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1 year ago
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Duke is Renamed!
We got a call from Duke's owners and they renamed him Rocky. It was between that name and Boss and their grandkids decided. I think it's cute!
(It surprises me and Ali ;-)....)
Best Buddies - The Story Behind Ali & Sammi's Friendship
Ali and Sammi sleeping together on the floor.
When Ali first came, Sammi was very jealous. Now they are bestest buddies. They play together all the time.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Sad Story of a Dog
"Watch out! You nearly broadsided that car!" My father yelled at me. "Can't you do anything right?" Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle. I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving." My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt. Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him? Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.
The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do> something he had done as a younger man. Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had> a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults.
The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone. My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue. Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind. But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it. The next day I sat down with the phone book and> methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of t he sympathetic voices that answered In vain. Just when I was> giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go> get the article." I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.
I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons: too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear , they beheld me unwaveringly. I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?" The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly. As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?" "Maam," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog." I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said.
I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch."Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly. Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house. Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together mythroat muscles and pounded into my temples "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!" Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw. Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal. It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne . Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet. Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne 's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.
Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I> wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind. The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne has made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers." "I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.
For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article... Cheyenne 's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter. . .his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father.. . and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all. Life is too short for drama and petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly. Live While You Are Alive. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.
The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do> something he had done as a younger man. Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had> a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults.
The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone. My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue. Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind. But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it. The next day I sat down with the phone book and> methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of t he sympathetic voices that answered In vain. Just when I was> giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go> get the article." I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.
I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons: too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear , they beheld me unwaveringly. I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?" The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly. As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?" "Maam," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog." I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said.
I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch."Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly. Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house. Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together mythroat muscles and pounded into my temples "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!" Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw. Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal. It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne . Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet. Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne 's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.
Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I> wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind. The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne has made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers." "I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.
For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article... Cheyenne 's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter. . .his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father.. . and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all. Life is too short for drama and petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly. Live While You Are Alive. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.
Just A Normal Day In the Life of a Dog
Ali and Sammi are great today. Normal...as usual. Just thought I should post that. Sammi is still having trouble with her allergies, sneezing, congestion, and such. She's very healthy for an 11 year old dog, though. Ali is hyper if you talk to her. They're roaming the house now. I guess that's it.
Recent Pictures
Recent pictures of Duke, Ali and Sammi.
Duke, just a night or two before he left (sniff)
Ali jumping to pop bubbles.
Ali, in the yard after chasing the frisbee.
Sammi, looking very old. Doesn't represent her very well. Taken on my Dad's birthday in March this year.
Ali, in the schoolroom being a sweetheart.
A hysterically funny picture of Ali just about to bite an unsespecting bubble. Click on the picture to zoom in, then look at Ali's face. It's SCARY!!!!!!
Duke, just a night or two before he left (sniff)
Ali jumping to pop bubbles.
Ali, in the yard after chasing the frisbee.
Sammi, looking very old. Doesn't represent her very well. Taken on my Dad's birthday in March this year.
Ali, in the schoolroom being a sweetheart.
A hysterically funny picture of Ali just about to bite an unsespecting bubble. Click on the picture to zoom in, then look at Ali's face. It's SCARY!!!!!!
Duke Hangover
The house is an melancholy Duke "hangover". We expect to see him when we could in the door, jumping at the cage bars, yipping and wagging his tail. I miss his puppy kisses and husky breath. Sammi no longer has her little buddy. Ali doesn't seem to care :-). When he finally left, she walked over to her bed and flopped down, having the expression of "it is finished" - happy.
.....I don't miss hearing him bark at 3 o clock in the morning!
.....I don't miss hearing him bark at 3 o clock in the morning!
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Duke is Sold!
A lady who had saw our ad in Canine Commesary came and bought Duke for $600 dollars today. She has a chocolate lab already - it looks like Duke is going to be very happy! Goodbye, Duke!
Friday, October 3, 2008
Mean Kitty Song!
I know, I'm kinda being a traitor to dogs but I saw a feature "PEOPLE WHO GOT RICH FROM YOUTUBE" on the Tyra show the other day, and went to youtube.com to see this video. SO cute!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qit3ALTelOo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qit3ALTelOo
We May Be Selling Duke!
Guess what! Someone from our church is coming to see Duke Saturday! Hooray! I'm going to miss him...if we sell him. Sniff. He gets so excited when I take him out of his cage! Jumping, licking and sticking his ears back! I'm gonna miss him. But he's not gone yet!!!
Friday, September 26, 2008
Duke!
Okay, just wanted everyone to know DUKE is still here! He is so cute at 8 weeks. He's finally leash trained potty trained bath trained brush trained and kennel trained. $600 dollars or negiotable.
SIGNING OFF!
Hannah
SIGNING OFF!
Hannah
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Sammi Picture
We went to our grandparent's house two summers ago, this is her keeping a very close eye on the cats we were holding. She looks so young in this picture and beautiful!
Monday, September 15, 2008
Doggie Tip #1
Tip for this owner of this 'dog' and 'owner',
We will call him "Juggler" and "Gary". Juggler needs lots of playing time. Gary plays with Juggler every three hours and lets him roam the house. But Gary only lets Juggler roam because he is potty trained. Only let your dog roam if he is potty trained. Buy him toys and throw them for him while you watch TV. Give him treats when he is a good boy.
Video, Once Again, Starring ALI!
Another edition of laser pen trouble! Ali hates our new laminate flooring - why? NO TRACTION! Watch and see.
Video, Starring SAMMI!
Here is Sammi, doing the cliche, SIT, LIE DOWN, BANG! trick. Who says a dog can't learn new tricks? Sammi is 77 in people years!
Video, Starring MOEKA!
Here is one of Moeka. She was intrigued by our whistling, tipping her head whenever we would whistle. Too cute!
Video, Starring ALI!
Our dog is a SUPER jumper! Watch this video of her leaping a tall jump. At the end she bombs on purpose...ha, ha. Watch all the way to the end or at least fast forward to see her run into the jump.
Sold! But Some Still Here...
<---(PICTURE OF THE MOTHER)
7 weeks ago my favorite dog, Ali, had five beautiful sheltie pups - three boys, one girl. We have sold two boys and have a girl and a boy left. They are both sable and whites - boy may be tri factored. I'll try to get some pictures of them on here soon but I'm not using my home CPU. So happy hunting! If you want to buy one, our ad is on Kijiji.com. They are not cheap puppies and we only sell to very good homes. They are both $600 dollars - not just an accident - purposeful breeding. Honestly you will be had for a cheap sheltie if you pass up this offer. Pictures coming soon!
This is the post from Wednsday - yeah, you were probably experiencing deju-vu a second ago! But we sold our little girl and have the boy left. He will be 8 weeks old Friday. Potty trained, kennel trained, given some shots, car trained and socialized. Here is some individule shots of our remaing puppy - still for sale....
Him playing in the yard with his sister (who is sold).
Him at 5 or 6 weeks old. Darker shot but he is posing beautifully.
Aren't Our Puppies Pretty?
This is the only puppy we have left, (sniff) Duke.
We sold this little girl Saturday, Moeka. (we spell it Moeka but it is the name Mocha.) $600 smackaroos!
This is all our puppies 2 weeks ago.
Left to Right: Duke, Cadet (Sold and renamed Riley), Moeka (Sold, not renamed yet), and Hank, (given to our breeder and renamed Horachio.)
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
One Request - Picking Your Perfect Puppy!
On request I'm posting picture of several puppies - critiqueing them - so you can get an idea of what avoid and what to look for in a sheltie. Pictures - public domain.
A pretty good looking sheltie. Looks a little too deep in the chest. Ears should have a flop to them - too pointed. Legs a candidate for pigeon toeing. Course coat - good or bad thing depending on you. Rating: (On Scale from 1 - 10, 10 being best) 7. Not a sheltie I would buy but it does depend on your tastes somewhat. Cute collar and good coloring.
I will add more pictures later. Got to go!
A pretty good looking sheltie. Looks a little too deep in the chest. Ears should have a flop to them - too pointed. Legs a candidate for pigeon toeing. Course coat - good or bad thing depending on you. Rating: (On Scale from 1 - 10, 10 being best) 7. Not a sheltie I would buy but it does depend on your tastes somewhat. Cute collar and good coloring.
I will add more pictures later. Got to go!
Puppies!
7 weeks ago my favorite dog, Ali, had five beautiful sheltie pups - three boys, one girl. We have sold two boys and have a girl and a boy left. They are both sable and whites - boy may be tri factored. I'll try to get some pictures of them on here soon but I'm not using my home CPU. So happy hunting! If you want to buy one, our ad is on Kijiji.com. They are not cheap puppies and we only sell to very good homes. They are both $600 dollars - not just an accident - purposeful breeding. Honestly you will be had for a cheap sheltie if you pass up this offer. Pictures coming soon!
The Many Colors of Shelties
The many colors of shelties - a very interesting topic. I have two - both sable and white. The colors of shelties are sable and white, tricolor, blue mearle, white facored and true sable. I put pictures of the colorings next to the color descriptions. These are free domain pictures from the internet.
1. Sable and whites are brown with white on all four paws and dab of black.
1. Sable and whites are brown with white on all four paws and dab of black. 
2. Tricolors are black and brown and white - mostly black and a dark brown. 
3. Blue mearles are a pretty dark blue or light blue with lots of white and spots of black. They may also have blue eyes, otherwise shelties always have brown eyes. 
4. White factoreds are the same as sable and whites except they are mostly white. No black usually.
5. True sables are the same as sable and whites exept they are more rare and have prettier fur as well as the browns being lighter.
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