Short Post Long Days

I have a backlog of photos to post and things to write about, but the heavy rains and gale-force winds have kept me curled up with some good books (any excuse will do...) between have-to-do chores and outings. With daylight savings time, the longer evenings afford longer evening walks, cutting into both my blogtime and my book time. The last few chapters of "The Help" (great read!) are waiting to be read, so I will just post two of my favourite photos from yesterday.

Yesterday was the first outing of an Elder College "Walk in the Woods" group I signed up for. We did part of the TransCanada Trail in the Duncan area, starting from the Sherman Road entrance:

Traipsing the Trans Canada Trail

And this little junco was hopping about my carport when I arrived home, and then hopped through the gate and along the edge of the house to the fence. At first I thought perhaps he was injured as he didn't attempt to fly away, but apparently he was just trying to stay out of the rain.



Junco in Spring Rain


Back to the book.

The Metamorphosis of Master Petey

You may remember how Petey, my foster dog, looked when he first arrived at the animal control shelter:

Broken Promises Rescue took him under their wing and soon he was looking more respectable:

Then he came to me, where I tried to keep him from shivering by dressing him up, but the result made him look like a little old homeless man:

Where's mah shopping cart?

Yesterday I gave him a bath and decided to try for a more flattering picture of him. He's not the most cooperative model, and many of the two hundred photos I took (thank goodness for digital cameras!) ended up like this:

or this:

or even this:

But eventually we got a few that I think show him in a whole new light. Drum roll, please.....

I'd like you to meet the new and improved  MASTER PETEY:



Is this what you want, Foster mama?



This is kinda boring.

I think this is my coy look.

Here's my serious look.

Will this photoshoot EVER end?

But I think my favourite one of all, albeit a little out of focus, is this one:

Even an old dog  needs to take time to smell the flowers

Now doesn't that look like the kind of dog who will make someone's life complete?

If you are interested in more information about Petey, you'll find these four posts most helpful:

http://mylifewiththecritters.blogspot.com/2011/12/charleys-will-peteys-inheritance.html

http://mylifewiththecritters.blogspot.com/2011/12/little-dog-that-could.html

http://mylifewiththecritters.blogspot.com/2012/01/three-dog-night.html

http://mylifewiththecritters.blogspot.com/2012/02/petey-wonder-dog.html

For adoption information contact Broken Promises Rescue.

Fine Swine and other Sanctuary Souls

Eddie is recuperating well from his neuter and dental,  so now I can get back to blogging.

During my recent visit to the mainland to see my mom, I popped over to Mission to visit my friend Janice at Hearts on Noses Mini Pig Sanctuary and to see the family of 12 pigs I fostered for nearly two years. (If you weren't a reader of the blog back then, and want to hear more about their antics while in my care, enter 'pigs' in the search box on this blog).

Hearts on Noses currently has approximately 40 pigs in their care - a few in foster homes, but mostly at the sanctuary. Most are 'mini-pigs' (specifically, potbellied), which will only grow to be about 100 - 150 pounds, compared to their 700-1000 pound kin, the full grown farm pig.

Many ended up at the sanctuary after being dumped by people who were sold a mini-pig by smooth-talking (but lying) breeders who claimed they would be about 20-30 pounds full grown, or by people who failed to check zoning regulations regarding the keeping of pigs, or those who simply didn't take the time to find out what having a pet pig would be like. Pigs are incredibly smart (in fact, as a species they are well above dogs in the intelligence hierarchy), but they are not the same as having a dog or a cat around the house, nor the same as having a horse in the barn.

They are, however, charming and funny and bright and talkative and...well....let's say 'food motivated".

And just like a grandma who spoils the grandkids by feeding them cookies and candies and cake and then leaves the parents to deal with the sugar-high, I went armed with marshmallows - a rare but favourite treat for piggies. (Okay, I also took a case of organic carrots for them, just to provide a healthy alternative. You know. In case any of the pigs were watching their weight and declined marshmallows. BWAHAHAHAHAHA!)

I arrived in the afternoon, in the pouring rain, when all the piggies were having a nap in their nice dry houses. I headed into the house to visit with Janice, who is recovering from major surgery, her mom and sister who I haven't seen since moving to the island almost three years ago, and Theresa, one of Janice's key volunteers.

First to greet me was Cotton - a house pig who has the most beautiful silvery bristles and the sweetest temperment.

Hi! I'm Cotton!  Didya bring me sumthing?

Snuggled in blankies at my feet

Mouse, another house pig, was in the kitchen being shy and aloof, but the sight of marshmallows being popped into Cotton's mouth provided the courage needed to enter the livingroom and say hello.

Ummm......excuse me.....do I smell marshmallows?

I do!  I do smell marshmallows!  Oh boy!!!!

While chatting with Janice and her family, I also shot some photos of Janice's dog, Buddy, who hasn't been feeling well lately

Buddy

And her mom's dog Nikki, who is 16 years old and has one of those old dog faces I so love

Nikki

No thank you, no marshmallows for me.

And Luke the cat who always sits so nicely for photos.

Well of course.  I rule the house, you know.

My fav photo of Luke, taken last year

The rain let up, so I headed outside to say hello to the rest of the piggies, including "my" herd. All were still snuggled in their houses, so I went into my herd's large (but currently very muddy due to the recent monsoons and snow there) yard, and knelt down by their door to whisper their names. Soon little snouties appeared through the burlap covering on the door.

Is someone out here?

Foster mama!  It's you!

I'm so happy to see you again!

Hey everyone, Foster Mama's here!

And then one emerged, then another, then another, and soon all twelve were out and crowding around me like old times.

Just look at those happy waggy tails!

It was great to see my piggies again - they are all full grown now and I have trouble telling them apart. But they still remember me, especially Whisper, Rob Roy and Fizzy who used to follow me everywhere and 'helped' with the barn work.

It wuz nice to see you too, Foster Mama!

Then on to say hi to the other pigs, while Janice's sister Nancy handed out the evening feeds. First I stopped to say hi to Comet,

What's for dessert?

then to farm piggy Rose,

Rose takes a nap

Yum, a baguette with my dinner.

and farm piggy Roscoe.

Never mind the photos, give me my dinner!

Then on to the other potbellied pigs, each in their own pigyard with one or more pig friends.

Is it our turn yet?

Then I went to inspect the new hay storage shed, built with grant money from the Vancouver Foundation - a nice dry and roomy space, but what caught my eye was this door which Janice salvaged from the dump!

Solid carved wood, gorgeous in detail,

And the other side was even lovelier!

Next time I'm taking my tools and bringing that home with me for MY front door! (Just joking, Janice!)

We had a fine visit, then I headed back across the river to my friends' home where I was staying - passing enroute my old property......but that's a story for another post.

The Sweetest Transport Ever

I'm back from the mainland, with many photos to show and stories to tell.  But some will have to wait for a couple of  days.  The night before I left, I received a phone call from Lisa B, a volunteer with Turtle Gardens Animal Rescue.  A family in Nanaimo had received final approval for the adoption of a Turtle Gardens' dog being fostered in Burnaby.  Was it possible for me to transport the dog to her new family when I returned to the island Sunday?  Of course it was.  And I promised Yvette,  Lisa B and Denise and Tracey I'd blog about it.  So piggy lovers and Emma fans and family and friends will have to wait a few days, because today I'm beginning at the end of my trip: 

Over the past seven years I have transported dozens of rescue dogs – from shelter to fosterhome, from fosterhome to adopter, or simply as one small link in a long transport chain. Poodles and pitbulls, shelties and shih tzus, they have all melted my heart in some little way.  Yet seldom was I tempted to abscond with them.

Such was not the case with Chopstick. Had I not had three dogs waiting at home for me, I might seriously have considered running off with her. She was the sweetest transport ever.

Chopstick is a six month old pup, golden short haired body like a yellow lab, wrinkly brow and squinty eyes like a sharpei, blackish saddle like a German Shepherd, and long, long, long skinny legs (hence the name Chopstick). She is shy, nervous, but with a sweet, happy nature that reminded me so much of my lab Emma at that age. But that’s not why I wanted to run off with her.

The tale begins at a Walmart parking lot in Burnaby after a Sunday morning white knuckle drive in from the Fraser Valley. (OMG, I cannot believe all the construction, the traffic, the nonstop-big-city-absolutely-terrifying feel of the place! If ever I do abscond with a dog, you’ll find me hiding in some very quiet back-of-the-hills location, not within miles of a city!). A car with “See Spot Run” on the side pulls up, and I know this is my rendevous.  The farewell between Chopstick and her foster mom was poignant - Chopstick stood on her hind legs and wrapped her front limbs around Denise in an amazing rendition of a canine bearhug.

Chopstick was too tall for the crate which is permanently housed in the midsection of my van (between the front bucket seats and the rear bench seat), so I hoisted her into the space next to it. I fastened the leash to the back of my seat to avoid paws underfoot or mad dashes when a door was opened, and the door from the crate created a useful barrier across the space between the driver and passenger seats.

Foster mom!  Where are you going? Don't leave me!

Who're YOU?  And where are you taking me?

As I buckled myself in, I felt a nudge on my left hip. Then on the right hip. Back to the left hip. Chopstick was shoving her nose through the smallest of spaces to make sure I knew she was there. But she soon settled down for the ride to the ferry, and once in the lineup munched happily on a carrot.

Our van was loaded into the very centre of the ferry, with not even an infinitesimal sight of the ocean or the sky – just an overhead neon light and a lot of darkness. I planned to stay in the car with Chopstick, partly to keep her company but also to avoid having seatbelts chewed in two or the back bench seat de-stuffed - I've been there, done that, with young active dogs.

However, my two mugs of morning coffee and a tall glass of water necessitated a quick but rather urgent trip up one deck to the nearest washroom. I returned five minutes later to see long-legged Chopstick straddled across the crate-door-barrier, back feet on the van floor, front feet on the pile of stuff I’d heaped in a tub I keep between the driver and passenger seats. Just as I opened the driver's door,  Chopstick managed to hurl herself over the barrier, and suddenly my seat and my face was filled with dog.

I shoved my way in as Chopstick proceeded to clamber all over the steering wheel, awkwardly negotiate the long front dash of the van, tried out the passenger seat, clambered across  my lap, attempted to shove her body behind mine, and repeatedly used her long lanky legs to poke at whatever parts of my anatomy made for the handiest foothold.  All this, of course, was done with leash attached, leaving me to wonder if my obituary would read 'strangled' or read 'trompled to death'. 

Choptstick on dash of vehicle

Houdini Dog

Checking out the passenger seat

And back to the driver side

And then it happened: the act that began my fantasy of running away with her. She plonked herself down in that skinny space between the steering wheel and my not-exactly-flat belly, and proceeded to thoroughly wash my face.

“I am sooooo glad to see you, transporting lady, here let me kiss you and kiss you and kiss you.”

Now I don’t always like it when a dog licks me, but there is a difference between the somewhat obsessive licking of my hands, arms, sleeves, and feet by some dogs, and the “Oh my goodness I’m so glad to see you and I think I love you” licking of an overgrown lab-type pup. One is annoying, the other is delightful. I laughed. And laughed, and laughed.

And the more I laughed, the more Chopstick snuggled in tighter and tried to meld right into my body. Giving her a giant hug I moved her to the side so I could at least have room to breath. She plonked herself down, half on the tub that held my belongings, half draped over my body;  she put her head on my shoulder, and tucked her nose alongside my cheek. A few more face washes with that long pink tongue, and she promptly went to sleep – her butt parked firmly on my lunchkit containing the sandwiches which my friend Ann had so kindly made for me for the ride home, on my thermos of coffee that was going to help keep me warm in the car on the ferry, on my book that I intended to read during the two hour journey, on the jacket I had placed handy in case I felt a chill.



You'll do, transporting lady, you'll do.

I looked at that sweet sleeping face so close to mine, and I felt that sweet puppy breath on my cheek, and that warm body snuggled in so tightly against mine, and I did what any soft-hearted doglover would do – I reclined the back of my seat as far as it would go, and joined her in a nice long snooze.

My dogs are not cuddlers – except foster dog Petey who just wants to lie on anyone’s lap. I have not had this kind of doglove since my Caleb passed away, and before that since Emma. It is the canine personality I most love. And sometimes love is found cuddled up with a young gold and black lovebug in a cold car on a dark ferry. I began to plot our disappearance.

Love at first lick

But at the other end of that boat ride, I knew there was a family with three kids and a three year old dog named Sam who were anxiously awaiting her arrival. And no matter how much I’d love to share my life with a long legged, yellow-bodied, lab-happy, kissing cuddlebug named Chopstick, my responsibility was to deliver her to them.

And that’s what I did. Chopstick, now Sophie, is with her forever family tonight.

Have a great life, Sophie – and thanks for the sweetest transport ever.