Bug Horror!

So it has come to this.  I, the person who has trouble pulling weeds because I don't want to hurt 'them', have now become a major thorn in the side to stink bugs.  And by thorn in the side I of course mean I am killing them.  Killing lots of them unfortunately.

Time was when I didn't kill them.  My scenario was to just ignore them for as long as I could and then abandon the tomato plants when things got too buggy.  Then I thought I should just net the tomato fruit so the bugs would not get on them.  This resulted in my discovery that netting tomatoes is made difficult by this thing called a tomato plant.  It worked, but it was very hard to get the netting material all around the tomatoes and the netting had to be placed on every set fruit or else the stink bug hoards would descend.

As the netting process became more arduous, I resorted to killing the multitudes of stink bug babies.  I chose them as my victims for the sole reason that I could do it without touching them with my hands.  My method was to place a small container under the area the babies had congregated (usually a tomato) and then shake the branch causing the babies to fall into the container.  The first few times I did this I then added soapy water into the container to take care of the 'business'.  Soon though I left off the watery death in favor of crushing them beneath my foot.  I figured at least it was quick.

This gardening year my bug killing behavior has further evolved.  No longer do I use the container unless there are a multitude of babies in a hard to reach location.  Now I just grab them with my gloved hand.  I think it has helped that I got a new type of glove this year.  A Playtex Living Glove that comes up my forearm like some sort of rubberized gauntlet.

I purchased these gloves because I wanted something to use when I watered the plants.  We are afflicted by dribbling water nozzles.  No matter how you tighten them or use pipe tape, they dribble like some incontinent little creature all down your hand and wrist.  Regular gloves become drenched and then have to dry out before being used again.  The Playtex gloves are waterproof and the additional length means I can water impervious to both dribbly nozzles and the ever present mosquitoes.

The people at Playtex are savvy about the gardening uses of these gloves.  First of all they made them a very attractive green color and second of all they came with a free packet of flower seeds.  Smart move Playtex.  What I wasn't expecting was the bug invincibility shield these new gloves have given me.

Take for example today.  I did in over two dozen stink bugs hand harvested off of my tomato plants just like yesterday and the day before (gah - what a horrible, horrible year of bug this has been) - all with my Playtex gauntleted hand.  Mind you there was a moment or two where I was cringing in anticipation of some sort of aggressive bite from the stink bug as I clasped their little bodies.  No worries - either these bugs don't have a bite capability or the gloves are impervious.

Now I am sure you are wondering, just as my husband asked me - 'What do you do with the bugs after you grab them?'  I throw them onto the ground and stomp on them.  I wish I could say that I do all of this with a suave, matter of fact nonchalance, but the truth is, a keen observer would see a little bit of sissy prancing in my manner.

Yes, it weirds me out this 'killing of bugs' and from the moment I spy the critter to the moment I am frantically stomping on the beasty I am in a highly stressed out frenzy.  I liken it to the way my dogs address the tree roach problem in our home.

Being as how it is a paradise of heat and humidity, the Texas gulf coast has quite an assortment of bugs.  There is quite a list to pick from but the worst of the bugs in my opinion is what is often called a tree roach.  It goes by several names including Palmetto bug, but it is classically called the American roach, Periplaneta americana.  I have been horrified and disgusted by these creatures ever since my childhood where I can recall many instances of run-ins involving the awful things flying around rooms as well as other diabolical actions.  The horror.

Since I choose to live a life without pesticides other than those considered organic, my choices in pest control are limited.  Periodically we dust our household floors with boric acid and sprinkle it in cabinets and that does quite a good job of controlling their breeding indoors.  However, being as how our old house is for want of a better term - porous - in its assortment of nooks, crannies and holes to the outside, there are always new volunteers of tree roaches joining us from the great beyond.  So, there are frequent roach episodes indoors.

Ensign Wasp - Photo by Muhammad Mahdi Karim

We have an ally in a little parasitic wasp who plants its eggs in the egg cases of tree roaches.  These little torso-less wasps as I call them are always inside during the summer.  For the longest time I would place them back outside thinking I was doing them a favor.  Then I looked them up and realized they were actually doing us a favor by preying on the tree roaches.  Now I let them go where they want.

We also employ another organic roach killer which is also known as a Westie.  Every since his childhood he has revealed an impressive skill at finding, catching and killing those horrible roaches.  For this noble job he receives cheese.  Even though we have also had a Mini Schnauzer and now a Border Collie, none have rivaled his roach killing skill.  The Mini Schnauzer would not even try, knowing no doubt that even though he was not involved, he would get cheese anyway each time a roach met its demise via Westie.  In short, the Westie was subsidizing his brother.  The Border Collie on the other hand shows a desire to do in the roaches.  It is just that she is not as efficient.

Westie - aka Roach Bane

When the Westie discovers a roach he goes boldly toward it and swoops in to grab the hideous thing in his mouth where he swiftly delivers a death bite and then spits the disgusting thing out.  The Border Collie can find the roaches, that is not the problem, she is actually very good at this part.  She can even rush towards them in hot pursuit.  However when it comes to actually putting that nasty roach in her mouth, she balks.  Who could blame her.  Her method instead is to try and stamp on the roach with her front feet.  This seldom has the desired effect and the roach usually gets away.  However, recently her method did take out the intended prey and she proudly earned her own cheese.

Border Collie - aka Roach Dancer

The Border Collie stamp method and my stamp the stink bug method have a lot in common. Both of us know we have a job to do and both of us really don't want to do what is most effective.  She doesn't want to put the bug in her mouth and I don't want to squash the bug with my hand.

So we dance.

Short Legs

A Westie's legs are very short.  So short in fact the Westie breed is one of the 'little people' of the dog world.  His body is average sized; he has a big head and impressive jaws; he is in all ways a mid sized dog except for one.  A Westie's legs are very short.  

Short legs are good.  Being low to the ground gives good balance and traction.  Having a regular sized body on short legs aids in making hairpin turns.  The Westie's short legs are thick and sturdy and great for driving his powerful front claws.  Short legs allows a Westie to 'go to ground' and get into holes and burrows where varmints live.  Short legs are good.

A Border Collie's legs are very long.  So long in fact the Border Collie is one of the 'gazelles' of the dog world.  Her body is long and light and might have some Suluki ancestry which makes her fast.  Oh she is so fast.  A Border Collie's legs are very long.

Long legs are good.  Having long legs allows you to make long strides which takes up a lot of ground with each step and leap over things in your path.  Long legs and a long body allow a Border Collie to make tight hairpin turns.  A Border Collie's long legs are strong and springy and allow her to fly.  Long legs are good.

I never really thought that much about legs.  I certainly did not spend a lot of time pondering my dog's legs.  Sure the Westie had short legs, but he was totally okay with that and very agile.  He might not have been the fastest dog running in a straight line, but he could turn on a dime, a fact that used to cause our Mini Schnauzer all sorts of frustration.

Dogs like to chase things and they also like to be chased.  Unlike a human children's game, the one who is 'it' is not the one who is chasing.  The 'it' is the one being chased.  If you catch me then you can be 'it' otherwise - I get to stay 'it'.  Oh, how the dogs really, really want to be 'it'.

For the Schnauzer and the Westie the match was fairly even.  The Schnauzer was faster on the open straight path, but the Westie was able to make incredible hairpin turns, leaving the Schnauzer yipping in frustration as he shot past the turn the Westie performed.

Zoom ahead a few years and now the game is between the Westie and the Border Collie.  The Border Collie has steadily been losing the 'it' position since as a puppy she could not outrun the Westie.  He was able to outdistance her and make his famous turns to outsmart her.  What he didn't count on was that she was not always going to be a little girl.

Suddenly it seemed that everything came together for the Border Collie.  Not only could she run fast, but she had learned from the master and could make these incredible hairpin turns.  She got to stay 'it' more and more.  Since he was not able to catch her very often anymore, the Westie stopped trying very hard.  He would run for a few steps and then just give up.  He didn't seem to be upset about it, but he wasn't going to waste his time.  She could stay 'it' for all he cared.

It turns out the 'it' game is not very fun unless someone will chase you.  She would circle back after he stopped chasing her and initiate a wrestling match.  How dare he not chase her!  Then she decided she was not going to be 'it'.  The Westie was 'it' and he needed to run from her.

The Westie did not want to run and he certainly did not want to run with her chasing him.  She could catch him easily now and he did not want to admit she was better than him.  He decided to win by not playing the game.  This did not please the Border Collie, so she decided to force the issue.

We were in the garden together and the Border Collie began to run full out around the yard.  Every time she passed close to the Westie she paused to snap and wrestle with him.  This annoyed him and he began to move from the outer edge of the garden area to a center area near a large fig tree.  As the Border Collie made her circuit this time she did not pause.

This time she took aim at his long side and ran hard into him, leaping only after she had made contact.

This blast did not just knock the Westie over, it rolled him over several times and he ended up smacking into the trunk of the fig tree.

The Ufff he made sounded painful and he struggled to get back to his feet.  Since I had witnessed this heartless attack I was shouting at the Border Collie and making my way toward the Westie to see if he was okay.  He was shaken and snorting and angry, but also scared.  The Border Collie was not stopping her mad run and was zooming from one end of the yard to the other, faster and faster, oblivious to my yells.

I straddled the Westie because the Border Collie was making another pass and I could tell she was aiming right for him again.  She had a gleeful look in her eyes as she came near.  I crouched down to further shield the Westie with my arms and as she came close I swatted out at her to drive her off.

Just as I swept my arms out toward the Border Collie, the Westie decided to take matters into his own hands, or jaws as it was.  He surged forward toward the Border Collie just as I swatted at her and my arm ended up in his mouth. He bit down hard.

I screamed and he let go immediately.  I sat down and he jumped into my lap trying to console me.  He was absolutely horrified that he had bitten me and was looking deep into my eyes trying to apologize.  Of course I told him it was okay and he was a good boy.  I picked him up and carried him inside, leaving the now tired and panting Border Collie outside.

Once the Border Collie discovered this new way of 'playing' with her pal, she wanted to do it again and again.  We intervened when we were outside and chastised her for this action, but we couldn't be there all the time and she learned to do this when we were not there to put a stop to it.  But eventually these bashings did stop.  We were worried, but it turns out we didn't need to be.  The Westie had a plan.

The Border Collie is running and barking at the edges of the yard but then she pauses.  The Westie looks up and I look up and it starts.  The Border Collie begins to run full out.  As she starts to zoom down the path way the Westie starts to run toward the patio.  He knows that depending on where he is when she starts the chase he may need to change course several times.

He must not be in the open when she comes close.  He must not be broadside to her nor can his back be turned to her.  He is in the middle of the garden when she starts and he runs to the orange trees and places his back to them.  She zooms close on her first pass and he turns and makes a fake lunge toward her as if he will chase her.  He must make it look good so she will make a full circuit away instead of circling back too soon.  The distance from the orange tree to the patio is long and completely open.  Once he commits to it he will have no cover.

He snaps and starts to chase her which delights her and she takes off the opposite direction.  Seeing this he makes a hairpin turn and uses his momentum to launch himself toward the patio.  He is running full out but his short legs don't cover much ground.  She is at the back of the yard and turns, seeing him in the open.  She streaks across the yard and leaps over a garden bed to gain ground.  She is running full out.  She is not just running toward him, she is running at him.  She will hit him if she can.

He is running harder now, sensing her approach.  He must make it.  He is almost there. 
He. Is. Almost. There.

At the last moment he darts under one of the patio chairs.  He fits under its seat perfectly and does not even have to duck.  Safe at last.  She on the other hand has to put on the brakes.  She cannot fit under the chair unless she gets down on her belly.  He has won; he is still 'it'. 

 According to the Westie's rule of life, if you cannot change something then you should learn to cope with it.

The Whole Dramatic Story and Hot Action Photos!

Little was I expecting this morning when I awoke that by the end of the day I would be dealing with "GARDEN DRAMA" ... cue the intense music.

The weather reports talked about a front moving through and quite frankly I was looking forward to a little more rain and cooler weather.  'How nice,' I was thinking, 'a little more spring before the hot weather settles in.'  How naive of me.  Nature is nothing but an opportunistic drama queen looking for a stage.

Was I worried when I heard the weather report stating that there would be 'thunderstorms' and 'wind' and possibly 'dime sized hail' - pfft - of course not.  Am I not a veteran of 'weather'?  Have I not lived my life in southern coastal Texas where weather is an action verb.  I have been 'weathering' storms all my life so I was not about to raise an eyebrow at something as simple as a spring front blowing through.

So okay, it was a little dramatic when the storm hit and immediately blew the transformers at my office.  And yes, okay, I did step away from the windows for a few seconds when the bushes outside the windows looked like they were trying to come inside.  Yep, the wind looked a little whippy and the sky a little greeny and I did the prudent thing and moved a little more inside the building I was in.  No sense tempting the tempest to throw a branch through a window.

What fronts typically do in Texas...

But hey, being the cool nonchalant weather hardened person that I am I quickly returned to the window area.  After all the front had hit and that meant the worst of the storm was essentially over.

Did I spare a thought for the garden - no.  

Well, while I was working in darkness my husband was observing the storm on the home front.  He described it as at first just rain and wind then he thought he heard a couple of hard sounds... like hail.  Then he heard more hail and went out on the back porch to find it was hailing pea sized ice.  Then it was garbanzo bean sized and finally it was maybe dime sized.  For about three minutes.

What dime sized hail looks like on a patio.

When he told me this after I got home my first thought was 'goodbye garden' because three minutes of dime sized hail might not be much to your roof or your car, but it can be vegetable murder to a garden.

I went out with much trepidation to check out the damage...

The bush beans were tussled and some of their cages had been knocked over as if a very rude bunch of air had sat on top of them.  The were disgruntled but okay.  The okra plants looked stunned but otherwise none the worse for wear.  Same for the cucumbers, the squash, the collard greens, the onions, the other cucumbers... it all looked okay.

But then...


NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!  Bunny Tomato!!!!!!!!

Bunny Tomato prior to the storm...

Bunny Tomato after the storm... sniff...

Yes, Bunny lost a major limb and two pounds of fruit.  Shudder!  I broke the news to the dogs and this was their reaction:

The Westie was stunned.

I know it might look like he is just relaxing on the kitchen floor, but I tell you he was stunned!  Just look at his eyes:

You can see it all in his little beady eyes...  the horror, the horror...

The Border Collie was not much better:

Oh sure, she might look happy and smiling, but really underneath it all she is mortified.

See?  See the mortification in her eyes?

We will get through it all right.  Bunny Tomato is sure to rally with her other limbs and devote even more resources to the remaining dozen or so tomatoes she has set.  I am sure in time the dogs will get over their emotional upset.   No doubt a serving of fried green tomatoes will help us all.

Okra odyssey

Last year our okra plants were out of this world in robust productivity.  I planted about 15 plants into our horseshoe shaped grapefruit tree bed and they loved it there.  Of course we had a few minor issues at first, the most notable was that the resident Border Collie failed to see why she could not just hurl herself through this bed several times a day, knocking over and crushing the little plants.

My solution to the 'dog hazard' was to make circular cages from short pieces of wire fencing.  These little cages stood at most about 2ft tall, but they were exactly what was needed to dissuade the rampaging Border Collie.  Unfortunately for her, she failed to notice them the first day they were up and hurled herself into the garden with her normal robust vigor.  I was in the garden and I heard a loud "Ooof!" - but fortunately not a yelp.  You can be sure I checked her over for any scratches.  We always make sure there are no sharp edges or poking tines to any of our garden installments due to oblivious Border Collies. Life is better when you have puncture free dogs.

The wire cages are hard to see but this is what it took to make this garden bed Border Collie proof.

So the little okra cages did the job and even seemed to lend some support to the gangly okra adolescent plants.  Mind you, I had to frequently extract leaves that got caught in the confines of the cage when they were all at a certain height and putting out their first adult sized leaves.  Once they were past that stage the cages provided continued protection to their trunks.

 Here they are at around four feet tall and less than half their eventual size.

This was good because it turns out that okra is some sort of doggie lure.  Our Westie has long been an okra connoisseur, especially to the long tough inedible things okra pods become if you forget to pick them for a day or two past their prime.  Not only did our okra patch provide us all with food but also a constant supply of home grown dog toys.

According to the resident dogs, this is a lure, food and toy all in one.

Once your dog knows that something he or she wants grows on a plant in the garden, then good luck in convincing them to leave that plant alone.  This was especially true of the Westie once he discovered cherry tomatoes.  He would watch me picking them and I like a good Mommie would give him a fresh picked tomato.  He being no dummy began to harvest his own which resulted in us having to fence off all the tomato plants one year.  Being naturally color blind he could not see which tomatoes were ripe and it always took him a few tries before he understood the smell of the ripe ones in order to make the best selection.  This meant he would pull off any tomato, cherry or other types before they were ripe and then act disgusted with the results.

What a ripe cherry tomato looks like to you and I.

What a ripe cherry tomato looks like to a Westie (color not as vibrant).

Last year we put our tomatoes behind the dog proof fence, but planted about a half dozen volunteer cherry tomato plants where the dogs could get to them.  Farmer Westie was in heaven and when his crop began to come in I took time to re-instruct him on which ones were ripe.   After that he would check his plants every day smelling for the ripe ones and picking his crop.  The Border Collie, being no dummy herself watched his every move and soon she too began to look for ripe tomatoes.

What a ripe cherry tomato looks like to a Westie nose.

Farmer Westie also remembered the okra pods from years past and began paying special attention to the juvenile okra plants.  He found that if a branch from the okra plant was just the right height, he could pluck off his own pod.  It took me a couple of days of looking at these truncated okra pods before I figured out what kind of disease was affecting my plants.  It was a bad case of "Westie-blight".

What the immature okra pod looks like if it survives the onslaught of dog.

His interest aroused the interest of the taller Border Collie who discovered that okra flowers taste great - this again took me a few days of trying to figure out why we weren't having any new pods and why all the petals were falling off the okra blooms.  A bad case of "Border Collie-bloom rot".


This year I have wised up - no matter what happens to the okra plants I am going to blame it on the dogs.

Sibling Rivalry

Anyone who is a sibling has probably experienced this to some degree.  Your brother/sister is in competition with you to get all the good things that your parents and life has to offer.  This can lead to stressful encounters and in some cases I have read about in the news, lawsuits and worse yet, homicide.  Luckily for my sister and I it never devolved into anything more than a few physical scuffles, name calling and tears.  The physical scuffles were confined to our very early childhood (meaning that she being almost three years older than me and therefore much bigger did not hesitate to use her physical advantage in conflicts before she reached the 'age of reason' - also known as comprehending that 'parents will punish you if you slug your sister') and we weren't allowed to use course language, so the name calling was typically made up words that sounded bad (she once called me a 'sclurge' which did not infuriate me as much as the fact that she would not tell me what that word meant).  Eventually we learned to ignore one another in spectacularly spiteful ways (sticks and stones are nothing compared to the pain of a sister's cold shoulder).  Finally we grew up and no longer needed the sibling rivalry, but it served it purpose to harden us appropriately to the travails of the common workplace.

I had forgotten about sibling rivalry for the most part until recently in having to watch it develop in my own little fur children.  I don't think it will come as a surprise to anyone to learn that my dogs are jealous of one another.  It is not just a same species thing either.  My dogs and my cats are jealous of one another and seek to one up each other all the time.  One of my cats, the smallest of the bunch, will saunter into the house when we open the front door and proceed to nonchalantly wander over to the closest dog and rub up against them, all the while looking up at me and purring.  The dogs are quite taken aback, but also powerless to do what they really want to do which is nip that cat and make her run.  She knows they will be chastised if they are even slightly rough with her.  She also knows that if I was not present she would not be able to get away with this kind of behavior, so she really pours it on thick - headbutting and purring and pushing into them until they give ground to her.  She is willing to chase them all over the house like this, but I recognize it for what it is and keep her from bullying them too much.

The biggest sibling interaction problem I have is with the dogs.  It seemed to begin from the moment we brought little Trudy our Border Collie home.  Lewey, the Westie was convinced that we had actually brought in some sort of vermin and he was going to do us a favor and dispatch it post-haste.  It took several days of him biting the puppy barrier and being told NO! before he realized he was not going to be allowed to kill and eat the puppy.

Our cat Dorie, Trudy at 7 weeks and Lewey, who still thinks puppy should be on the menu.

He eventually realized how great it was to have a puppy to play with and for a little while things were quite nice in Lewey land.

He didn't mind so much when she grabbed him by the face because after all, she was very small.

He even let her sometimes pin him down and it was all great fun because after all, if he really wanted to...

He could show her who was boss.

King Lewey as a happy Alpha-male, top dog of the world

Then the sky fell, or more accurately, growth hormone began to surge through little Trudy and she did not remain the little thing she was.  She became She-Ra - Princess of Power practically overnight.  At first, King Lewey was merely annoyed.  He couldn't actually figure out what the problem was and how he had gone from being bigger than Trudy to being smaller than her.  The only way to resolve this was to challenge her.

You can almost hear the western gunfight background music...

The only problem was that Trudy was sneaky.

She refused to fight fair and become small again.  She even went as far as to flaunt her size...

and bite his neck...

... and even put her paws on him and stood over the top of him.


This all made Trudy very happy.

Princess Trudy contemplating how to annoy Lewey further

It also made Lewey something other than happy...

Well, at least he is in the shade...

We keep telling Lewey that eventually Trudy will grow up and stop being such a bully.  Believe me we do our best to keep the peace between the two of them, but sometimes Lewey decides to take matters into his own paws.

This is all very humorous until one of us humans gets caught in the crossfire.  I have been nipped by Lewey as he was trying to repay Trudy for bowling him over in the back yard and knocking him into the fig tree.  I had witnessed the encounter and had Lewey beneath my feet to defend him as Trudy was making whirling passes around the yard completely oblivious to my commands.  As she came near I reached out to push her away at exactly the same time Lewey leaped forward to exact his revenge.  He caught me with his little middle teeth so hard it left a quarter size bruise on my forearm - mind you he did this through my long sleeve shirt (he was very, very sorry afterward and looked completely embarrassed).

Just last night I was doing my best to dry the dynamic duo off after they had been out in a very welcome and unusual rain storm.  I had them blocked into the washroom and had dried them both fairly well but I wanted to check and make sure their feet were clean.  My intention was to finish with Lewey first and then let him go into the house while I worked on Trudy.  She decided as I bent down to finish little Lewey's legs that she was through waiting.  She proceeded to leap over both of us, but failed to calculate that I was in motion toward the floor.  Her shoulder caught me in the side of the jaw and I saw stars.  Luckily my jaw was merely bruised instead of broken (she was not sorry in the slightest for bumping into me and in fact wondered why I was yelling).

So yes we all have our work cut out for us.  Lewey has to somehow re-establish his kingship.  Trudy must learn to be a calm and considerate princess.  I must learn to stop getting in the way of dogs in motion.

The chickens have come home to roost...

Mud chickens that is.  For the last three days we have been receiving water from the sky.  A very unlikely event for 2011.  We normally will have over 34 inches of rain by this time each year.  This year we have 11 inches to date and about an inch of that fell in the last three days. 

We have become grudgingly accustomed to this year.  In addition to the lack of rain there has been many days of over 100 degree temperatures so that by now, when it is only in the mid to upper nineties, it feels relatively cool.  We have altered our lives to the extent that we water our struggling vegetable garden every single day.  We do this in spite of a water ban because of a happy little loophole in that ban.

If you water with a sprinkler system, you are relegated to watering only two days a week and those days are specified by whether your house address ends in an even or odd number.  The ban also requires you to water at certain very inconvenient times, basically from sundown to sunup.  The loophole is that you can water to your hearts content any day of the week and at any time if you hold the hose.  Now that is already our basic way of watering because it is much more efficient and effective than using a sprinkler.  If we were watering our vegetable plants with a sprinkler we would have either 1. dead plants because we would not be getting enough water to the plants we want to cherish and instead be watering the entire yard, or 2. have a water bill that pushes into four figures a month.  So the ban has not actually limited our watering of the plants.

The plants have shown their appreciation of this by dying by degrees instead of all at once.  The attrition level continues to climb as these poor plants, faced with a pitiless cloud free sun and temperatures more suited to cooking decide it is just not worth it and finally expire.  Others valiantly struggle onward.  The attrition has been worse on the cucumbers.  My husband has been nurturing and coddling these guys with cleverly placed shade cloths that he must remove at sunrise so they can get some sun but recover by noon or they just fry away.  If we get even one cucumber this fall it will be due to his undying cucumber loyalty.

In the beginning of September the 100 degree plus hatred of the Mega-Summer relented for about a week and we had temperatures in the 60s at night and 80s in the day.   The effect on everyone was transformative.  Unfortunately that kind of weather is so foreign to this part of the world it quickly continued its journey to its actual home somewhere far, far from here, but it did the job.  Mega-Summer was vanquished and although our temperatures have crept back into Summer realms, the waning daylight has effectively nixed any more of those 109 degree days.

And then it rained.  It wasn't just me who upon hearing the rain became startled and confused (what is that sound???) others reported the same.  I had to actually walk out into a pelting shower in order to seek the long forgotten umbrella somewhere hidden in my car.  It was raining - oh joy!!!

The joy has been somewhat diminished by its effect on a portion of our pathway in the garden.  At the first of the year when we were breaking ground on the new garden areas we found a brilliant solution to what to do with all the tons of clay we were unearthing.  We will just put it into the pathway and sprinkle it with grass seed and presto - instant grassy path.  We pulverized the clay and bought the grass seed and waited for a rainy day.  Fast forward about six months.  That clay path has become powder and now that it has rained enough to actually wet the soil it has become a clay bog.

This would be something that could be avoided except for two reasons.  A Border Collie and a Westie.  Now the Border Collie is doing what she thinks is a grand job in mixing up the clay for us.  It looks like a herd of Border Collies has passed back and forth through the pathway so that there are clingy little ridges of it strewn up onto the fence and surrounding garden areas.

The Westie who is older and therefore more reasoning about how staying clean will allow you better access to being allowed indoors avoids this pathway most of the time.  He does not avoid it when I am outside in the garden areas adjacent to the muddy path.  In fact, his sister the Border Collie likes nothing better than to ram his little body down into the mud any time he ventures into that area.  The net effect is muddy paws.

For the Border Collie the muddy paws are what you would expect.  A little under the nails and a little in between the pads.  For some reason, the Westie has feet that collect mud better than anything on this earth.  I was coming inside after scouting the areas I was going to plant my new squash plants (either destined for a wonderful fall garden or a continued source of plant sacrifice to the gods of unreasonable drought).  My husband was watching from the kitchen window and pointed out poor little Lewey's progress behind me.  His little feet had managed to attract so much mud they were like little puppy snow shoes, fully twice as large as normal.  His halting progress also indicated that this was very uncomfortable.  So, I scooped him up and spent a good 10 minutes in the tub de-mudding his paws.  The Border Collie also had to be debrided before coming inside.

This has all the makings of a big pain in the neck which is forcing my husband and I to come up with alternative solutions, of which there is really only one.  We have to fence off the muddy area.  Luckily we have the fencing for it, but unluckily we are out of fence posts.  This means we will either have to make the enormously bothersome trip to the lumber store or devise some alternate plan.  The problem with alternate plans is that the Border Collie absolutely loves the muddy part of the yard because that is where she has shouting matches with the squirrels, something that rates very high on the Border Collie obsession scale.  This will mean she will try with all of her abundant energy and intelligence to get around any barrier we place in her way.

It should prove to be an interesting time.

Dog Diaries

You might think that a dog's life is rather uncomplicated, but that would be a mistake.  A dog's life is incredibly complicated due in large part to their tendency to 'live in the moment' or in other words 'forget about almost everything that happened yesterday'.  This means that each day is a glorious new day of discovery unencumbered by such things a 'learning from one's past mistakes'. 

So the things you learned yesterday are new and ready for you to learn them again today.  Every day is an adventure with this framework and my dogs live their adventurous life to the fullest.  I on the other hand, watching their antics 'get' the whole 'memory' thing and am often driven to distraction with my little canine duo's exploits.

Take for example this scenario:

You want to go outside and your human has every intention of letting you outside as indicated by their body language, their actual language ("Let's go outside") and the fact that they are making a bee line for the back door.  You indicate your comprehension of this impending outside-ness by 1) running back and forth between the back door and the human in ever increasingly small sprints because they are getting closer and closer to the door, 2) jumping up on your human in such a way you actually push them back from the door they are trying to reach, 3) positioning yourself in the way of the backdoor and spinning, spinning, spinning so that your feet slap against the top of the washer and then against the back door and potentially the human who is trying to reach the back door, 4) ignoring every command to sit, quiet, back as you increase your frenzied attempts to go out through the closed door, and 5) cramming your body so tightly against the back door that it is almost impossible for your human to actually open the door. 

One might think that in your roughly 13 months of being let out that door without any resistance would register on your brain as an event that was 'going to happen' so you need not act like a frenzied gopher doped up on caffeine.  But apparently, this is one of 'those' times you are 'in the moment' and unable to actually make long term memories.

It isn't just the Border Collie who has the short/long term memory deficiencies.  The Westie has had a full 8 years of counseling that consistently reminds him to not 'chase the cat'.  He gets reminded of this prior to each and every time he goes out the back door.  I say "Lewey, No CAT!" in my most booming and top dog voice.  He looks at me like "Yeah, right, I know, I know,  'No cat' - I get it".  Then, each and every time he goes out he seeks to 'chase the cat'.  I often am following him out and grabbing him as he is desperately chasing the cat his mind fully absorbed in a primal game of Westie the Vermin Chaser.  I then shout at him, "NO.... NO... NO CAT!"  If I don't actually have my hands on him he will seek with every atom of his being to chase the cat in spite of this.  When I do lay hands on him it's like he is jerked awake from some incredible fantasy and he looks at me like "Whoa! What are you doing here?"

So I am thinking that an actual Dog Diary would be filled with many repetitious entries along the lines of "Today, I went OUTSIDE!!!"  and "I ate FOOD!" and "Mom said I wasn't supposed to chase the cat... since when??"  No actually that last one would never make it in because that would indicate that he actually comprehends that I don't want him to chase the cat.  He cannot comprehend a world in which a cat would not be chased.  Of course he is going to chase the cat.  That is what you do with cats, even the ones that you like.  So, no, the dog diary would never have that entry.

Another thing the actual Dog Diary would not have is any reference to any reprimand whatsoever.  They would never talk about 'getting in trouble' because that kind of occurrence evaporates from their brain the moment it is over.  There is a reason that reward systems of training work so well.  That is the only thing they can actually remember.  There would be multiple, multiple entries along the lines of '...and I got a treat!' or '... and then Mom told me I was gooooood!!!'

Of course what they think they are being rewarded for is not always what I think I am rewarding them for.  Positive reinforcement encourages the behavior that was happening right before the reward was given.  This can be very useful if you take a long view and realize that you are steadily approaching perfection.  This is especially true if you have a 'smart' dog, for example - a Border Collie.  They thrive on positive reinforcement and that reinforcement can come in many forms.

Sometimes all it takes for me to reinforce my Border Collie's behavior is a look.  You might be thinking 'Wow that must make her easy to train' and in a certain way you are right, it is just that what you might be 'training' isn't always what you want.  For example, this 'look' reward is what she gets when she interrupts me when I am using the laptop on the bed.  I will be in the middle of say, writing a blog entry, and she will position herself just to the right of my gaze.  A single paw is extended to 'tap' me on my arm and as soon as I look into her eyes she gives me this smile, which automatically causes me to smile back and then I have a puddle of Border Collie squeezing between me and the laptop.  She is so ecstatically happy that I looked at her she is oblivious to any other command.  My only defense is to keep my eyes down when she gives me the 'tap' and then I can command her to do something else.

So definitely in her diary there would be multiple entries of 'Mom LOOKED at me!!!'

Ah well that is all for now... she has tapped and now I am typing over a squirming dog.

Trudy the Artist

I have that incredible feeling that can only be obtained when your child does something really smart, artistic and creative.  Let's put aside the fact that I am talking about my Border Collie when I say child and let me just bask in the moment.  My little Trudy is an artist. As you can see from the top picture, Trudy has made part of the cedar fence a wooden canvas.  She draws on it each and every day.  At first I was just noticing her tendency of rebounding off this fence every higher and higher in her attempts to reach the squirrels.  My husband said he looked out our kitchen window one day and thought he saw a bird in flight, but it turned out just to be Trudy having launched herself about six feet off the ground with her efforts.

She typically rebounds off this fence in order to take a look over the six foot chain length fence that connect to it at this corner.  The first time I saw her doing this I just about came unglued because she did it so effortlessly and it was very evident that if she wanted to she could easily go sailing over the six foot fence.  At that point in her life I had been delaying her spaying, figuring that waiting until she was about a year old would give her a better amount of time to grow more fully.  When I saw her 'bird in flight' abilities I scheduled her spaying for the next week.  All she needed to go sailing over the fence was a reason and I was not about to let Mother Nature give her any hormonal input.  So with her natural urges curtailed I guess she turned as many do to artistic endeavors.  I think she is rather talented, I will let you decide for yourself.

This is a portion of her wooden canvas and has not been retouched in any way.  You can see how she has applied many layers to create texture and has also used the natural structure of the fence in this work.  Look closely and you will see the bear.

The Bear

I took the liberty of outlining her creation in red for the ease of your viewing, even though this diminishes her work slightly.  If you now look back up at the non-outlined image you will see it clearly.  What is more you may also see that this is a composite sketch.  Look to the right of the bear and you will see the mule deer.

 
Bear and Mule Deer

Once again I outlined the images so you can see more clearly where to look.  I find the works even more impressive due to the fact that as far as I know, Trudy has never seen a bear or a deer.  Maybe a deer because after all she was found abandoned at a hunting lease, so maybe she saw a deer there.  But even so, that was back when she was a wee baby of less than seven weeks.  Impressive memory if she is drawing from that experience.  

Now this next part of the canvas is from the upper right side and displays yet another animal theme.

 It took me a while to see it and I believe it is still a work in progress based on some lack of definition in the mane to the lower right but as you can see in the outline it is clearly a lion.

The Lion

Trudy also has another canvas on the back fence.  Sadly I have had to cover up this work of art because as she draws here she likes to use her back feet and hang her front legs over the top of the six foot fence, effectively doing a chin up.  Since her body was rising higher and higher with each effort I felt it was just a matter of time before she accidentally vaulted over.  Therefore, I put a lawn cart in the way, forcing her to draw on another part of the fence that has a large amount of vines at the top as a barrier to 'escape'.  So this work is unfinished and yet I feel you will find it has merit.

Now taken as a whole, you can see a lot of energy and emotion, but not much specific drawing, however if you look at it section by section you will see the brilliance of her work.

This is the lower section of the canvas and at first my husband and I debated as to what this creature was.  He said Graboid from the movies Tremors, and while it definitely looks like that in the front part to the left of the drawing, I think she meant this creature to have legs.  I think you will agree there is a close resemblance to a Triceratops.

The Triceratops

The jumble of legs I interpret as her way of revealing movement.  What a smart girl.  She obviously has never seen a Triceratops, but she did recently chew up a section of our encyclopedia.  I am pretty sure she devoured the T section.  And there I was thinking she was just being destructive when she was just doing research.

This section is taken from the upper right part of the canvas.  She obviously is mostly interested in doing wildlife scenes.

I hardly need to outline this one at all because it is so clearly her depiction of a bird.  I think though she is doing a cross between a mockingbird and a horned owl.

The Bird

So as you can no doubt see I have a very talented girl on my hands.  If you see anymore images that I have missed please let me know.  Right now she seem content with this single media, but who knows when she might branch into other artistic avenues.