All Better!

To say that Sophie is slightly spoiled is akin to saying Charlie Sheen is slightly out of his gourd. It's ok, I'll admit it, without shame or excuse. What can I say? She's my girl.

However, one of our rituals is probably a bit over-the-top, even for the spoiled-dog designation. I can't even remember how this started, but if I don't follow through, Sophie is relentless. It goes something like this (and sorry for the crappy lighting and even crappier blue carpeting--this is part of the house yet to be remodeled).

Sophie: "YELP!"

Me: "Oh no! Sophie, did you get hurt?"

Sophie turns up the big-brown-eyes.

Me: "Oh no! Are you ok?"

Sophie rolls over pitifully. She is clearly at death's door.

Me: "Let me see..." and I pat around on her.

Sophie insists I check her over while making sad-puppy-face.

Me: "You're ok!! Walk it off!!"

Sophie doesn't "walk" anything off. She goes directly from not having the strength to stand to her version of the cyclone in The Wizard of Oz.

Me: "Yay! You'll live!!"

Sophie Cyclone continues. I think I see Auntie Em!

Finally, Sophie stops. She is back to normal.

Whatever that is.

Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain. And her little dog, too.

~J

My Three Dogs

As I've mentioned before, I have three dogs.

Evie, the mini-Aussie:

Charlie, my regular-sized Aussie:

And Sophie, my part-rat-terrier-part-neighbor's-dog cross:

Since I have no children, my dogs basically are my kids, and they act like it. They know how to put on the "look." You know, the one you can't resist.

Help me, Rhonda.

They love to go places with me, but unlike human kids, they never ask if we're there yet.

Yes, that's poor Charlie being used as a booster-seat.

My "kids" like to play outside, too.

Of course I think kids today don't play outside as much with video games being so prevalent. I don't have to worry about that with these kids--they lack opposable thumbs.

And even though I don't have a family, in the traditional sense of the word, I think of these three as part of my family.

I can't imagine my life without them.

Somehow having someone look at me like this makes my life just that much better....

Sophie's Soliloquy--Redux

To be or not to be--that is the question:



Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer



The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune



Or to take arms against a sea of troubles



And by opposing end them.



To die, to sleep--



No more....

This monologue brought to you by the Sophster, gueststarring the mouse du jour. No animals were harmed in the recording of this dramatic scene, although the mouse may have been mentally forever traumatized. Furthermore this blog accepts no responsiblity for Shakespeare rolling over in his grave.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Meet the Pets

Sometimes I just blog along, completely oblivious to the fact that everyone in the world doesn't know each of my animals by name. I tend to talk about "Paula" and "Sophie" as if they are "Snooki" and "Heidi."

Although I have no idea who Snooki and Heidi actually are, it seems the world is enthralled with them. And there's nothing wrong with that. At least, I don't think there is anything wrong with that. I'd have to know who they are first, I guess. It's a judgement call....

Anyway. There is something wrong going on here that I must correct immediately. So, without further ado, here's the current line-up at Rose Valley Ranch:

First, we'll start with the cats, because, well....they insist.



HARLEY



I got Harley twelve years ago as a kitten. He was a barn kitty and a little on the wild side, but I got him anyway because my boyfriend at the time insisted that we get a dark cat. I'm pretty sure he was talking about coat color and not the cat's soul because Harley is my baby. He's about as sweet and cuddly as any cat will get.

Harley cost me a zillion dollars to neuter because he had a retained testicle. Then five years ago his liver shut down and we thought we'd have to put him down, but he pulled through that one. Now he has no teeth and his belly drags the ground, but he's my toothless, sway-backed, belly-dragging cuddly kitteh. I love him to pieces.



MILTON



When I hoped for a new addition this year, I was thinking more along the lines of extending one of the rooms being renovated, not more mouths to feed, but I resisted Milton until he died three times, and then I gave in.

Milton was born in my old barn out back. I thought he drowned in the stock tank (apparently it was a sibling, or I unwittingly buried him in Stephen King's pet cemetery), then was eaten by an owl (another sibling apparently, or just stray fluffy fuzz from another animal), and then his final "death" was some fiasco I still can't sort out but somehow included water, manure, a six-foot drop and some baling twine.

So, Milton lives with me now. In the house. With four other animals. Lord help us all.



Next up, the dogs. Just 'cause.



CHARLIE

Charlie is an ex-show dog who likes pina coladas and getting caught in the rain.

Only the first part of that is true. What's also true is that Charlie is really the most wonderful dog in the world. It's scientifically proven. I've had him for seven years now and he's the sweestest, calmest, quietest, most-obediant, loving, fluffy guy that ever was.

He's an Australian Shepherd, but often gets confused with a Border Collie because of his coloring. When I lost his buddy Layla I thought about getting another Aussie, but could never find one with his demeanor. He's apparently a unique specimen, which makes him all the more special.

SOPHIE

Sophie is my girl. People who know us understand the impact of this (under)statement. She is always at my side--she even sleeps under the covers at my side. She is my running partner. She is my comfort when I'm in pain. She's my own private comedian when I need a laugh.

She's half rat terrier and half something else. I don't know what else, but I don't care. She's gamey but she's my girl.

Before June 2008 I said I'd never get a puppy, I'd never have a mut, I'd never have a terrier, and I'd never have a little dog. I broke all those rules with Sophie, and now I can't imagine my life without her.

RUSSELL

Russell is also new to the family, because in my infinite wisdom ("infinite" here meaning: "infantile") I decided that two dogs just weren't enough.

His daddy is a Jack Russell Terrier and his momma is a Schnauzer. I knew both, but I got Russell anyway (just kidding--I adore his pappa "Milo.").

Russell has grown up to be quite a cutie. Unfortunately he's quite aware of this fact, but he stays fairly well-behaved despite this knowledge.

And for the pièce de résistance: The Equids

PAULA

I just posted about Paula--how she came to be and why she's so important to me. She's..well...she's everything.

And that's all I have to say about that, Forrest.

FABIAN

I'll be honest here. When I first got Fabian as a colt (I bred him and traded his mother to a friend of mine, who proceeded to save the mare's life in order to try to save the foal's life and then was unable to keep them both so gave them both back to me--Linda, you're the greatest and Fabian's guardian angel :), I was a little disappointed in his attitude. He was standoffish to the point that he was almost unfriendly. He was even minorly difficult at times.

It wasn't entire his fault, though. When I got him, I was stressed and in a great deal of pain from my back. I wasn't able to work with him much, and when I did, I didn't do anything ever nice with him. It was just the neccessities--feet trimmed, vaccinations, worming, and that's it. I wasn't ever able to really work with him, groom him for fun, spend time scratching and loving on him as I usually do when I raise a horse.

However now Fabian is making up for lost time. He's so incredibly loving--he would just fall asleep with his head in my arms if I'd let him. He follows me around everywhere, even leaving his feed for attention. He lets me do anything I want with him--I can lay across his back with nothing on him, just soaking up the sun and spending time with him. This is a horse that I think one day would do anything for me. We've really bonded since he's been back home, and now I couldn't bear to ever see him leave again. Welcome home, boy...this time, for good.

BAMBI

Bambi was another horse that I bred and sold her mother before she was born. I couldn't be more grateful that fate brought her back to me. This girl...she is just so easy on the eyes, it's hard to explain. She's like having a lovely, real-life, eating and pooping piece of art right in my back yard.

OK, that didn't sound the way I intended.

Bambi is a lot of fun, too. She's got her daddy's ornry streak. The cool thing about raising foals out of the best horse you ever owned is seeing those little sparks of his traits coming out in his babies. Their sire is gone, but he certainly still lives on in these kids.

MOOSE

They say everything is bigger in Texas. If that's true, I'm glad Moose was born in Kansas. I'm already going to have to buy a stepladder to get on him. This is one horse that lives up to his name.

Moose is also a new addition to the family but you wouldn't know it by being around him. He's really just one of the kids: laid-back, very kind, friendly, and sweet.

This big white boy was almost sold to France, but fate (aka a positive lethal white test) kept him here. I have to say, I'm very glad it worked out that way. The more I work with him, the more I just know we're going to have a blast showing. Just one thing first: Moose will soon be a little lighter in the nether-regions come fall.

Did I really just write "nether-regions" on my blog?


So, everyone, that's the troupe! Hope you enjoyed the show. We'll be here until next Tuesday. Skip the veal and try the pie.

Weekend Rest is for Wusses

Yesterday was a gitter-done day:

1. Moose is basically halter broke now. He leads and I can put the halter on him without much ado.


So yesterday I put his fly mask on for the first time. He was pretty good about it. Even the velcro sound didn't bother him (which usually spooks the horses the first couple of times). He's a good boy!

B. I got new tires put on my car, washed it and got the oil changed. Do I hear "Roadtrip Time?!"

Russell and Sophie decide to run into it a few times while playing, just to make sure the tires are dog-proof.

3. Thanks to my sister, barn-kitty has a name! Meet Milton.

I shall love him and hug him and squeeze him and pet him and call him George Milton.

4. I decided now that Milton is somewhat tamed, I'd let him out of his cage and get used to being around in the house.

However, having a puppy and a kitten in the house leads to a somewhat chaotic environment.

Milton's not one bit afraid of Russell. In fact, most of the time he's the instigator.

See, if you floss way back here, your breath will be much better....

5. I clipped and washed ALL of the dogs.

I gave Russell a schnauzer-type cut (or tried to, anyway). Sophie thankfully doesn't need much clipping. Charlie got his usual three-hour grooming session. Everyone looks so purty now.

It's quitten-time at Tara,

Sophie's Soliloquy

To be or not to be--that is the question:



Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer



The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune



Or to take arms against a sea of troubles



And by opposing end them.



To die, to sleep--



No more....

This monologue brought to you by the Sophster, gueststarring the mouse du jour. No animals were harmed in the recording of this dramatic scene, although the mouse may have been mentally forever traumatized. Furthermore this blog accepts no responsiblity for Shakespeare rolling over in his grave.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Happy Easter

The World According to Sophie

Note: We interupt our regularly scheduled blog to bring you this important message from the Sophster.

I have a very important matter to discuss with every dog owner out there.


This is a very important matter, so please listen up.


Since the beginning of time, us doggies have stayed by your side and have asked very little in return. You call us your best friend, yet we are denied the few simple pleasures that we crave.


I'd like to make a plea on behalf of all the doggies out there: please just give us a break once in a while. Okay?


For instance, you dress us up in silly clothes, laugh and take pictures,

Yet you yell at us for eating the yummy frozen road apples the giant mutant doggies leave behind. Honestly, does it hurt anyone for us to eat those scrumptious road apples?

Then you expect us to co-exist with the kitty without ever chasing them and we're expected to resist the temptation of the litterbox?!

Don't you think you're asking for a bit too much here?

Oh! And when you come home from your hours and hours away from the house (when I'm sitting here thinking all day that you're going to be gone forever and ever), the least you could do is bring home a bag full of treats when you return.

Am I asking too much here?

No?

Okay. Thank you for your cooperation.