Dipping and dunking

Because I couldn't face looking at a picture of her during the last blog, here's a picture of Mosha (the black and white in front) and Knight I back in 2005/2006



Song of the day: “Dream a little dream” by The Beautiful South.

I’m doing better today. Life does have a way of continuing on no matter what, and even though I have my bad moments (coming home and expecting both Mosha and Touri jumping around me. Getting some dogs on the bed, and then remembering that I only need to help Chaos these days. Etc.) things are slowly getting back to normal.

This very morning was spend working with the dogs, of course. What with the tick population growing exponentially, it was time for a tick bath. Because the sibs don’t have time today, the pack was separated in two for this, meaning that we did one half (mine, big brother’s grandpa’s and tenant’s and her caretaker’s, rounding up at around 40, I think) while they do the other at some later date.

Chaos was his arrogant self, and was all dignified as he let me haul his heavy butt into the tub and dunk him. He did look at me balefully all the while, doing his best to keep his tail above water, as if that would make a difference in his “undignified” circumstances. It was almost as if he was saying: “What? You want me to get into that dirty water (ten dogs had been before him). Me? The Gorgeous? How can you expect me to go bath in that filth. Bah!”
By the time I lifted him out again and let him trot off, he ignored me for about fifteen minutes before getting over it and finding his good humor.

I couldn’t lift Knight II, (he’s finally gaining some weight) so I had to make him step into the tub, and ended up in a fit of giggles because the water didn’t even reach to his ankles. Suffice it to say that it had no use whatsoever to dunk him. Instead I used a pan to douse him in the stuff, and rubbed it all in until every single part of him was wet. He didn’t give a fig about it and just looked at me with a bored expression on his face.

Doing Dax II after him was a tremendous relief. I picked him up like the purse-size dog he is and dunked him solid before letting him go off like a bullet out of hell. *sigh* He and Sitabah (she hates the water too) ignored me for a solid two hours. Hah.

It was a bit tough for me, seeing as compared to last year’s dipping, I had half the amount of dogs. I don’t know what the heck is going on, but apparently I lost at least five dogs this year, which is…well, incredibly sad. There were Yadzia, Bommel, Touri, Mosha and Trinity (the Monster Boxer) leaving me with a personal pack of only six now. Big brother and I have been talking about me taking one of two of his twenty or so, but this will take time because we’ll have to get the dogs adjusted into the change. We’re in particular focussing on Tadaika at the moment, who has already spent several evenings at my cabin (maybe I mentioned it already?). Sure she’s scared yet, but I think that in due time we manage it somehow.

But anyway the dipping went expediciously. It took us about an hour, which followed up on my usual morning routine of laundry, naturally. After that there was a quick breakfast, (with preparations for lunch) at which time I went up to the old horse paddock where I unloaded the car from yesterday’s load…which reminds me of yesterday. I forgot to mention yesterday, didn’t I?

It was (do you see it coming? There usually is an outraged exclamation with it) grocery shopping day. We did it fast but it was a doozy once more. Lots of stores to visit, lots of carts to fill (what with the big groceries only being done once a month now) and the car to be up-and-un-loaded.
Everything got picked up, everything fit in and brought out again by the time we got home at around six in the afternoon. Another hour was spent putting everything away, which is always a joined effort, and then I was free to head outside into the yard. Yay.

We checked veggies, sprayed a bit of water, took out some onions, and then headed up to do some paper edits before leaving to get clay soil (for behind the new wall, remember?). Grandpa baked potatoes so we’d have something in our bellies (I was feeling faint most of the day, for some peculiar reason) before we headed out for the soil.

We were running a bit behind, so we loaded up in the dark, mostly. Not that it matters, but I don’t like shoveling in the dark all that much. Hah. Knight II liked the walk however, and was calm as you please for the remainder of the evening while big brother and I headed for our office and spent the remainder of the evening making changes to the manuscript.

I do admit to running on fumes by the end of the day, and was more than happy to get horizontal and catch some serious Zzzs.

Which concludes today’s blog, naturally. I’ve got water tubes to check, because the meter implies that we have sprung a leak somewhere. The challenge is finding it.

April 11, 2011. Mosha

Song of the day: “Yellow taxi” by Joni Mitchel. It’s been a while since I had this one, and the last one I did have it in my mind, I think it was the Counting Crows feat. Vanessa Carlton instead.

I wish I had some good news, but regretfully I don’t. In fact, I’m not really in the mood to talk about it, let alone write about it, but since I have made a pact with myself to just tell of my life here on the blog, I figure I better get it over with. It is an important aspect of my life here in Spain, and since it is bound to come up at some point anyway, there is no point in avoiding the inevitable.

Mosha:
It was 2001 or 2002 that I first met her. Mom was carrying her on her arm, and Mosha was this teeny weenie puppy of six weeks old at most. She was black and white (dots all over) with one brown and one blue eye. It was love at first sight, even though Cockers aren’t by any means my favorite breed. Mosha was different, though. I guess part of the reason for this was because at eight weeks I came home from grocery shopping and had her walking beside me. Back and forth we went, and I was on the way inside when I heard a sudden squeal.
Behind me, in the doorway, Drisha (a Husky, Pyrenean mountain dog mix) had Mosha flat against the floor, his teeth sunk into the top of her shoulders. I dropped the groceries and went running. Drisha was of course already gone by the time I got there and Mosha was writhing on the floor like the tiny little girl she was, whimpering miserably, looking pale. (I know that sounds weird to say about a dog, but they do turn pale-ish when they hurt. Their gums will turn white, so does the skin around their eyes) I picked her up and cradled her against my chest as I ran inside. She was barely responding, even though she wasn’t actually bleeding, or anything. There were a few puncture marks on her shoulder, and I finally managed to lure her out by feeding her a couple of lady-fingers. She perked slowly, started whimpering again, and we could establish the damage.
There was quite a bit of damage, but back then we didn’t have a good vet yet, so there really was no place to go with her. All I could do was keep her comfortable and keep the wounds clean.
For the next two weeks Mosha couldn’t walk, and basically hung on my arm with her front paw hanging limply down and her just cuddling against my chest day and night for that time.
No one was happier than I when about two weeks later I was able to wrap a scarf around her upper body and help her walk with the full support of it. Gradually she got better, living of freshly cooked chicken meat, yogurt (she refused to eat a lot in those two weeks) and ladyfingers.
It created a bond between us, I guess. She was the only dog I ever owned who would blindly jump off a high elevation into my arms without hesitation. She freaked me out for months in that regard, seeing as I often didn’t expect her to do so. Mosha Sweet-pea. She was a special little darling for sure.
So she kept her limp for the rest of her life, considering she barely had a shoulder joint, I think that due to the swelling, fracture and whatever else was damaged, the shoulder blade never really matured. But it didn’t bother her. There was one incident about three months after the incident where she jumped off my bed and squealed like mad. Her limp became even more pronounced for a few days, but then gradually got better, even going as far as developing some muscle tone. I think she went through the cartilaginous bone that had formed after which she could finally start using it proper.
Mosha kept her attachment intact in the years that followed. She was never more than a few feet away from me, and she more than any of my other dogs hated it when I was gone for extended amounts of time.
As it turned out her cancer was malign and considering it was located on three sides of her anus there was absolutely nothing the vet could do about it.
When I got the results, I wasn’t really surprised, really, just sadder than I’d imagined. She had refused to eat the evening before and that very morning, and pain was affecting her mood as I took her with me on some errands. She wasn’t as attentive as usual, and would lay uncomfortably on the back seat. Once I got to the vet I had already made my decision, but it was still hard.
The vet did say that it was the best thing, and even though I could wait, there was no point to it. It was a downward slope, and having her go through it would have been for me, and only me. I was seriously tempted to be that selfish, really, to have her just a few more days, to not miss her for that amount of time, but I couldn’t, she was my Sweet-pea and I wanted her last days to not be so bad that they were miserable.
So the dreaded decision was made, and I was an effing wreck for two days.

And I’m choking up again, so let’s talk about something else, shall we?

What’s been up? Well, the usual shaite, really. Stuff going on, in particular since we are now in the midst of spring and planting like fiends. Another field of tomatoes had to be planted, reed constellations built to support them, and lettuces to be put out into the wild, so to speak. Everything is looking rather nice, and yes, I have taken pictures. I will see if I can fit them into the blog within the next week or so. Don’t hold your breath though; such things have a way of taking longer when I’m concerned.

I got sunburned a lot yesterday, by the way. I was wearing a sleeveless, and what with the cool breeze, I didn’t notice until it was too late that the sun was pounding on my shoulders. I ended up picking out a cotton blouse this morning, keeping the damaged area protected. The fresh Aloe Vera last night really did help last night, though.

Tenant had her birthday yesterday, so I started the day making a cheese cake, which was her choice. Considering mom and Sally took her out on a trip to town she had a wonderful day.

Edits had to be done, of course, and seeing as I really couldn’t handle thinking in general I gladly threw myself into physical activities. We did a couple of sand hauling trips, and built on the new all under the house. We’ve got a solid two layers going now, and it’s starting to look like a wall already, not just a string of rocks. Also took pictures of that, no worries, but you won’t see them until the wall is finished. I’ll post a string of them of the whole process.

Not good

Song of the day: “Foundations” by Kate Nash...at least I think it is Kate Nash. Hmmm.

At the moment I am experiencing some disturbing seesaw emotions, so I don’t know what good I will do writing this blog today. I am waiting for Mosha’s test results and feeling some trepidation as to the outcome. There is a part of me wishing (quite silly) to postpone knowing, and a part of me wanting to know so this wondering will be over. And yet there is another part that just wants to get it all over with. Suffice it to say, I am not good company today. There is this constant squeezing in my chest, like a pounding ache, that makes m want to burst out in tears every other minute. It’s friggin’ pissing me off. It is not as if I am not prepared for these kinds of stuff. Sure, it is a little faster than expected, but really, it will hurt just as much now (if it is even necessary. Who knows, the test results might show that it is just an infection, or something) as it would three or four years from now.
Why would something inside me scream, not now, not yet? What’s the difference? I’m going to have to face it one of these days anyway, right? Seriously, sometimes I don’t get my emotions. They’re just little sadistic masochists that want their fix, for as far as I can see.
I mean it, if the worst thing happens, my tears won’t be for Mosha, they’d be for me, and only me. No sense in thinking otherwise.

Ooohkay, flew a little off the handle there. Sorry. Let’s get on with this.

On the most part we’ve been working in the yard these past couple of days. What with spring rapidly progressing it is really necessary. Yesterday morning, for instance, was spent in the lowest part of the yard planting more than twenty pepper plants. The cute little buggers are standing really proud in the wind (there’s been quite a bit of that, by the way). The sun was hot, but the wind made it very pleasant…even though I ended up a little sunburned.
There were little fences of reed to make, which made the whole look even cuter, of course.

Edits got done, though less than should have been done due to a shortage of time. There was dirt to get yesterday after all, and we didn’t get home until midnight. The days are definitely too short for all the things that need to be done. *sigh*

We finished laying the first foundation of the wall, for which we used the big rocks we’ve been stocking up on. So it wasn’t funny carrying them to their places, but the first layer is in along with several wheelbarrows of concrete and cement that is to hold them together. It’s looking good.

Then this morning was spent turning some more earth and laying an old-fashioned rock wall (without cement) that is really more like a little barrier to hold dirt in place, and the planting of the small chard plants from the greenhouse. So we didn’t manage to get them all it, but digging rocks from the clay was rather good for my rather turmoil state of mind, not to mention the battle with the shovel that ended up with the breaking of thick metal. Weird how that happened, in particular since it was a semi-new shovel of only a year.

There is always weeding going on, of course, along with that pesky rooty grass which just keeps turning up everywhere. Ah well, guess it’s a good thing I don’t mind weeding, eh?

Well, gotta go.