his face.





and I love Proof:




Faith
Faith is an island in the setting sun
But proof, yes
Proof is the bottom line for everyone
Half moon hiding in the clouds, my darling
And the sky is flecked with signs of hope
Raise your weary wings against the rain, my baby
Wash your tangled curls with gambler's soap


Oh dear. There are so many more of his songs that touch me. Too many more.

Be sure to visit Ooh A Shiny Pen to see the rest of the Fun Monday blogs.

hug your song dogs

I believe in the future
I may live in my car
My radio tuned to
The voice of a star
Song dogs barking at the break of dawn
Lightning pushes the edge of a thunderstorm
And these old hopes and fears
Still at my side
(From Cool River, Rhythm of the Saints)

Lazy Sunday

I had a rare Sunday morning where the dogs and I just kicked back and watched the TV. I do not often watch TV on a Sunday, or during the rest of the week, for that matter. I'm such a dweeb that my favorite program is Antiques Road Show. And I have had this big crush on Tim Russert, ever since he mentioned his son's little league game on his show. Mike Huckabee was his guest on Meet the Press, and then he was on Face the Nation. The dogs were totally interested in this part: They thought any candidate who ran on a platform of squirrel cookery was a worthy candidate indeed. I didn't make that up. Here's the actual transcript:


MR. RUSSERT: All right. Before you go, I have to ask you about this comment on...
GOV. HUCKABEE: All right.
MR. RUSSERT: "Morning Joe"'s program back in January.
GOV. HUCKABEE: OK.
MR. RUSSERT: "When I was in college, we used to take a popcorn popper--because that was the only thing" many of us--"they would let us use in the dorms"...
GOV. HUCKABEE: Yeah.
MR. RUSSERT: ..."and we would fry squirrel in the popcorn poppers in the dorm room."
GOV. HUCKABEE: Yeah. Yeah. We really did that. We really did.
MR. RUSSERT: Did you eat them?
GOV. HUCKABEE: Well, of course you--we ate them.
MR. RUSSERT: What does it taste like?
GOV. HUCKABEE: I should say it tastes a lot like chicken, but it doesn't.
MR. RUSSERT: What's it taste like?
GOV. HUCKABEE: It, it tastes like squirrel. It's not the best thing in the world but, you know, when you go squirrel hunting, you got to do something with those things. And part of it was just to say we could do it. I mean, it was a college thing. I mean, but fried squirrel is a Southern delicacy. You got to know that.
MR. RUSSERT: But you're off the squirrel now?
GOV. HUCKABEE: I haven't eaten fried squirrel I think since college. Thank the Lord. I don't...
MR. RUSSERT: This may help you in Virginia.
GOV. HUCKABEE: It may kill me up--in other states, however.
MR. RUSSERT: Governor Mike Huckabee, we thank you for joining us this...
GOV. HUCKABEE: Thank you, Tim. Great to be here.


[from http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/23095171/page/3/]


I'm with the dogs that if you are going to shoot "things" you should eat them. But then they played this video.

It had me worried. It made me feel queasy and like I stepped on something dead and slimy. Barefoot.

And then Face The Nation came on. And you know who the guest was????

Eeeeewwwww. I made the mistake of Googling him, so that I wouldn't write anything erroneous here, and it was too much. Here's how he got his start:


In the fall of 1970, Rove used a false identity to enter the campaign office of Democrat Alan J. Dixon, who was running for Treasurer of Illinois. He stole 1000 sheets of paper with campaign letterhead, printed fake campaign rally fliers promising "free beer, free food, girls and a good time for nothing", and distributed them at rock concerts and homeless shelters, with the effect of disrupting Dixon's rally. (Dixon eventually won the election). Rove's role would not become publicly known until August 1973. Rove told the Dallas Morning News in 1999, "It was a youthful prank at the age of 19 and I regret it." [ Dan Balz. "Karl Rove - The Strategist", The Washington Post, July 23, 1999. ]






Then I wasted some of my precious Sunday Morning free time by doing this, but it made me feel better.





Once the discussion of Jiffy-squirrel-poppin' was finished, this is how much interest the dogs had:
Mama Pajama and Luciano.



Very Old Dog and Fat Charlie.

Maria.

Sweet Sam I Am. (Delia was in the studio with Bill and the young'uns were tearing around the yard.)

But then I started screaming at the Karlrovian Devil and that disturbed them.

So I got up and put the dogs' coats on and went out for a walk in the cold, windy sunshine. I waved to my neighbors, and talked to my friend on the cell phone. (You have to be careful whom you call to gripe about the cold weather. I called Laurie in Minnesoooooota to whine that it had dropped way down to the low 30's and the wind was bitter cold. She said, "Oh, you got that Arctic blast too, sure you betcha. It's minus 17 here with a chill factor of minus 38." OK, so everything is relative.)

And the dogs were so happy to be out in the sunshine in their toasty warm coats, and then I felt so fortunate, and I hope that the devils that have taken advantage of good people in this great good country will have to accept responsibility for what they did. And I hope they have a change of heart, and that they spend the rest of their lives putting their considerable talents towards making life better for the people that they took advantage of and duped.

That's what I hope.

hug your hounds

SPIES!!!!

It hurts my heart to tell you this, dear readers, but the whippets were the victims of espionage.

And by none less than their arch enemy, the felonious feline, Dinsky. Other wise known as the C-A-T belonging to Aynex, whom we love anyway. Up till now, anyway. Apparenly, Dinsky stowed away in Aynex's purse and secretly filmed Maria's PRIVATE birthday party.



Yes, Dinsky did catch Maria trying to nail her great grand daughter Lindy Loo, but she was trying to steal Maria's cake! And before you get all impressed with Dinsky's talents, just look at this:



Crazy cat.

Thanks, Aynex! Now everyone knows how high and squeaky my voice is and that I dropped the poor thirteen year old dog on her birthday! (No dogs were injured in the making of this film!)


Hug your hounds and chase a cat for me