Diesel: May 12, 2007 - March 13, 2009

I went to the vet clinic just before lunch to visit the inmates, Diesel with his broken pelvis, and Lucy with her 7 puppies. Saw Lucy first, she's doing so great and the puppies are fat little burritos. Thought they were going to be all white at first, but one has eye patches and two look like they're going to be a very light tan. Hopefully I can have a place ready for her at the new house real soon and bring them all home.

Went to visit Diesel, and couldn't find him. Thought they moved him to another building, but he was nowhere to be found. Checked the horse stalls, the lamb pens, nothing.

Went back inside and asked, where's Diesel? The girls got real quiet and stared at me, and I guess I knew the answer but it didn't sink in until one said, OMG I'm so sorry.

When I had gone to check on him the day after he was run over, we thought the prognosis was good. He was young, he'd heal up in 6 weeks or so, and be fine other than some arthritis that would likely set in as he aged. Unfortunately, Diesel never stood up again after he arrived, and he had lost control of his bowels. The clinic couldn't find my cell number to call me and the decision was made to put him to sleep.



When Deez was younger he was so awful at his job. He preferred to play with the lambs rather than protect them. His first year I think he killed 20 lambs. Everyone said to get rid of him but I kept trying, thinking he'd grow out of it. I tried to work with him, and he was great when I was around to keep an eye. Not so great when I turned my back. He took to killing chickens too, though he ate them down to the feet and beaks instead of just played with them until they died. Even though they weren't mine (the neighbor lets their chickens run wild) I didn't want him killing them. One day while watching TV I heard that god awful squawk a hen makes when she's about to be sent to Jesus, and I ran outside in time to catch him in the process of killing the last chicken left standing. All of his past crimes came flooding into my head and I thought, you rotten SHIT everyone told me to get rid of you and I kept saying no no we'll get past this, and here you are doing it AGAIN! Another thought regarding the futility of spanking a 120 pound dog with my hand surfaced, along with something about yelling being equally pointless, and then my eyes landed upon a brick lying on the ground beside him. For a moment I thought, OMG I can't do that, but as that horrified sentiment was being formed, a much darker, angrier one took hold and I did unthinkable. I grabbed the brick and knocked him upside his big stupid head and yelled NO ASSHOLE!

For a moment he stared at me, stupified, the chicken dropped to the ground in front of him. For a moment I thought, I'm going straight to animal abuser hell.

Then he shrugged and grabbed the bird again.
I whopped him in the head again and asked him what part of no and a brick on his head was confusing to him.

This time he yelped and dropped the chicken, glaring at me before taking off to the barn. I felt like shit. I kept telling myself, he's lucky he's still alive, any other rancher would have shot his stupid ass months ago. But it didn't matter. I'd just had a Come To Jesus meeting with my dog, but with a brick instead of a chick tract, and I felt about an inch tall.

Deez never looked at another chicken again. The black hen he was in the process of eating that day is still running around here somewhere. The brick still lies on the ground where I dropped it after I realized what I'd done. I still feel like shit for it, but he forgave me the next day and remained my bud, always putting himself between me and whoever showed up at the house. He would stay by my side as I walked up the porch steps, letting me lean on him for support on those nights when my back hurt so bad that I had to take the steps one at a time. I pretended I wasn't that attached to him but the truth is he was my favorite dog of all time.

Gonna miss you buddy.

garden chaos

Let me start off by saying I LOVE my new house. No broken out windows, no busted plumbing, no nests of scorpions hiding in the closet. LOVE IT.

I don't, however, love the haphazard landscaping the former owners installed. A 10 ft gold flame Euonymus beside a 3 ft Gulf Stream Nandina beside a 15 ft Photina. No flow, no style, basically no sense involved. I'm no fan of the west Texas staples of Euonymus and Photinas anyway so they're coming out. A massive shrub rose is hidden on the side of the house that faces another, along with a good sized crape myrtle, and between them another tiny Nandina. I'm yanking out almost everything the former owners put in. Some will be relocated, like the crape myrtles and a few variagated privets, the rest will be stuck in buckets by the side of the road with a sign that says FREE SHRUBS.

I've gone through a few designs for the front of the house, each design becoming more and more Japanese in style. Not sure how that will work with a boxy, brick ranch from 1960, but I think I can pull it off. Azaleas, mugo pines, hydrangea, a bloodgood Japanese maple, and a few golden sedges are on the list. Need to find some stones first though, to anchor it, before I go to planting.

What I really want are a few of these but OMG look at that price tag. I think I can make my own using styrofoam forms and concrete though. Maybe.

In other news, last week the wife of the couple who are leasing my place stopped by to visit, and when she went to leave she did not see Diesel under her truck and ran over him. Broke his pelvis in two places. He's staying at the clinic for a while until I can get a place at the new house set up for him. Had intended to leave him with the sheep but not now. Also, Lucy my teenaged tramp is at the clinic with her new litter of 7 puppies. Yes I know this is my fault, should have gotten her spayed. Anyway, now I have 7 puppies to find homes for. Akbash, Anatolian, Pyr, and half Labrador. What a mix.

Playing The Game

New house means new neighbors, and the first two appeared on our doorstep day before yesterday bearing gifts of yummy brownies. Both seemed quite nice, but it reminded me that new house, new town, also means it's time to choose. Do I play The Game, or not. Normally I eschew The Game, as I don't really give a crap whether I fit into other's ideas of right. In a town THIS small, however, I'm thinking it might be a wiser course of action to just play The Game. At least for a while.

The Game (which should be trademarked but am on the fiance's PC instead of my Mac and can't remember the key combo for that) is essentially created by, overseen, and enforced by women. It is basically a huge set of rules that dictate what you can wear, eat, say, and do, and the rules are subject to change at any given time and without any notice. Take for example the ultra low rise jeans. If you're 13 and a size 4, they're cute. If you're 19 and a size 4, you're a tramp if you wear them. If you're 40 and still a size 4 with a rockin body, you're just too old for it. Now on the surface you think, hey if you have the body for it, you can wear it no matter how old you are, right? Wrong. Truth is it has nothing to do with the clothing or woman wearing it, and everything to do with the rulemaker herself. The 13 year old poses no threat to the rulemaker. If her husband/boyfriend is staring at the 13 year old, he's just a pervert. The 19 year old is a HUGE threat. She's young, she's attractive, and if the husband/boyfriend looks at her no one will condemn him. So, the rulemaker has to step in and condemn the girl instead by calling her a tramp for wearing those pants. And the 40 year old? Well, her only crime is still having a body worth showing off, while the rule maker's own physique is showing the wear and tear of childbirth, lack of exercise, and way too many Ring Dings. Or is it Ho Hos? Anyway, no one will condemn the man for looking, so the rule maker condems the woman by saying she's too old to be wearing those jeans and at her age she should be in elastic waistbands and loose fitting slacks.

But what if the wearer is less attractive than the rulemaker? No matter, now the rule maker can bring in the "You're Too Ugly/Fat/Short/Tall For That" rule. This allows her and other women nearby to ridicule the wearer for daring to be seen in such attire, and by extention feel superior in the knowledge that they look better. One of my very few female friends is so bad about the "too fat for that" rule that sometimes I want to shake her. My own rule on this is if you don't like what you see then look somewhere else, but I understand that rule isn't in print yet.

Of course the rules of The Game go far beyond clothing. They cover the car you drive, the church you attend (or don't), your hairstyle, and even how much you eat. Think I'm exaggerating on that? I've known women to refuse to drive a luxury car because they're afraid of the talk that will spread about how they got the money to pay for it. Likewise have known a few who would drive nothing but, even if it meant not being able to afford food, so their "friends" would not dis them for driving a hoopty. If you're really stuck for entertainment, go watch a group of women eating out. First they all discuss their diets. Then they commiserate about how they can't seem to lose weight. Next is the competition. I only had a salad at lunch. Oh well I just had a yogurt. You ate the whole yogurt? No just half. Oh well I had 3 almonds and a green tea for lunch. I ate nothing at all. I'm on the cabbage soup diet (also known as the firehose shits diet). Then they order, and trust me, they pay attention to who orders what and how much of it they eat. This is why a lot of women get a salad when they go out to dinner, pick at it the entire time, then go home and raid the fridge when no one is looking.

Maybe my new neighbors aren't independant rulemakers of The Game. Maybe they just made up a big batch of brownies because they're nice people and wanted to welcome us to the neighborhood. Maybe they went home and said, they sure seem like nice people. I hope so.

Or maybe they're like every other female who has ever welcomed me or my family to a new neighborhood, more interested in sizing us up than befriending us. Maybe after they met us and returned home, they commented on how they shouldn't have brought brownies given how the poor new neighbor so clearly doesn't need them. It will just be so much temptation to her when she's trying to watch her weight. Maybe a nice plate of fruit would have been better.

Either way, I ate 3 of those bitches and they were GOOD.

What a shock.

Needless to say, my unreliable friend called to tell me he couldn't get the money for the truck, so it's back on the market. Of course I lost the original buyer, he found something else.

Anyone in the market for a 95 F250 XLT powerstroke diesel? $2500 takes it home!