Tanklike dog physique.

They are all sort of blurs, there is a lot of running of little black dogs everywhere. Except Timmy. No matter how crazy it gets, he can just lay motionless in the thick of it, getting jumped over and run around. I am having to sneak out the other three without him hearing to do harder walks-since Gustavo came, he seems to have super sharp hearing and can tell when there are extra walk times happening and he wants to go! But some of the Team is getting fat. Namely me and Otterpop. So there is more running in our days now, when we have time. We go up to Pogonip and run and walk on the trails. We stay out of homeless camps and encounter gandalf like people with long staffs just as much as other walkers and runners.

The problem then being the sweating then the finding of a place to take a shower. Boy oh boy have I been grateful lately to be a homeowning, job holding person and not homeless, jobless and car living. Just the daily project of going to the bathroom and trying to stay clean already is a monumental task.

Our dog show season starts in less than a month. We need to not only be clean but fit, flabless and in shape in general and I am not sure what happened to that this summer. Somehow moving barns and being happy translated to eat all the time and don't exercise. Not sure how. I know I have stopped letting Otterpop have her frisbee except at agility, and that may be the cause of her new tank-like physique. Mine is likely the pizza and quesadillas and not being a miserable, whining bitch all the time because I hate my barn so much. Now I can complain about the fat.

First you go through the Tire, then maybe win a Car.

I will write this, I guess in an effort to prove what a dork I truly am. I'm not sure why I should actually be proving this to you. But I guess it just goes along with the Team Small Dog theme. Of making dog agility the new black. Proving that something that is so niche and fringe but in a severely uncool way, can turn around. And be so fabulous and exhibit that I am actually just Ahead of the Times, and not a deranged MFA holding outsider artist who has thrown it all away to join the dog world. This hope that I still hold out for myself and for dog agility.

I had a dream last night that I had to organize a huge, network tv game show of terriers against border collies. With both real terriers and border collies, and teams of humans that had to do little sequeneces of things that were very Breed Characteristic in order to win the prize. The host was an old K-12 friend of mine that is now a host on one of those house makeover shows, where they build a whole new house for a deserving family. He has the greatest white veneer teeth. There was agility equipment. I think I was like a marketing/PR person/dog wrangler trying to make this palatable to a network tv audience and keep the dogs in order. I think the rules were very USDAA and somewhat long and complex. The director was freaking out that we couldn't get anything right, then we finally decided the whole thing needed to be analog, not digital and go live tv.

When I woke up, I had a whole new idea then and there about where the rv toilet goes today in preparation for no toilet week starting tomorow. And then the real dogs were just running apeshit around the house. Gustavo has upped his roughness quotient to fit in. It gets a little hairy sometimes, and then difuses. He is one tough little cowboy of a dog and takes no guff from anyone else. There are ripped up stuffed animals everywhere these days. He truly is one of the family now.

His is better.

Really, I think Joel's new blog is better than mine so just read his.

http://ithappenseverynight.blogspot.com/

I have to go to work anyways. Now. Gary is going to have all the dogs, all day today! They call him Prince Eric.

Train the dogs to be in the circus.

Here's what I look like at 42 years old!

Don't some people go to Hawaii or Deadwood, South Dakota for their birthdays? I had a plumber over, figured out how the electrical will go in, learned about the many expensive ways a roof vent could magically appear in the faux "crawl space" above the bathroom (each time a Guy comes over, they find more things about the "construction (HA!)" about my house that makes them either giggle or light up at the idea of being faced with a Challenge), and then tried to still get to work on time. It is not easy to freak me out in many ways but running a job site in my own home is getting me there. Thank god I did not try to remodel our whole house and stay on budget. If I had a real contractor and wasn't so worried about keeping the amounts on my spreadsheet low, it wouldn't be so bad. I am learning that you cannot be a Huge Control Freak when you are remodeling something, things are going to just happen and Guys (and Wacky Tile Ladies) are going to just do what they are going to do and you just try to go along and keep them all happy and keep getting a new one at Home Depot. Which is conveniently located exactly on the way to work.

We did go out to dinner. And I did get the dogs on a run.

*OK-Boring Dog Trainer Alert Here, just stop Reading Now if Dog Training to you is what Knitting Patterns and Baby Potty Training are to Me, this is a dog agility blog you know, Dog Agility is the New Black!*

I let Gustavo on and off the leash so he could practice running into me, boy oh boy is he fast. We were down at the beach near Seascape and he would run out with the other dogs to get the birds and I'd call them in and he was beating the other two. Then back on, run with me, back off, run out, run back in. He is learning to always come back into me before we even start teaching a genuine recall so it will stick. He is more like Ruby in his independence and not handler focused (ie, obsessed) like Otterpop.

Two of my customers are small animal vets, one a dog orthopedic surgeon and they gave him mini exams-the ortho surgeon vet is very happy I have finally gotten a dog without huge confirmation faults, that was one of the first things I noticed on him when I very first saw him was he had amazing confirmation for a little pipsqueak squirt. He has the huge bummer teeth though, that will likely be his own personal money pit. What's a dog without a money pit?

And I got in a couple puppy training sessions. We go out in the back yard right now and he works for some of his dog food, which is far more exciting than just eating it out of a bowl. The other dogs are hugely jealous of this and I have to start giving the turns too. They sit at the back door and whine when they see him out there practicing his sits and downs and targeting and remember those good old days. So I have to be more fair and teach them things.

Ruby had to learn a lot of tricks. She was so independent, and so prey driven. It was a lot of work to teach her to want to work with me and not chase people and eat small animals and attack other dogs. We used to have the old Ruby pushing Timmy on the skateboarding trick (until it turned into Ruby bashing her head into the skateboard in a manic attempt to make it go farther to get more treats in her frantic OCD way and Timmy would panic and jump off) in an effort to teach a good trick and also make her not want to kill all skateboards. Otterpop got exempt from all the stupid pet tricks because I was all hot to trot on getting her to agility and I could just wave the frisbee around and she was under my power. Although she spent an immense amount of time walking around parks and new places with Horrifying People learning to just leave it and not obsess on them. Boy would I cause a sight in Pinto Lake park and downtown Watsonville, walking around with Otterpop and a frisbee.

Gustavo (knock on wood) seems to not have any Dark Side so far. The worst thing he has done, probably under the influence of Otterpop, was sneak out of his dog bed last night. I found him and Otterpop both sleeping on Gary's pillow together with Gary's head. If that is the extent of his bad dogness, (I could see the recall thing rearing the head though if I push it before he's really ready to always come back) I will be one happy Dog Lady.

There just are no titles today.

Birthday.

Ran dogs.

Tile fiasco. Now fixed.

Toilet.

Neighbor's construction site has bathroom!

Plumber. Early.

Dogs. Everywhere.

Lessons. Moms. Horses. Scheduling. Horses.

Demolition! Crow Bars! Big Big Hammers!

The truck.

Ramone got this big flat rock for a little old lady in Pasadena.

OK, starting on Thursday, we will no longer have a bathroom. This has been sort of a foreign concept, one that was vague, that was a long way off, August, or perhaps even September. Somewhere, out in the future, we will have no bathroom. I was leisurely making trips to Home Depot, buying the wrong thing, stockpiling the boxes out on the patio. This has been planned for months and months, but for far away on the calendar, many pages out.

Then I got the call. The Bathroom Guy needs to start now! You do not tell the Bathroom Guy to come back later, because later could be December 2008! You say OK, no problem! So no problem means Thursday-my birthday is also bathroom ripping out day!

And it gets even better, because the Roof Guy (which is actually multiple guys, see Hippie Party and Square Dancing posts, involving a son going back to college soon who works for very cheap-exactly my Budget!) also has a time opening and it happens to be the same time opening as the Bathroom Guy! When I mention this to the Bathroom Guy, he is not very happy because the roof action takes place just outside the bathroom where the items are all stockpiled and where he envisions placing saws and extension cords and his cooler. Under falling rotting roof beams and roof guy saws and drills! He said send the Roof Guy away til later. The Roof Guy would hear nothing of it-If we want him to deal with the weird roof thing that NO OTHER GUY WILL DEAL WITH it has to start immediately.

I am already a bad General Contractor. I cannot control the Guys. They are just coming and will work it out amongst themselves. It is chaos! I am building more ghetto gates and fences everywhere in my Guy Letting out a Dog paranoia and my house looks worse by the minute. The thought of one Mexican puppy and one blind wandering Timmy roaming the streets is too much to bear so I am turning each entrance to the house into a fortress. I buy the wrong things at Home Depot and have to return them. I am in total denial that I have a portable RV toilet sitting on the back patio and soon will be forced to not just use it, but share it with the Guys, being told it is best to try not to have too many feces in it. I ramble on to the unfortunate few who actually will still talk to me about the exciting marble remnant I found for cheap from Ramone-almost as exciting as Gustavo finally getting the concept of "Down" and the whole clicker thing.

You need to learn some basic distance skills.

The Team is building momentum as we speak. Otterpop has gone from a sulking, evil eyed Teen Queen to a newly mature Helen Mirren channeling Queen Mum as the owner of many corgis and has decided to Rule Everyone Especially Gustavo but in a non violent, yet sort of snotty way. Basically she either plays with him or sits somewhere and waits for him to BEG her to play with her and he just goes off and plays with his own toys somewhere else then. Ruby either sort of ignores them, as usual, or sometimes actually gets off her ass and gets in there for a ripping game of tug.

Timmy is used to him already and just goes back to sleep on the floor. Although sometimes he has been awake a little bit extra to watch the new style shenanigans, and Gustavo is a good boy and just jumps over him. As opposed to plowing into him, which Otterpop has been known to do in pursuit of a tennis ball. The cat seems confused, she came around last night and I saw her counting, like, is that an extra one or have I always just been counting wrong? I made her come in the house and meet Gustavo all official like and she was relieved that he is smaller than her and she could easily kick his ass if need be. Gustavo had great respect, today is the day he will meet the barn cats so it is good he has cat respect because Calvin, my big yellow barn cat, fancies himself the dog whisperer and will shape up dogs in no time.

It's actually super fun to have a new training project and gets me working with the other dogs on things as well that are lacking. Jim remarked to me, on yet another failed distance exercise on Sunday, "You need to learn some basic distance skills." That is like, in agility terms, a huge insult. Humbled yet again. Becase distance is all we do, pretty much, in our lessons and I just haven't practiced anything in months and months and then some. So I worked on Otterpop's turn command yesterday so she got some Alone Time, and Gustavo is working on good leash skills, sit, down and wait at a gate/door. He did a lot of short car rides yesterday for practice and fun and short little leash walks in side position with sits. He is used to living, at least for a few weeks, in paradise of quiet and a giant meadow, so the loud busy Westside with construction zones and trucks and yelling and dogs barking from all the other neighbors with bad dogs makes him a little nervous. I took the 3 non geriatrics up to Pogonip for a long run walk, which is terrain he feels a lot more comfortable with.

Of course in life all things converge and the Bathroom Guy wants to start this week, as do the Roof Guys! Wow! I am not even sure how that will work so I need to talk to all the Guys and see if they think they can work all over eachother. The thing I am learning about Guys is that when they have time to do the work you do not want to tell them to go away because god knows when you would ever see them again, I want all these Guys to be happy and want to stay and work til everything is completely all done. So that means sometime this week, with a brand new dog who likely will be trying at every turn to escape, we will have no bathroom and chunk of roof! I am just going to baby gate everything up and xpen and go pick up the toilet after work. So our house will truly look as if the insane live here, bathroom-less and dog-full.

Do not infect the Blood with the Disease.

So, yesterday Gustavo came here to live. It happened to be on the same day as the Gambler's Seminar at my trainer's place in San Jose. This was a big group class in distance handling, with a bunch of fast border collies and my 2 small dogs. Who happen to have mediocre to poor distance skills, through much fault of my own. Ruby actually does get Master's Gambler's Q's, but just not lots and lots of them. I was oh so very humbled in this seminar, but not just because my dog handling really, really sucked and I was the error queen of the day.

I had to leave the class early to meet Rena, the dog rescue foster lady who has had Gustavo during his initiation to the US. And boy oh boy was I excited. This lady overheard me talking about him, and inquired as to my new dog. I said something to the effect of "another one of these (ie, those 2 little dogs who did not get a single gamble today)-little black street dogs". And I mentioned he came from Mexico. Which was apparently not the right thing to say to this particular very tall border collie running lady. A very good dog handler by the way, who I recognize from dog shows but who doesn't know me, being as I tend to fly under the radar with most agility folk, especially the big dog people.

First thing out of her mouth was that is just criminal how those people bring dogs up from Mexico, since there are so many dogs here that need homes. And while it's not untrue that so many dogs here need homes, the group that brought Gustavo up exists mainly to stop the deplorable conditions for dogs in Mexico, introducing spay and neuter clinics there, and humane euthanasia instead of the horrible electrocutions and slow death in the dog roundup pens. They just bring up a select few each time they are down there-it's not their main focus, it's just what you have to do. I am sure my car would be stuffed to the brim with dogs on the way home if I ever went to Mexico.

So then all of a sudden she just went off big time on the whole Mexican dog thing-like no kidding, yelling at me. About how these Mexican dogs are bringing horrible Diseases to US dogs, horrible tropical Diseases that I had never heard of but that she sure has. How my dogs will be affected and Diseased, then how the whole agility community will be affected, and how these people, myself included, Need to Be Stopped! I was sort of sitting there with my jaw dropping lower and lower off my face, because I have never met this lady and within 30 seconds of her hearing about this dog, the only info being it's a dog that has been a rescue and came originally from Mexico, and she is totally yelling at me. Yelling, loud, loud, loud yelling and face scrunching and getting redder and uglier by the second.

I said, weakly, how he had been quarantined, how the people are just bringing some dogs back with them, they are vets down there doing this, and she says how she runs a dog blood bank (which is true) and I am infecting dogs everywhere and introducing disease that shouldn't be here, just like happened with the greyhounds in Southern California and I better have this dog paneled and checked for (name of a lot of long tropical and scarey sounding diseases here, about 5 of them) and most blood panels won't do it and this is just wrong, people like me need to be stopped and there is legislation forming to stop this whole Mexican dog thing and do I know what kind of Disease I am bringing in and she wouldn't stop. I was just sitting there on the grass, trying to pack up my stuff, and staring at her while the other people escaped back out to the agility field. The other not so Disease worried ladies were backing away and left her there to shred me into little bits about the Mexican Disease.

One nice lady I know, who is familiar with the organization I got Gustavo from, started to say how these dogs are quarantined and she was reprimanded by the tall blood bank lady and so she sort of slunk away too. I didn't know what to do exactly. Later I thought I need to always remember to channel Miss Manners in a situation like this, and I should have thanked her so much for the Important Information on a Subject She Clearly Feels Passionate About and mention how Nice it Was to Meet her but I couldn't even get a word out at all. I did think, I should be writing down these Diseases, but I also thought, I think this very tall lady with the shorts pulled up so high and tucked in dog cartoon t-shirt just might be a little volatile and perhaps is a crazy person.

So I drove home all disturbed, but Rena was there with Gustavo, waiting in the front yard. I told her the story and she said basically, that lady doesn't know what she's talking about. These are vets who are doing this, the dogs are going to be perfectly fine. They have been through quarantine, she rattled off some of those tropical diseases and said that is just wrong. And then she dropped him off and now he is our dog, Mexican Disease or no Mexican disease.

I did email the vet that brought him back for more info on the disease issue. She sent a very detailed reply that refuted everything the Blood Lady had such big problems about. I am going to memorize it and be ready if I get assaulted again at a friendly neighborhood agility thing.

Gustavo settled in like he's lived here forever. Timmy has no problems with him and will happily lick him and wag his tail and then go back to sleep. Otterpop is acting like we have taken away her car keys, outlawed spaghetti straps and changed her curfew to 9pm. She was happy as a clam and playing with him until she figured out that he wasn't leaving any time soon, and started skulking around giving everyone the stink eye. She is a drama queen and will get over it in time. Ruby seems perfectly fine and normal, although she isn't an open book like Otterpop so I do watch her closely. She is such a lone wolf that it's going to be the triple threat dynamic of the 3 smallest team members instead of her single interactions with him that would start any sparks. Gustavo is clueless to the fact that some dogs like space or don't want to be leaped on so there will likely be a few corrections the first time I'm not there to monitor the fact that he is about to leap right on top of Otterpop's head.

Today is the day he comes to stay.

Today is the day Gustavo comes for good to stay.

Even Gary can't wait. He just may be Gary's dog, that's what it's looking like. Mostly I have dogs that drive people nuts, that a certain population hate. This dog, so far, everyone seems to love. Dogs, people, cats, horses. Even cattle. His foster home was near cattle and the cattle actually didn't love him but they also didn't mind him at all nor did he mind them.

He comes for good this afternoon. After I run the team all day in the heat in San Jose. All of a sudden the fun and cool Gambler's Seminar at Jim's does not sound neither fun nor cool because we have to wait til 4pm to get Gustavo and it is going to be 100degrees out and Ruby is just going to want to lay around. No amount of chicken can get her to go fast when it's 100 degrees. She'll run, but not with much MEANESS. Otterpop, if I have that frisbee out there should be fine, but there will be a lot of dogs and people around that will possibly make her Nervous, poor Nervous Otterpop so we'll see if she has fun. She might be fine. I'll bring both frisbees. Frisbees cure most ills in Otterpop land.

I've already been planning Gustavo's training regime, he has to learn obedience, poor dog. Otterpop got to skip some things because she had that "I am with YOU no matter what unless I freak out at some man, judge, or spanish speaker" thing going on, and automatically learned to flop into a down. She didn't have to learn tricks and full recall and all that, she got to go straight to agility when she learned her stay. Gustavo is a whole other thing. He is Mr. Man About Town, swinging latin playboy type and needs a recall and all the obedience licks before he gets to start agility because he has to learn the Team way, the Army way, that you got to stay with the Captain.

Gustavo seems thrilled to do whatever you want him to, and then he likes tugging on a piece of fleece. So I think he is going to be a tugger as opposed to a chicken eater (Ruby) or frisbee freak (Otterpop) or loves petting (Timmy). I have a feeling he is going to be attached to a long piece of rope for a while whenever we are out. Because I just do not want to be running around the neighborhood or the field yelling , "Gustavo! Gustavo! Gustavo!". It's kind of a long name. But I think it's bad luck to be changing the animals names once they have them. So Gustavo it is.

Hey Gustavo!

Some facts about Gustavo:

He is from a dog rescue called Compassion Without Borders that goes down, gets dogs in Mexico, where the fate for homeless dogs is nothing like here. Starving street dogs are warehoused without food, left to die, and then electrocuted-their numbers are just so high. This group brings 20 or so at a time back up here in vans and planes, fosters them through groups like CAPE and gets them homes. Yes, there are plenty of homeless dogs around here that need homes, but this group exists because the conditions are so deplorable for them in Mexico, with no humane society type organizations for them there.

He's 2(ish). I think we are going to give him the same birthday as Gary, so his birthday is now in August. He weighs 11 lbs. He's about Otterpop size, he almost looks like a tiny, shrunken and shriveled little border collie. His ear set is wild-maybe some kind of papillon? I have no clue. Mexican street dog.

He must have lived in a home at some time because he is very friendly and socialized, nothing like any of the team right now who were very unsocialized. So I am going to do my best to make sure he stays that way and doesn't pick up any of the phobias of his 2 new sisters. He's an escape artist and very, very fast, which I am taking as a sign that he is smart and will like agility. He has a lot of toy drive and likes treats. It was crazy to see him just fit right in to the Mutant Games that take place at our house every evening, crazy running and toys and growling and biting and he just felt right at home, then can saunter over to Timmy, give him a big kiss and jump in someone's lap. I think he and Gary have already selected eachother-this may end up being Gary's dog.

His downsides are that he's 2 and has had zero training. His foster lady got him sitting and housebroken somewhat and sleeping in his own bed, so he is very trainable. He is an escape artist-has already jumped out her car window, escaped out the door, things like that. He doesn't have that intense need to be near his person at the time, which is a good thing but not so good for escaping so he's going to have to be watched very carefully and will not be an instant off leash dog by any means. He may end up staying tied to Otterpop if they become the good pals I think they are going to be. He'll definitely be spending a lot of time on basic foundation work before any agility things start. It will be interesting to see how this one's brain works and how we go from there!

It's just meant to be.

Hey there are 4 of them and 3 of them are sitting on the table!

Enough said?

Gustavo, the saga continues.

Hmm...do you think a scrawny little street dog from Mexico with big ears and a long tail wants to do agility? I think we are going to find out soon because Gary took it upon himself to call up the Gustavo dog rescue lady, arrange an appointment to meet with him, and met with him and said he was just the friendliest and cutest little dog for a scrawny and tiny little dog he'd ever seen.

Of course it helped that the dog rescue lady lives up on land bordering Gray Whale Ranch, the most beautiful land in all the land and where we both want to live but will certainly not without a winning lottery ticket. A thing on which we have been spending way too money. Lottery tickets, not land. It is a plan not working for real estate buying at the moment.

So I just need to arrange a meeting to figure out if it is going to work and have my own home evaluated by the dog rescue lady on it's suitablity for Gustavo. Hopefully she isn't worried about the dog pen I mentioned at work for the dogs. At least they get to go to a ranch and hang out all day is how I think, even if it's from a pen. They do come out of the pen to lay in the sun, eat horse hooves, attack gophers, bark at Jacinto, and sit on people's laps on the deck.

Last night I quizzed a lady that has some teensy little dogs, hers are 8lbs, Gustavo weighs 10lbs. That is one half of Timmy and 2/3 of Otterpop or Ruby. That is little-purse dog size. Hers can still tip the teeter and go around, althought they are slow. That was Gary's only hesitation, that Gustavo might not be, um, intense enough (in real life, MEAN) to do agility. He is too cute and just more like playful than obsessed with attacking the ball or owning the frisbee or chasing things. Doesn't have that competitive edge. The things that make my dogs excell at agility are personality flaws in the real world. But it might be cool to have a nice little friendly dog and see what I can do to get him to go. A new challenge! How to turn a friendly dog mean!

When I mentioned this to my agility colleagues, they were aghast that I was considering another tiny dog. They all thought I was getting a big dog. The kelpie of my dreams. Which I will, but I can't see having a high drive, intense (perhaps, MEAN) big dog in my tiny house, living in a pen all day, with nowhere to practice at home. I can just imagine the problems of evil that come in via kelpie rescue. And potentially losing our beach and field in November. Actually, not potentially-we are losing it in November, but will be figuring out other illegal options such as getting up at 5am to walk the dogs and run them on the bach. I do want a big dog, I love running Hobbes. But it's going to have to hold on a little til one of those lottery tickets wins or I don't know what.

Also because when Gary came back from the dog rescue lady's, he decided for sure he has to stay on the Western Edge of Santa Cruz, where land is at a premium fit for only millionaires. It has been about exactly ONE YEAR since the horrible outbidding of the Perfect Ranch, up the hill from the university in the perfect spot with the perfect parcel and the perfect house. One year since we almost bought the most dream of dream house/ranch potential (ok, it was just 2 giant fields on less than 3 acres but still, it was going to be a ranch for real someday) and we're still stuck here. And Gary is pretty certain there are no dairy farms in Watsonville on his horizon. So I guess all I can do is keep filling the house with the tiny dogs!

Agility Planner for my life.

We have been straying from the Super Important World of Dog Agility lately, and, as you all know and can hardly wait for, Show Season is upon us. Soon. Coming up. In a little bit.

First of all, you should know that even though I call dog shows Dog Shows, they are actually referred to as Agility Trials in the dog agility world. A Dog Show generally refers to the kind of dog show like Best in Show where there are tiny little choker chains and polyester suits worn with hose and sneakers and prancing about in a circle. And much brushing of the dogs. An agility trial is nothing like this. First of all, you wear Sporty Clothes! And there is no prancing about, just flat out running and doing highly skilled feats of danger and demolition over jumps, contacts, tunnels, and so forth. There are 18ish obastacles out there usually on a course and you are always done in less than a minute! Hopefully. Otherwise you are looking at a nasty time fault. There is much keeping in shape for dog agility!

I am not sure why it is called a trial. I think this is the case in other dog sports as well. That word sort of gives me the creeps because of LA Law and Law and Order and I think lawyer show when I hear trial. I am so used to the world of Horse Shows and a Dog Show seems very much like a horse show (you wait and wait and wait and then all of a sudden you have all these turns all at once in different rings at the same time and you are Freaking out! and sweaty and hot and dirty) that this is just what I call them. Also, in agility, you do not really need to brush your dog. Even if your dog rolled in carcass the morning you are leaving, you are not required to bathe them. I probably would though, due to the car ride to the Dog Show.

So, in other posts in other months you have learned about the USDAA and the CPE and the ASCA and AKC and all the venues. So you understand that now. This is what we are gearing up and practicing for and marking our calendars. Because I have a binder and I have organization when it comes to Dog Agility, I can easily find this on a post it.

August 5-USDAA in Camarillo. Maybe. If it can combine with going to visit my parents. A long drive. Must figure out in 2 days because entries will close!

August 25/26-USDAA in Prunedale aka Prunetucky. This can even be 2 days, if I only enter in the morning for Saturday and can go to work in the afternoon. Because it is put on by my dog club and Prunetucky is right around the corner from Watsonville!

Sept 1/2/3-USDAA in San Jose. We can go to this one Sunday and Monday. It is a Regional! Big, huge giant event with dogs from all over trying to get last minute Q's to go to the Nationals. Lots of stressed out freaking out at the one. Big Steeplechase.

Sept 16-USDAA in Turlock. Maybe go to this. I hate Turlock. It is the central valley. It is hot and right by trains and Ruby, who also talks to witches in her spare time, freaks out at train noise and is getting worse in her old age of almost 7. These ones are always done like at 8pm at night and I just do not love the Turlock.

Sept 23-USDAA in Woodland. This is sort of far, almost 2.5 hours. It is near UCDavis. I would rather drive there than Turlock though. I am programmed to drive to UCDavis in my sleep from grad school days.

Oct 7-we have a choice here! Look at all that USDAA we have been doing. We can go again, to Dixon, also known as the spot where Otterpop first freaked out at a dog show and doesn't like it there and Ruby always seems to come up lame partway thru Sunday, or take a break and go to a fun, partially indoors CPE in covered arena which makes the dogs go Super Fast, at WAG in Elkgrove. Yes, the place is named WAG. These dog agility people bought an old cow ranch just for the sake of Dog Agility!

Nov 23-25 Thanksgiving Weekend, and if we so choose, a CPE in Elkgrove.

This would mark the end of our season until I think March or maybe February. Now you know where we will be every weekend! That's not so bad. I need to check and see if there is anything else to enter in October because this is a good time for dog agility, that sucks that there are 2 good shows on the same weekend. I have to research what happened there.

Real Conversations thanks to the Fun of Bathroom remodeling The Cheap Way.

This true life conversation takes place while I am on my way to San Jose on my day off to price the toilets over there. Everything is about driving to a place and getting the price then finding out I do not know the answer to the important question, such as "What size is your Rough In?" (a good question for a plumber!) and "What level of flushing do you need?" (a question that refers to the amount of flush power to flush down, um, large objects, down the toilet. Level 5 toilets have the pro size flush but are very expensive! i do not know how big our poops are in comparision to flush levels. I feel so ill informed.). And then driving home because the toilet is not in stock and we do not know the rough in yet or the flush power. This follows a day coming home empty handed from the Berkeley salvage yards, ready to go and learn what other important questions I do not know the answers to ("Do you have your spec drawing?" Ha Ha!) at the stone slab place in Watsonville tomorow since the vanity has been ordered on the internet at 6 am this morning for the sale price!

So this is where I am going, dogs left at home to do what they will with the mailman when he comes, and my cell phone rings on the death freeway:

Team Captain: Hi Del, I am talking on Hwy 17!!! (I say this gleefully, because Hwy 17 is a fast death freeway of windyness through the mountain forests and now I am driving and talking with only one hand! I was once admonished for following too close on Hwy 17 and got a ticket and I almost cried because the ChP guy was so not Erik Estrada and just whipped that ticket out to me licketdy split.)

Good Friend Del: What is this you are saying about a porta potty? (Because I love to email people and tell them about my bathroom remodeling and my porta potty!)

Team Captain: God I hate the porta potty. AUGH, I cannot wait to have a porta potty for my one and only bathroom, conveniently situated at the top of the driveway, if only the 20 foot hose works for the truck and the truck is not too wide to back up my skinny, skinny driveway.

Good Friend Del: You can borrow our toilet!

Team Captain: (Here I am now racking brain and making sure to follow the bright red fast car in front of me around the turn. I am driving over the treacherous and windy Hwy 17 and Del has offered to lend me his toilet. How does this work exactly?)

Team Captain: Yes! Your toilet!

Good Friend Del: Our RV toilet we have up by the pool in the pool house. You can take this one! It gets 100 flushes and...

Team Captain: (Here I am counting how many is 100 flushes...how many times a day do we need to flush the toilet? Does this count the plumber flushing too? And friends that come over? I have never counted this before..)

Good Friend Del: ...and it can go in the house...

Team Captain: (Here I am thinking how will I put the RV toilet in the house, in the kitchen? Where the dining room table is? What part of the house fits the RV toilet? If you have never been to my house, suffice to say my house is very, very, very small. Indeed, a tiny, tiny, tiny little house. Mouse house. Fox in a box. We bump into each other all over the house without toilets located in the middle of a living room. )

Good Friend Del: ...and it has hardly any odor...

Team Captaine: (Am thinking now about the odors. Perhaps in the garage would be a private place to not create too much odor?)

Team Captaine: Yes! This sounds perfect! Far better than the porta potty! (But really I am thinking about the odors and this toilet now where and how do i get the sewage from the rv toilet to where it goes?)

Good Friend Del: You just hook it up to the toilet to empty it or take it to the Rv place. (He has read my mind of how does a toilet like this work since you are flushing to, where?)

Team Captain: Yes! I will just take it there! (although I am thinking, man, this whole thing just sucks more and more and more every time I turn around it is just SUCKING!) I can just drive it to the RV place and dispose of..the...Waste. (This is just SUCKING. Why, why why is our bathroom so rotten and we don't even want this house, we want a Ranch)

So we arrange to at some point have a toilet rendevous, I will use Vicki's big truck to get the toilet and bring it to my house. Did I mention how much this is sucking? I know I should be very gracious, of which I am, for having friends who will actually lend me their TOILETS. But such things. That I will be using the hardly any odor toilet in my garage or backyard for possibly how long?? I don't even want to think about it. Daniel the plumber and electric guy working without license or permits says 3 weeks. I think that really means 6ish in real world talk but I don't know. I think this is better than a porta potty? Thanks Del!

No oysters harmed by dog teeth.

Yesterday we had an adventure to Oakland. We used to just run up to the Bay Area at the drop of a hat, in fact spent most of the week up there during the dotcom days between grad school and going back to the horse world. Now it's a big adventure day and seems so far away. To drive the hour and a half. To go shopping. And hang out.

It wasn't just shopping, it was also visiting. But since I had a whole Sunday off with no dog show or seminar or lessons or horse show, I paired it with salvage. To further the cause of the bathroom remodel. Armed with tape measure, I went back to my old haunts of years ago.

Starting with urban ore. Measured and dug through many stacks of granite and cabinets and examined tubs, to no avail. I decided I want a brand, spankin' new toilet after digging thru the racks of old ones. I think I can afford that. So nothing. And I refrained from buying the giant white rocket, although now of course I wish I had.

Then went up to omega. Which is the expensive salvage place. Everyone else there was gay couples buying clawfoots. Or at least perusing through the high priced clawfoots. Our bathroom gets a home depot plain old regular non clawfoot style tub for $200. They did have the holy grail of white marble counter slabs but not one in my size, the only close one had big pitts and rust stains and it wasn't the exact measurements I am exactly in need of. So much for salvage scores. I did buy some giant metal letters that spell out d o g s for $10 each. Which actually I love more than even a white marble 24" counter top for the bathroom. I had to refrain from quite a lot of things in there but never found just the right thing I need.

Then up to Kelsey's new house which is also known as a mansion! It is very, very, beautiful and very large, up in the hills of Piedmont. All the dogs could run free up and down the stairs, with the basement it is 4 stories tall and has a beautiful tiered yard, also perfect for dog running. And a front porch that dogs can perch on and bark at unsuspecting souls who dare walk below. It has all the rubbed antique bronze bathroom fixtures and giant wood windows, and etc. etc looks like House and Garden Home Beautiful in every way. It is no dairy farm with a mobile home for sure.

Timmy couldn't go. That used to be exactly what he spent a lot of his younger days doing, sitting in the car at urban ore and hanging out with the other dogs at someone's house, before anyone owned a mansion. He layed in his bed at home. The other dogs had to refrain off eating the food set out on one of the patios and not leap on people and generally try to have good behavior, which they did thank god. I believe only one chunk of salami was ripped out of a hand and no dogs ended up on the desert table or in the pile of oyster shells. Because this kind of cookout involved bbq oysters and drinks with Pimms. I have to hang out with my classier friends a lot more often so I don't completely devolve into the pirate toothed ranch lady drinking wine and juice in a plastic tumbler I am most of my days.

Timmy Best Dog.

I haven't been talking so much about Timmy lately. He had such a bad spell during the spring that I didn't know how much longer he'd be around. Which was almost to much to bear. But the new improved Timmy seems to be around to stay for a while, and every single day we have with him is a good day.

He gets a lot of pills. He thinks of them as cheeseballs. He loves to take his pills. He can walk all the way to the park now, without shaking too much or having to be carried home. He's got a little limp, but basically moves around just fine, unless he stumbles up a curb or forgets to use his legs going down some steps. His eyesight almost seems better, which a vet told me could from some of the cushings treatment. It may be that some severed blood vessels to his eyes have been able to re-attach, giving him a little more vision. We still stick real close to eachother at the park or at the beach, since I don't think he sees a whole lot. If he stops walking to sniff something or eat some seaweed, usually I have to go over and wave my hand in front of his face and yell real loud at him. And every so often, he gets a wild hair up his hairy butt and starts running around with the other dogs but in frantic little crazy circles all his own, until I catch him and convince him he might like just hanging out and watching them run instead.

His hearing is going, but there is some there for sure. You just have to talk real loud to him. He likes to spend his days laying on the floor or in his bed, and his nights going in and out the front door. I don't think it's because he really, really has to anymore, I think he's got access to someone that is glad to get up in the middle of the night and let him out, which he doesn't during the day when he's home alone. I'm used to it, and I'm happy to oblige him that one small thing.

He loves to be with the other dogs. Even if they are racing around him in circles, up and down stairs, thru the yard and back thru the house, and he is just sitting there in the middle of it. I hate keeping him seperated from them all day, but they are ranch dogs and he is a house dog. And now that he is walking so good, they always get to have their walks together, even if it's a hard day for him and the small dogs just walk around the block. I like the pack to stay tight.

I worry about him traveling, he's going to have to make some trips down to LA this month and that's a lot for him, but Timmy doesn't ever complain or whine or freak out. He's just happy to do what he needs to do. I just try to keep his life easy and stress free and medicated to whatever extent he needs. It was a little rough going to get him here, but in hindsight, boy am I glad I did. I can look over right now and see him. He sort of pops his head up out of his dog bed, with a confused look on his face and his cloudy little eyes. He's looking right at me, I am not sure what he sees or what he's thinking, but I'm pretty sure he's just making sure I'm sitting there too. If I keep sitting at the computer, he'll eventually get out of bed, shuffle over, and lay down outside the office door in a little while. Just to stay near.

Golf cart driving bourgeoisie.

Yesterday, the dogs spent a good part of the morning riding around in a golf cart. You have to hang on to small dogs in a golf cart because it is very bouncy, when bouncing across dirt paths on horse show grounds.

In terms of a dog's life, my dogs have it pretty good. They get up early. Take a stroll, many days on the shore. Where a variety of snacks await, from seaweed chunks to seal carcass. Yesterday they did a spot of agility in the sun, with a nice little breeze out, and got to eat cheese. I even gave Ruby a nice piece of rotten cheese, when she was super fast. She likes the rotten kind better than fresh. Then they got to go to a horse show before work.

Most of my students are at a horse show nearby this week. The way that we work it, my partner takes customers off to shows and I stay at home with the riders that don't go and the horses that still need riding. Horse shows are almost never close--they are down in Pebble Beach and up in Woodside and sometimes Sacramento and sometimes down in LA. This week we went to a smallish one just 2 miles down the road from the barn. And since just about every single kid that rides with me is now good enough to show, I sent all my customers away for the week. So I went out to the horse show too before going back to finish lessons and rides at work.

It's kind of hard to explain how a rated Hunter Jumper show works, let's just say it's not that dissimilar to a dog show except that it lasts for 4 or 5 days always and kind of everything on a more stressful and bigger deal. It has the same hurry up and wait kind vibe all day, where you wait and wait and wait and then Hurry Up at a moment's notice. One difference is that you do not go in the ring without your trainer schooling you and watching the course. And the rings have to hold and wait for you. And when you have kids of all levels showing in 3 rings at the same time and some parents that are used to the whole hurry up and wait concept and some that are totally Freaking Out the whole time, it's a little stressful to be the trainer at the horse show.

So that's where the golf cart comes in. And the phone. There is a lot of top secret radio transmission from me at one ring to the trainer or mom at another and then one of us jumping in a golf cart and driving very quickly down dirt paths to the next ring. And back again. And then off to get the pony measured or off to the office or back to the barn. Lots of little equestrian themed dogs in golf carts. And back to the jumper ring then back to the far schooling ring and back to the short stirrup ring again.

My dogs just fall right into the horse show pace, even though, honestly, I am hardly ever at them anymore. They just are the kind of dogs that feel right at home at the side of the ring, or sitting under some trees eating horse poop. They like to sit under slobbering horses and let the slobber fall on them. This amuses kids to no end. They let kids drag them around on their leashes and hang out in the sod back at the tackroom setup. Get little snacks from the back gate guy. And, unlike at the dog show, that's all they have to do. Never compete! I think my dogs are inherently lazy and like being waited on and driven around more to waiting their turn at a dog show. What a life. I think now they want me to move to a golf course.

Ask a stupid question.

Just in case you are wondering, Gustavo has not moved in. His photo has moved to our kitchen counter, with his name beautifully hand inscribed on it, to remind my nice husband that he is exactly what I Want For My Birthday. Gustavo! Gary never knows what to get me, so here I have it, the one thing that would make the Best Present Ever, just sitting on the counter. His reaction was pretty poor when I explained to him how important it was that I take in Gustavo. I'll just leave it at that.

Last night we had Wed. Nite Agility. My running was slow. But my handling was better, at least with Hobbes, the big and perfect border collie who only does things wrong if I cause it. Last night actually he did a couple things wrong not caused by me! That was exciting. He gets overexcited on contacts occassionally with his owner, and did the same thing with me. I found that flattering in a wrong way. But I ran him better than I think I ever have. I told his owner that, and he said, "you always run him just fine."

I said, "I have moments. Occassional moments."

He just looked at me with that look I get so often, the Laura Lunatic (this is the name Gary has been using since the Gustavo conversation) which I guess meant that maybe I don't run him so bad. He did drop one bar last night. Which was very much caused by my late turn.

Ruby didn't drop any! I ran her and Pop a little less since I was running Hobbes, which isn't great since they are the dogs that really need to practice, but I am hoping my handling skills sharpen up from running the big dog. I find I still ask a lot of what may be stupid questions out there on the course, questions I am thinking an agility instructor should always be able to answer. But at least I am asking and trying to learn.

Both the questions concerned position on a leadout, in case you are dying to know what kind of question could possibly be stupid. The first answer was find the front cross line and get somewhere on that, not in the bonehead place out in the dog's path I was considering. The other question was just run with the dog, send it into that tunnel so you are in place to get the front cross you are going to need at the 4th obstacle. Duh! I have to look at these things a lot sharper.

Someone asked me what I perceived to be a very stupid question in her riding lesson the other evening, and my answer to her may have been less than generous. I have to remember the kinds of questions I still ask my agility trainer next time she asks me a question like that and be a little bit less bitchy in my tone. Some of us are just slow, even looking at the most obvious thing out there on a course. The Tone can be an evil thing.

Clutter and Gambling, together at last.

There's Magnolia. She's a deer fortune telling booth that is dry docked in my garage. We used to call the garage the Studio, connoting an artist used it for working in, then during the Former Artist period it became coverted to a garage. Now it holds things like the bikes. The house paint. The tools. Magnolia. The horrificly heavy, antique wood couch that didn't fit in the front door from my parents when they were selling their house. I just felt like putting that picture in, since I have been on mess patrol and run around my house at night throwing stuff away into brown paper bags.

I just signed the dogs up for a Gambler's Seminar with Jim Basic. He is my favorite agility teacher, he is Power Paws, along with his wife Nancy Gyes. I am so lucky to have him just 45 minutes away in San Jose. He is one of the top guys teaching agility anywhere. Both he and his wife are big high muckety mucks of championship winning at everything. It's next Sunday, all day, and will likely be hot and full of people with fast border collies who are already good at gamblers.

We are not talking poker game or how to better pull the slot arm in reno.

Gamblers is an agility event or "game". The object is to go around a course, taking whatever obstacles you want, as fast as you can in a short time period-usually 25 seconds or 30 seconds. Each obstacle has a point value, and you want a lot of points, so you make up your course accordingly. This is usually fast and furious with some oddball courses designed to max out the points. At the end of the time period, a whistle blows or there is a buzz from the electric timer and you have to complete a fixed sequence of about 4-5 obstacles from a distance. There's a line of tape on the ground you cannot pass. The trick is that dogs like to have you somewhat near them to do a sequence and you have to either sort of trick your dog to think you are right there, or have such a perfectly trained dog it easily handles sequences at a distance.

I fall into the somewhat tricking your dog category, although we are both working on the perfectly trained part.

Ruby actually has an accumulation of Masters Gamblers Q's now. I never thought we would get it but somehow we did. We miss sometimes. Otterpop still runs in Advanced, and needs to Q out to move up to Masters. We have a hard time getting the Q's because a lot of the time Gamblers is only held on Saturday and we hardly ever show on Saturday, so when we do run it we really need to get it!

Master's means you are working from like 30' away. It seems far. There are some that, when I walk the course, make me feel like the biggest loser knowing Ruby will never get it. And then she does. And there are some that, when I walk the course, I think, oh yeah. We have this one. We have practice it a million times. Then I make some kind of error like turning away too quick or moving my hand, and in that flash of a second, I pull her off the thing and that's it. No Q.

Otterpop doesn't even like to be an inch a way from me running on anything at show, but if she's in a fast mood and flying, she will. So her gamblers Q's have been dependant on how she is running that day. If it's a slow day, forget it. I need a bit of strategy for her, making up a course of obstacles and moves that don't make her nervous so that she's fast and speedy when the whistle blows and I can send her off away from me and she doesn't feel Sad and Abandoned. Poor Otterpop. Agility is a game of moods for her.

Oh no Gustavo.

Last Friday, I was walking up the stairs from the beach with the team, and I passed the Rescue Dog Lady. With a new rescue dog. That was the beautiful love child of Timmy and Otterpop but in a smallish border collie shape. I was, of course, late for work, but I said something like, "oh my god, I want to take him home!" and the Rescue Dog Lady maybe would have given him to me then and there, knowing I am the Best Dog home just about money can buy.

But I didn't take him, and I went home and I could not stop thinking about Gustavo. He has a picture on her rescue website.

Then this morning, I was walking to the beach, thinking in my mind, I love Gustavo, I love Gustavo, I love Gustavo. Obviously I have a mind not capable of complex thought. This was after being interrupted mid thought by a pajama'ed girl calling after me, "Dog Lady, Dog Lady!". When I turned to answer to this, she asked me to look out for her lost escaped cat. Poor cat. She has only lived on my block for like 6 days and knows I am a Dog Lady worthy of cat searching. Poor me, that I answer to "Dog Lady, Dog Lady!".

Anyways, that was all I thought about on my way to the beach with the team. Gustavo. How much I love Gustavo. Maybe Gustavo would be at the beach with the Rescue Dog Lady. I love Gustavo, I love Gustavo, I love Gustavo.

And he was! Oh Joy of Joy! She is hardly ever at the beach.

This was special fate of love meant to be.

Gustavo looks like a chihuahua border collie mix. He weighs 10 lbs and speaks spanish and is not house trained yet. He is socialized and friendly and so cute and, weirdest of all, All Three Dogs Loved Him. Even Otterpop, who hates other dogs, and Ruby who is aloof. Timmy of course did, but he loves all dogs, even if they want to bite him. I explained the husband problem (not that Gary is a problem, but that he views 4 dogs as a problem) but said that I was smitten with Gustavo and indeed Desire him. I love Gustavo. I love Gustavo.

Pros and Cons of Gustavo

Pro
He is so cute and has good fast looking confirmation!

Con
Gary says we will be divorced if I bring home an additional dog.

Pro
He is so small and no one will notice that there is an extra.

Con
10lbs is the same exact vet bills and all the other poundage around the vet clinic known as my house.

Pro
Training a new agility puppy!

Con
And I am I currently training the other team members, including the one that ran in the street with a stick the other day in lieu of coming to have her leash put on and stick removed from her mouth?

Pro
I can fit a little crate into many tight spots, making it possible to shove another dog into our tiny house!

Con
The whole divorce issue.

So readers, what do I do about Gustavo, the perfect addition to our team?

Using the folders for the powers of Good.

In today's photo, I am smashing Otterpop. Otterpop is attached to my hip. I went out to work yesterday for a couple hours because I wanted to give 3 of the girls, the nice and perfect good girls who ride pretty darn good now, an extra lesson before they head to a horse show next week. I forgot the dogs in my car. About halfway through the lesson, in the fog, I realized that I just up and left the poor dogs sitting in the car. Good thing it was not a hot sunny day. Anyways. They were just sleeping, just got out of the car and ran around then ran into their little dog pen. So much for attached to the hip.

I completely missed the Fun Match of agility today of which I should have been helping out at. But, it involved some organizational skills that I just must have been using to misplace tile specs for bathrooms and I didn't enter, and it filled up. It was in Hollister, the same weekend as the Big Hollister Biker Rally, which means the road there and back would be full, full full, with bikes, bikes and more bikes. It is huge. It would actually be fun to go and see many bikers everywhere, but not with small dogs in my red dog agility shorts. I mean me in my red agility shorts. I have never been to a giant motorcycle rally, but I imagine it as being something enjoyable that I would like. Like square dancing.

Usually, I have a pretty high level of organization when it comes to the dog shows and not forgetting to enter them. I have a binder, and I make of list of all the shows that are coming up for the next few months. I get the premiums, I mark up the entry close date, I enter by then, it uses paperclips and and postits, check marks and lists. This is something I only do for dog shows. The rest of my organization for all things in life that do not live inside the computer is very poor.

For instance. This is my office. I have a whole room to use to put stuff in, that is called a Home Office. In magazines, and websites, these always look really great and organized and have little cubbies and fabric covered bulletin boards. With ribbon. And cheery white distressed antique desks. And victorian taxidermy reliquary domes.

Mine had nice plaster walls and ceiling til the leak started. I have things from Ikea to put stuff in and then I just shove stuff in them. I don't know what is in them. Where are my taxes? Somewhere. What is all that crap on the desk and where else can I put it?

I covered the bulletin board with fabric. Camo. And put it in a fancy gold style art frame. Instead of organized things, there are pictures of monkeys and Princess Diana. And the internet lives in a blue dresser. With a taxidermy squirrel blank on it and a boy scout patch and shopping bags of fabric. And a big pile of dog hair that someday I will spin into yarn. Lexi will do that for $2000. Instead maybe I'll just glue it to a taxidermy blank. Does everyone save their dog hair like that? In the Home Office?

Thank god for the macrame.

Scott the roofer came over yesterday when I got home from work. Once he was a hippie living in the house on Portola with a beard and a beautiful hippie girlfriend with braids and naked babies. I learned this from the photos at the hippie party a couple weeks ago. Now he owns a giant roofing company and a 5 acre place in Scotts Valley (5 flat sunny acres, and he used to have ponies for his kids) and he likes to play golf and do contra dancing and likes plants. He has on nice loose Eddie Bauer jeans and those faux suede slip on shoes and a Polo shirt. But he is super friendly and it was actually him that offered to come look at the roof, instead of me begging him. I think. Also he brought over his Jack Russell named Rex that none of my dogs tried to attack or kill and actually let him play with their tennis ball.

And because he is so nice, maybe his son who is a builder guy will do the carpentry for cheap and he will send over some guys from his crews to do the work off the books for cheap and we can have our roof thing done. This is due to the hippie connections from the '70's from Gary. Who never had a beard but did have long hair and a mustache and a van. And macrame. Which he had when I met him (the macrame, long hair, and mustache) and I thought was very exotic.

Scott the roofer used to have another hippie name but it is not said anymore. A lot of people at the hippie party had different names than they did back in the 70's. I was in junior high when they were smoking pot in the meadow at their house which is now a parking lot on Portola by the auto wrecker's. I had roller skates with red and yellow skateboard wheels and really short shorts and loved horses. Now Scott is on his second divorce and seems kind of lonely. The other thing he likes is called contra dancing. This is not to be confused with square dancing and has no costumes! When he started telling me about it, I started thinking about the costumes because I have been thinking how much I might like a square dancing dress and learn to do square dancing. The contra dancing does not have squares. It has lines. There is swinging of partners, but there are No Costumes. This was emphasized several times by him. You wear regular clothes and not cowboy boots. The music is more old time than country western. But most importantly, no costumes.

All the dogs live in pens.

Jacinto is the laborer that works on our ranch, feeding and cleaning stalls on 60 horses, blanketing and unblanketing about 40 of them and driving hay out twice a day to the pasture horses, about 30 horses in 8 or so pastures. Every day, 7 days per week. He also works at the owner's other ranch up on the summit, and her mom's ranch on an adjoining summit property. He starts at 4 or so am, and comes back at around 5 to do the rest of the feeding and blankets. He doesn't speak a word of english, and has his perfect manner 3 boys translate for him. They help him too, as does his wife Berta, who also takes care of the owner's 1 year old baby.

Does that sound like a lot? It's pretty crazy. One guy cleaning and feeding on 60 horses right there is a huge job. He doesn't have to do much other than that besides sweep up the barn aisle with a leaf blower, but it's big job for one guy. He doesn't always do a good job either, some days the stalls pretty much look untouched, but I just can't get too mad at him. His boys are the best, they are 9, 11 and 12, and have perfect manners, are sweet, and sometimes ride. They love dogs too, and love to play with the dogs when I let them out. Their hope is that some day my dogs will let them pick them up. I don't know what it is about tiny dogs that some people get obsessed with picking them up. Ruby just plain old hates to be held by anyone. Otterpop is very picky, I am thinking that the middle boy is almost there with her. They each have their own skinny little dog.

They recently moved to a 1 bedroom travel trailer on the property. Jacinto, Berta, and the boys all live in a 1 bedroom trailer with their dogs out in a little pen under the trees in the back. Berta stuck a bunch of flowers in buckets and put them on the front steps. The boys ride their bikes around on the ranch and hop on ponies when they can. I give them lessons sometimes, the two older boys are actually talented and natural riders so it's great to get them on horses as much as they'll ride. Luckily they are in summer school (they don't think it's so lucky) but it keeps them from having to work all day I think.

Their dad uses them to translate everything. He doesn't want to deal with anyone's janky spanish. So one day when I wanted to talk to him about trying to get the pee out of the stalls (he just flies thru there, scoops poop, and leaves the stalls really wet) too many days in a row, I just hated doing this through his son. Just doesn't seem right to bring an 11 year old into the whole thing that his dad does a bad job because he's overworked and underpaid. They do a lot of the blanketing too. One customer was complaining because her horses's blanket straps weren't right, and I told her to let it go. There are just some battles we're not picking here.

All about the sweatpants.

That sound you hear is my joints and bones squeaking and making slow painful cracking noises. I am not sure why other than I am very old? After a day of leaping onto horses, it is hard to move. I tried to run the dogs. Between my creaking and Ruby's creaking, which I am thinking might be attributed to a night of shivering and shoving herself under furniture, we could barely get around. Otterpop was fast though. Too bad I couldn't keep up with her. Then I sort of creaked around work in the dirt, then I tried to creak through yoga. My yoga teacher is constantly appalled at the state I come in there in.

So my new idea is to get healthier, lose some weight, start running and doing some exersizing every day! This is not really a new idea. I have it all the time. But I don't get around to it because I am so busy on the computer, taking Timmy for slow, leisurely Timmy paced walks, cutting out pictures, and falling asleep during Deadwood dvd's on our couch. But at the rate I am going, I am not going to be able to Win anything at any Big Dog Shows. Which start again at the end of August. If I am slow, so are my dogs. Not to mention the importance of looking hot in modified skinny jeans. Right now it's all about sweatpants.

This Sunday there is a fun match, which is a practice dog show. I forgot to send in an entry, which makes it prohibitively expensive, since it's in Hot Hollister, and I only wanted to do a couple of runs since it goes somewhat against my rule of don't make the dogs run in the heat that makes them miserable. So I may be missing it. It's also put on by my dog club, of which I am a member and frequently do not help out enough with. Making me a bad dog citizen of the community.

Maybe I will stay home and watch Deadwood some more. Like Al says, (Swearengen, not Gore II from jail), "I appreciate a bit of heft on you but would it kill you to lose a few fucking pounds". Thanks Al! That's the best personal trainer I could ever have. While reclining on the couch.

Family fun holiday with some elements possessed by demons.

So dogs and fireworks and the fourth of July. I think I am done with fourth of July. Although no one seems that worse for the wear this morning.

At work, I made a fun day for everyone, because who wants to practice normal things on a holiday of National Importance and freeing of Scooter Libby Independance. So we did speedy fast horse switching in which grownups were forced to swing up on the ponies and the pony kids and to somehow manage to climb up on the giant horses and canter them. Then the somewhat dangerous but exciting Watermelon Race, which involved running the horses very fast, sharp knives, shoving food down gullets, throwing things from horse back, swinging up onto horses quickly and leaping off them before they stopped. Thank god no one was injured.

We went to a bbq in Pleasure Point, which was very fun and I'm not just saying that because you are reading this Deb. We left the dogs locked in the house with the windows shut and stereo on, hoping for the best. I tried to walk them before we left but Ruby kept diving under cars, even though the bombs had just barely started. When it got dark, we all walked down to the war zone on the cliffs to enjoy loud sparkling bomb throwing in the air. It was cool for a little bit and also since it was so clear, you could see all the way across the bay where everyone else was setting off explosives on cliffs and beaches. But then it started to be more and more and louder and people running away when they were going amuck and we had a 3 year old with us.

So we went home to see how our dogs fared.

I guess it could have been worse. No one chewed through any walls, there was no blood anywhere, nothing eaten or destroyed. But all 3 of them were seriously freaked out and Ruby was only able to shove herself under furniture, try to come out, only to shove herself under a new piece of furniture. At least our street seemed clear, at least when we got home, but you could hear the warzone outside even over the stereo. Ruby hadn't been out since work, but when I tried to take her out to pee quickly, of course it just made her worse and she just ran in and shoved herself back under the tv cabinet. Even Timmy and Otterpop were disturbed and freaked out. Next year, everyone gets tranquilizers. I think it's come to that. The loud stereo likely helps but there are just too many bomb noises outside to make it work. The air smells like smoke, and that was thru the fog that had settled in on the Westside, even though Pleasure Point was still clear.

The dogs seemed a lot happier that I was home.

We also discovered at the bbq, that it is my presence that makes children wild. They are inherently calm and quiet, and when I show up, things spill and go crazy and everything gets sticky and loud and the toddler starts using a bat. I know my dogs are usually wild and nutty in my presence but I don't know if they get nightmares. They do not spill things usually though but will jump on the table in the worst of times to get a piece of sausage. Other parents such as my sister have commented on this too and that things I tell the children give them nightmares. My sister was at first horrified by the charming monkey like mural I painted in my nephew's room, but conditioned him that they were not the animals of Satan. I thought it was the perfect kids thing.

No one else decides to draw a demonically posessed coyote on the sidewalk for the children. This seemed like a fun thing for them but now I wonder if I should draw a rainbow gnome with a tutu instead? Um, or what else do they like? They seem to like stories about dirty old coyotes and the racoons with the shiney, beady eyes under bushes. So I am going to remember butterfies and puppies for next time and think soothing thoughts and see if this does not drive the children over the edge.

Sticky hand wipes and dog fur.

Hi. OK, I do not have kids. I have well behaved young people that come to the barn, behave and obey the many rules or else befall my terrible wrath, and then leave. This weekend we have the amazingly cute but unbelievably exhausting dynamic duo plus their unbelievably bearded but amazingly patient parents stay for a couple days. They make me so tired but of course I love having them come, and I am not just saying that because the patient one, not the bearded one, is reading this. They are far harder to train than dogs and horses combined. I am glad the rest of humans are not like me or we would be ending the race all Children of Men like and no one would be having any babies.

We did activities that people with children do. We went to the Aquarium, which was actually super cool but exhausting and filled with tiring children everywhere. Taking the children makes everything so different. Like a 1 hour car ride is this whole other thing when the car is filled with children. I completely understand the large SUV and mini van and tv's in the car now. And the leashes for the children. And the sticky hand wipes. And the naps. Wow.

The dogs enjoy the children immensely. The food! The stickiness! The garbage! The diapers! The balls! Everything about them is extremely fabulous to the dogs, except the petting. They do not want the actual petting to happen, just the food and the balls and the stickiness. I can't remember what else we were doing all that time. Drinking? There is a lot of drinking. Because the children make everyone really need to drink. Now I understand all the alcoholic parents so much better. Somehow there was some working in there too. And watching of Deadwood. Walking of dogs. Slowly. Around the block with a child attached to one of them. Until it was time to sit in the street, and not move, until threatened or motivated or both at the same time.