I really want to beat someone....

I got to the barn today, and something was not right. Susie was *cutting* Baxter. Every time he tried to go to the east side of the pasture, she cut him off and sent him back west. She was as good as any fancy high dollar cutting horse. I couldn't believe she could move like that at 25. I saw a big bunch of flies on Bax, so I figured it was just the flies and got the hay out.

As I was feeding, Susie kept acting all weird. Running at Baxter and ignoring her grub. Not normal. She was not running him off, but herding him. I saw some bot eggs on her, and decided that must be the problem. She hates them and is always freaky when there are any around. I finally had to lock Baxter up for him to get enough peace to eat! She finally ate half her grub after I locked him up.

Then I took the hay out and put it in the feeders. Then I got the fly spray and sprayed Baxter who was grateful. Susie on the other hand was weird. She kept running over to the place where Baxter was locked up. As I was spraying her I looked east, and saw the stallion who lives in the next pasture. I looked again, and he was not in his pasture, but in the stallion lane.

Now I understood why Susie was hysterical. She was trying to protect Baxter! Then I looked closer at Baxter. That damn stallion had gotten him by the throat *again*. He also had several bite marks that I had though Susie did, but now I know the stallion did it.

I called the barn manager (BM - get it??) and of course he wouldn't answer the phone. Left a message. Waited for about 30 minutes and then decided that Susie was way too upset for me to leave the stallion there in hopes that the BM would put him away. I caught him and put him back in his pasture, and Susie relaxed a little. She was still circling Baxter, and any time he even looked that way, she would get between him and block his view of the stallion. She was on high alert, and any noise from that direction had her right at Baxter's head, pushing him away. I checked inside my fence line and there were lots of skid marks where Susie had run between them.

Wrote a note and went to the house. The teenage kid that lives there with his mother said he would give the BM the note. I asked him to have the BM call me. I am not holding my breath. I don't look good in blue....

There is going to be hell to pay if Susie is not right tomorrow. This guy is the most irresponsible person that ever neglected a horse. He keeps these stallions in fencing that won't keep anything in, with mares all over the place. One colt died trying to breed mares over the fence - impaled on a t-post! I have already spent a fortune on fence, tape, chargers, and t-posts trying to keep everyone else's horses *out* of my pasture. To say that I am unhappy is the understatement of the year!

We will see what his solution is, cause if he can't fix the problem I will, and I will take it off my board bill.

Just got a call from the woman who helps out at the barn. Seems that the power is off at the pole, so the stallion who is a fence tester knows that he can just walk through the fence. They moved him up to the house where at least there is a more solid fence to contain him. Supposedly they have the power company coming out tomorrow to fix the problem. In the mean time, the hot tape that blocks off the stallion lane is coming down tomorrow. Usually when he gets out he immediately runs up to the house, but today he was blocked in by hot tape that is run off of my side. Next time he gets out, he can run loose and not be tempted to get into my pasture.

It is not the stallion's fault. He is just doing what stallions do. He lives alone. Nobody pays much attention to him, so he wants to go where he knows his mares are. I feel sorry for him, but I am not going to allow my horses to be hurt.

I have got to find a way to get all the obstacles to moving taken care of. This situation just gets worse and worse.

We are having a wobbler!

Our new baby Smudge is having a wobbler. If you have ever listened to Ozzy Osborne talk about his daughter Kelly, you know what a wobbler is. If not, I will explain. It's a fit.

One minute she is sitting there minding her own business, the next she is zooming back and forth through the living room. While she is running, she is snorting. She sounds like a little pig. Her "other" name is Oinky Doink. She is pretty darned fast for such a little thing. Once during a wobbler, she ran right into my shin, so hard it forced a squeek out of her! Little turd.

The wobbler is over, and now she is harrassing Monk. Poor Monk. He is so good with her. The worst thing he does is is snap at her. Ever seen a picture of a wolf snarling? That's pretty much Monk when he is tired of her. He looks vicious, but he never lays a tooth on her. Even when she is pinching his feet or hanging off his ears. He should be put up for sainthood! She is relentless, but he always wins in the end! It's MY toy and you can't have it you little turd!

There's a Light....

Over at the Frankenstein place...and her name is Smudge!

My first little light went out. Our beautiful Blondie, the sweetest dog we ever owned was gone. We really *really* missed having our little bulldog around. They are great dogs, full of life and personality. With Blondie gone, there was an enormous hole in our lives. Our Monkenstein was depressed and sad because he could not find his Grumpy Nanny. Everyone was moping around.

My DH told me that I should find a puppy, and it would be my anniversary present. He is such a great hubby. He actually had to give the ok to the vet to euthanize Blondie. I was pretty much hysterical, and we were actually pouring concrete when the vet called with the bad news. He took the phone and talked to them. He is a better man than I deserve sometimes.

So, I searched...and searched. Frenchie puppies are fairly rare, and awfully expensive when you do find one. I knew what I wanted in a pup. Not creme or fawn. This puppy was not going to be a replacement for Blondie, nor should she be compared to her. I did want a female, only because The Monkenmonster is a boy. It was very possible that he would really resent another male coming into what had become *his* home. So that left me with a black, piebald, or brindle female pup. That narrowed down the search, but also the pool of pups available. We also had a price limit, which further narrowed the pool of possible pupsters. After several days of fruitless searching - apparently they sell as soon as they are born, I saw an ad for a rescue puppy.

I can't tell you how many times I have filled out what is euphemistically referred to as an "adoption application" for a dog. I have, over the years, tried to adopt quite a few dogs, and nothing. Not even the courtesy of a reply to the application. I didn't have any expectation that this time would be different, but I thought what the hell, and filled it out. Then I forgot about it. The next day, we were up finishing up the lake house we were working on and my phone rang. I answered it and was shocked when the woman told me she was with the rescue. What? Then she told me that she had checked my references! Hello? Are you sure you have the right person?? Then she said... you are approved... **THUD** I wake up and the DH is patting my hand and calling my name! (not really, but it sounds good eh?) Huh? Me? Us? You are going to let us adopt a puppy? Who paid you to be so mean?

She said we had excellent references, and not only that, but we could pick from five puppies! WOOHOO!! We made arrangements to meet that evening. We arrived right on time, and the woman was very nice. She showed us all the puppies. Talk about treacle. Dear Lord, not one, but five! The only thing cuter than a baby frenchie is two...five is almost unberable! Thank doG we had already decided we wanted a female. There were four brindles and one piebald brindle. Only two of them were females. Thank goodness! Smudge was the biggest girl. The other girl was adorable, but she was so tiny. One thing we loved about Blondie was her size. There are two different sizes of frenchie - the smaller ones are around 20 pounds tops, and the larger ones closer to 30. We decided that we wanted the larger one. We signed all the papers, promised to have her spayed, plunked down a sizeable "rescue fee", and were happily on our way home with our new little light.

The rescue lady had given them all names for the vet check, and had named our little girl Chanda. Ugh! We promptly renamed her Smudge, because the DH said she looked like she had fallen down a chimney. Smudge is quite charming. If she had little fingers, everyone she meets would be wrapped around one of them. She knows just when to lay back her big ears and wiggle her little bottom. She is cuteness in a brindle jacket.

When we first brought her home, Monkleman thought she looked absolutely delicious! At a mere six pounds, she was just the right size for a delicious midnight snack, he thought. He was quite territorial, snarling and lunging at her any time he saw her! Oh NO! I was afraid that he might never come around, but one day I took her out in the back yard and put her down, staying close enough to snatch her up (or snatch him bald) should he decide to attack her. He came over and smelled her, and it seemed as if he decided to give up and accept her. Since that night, they have been pretty much glued together. We still watch them, because she has oodles and gobs of extra energy, and while he has become what I would call a saint, even a Monk has his limits. He is patience personified when she wants to play. He looks so resigned sometimes. She pulls his hair, and his ears, and bites his feet, and steals prized pig on a rope toy.

She is a micro terrorist. I have never seen anything move so fast, or for so long. In typical puppy fashion, she plays until she can't stand up, then falls down and sleeps wherever she is. She is pretty grumpy when you make her wake up to go outside and potty before bed, but she almost has the potty outside thing down! She will also mostly, come when you call her name. She already sits on command. She is a good puppy, even though she has developed an unnatural liking for feet, especially when they are wearing socks. Damn, her teeth are sharp!

One light burns out, and a new light burns brightly. Long Live the Smudge!!

RIP Blondie - Queen of the World March 2010

A bright light went out for us on Friday, March 19th. Our precious baby girl bulldog was humanely euthanized due to some very bad circumstances.

No one could ever have asked for a more loyal, funny, sweet companion. She was always good natured and happy.

All my dogs have touched my life in some way that made them special, but this little dog was my baby from the day she came running up to us in the park, skinny, covered with ticks, and an eye so crusty we were afraid we would have to have it removed. She never complained about any of the uncomfortable things she had to endure. She always came running with her ears flattened, a smile on her big wide face.

What happened to her was a sin. I have always believed that we owe our animal friends a dignified end. It is up to us to make that hard decision to end their suffering. It is the hardest thing we have to do for them, but we owe it to them. They cannot tell us with words when they are too tired, in too much pain, and need to rest. It is selfish to make them suffer simply because we lack the courage to make the tough decision. I have always erred on the side of dignity for my friends. I would rather let them go a day too soon than a day too late.

This time, I depended on a veterinarian who was ego driven, and apparently believed that she could cure the world. My poor little girl. She had to suffer because the vet I trusted either didn't care, or was too busy, or just made a poor decision. In the end, she was released from suffering, but not soon enough. It hurts my heart to know her end was not dignified, but painful.

We gave her the best life we could. She was a good dog. She deserved better from the professionals whose job it is to heal and ease suffering.

Rest in Peace my pretty girl. I shall miss you greatly.

You know...

I have been thinking (you smell smoke, right?), and I just wanted to add (re: the post about the hypocrite and the amber) that perhaps if they knew as much as they think they do, they would be grateful for all the years I spent defending them against all the folks who told me that said person was an arrogant, pompous ass. They might also like to know all the effort we went to regarding getting them recognized for all their service to the hobby.There are volumes more that they don't know, but it would be a supreme waste of a sunny day to post it all today.

I suppose I should have listened to all those folks who told me time and again that I was wasting my time, and would eventually get a knife in the back. I do sometimes exhibit a woeful lack of judgement when choosing friends. Ah well, live and learn. There. I feel better.

Water...water *everywhere*

I will be the first to admit that I am nosey. When we are working on a project, I look around. I want to see what the house looks like inside. Sometimes we are lucky and the project manager will actually give us a tour. Those are the best. Other times, we only get to look in the window, or sneak a peek when other trades are working.

We are currently working on a lake house for a guy who is very particular. He wants things done the way he wants them done, and is kind of hard to deal with unless you just stand toe to toe with him and bash away. Once you have done that, he is your friend and things go pretty smoothly. If you don't join in the bash fest, you are lost, and nothing is easy. All this is leading up to what being nosy led me to find...

We drove to the job to cut the concrete we had poured the day before. I do not like to be around when he saws a slab because it is noisy and dusty and icky. I had seen a bald eagle the day before and went to the back of the house, number one to escape the ick, and number two to see if the eagle was there again. No dice. So...here is where the nosy part comes in. I wanted to check and see if anything had been done with the pool. Nope, still the same. Then I noticed that the strand board they had placed to protect the pool deck was wet *under* the covered patio. Hmmm I thought. I looked along the board, and the water led right to the back door. So, I went to the door and looked in. Holy Mother! It was a miracle! It was raining *inside* this almost finished million + dollar home!!! Water, water EVERYWHERE! I thought, shit, that really sucks. Then I thought, thank goodness this wasn't our work, 'cause someone was in really BIG trouble.

I got on the phone and called the builder and delivered the bad news. He sounded so resigned. I felt sorry for him. He asked if we could turn off the water, and I told him that we had our personal truck, so we didn't have any tools. He said he would call security and thanked me for letting him know. A few minutes later, he called me back and asked if any of the doors were unlocked. Now, I will look through a window, or step in if someone else is working, but I am not *that* nosy. I don't go inside someone elses' house! I told him I would check and found one door out of about 11 that was unlocked. He walked me though turning off the water from inside the house. We checked, and water was still pouring out of the ceiling. Then he asked if we would use the shop vac's there to suck up what water we could. We did what we could, but it was still raining, and we had to drive back to Tulsa - over an hour away. We ended up putting the shop vac's under the worst leaks and leaving.

There is no telling how much damage was done. The visible stuff was bad enough. The walls had big oozing tracts of water behind the knock down treatment, all the woodwork kept oozing as we were vacuuming, water in the electrical boxes in the floors, and the ceiling...well.... scary that was. We heard later that over 400 gallons of water had been pumped out of a humidifier system that was damaged by some heat tapes. Fortunately, it was limited to about 1/3 of the house from what we could tell. The owners were planning on moving furniture in this week. Not happening now unfortunately. They must be *very* upset. I know I would be, and have actually experienced the same thing with our office. We were almost ready to move in and I drove up one morning to find water pouring out from under the walls! Ugh. Fortunately our office is a tilt up concrete building, so no real harm done other than not being able to move in as fast.

The thing I find most interesting is that nobody can understand why we won't give them a bill for turning off the water and vacuuming up what we could. I happen to believe in Karma. I know how I would feel if it were my house. We did it because it was the right thing to do, not in hopes of a reward. There is absolutely no way that I could have just walked away after seeing what was happening. That would be so wrong. It is actually pure luck that I went along for the ride that day, because if I hadn't, that water would most likely have run all weekend. When Bill goes to a job to cut a slab, he doesn't mess around at all. He cuts it and leaves. He would not have gone searching for the eagle, or looking in the pool, nor would he have noticed the wet strand board, because, he just isn't nosy like me :)

Sadly, it won't end there. Now there will be legal stuff, and firings and lawsuits. I can only imagine how disappointed the owners are. It is a beautiful house with, I am sure, years of thoughtful planning and happy anticipation. I can feel their pain. Fortunately (I'd think) it happened before they moved all their belongings in, and the damage can be repaired. I am exceedingly glad that I am just a stupid concrete finisher, and not involved in the finer points of interiors! I do not envy anyone involved in what went wrong. I am sure that the owner is not going to go easy on any of them.

Oh really...Really??

I have gotten a few "letters" (real letters, raggedy notes, emails, bricks with stuff painted on them) from people who for one reason or another, had a problem with me. Some of them were well deserved, and some were not. I am sure everyone has gotten at least one. So, you can color me unsurprised - it's a shade of jaded - when I got one recently. Now usually, being the hotheaded person that I am, I will fire right back, but this one, for some reason just made me feel a great deal of pity, and some surprised amusement.

Let me give you some background. My DH and I are fixing up our house so that we can move out of what has really become a war zone. It was a nice neighborhood when we moved in 23+ years ago, but has become a really bad place (TM), with over 12 murders and a few other assorted deaths in just the last 2 years, all within a mile of our home. So during the process of throwing away a huge accumulation of stuff, we found things we no longer needed, from a hobby we used to be involved in. I posted about the things on a newsgroup for the hobby, and put up the previous 2 pages of pictures of some of the amber and opals I was selling...

I got several emails asking about stuff, and a few people bought some things. Great! Then I got an email from someone who I had thought was a friend. The first email was nice enough, asking about some things we had for sale, and saying how nice it would be to get together and remember the good old times, and how they wished we would reconsider not coming back to the hobby, blah blah blah. It was an email that appeared to be from a concerned friend who would like to see us participate again! Unfortunately, when we quit the hobby, it was not under fun circumstances, and I have since decided that it was a total waste of time after looking back while totally uninvolved in it. I was pretty bitter about how my DH was treated, and had no desire to talk about something that could still make me pretty angry. So, I wrote back, explaining plainly why I didn't want to talk about it to them, or anyone else. I didn't hear back, for about a week, so I figured they had changed their mind about buying anything... Ok. No problem.

Then, I got pretty damn sick. I had an abscessed tooth, and was in total misery. I was in bed for several days. During that time, they wrote back and said ok we won't talk, but I would like to come see the stuff. Being as how I was sick, well, I hadn't even sat at the computer for a while. When I did get back to it, I read the email and was trying to figure out a time that I could meet them. Our work schedule changes every day, so it's kind of hard to make a date and time that is firm, and I hate to inconvenience people. Everyone is busy. I had finally figured out when would be good, and intended to email back when I got home, only to find... da da da... The email.

Now mind you, I am a pretty blunt person. I say what I mean. Sometimes it is not too pretty, but I am not about to sugar coat things for anyone. I am also not going to be offensive, unless you really just ask for it. I was very blunt in the email I sent, explaining why I didn't want to talk about "the good times". I laid it all out in black and white, so there was no wiggle room. I guess that my blunt email must have offended this person. A LOT. My goodness. Here was a steaming pile of vitriol that might have made anyone who is not a fairy princess concrete finisher cry. It contained this person's perspective of the stuff I had so bluntly written about in my email. The more I read, the more I snorted. I completely understand that perspective is everything, and yours is going to differ from mine, perhaps greatly. That's fine. I get it. I don't expect everyone to see things my way. I do however believe that in any given situation, the only people who know what went on are the people who were there. In the situations that were being discussed, this person was mostly not there, yet just knew that they knew the facts. The longer the email went on, the more amusing their "facts" were. The single most amusing thing was they thought I had committed some heinous act against their spouse. Of course, the act itself was not named, so I have really no clue what it might have been. I do remember very vividly things being the other way around, with said spouse being the culprit in a situation. I won't go into any detail, other than to say that I was there, and they were not. Two people know what happened :)

At any rate, this Paragon of Virtue proceeded to pretty much do their best to be spiteful, mean, and just downright nasty. I was sort of surprised at just how vicious the email was. I am not big into personal attacks. It's really just a waste of time. Telling someone that they are pretty much white trash just isn't my style, and I didn't think it was theirs either, but apparently I was wrong. According to them, I am scum. The main thing that amused me so much is that over all the years we participated in the hobby, this person was just as sweet as pie to me. People who know me well know that I am not nice to people that I don't like. I am not mean, but I do not have time to speak to people who I do not like. I do not hang out with them. I will be polite, but I don't enter into conversations, or eat dinner with them, or any of the other things that friends do. They had treated me the way I treat my friends. So I was asking myself, just how long had this person I thought was my friend hated my guts? How long had this stew of meanness been brewing?

How can someone be such a hypocrite? Why would they even write the first email, asking to get together and remember all the good old times? It was obvious to me that I had things for sale that they wanted. Fine, their money is as green as anyone's. I don't care if someone likes me or not. If they want something I have for sale, they can buy it. It's all good and the world will still revolve in the morning. There is no need to try to be nice, it's business. In fact I sold some stuff to a person who has never liked me and also never kept that fact a secret. Nobody died.... The funniest thing in the whole email was being told that they didn't want my amber. I could keep it and be buried in it for all they cared. I really hate to burst their little bubble of venom, but I would be happy to be buried in it. I am not desperate to sell any of it, I'd just rather not move it if I can get rid of it. I guess that was supposed to upset me, perhaps make me cry. The only thing it did do was make me question my judgment when selecting friends.

I really just pity them. To think that they have been carrying this hatred around for all these years. It hasn't hurt me one iota, but they have been seething inside a for a long time apparently. How sad. I hope that at least they feel better for finally getting it all out. If their intent was to hurt me, it was a big fat FAIL. I stopped caring what people think about me a long time ago, so while I am grateful to finally know the person's true feelings about me, I am certainly not hurt by it.

Life goes on... I found another huge stash of amber to sell. Maybe I should email back and see if they want pics, you think?