The Sun is Out ...

Poor little Tindra is going to be the only whippet in the history of whippets that thinks a walk is torture.

It has rained nonstop since her arrival to Western Kentucky. Non. Stop.

Some of it was warmish rain. That was bad enough. But on Tuesday it was bitter cold, windy, with a mix of biting rain/sleet/wet snow.

Lovely.

A brilliant member of the fabulous Whippet World group, (my scissors sister Christel of Cottage Hounds Coats and Jammies) , suggested taking a sleeve of an old coat or sweatshirt and cutting leg holes to make a coat for a young pup. Perfect! I had an old Goretex jacket, which Tindra's great grandfather Jazzbo had chewed a hole in years and years ago. I finally had reluctantly put it in the trash clothes bag (but hadn't actually gotten the bag to the trash - imagine that). I whipped it out, hacked off a sleeve, cut some leg holes and voila!

L to R: Delia, Jabber, and Tindra

Only it was a wee bit snug. I had to work on Wednesday, and I had worked the weekend so I was comatose on Monday, and I just felt like these dogs NEEDED to get out of the house on Tuesday. The grown up dogs (including 11 month old Jabber, whose puppyhood has been assassinated by the arrival of his sister/cousin) rejoiced! We're going for a walk oh happy day! Even Fat Charlie walked to one corner, crossed the street, and walked back. (Mama Pajama didn't budge from her warm, blanketed throne in Bill's study. Clever as ever, that one!)

Normally, the youngest puppy goes on several walks. I just take two adults and a puppy until all the adults have walked. Now, I have two puppies. It's just a lot of walks, but we get it done. (Occasionally in desperation and in deference to my aching nurse's feet, I break my own rule and walk four at a time, instead of my maximum of three. And pray for a minimum of squirrel/feral cat/loos dog encounters.)

Tindra didn't mind wearing her makeshift coat at all. (Whippets are all about warmth.) But when I headed out the gate and expected her to come with me, she balked. "You are not even considering... Oh you are an idiot human! No! You can't make me!" I pulled her through the gate, her four little legs squarely planted, her eyes squinting in determination. "Okay, you apparently can make me. But I don't have to like it. Oh merciful heavens HUMAN did you notice that it is spitting ice and freezing awful stuff on ourselves? And the wind is going to blow me over and I am going to die" (this in a long, pitiful wail).

Her walk-mates, Fat Charlie and Sam the Puppy Slayer, busied themselves with a hearty pee on the wilted day lilies. They celebrated the great good fortune of their walk, if not the weather. (Note re: whippets - try to bathe a whippet in nice warm water with the heat turned up and a cushy towel for drying and wrapping up in and they will tell you in no uncertain terms that whippets will melt and water is acid and someone had better call the animal control officer immediately and report your sorry ass for cruelty. But. Pouring rain, sub zero temps, and puddles on a walk/run/lure coursing/racing/hunt? No problemo!!! Buck up, wimpy human. Come on.)

Tindra hung behind us, contemplating her future adoptive home in Florida or the Bahamas after she called WRAP (Whippet Rescue and Placement) and reported me. This was a short walk, as mentioned already, so that Fat Charlie could feel like he'd been out and about. When we turned for home, Tindra surged to the front. "Well," she huffed. "Thank my Ancestors you came to your senses. Hurry up."

Imagine her dismay when I included her in the next walk, with her great, great aunt Delia and her brother/cousin Jabber. This time she jammed on her parking brakes in the kitchen. "No! No! No! I will NOT! Arrrrrrrgh! This is a travesty of injustice! Call the warden! Mr. Bill help!!! No! Oh NOoooooooooooooooooooooo! Where's my Nana Laurie! Mother!!! Father! Auntie Lindy! Someone make her stop!"

I must say, I am impressed with this puppy's homing instincts. She knew with each turn whether we were heading towards, or away from, home. Zoom to the front as we turned west. Slam on the brakes when we headed eastward.

I didn't take her on the last walk. Bad enough I had made her squeak when I struggled to get the sleeve coat off. It really was too small. Jabber marched happily along with his mother and father, looking at me occasionally to see if I realized that I had forgotten Little Bit. When we got home, the Little Bit was curled in a tiny whippet snail ball in her downstairs crate.

I opened her crate door. She opened one eye, halfway, doing her level best to ignore me. "I don't see any stinking Human. Don't even think of taking me out of this Safe Place." I picked her up. "Moannnnnnnn. Errrrrrrrrr." (Aren't puppy mumbles the cutest thing ever?)

I carried her upstairs to snuggle on our bed pillows while I took a hot shower and changed into dry clothes. (Yes, I did put on my Big Pink Hoodie-Footie, why do you ask?)

In the wonderful Way of Dogs, when she woke up, she had forgiven me. That and it was suppertime.

Today the sun is shining. Tindra and Jabber played in the puppy yard all morning long, though the temps are only in the mid 40's. Who cares? The sun is amazing and glorious and good for a puppy's soul. When she wakes from this nap, we'll go for our walks.

I'll be curious to see if she is mortified at the notion.

Hug your hounds and enjoy the sun whenever you can.

Meet little Tindra...

Good morning, Dear Readers! If you aren't on Facebook (smart you) or Whippet World, you haven't met the newest member of the Waggle.

So without hesitation, I bring you (drum roll.....)

Tindra!!!

Jabber and his mini me!

Tindra is Jabber's cousin/sister. Now, I am NOT NOT NOT one for the inbreeding that can go in in dogs. No sirree. Genetic suicide, I say. So this is going to be a bit confusing, but here we go.

Swede William is from Sweden (makes sense so far, yes?) and is about as big an outcross as I can get. Lindy Loo and Simmer are litter sisters. Jabber's dad is Swede William, and his mom is Lindy Loo. Tindra's dad is Swede William (so she and the Jabberwonkus are siblings), and her mom is Simmer, (so she and Jibberjabberish are cousins).

That makes her Jabberdude's couster. Sissin? I wanted Laurie to give the puppies Mormon names, since their moms are actual Sister Wives. So the Jabster and Tindra are both outcrosses, but they are very closely related to each other - like almost littermates.

Then again, we live in Kentucky, where when you apply for a marriage license you are asked if/how you are related to your future spouse. No joke.

Poor dear puppy it has rained nonstop practically since the moment she set foot in Paducah. Constant rain, wind, ugliness. She takes it much better than I do. And the Jabberwocky is a saint. Truly. He plays and plays and plays with her as gently as... he's like Shrek. A big striped handsome whippety version of Shrek. Sammy has continued his I-Will-SERIOUSLY-Keel-All-Small-Puppeze ways, so either Tindra is tethered to me (or Bill when I'm working, speaking of saints) or Sammy is in his gated off area with a chewy, 24/7.

And did I mention that Lindy Loo has been in season?

Thanks to advice from Tindra's breeder Laurie, who is the A-MAZE-ING photographer who took all of the above photos, we are managing Sweet Old Dog's incontinence better. He wears a belly band with an EXTRA absorbent Poise Pad overnight, and we put those washable blue pads all over the house at night. MUCH less 'clean up isle four' to deal with. He and Luciano went to see Ol' Poke 'n Stick on Friday. He poked and stuck everything he could and we came up with diagnoses.

They're old.

The good news is that Mama Pajama turned some corner and came out of her Scary Place. She is now happy happy happy all of the time! She does Silly Whippet Spins when she goes out and wags all the time and she thinks the puppy is cool beans. This makes my heart happy.

And Lindy Loo is just about out of season. OH THANK YOU LORD!!!!

Our happy home. Two 14.5 year olds, one of whom is incontinent. Two who will be 12 in March. One puppycidal 9 year old. A five year old bitch in season with two intact males - one five year old Swede William who is in lust, and eleven month old Jabber. Jabber just discovered that wooohoooooooo his mom smelled gooooooood. He would stand there looking utterly bewildered while his end parts independently humped nothing at all, just air, and he'd turn around and look at his back end, like, "why is my end part doing that?"

Then he would turn his face around and look at me. Mortified. "Oh. Dear. Make it stop!!!!"

Air hump, air hump, air hump.

" Make it stoooooooooop!!!!"

Poor little guy. The good news is he and Tindra adore each other in a platonic, sibling/cousin-ly way.

And then there's work. But that's a whole 'nother blog.

That's what's going on with me. What's going on with you? I've missed you all. I've cleaned my plate just a bit, and hey look! Two blog posts in as many days. Could this be a trend? Oh please, Dear Muse.

Please.

hug your hounds, and feed your Muses

Warburton Whippets Website = FAIL

Erik, top, and Oscar

So a (talented web designer) friend was kind enough to set me up with a Wordpress website for my Dogs.

Fail.

Fail fail fail.

Despite her coming over repeatedly and tutoring me. FAIL.

It's like a math test in that the instant I open the thing to try to post something on it (like opening the test to the first page) I am reduced to fits of tears from some unresolved place deep in the pit of my soul. The deepest darkest pit where it is slimy and putrid and smells like C-diff. And there are monsters with bad breath and fleas. (If you only knew how I hate/fear/freak out about a flea, you'd understand.)

I have not ever wanted to use my blog to pimp my dogs. That seemed, well, unseemly. But it would be appropriate for a website designed for that sole purpose. You would know that if you clicked on Warburton Whippets dot com you would be seeing the history of my dogs and their wins and litters and puppies.

FREAKING FAIL AND A HALF.

So here it is. My dear friend in Minnesooooooooooooooooota, Laurie, bred her first litter of pups. They are by my Swede William (Multi AWC AOM, Group Placing CH Burnt Sienna Midsummer Night, JC) out of her (our - but she did all the work) Simmer (AWC Triathlon WINNER 2011, CH Warburton WW Southern Skies, PR, RN, NAJ, CD.

Their pedigree is HERE. She has two boys who are looking for loving pet/performance homes. They were promised, but through no fault of their own (other than lacking male parts so they can't be shown in conformation), those were a no go.

So allow me to introduce you to Erik and Oscar:

Erik, above and below

Oscar, below.

If you know someone who has wanted to add a darling whippet boy to their life, kindly email me and I'll tell Laurie. They are twelve weeks old now, and have started crate training, leash training, house training, sweet as sugar training, and being adorable all the time training!

hug your hounds

Thank you

Well, y'all sure do know how to make a body feel good! Even a dumpy old worn out body in a pink hoodie footie!

I worked 26 of the last 48 hours. But I'm done now until after the National. Yup we leave ('we' being friends Lee, Dee, and I) day after tomorrow for a week and a day in Lexington. Lucky this year: our National goes all over the country. Last year it was Tuscon which is a whole heck of a pile further than the 4.5 hours to Lexington!

Bill used to go to some Nationals with me, but now he feels compelled to keep his gallery open. Or it's just a good excuse to stay home. But that means the old dogs will stay with him.

And so will Sam.

My Facebook and Whippet World friends know that Swede William and Lindy Loo had four perfect puppies on December 18th. Sam, my sweet therapy dog who raised Lindy Loo and Swede William and who is perfect HATES these puppies. HATES them. From the moment he saw them. HATES them. Did I mention that he wants to eat them? HATES HATES HATES them.

So far we have had to keep them separated. (This is not normal whippet behavior.) Anyway to shorten a long sob story puppies will go with Lindy Loo and Swede William and Sammy for the first time in his life will not go to the National.

But I will get to see Laurie from Minnnesoooooooooooooota, and Swede William's breeder Lisa from SWEDEN, and bunches of friends from all over that I don't get to see enough, and Lee and Dee will get to see their first whippet National, and Lindy Loo and little Mia and Swede William will get to show and I'll get to come home to Bill and Sam and four Very Old Dogs that I miss like chocolate cake and breathing. (Delia and Luciano just turned eleven. Mama Pajama and Fat Charlie will turn fourteen in June. Bless!)

Little Alison Wonderland, Lindy Loo, Swede William and the Jabberwalkie on his dad's back

Glamorous Mia who lives with Lee and Dee and will be Little Ali's BFF

hug your hounds and thank you again for your sweet generous kind comments

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