Good morning the dogs are ready to play: Walter and Friends in the morning

Every morning at around or about 6 AM, my dog Walter, the Boxer, emerges from the dog side of the bed, throwing off his blanket and pushing his pillow to the side: it's time for his friends to come over and he doesn't want to be late.

Oh, our friend, Pepper, a 9 month-old behemoth of a dog, growing fast, is the first to head through our gate to get to his friend Walter. They smash into each other, run the yard, and play watchdog, because really all they could ever do is watch.
They look vicious and violent, but have nothing but fun together each day. Walter who had lost his pal, the little guy, Johnny Rotten, last Thanksgiving, has finally reached a point where he can attach himself and not feel like he's going to lose another friend.

Fuzzy, our old matriarch of the pack, slowly keeps the boys in order and has taught them both a number of things such as "touch my milkbone and I'll take your eye out." So far, Walter and Pepper have been able to retain their eyes, however, there have been a few close calls.

Fuzz lost her best friend over a year ago, Duke, the dog who was also a good pal and neighbor. It's tough that our beloved pets couldn't live longer and stay with us throughout our lifespan. Though my parrot is purported to be able to reach 80 years old, I don't think I'll be around for that.

The brat pack

There's not that much that gets past my pack of dogs, they may not maul anyone, but they will at least make them uncomfortable. A couple of firemen were jogging down our street chatting and Walter the "love machine" put on a show of feirocity.

"You know those dogs can jump straight over the fence and come and get us," he told his pal.

I was sitting on the deck listening, thinking, if they only knew that if he did make it over the fence, the only consequence would be to have to pet him and be forcefully loved on.

(not afraid of fires, but a show dog, showing off, another story)

I'm the watchdog, these are just my friends. I need a sign: Don't sweat the dog, it's the owner you need to worry about.

Fighting, snarling, tug o' war, and of course damaging everything they can. My couch I enjoy sitting on during the warm summer nights, is now down to the wood and staples. Not some much comfortable anymore.

It's our average morning in Weldon, with dogs playing, cats at the door, parrots yelling at the dogs to "shut up" yet she's far louder, and I fall back into bed after getting the crew up and begin my day.

But I must admit, I enjoy the sounds of playing in the yard, and even my spoiled cat harassing me in the morning, and the happy expression on my parrot's face when she is awoken and fed.

It's a great way to live...and I enjoy every moment with them. And they always surprise me. Picture, a blue and gold macaw on my shoulder, a cat on my lap, two dogs snuggled up, and one breathing hard on my computer screen fogging it up. I love it.

The mad kissing macaw: watch for tongue...

The Kissing Macaw: she likes new friends....

Oh, she's happy now, she's got someone who she can kiss and cuddle with as the expression on her bird face indicates...

Sky doesn't like toys or cages or ladders (I know) what she really enjoys is being up close and far too personal with people.

With the intelligence of at least a three year-old human child, although she is 8 now in bird years, she scares some but she is really a gentle creature.

Sky wouldn't leave our guest alone, but she got a kick out of it. This was her first close encounter with a large bird with a large beak. But it wasn't the beak Sky was using that day...

What a schmoozer....

Now it's time to get depart, but Sky knows how to hang on and she gave some trouble about getting down...but then one last kiss...with the tongue...

After several minutes of trying to get Sky to get back on her chair, she finally did comply, because her mama said, "sit" and then she got a round of "good girl" for being such a sweety pie.

The woman pictured in this post is Arin Rogers, a massage therapist. I'll give her business a plug here, it's "Arin's Irish Healing" and she comes to your home, table and all. She practices "Swedish massage" "deep tissue" and adds some aromatherapy, candles and healing music. She travels around the valley and can be reached at 661-427-3526.

With a little help from a dog, he finally stopped drinking...

Sometimes it takes a dog to do a job that nobody else can do. Heal.

My brother was out of control, drinking, and whatever else, after his father died. He and his father were close, and the morning he found him lying on the floor, his body already cold, my brother stopped caring about himself or anyone else.

He had always had a dog, he's an animal lover. He's also always had cats and rescued anything that was wounded, hungry or in need.

This time he would be rescued by an animal, and his wounds are beginning to heal already.

Jambar died too.

After going through what all us pet lovers do, we take our animals to the end and drop them off with God, thanking them for all their time and patience with us.

My brother stayed up all night with his last dog who was dying. He buried her, his long time companion, out in the yard.

There would never be another dog like her: at least that's what he thought only a few months ago.

After the death of his dog, his fiance worried about his drinking, he started to get himself together. Nobody could tell him to stop drinking, he needed a reason.

Being that we are 1/8 Canadian Cree, my brother had always had an interest in the North American Indians.

He arranged while separated from his fiance, to go to a pow wow out of town. He had decided to get a dog, but did not know what dog. The Lake Isabella animal shelter had a nice, big, doggy my brother took a liking to, but he never made up his mind.

Then he saw an ad for a half chow and coyote. His former dog was half coyote and that interested him.

He found out that this dog who is more Sharpe than chow, was only miles from the Indian reservation he was heading to.

Kiah has made all the difference in his life, as she came along and latched onto my brother, his dog, you can tell.

She's a young dog, full of energy, and my brother cleaned the whole yard for her, raising fences, making it dog friendly.

He's been sober for almost three months now, and every time I think of his dog Kiah, which means "love," I thank her with all my heart for helping heal my brother's heart.

Now, my boy, Walter the Boxer, known for his liking of little dogs, has a friend his own size to play with. My brother brings Walter with he and Kiah so they can play and romp and then, as I appreciate, sleep soundly.

Walter is definitely already attached to Kiah and they will be long time friends I'm sure.

We are all in Kiah's debt for her presence that has brought about a great change in my brother. And Walter, who lost his best friend last year, Johnny Rotten, is happy to have her around too...

Here's some pix of her and Walter doing their romping dog thing...

And the chase is on...

Tea party, no rabbits but a few dogs joined in: The living Green Festival

When you work the animal shelter, sometimes a beautiful dog comes along and you can't help but keep him.

With a sweet face like this, yes, you could say he's irresistable.

Diedre Morrison, who manages the South Lake Animal Shelter, certainly didn't need anymore dogs, but when this big lug came to the shelter in rough shape, she couldn't resist the big beast.

leash and no tugging? Good dog!

He wasn't quite and clean and pretty as he is now, some bathing and brushing was necessary to bring back his luster; it's definitely there now.

Diedre says she gets all kinds of offers for him, but she and her family love him and he's staying. Only a recent acquisition, she and the dog attended a tea party, during the Living Green Festival, along with two other dogs. He was nothing but a gentleman.

Though the other two dogs were much smaller, as one being carried around, and the other dog sat like a devoted curr next to his owner under a table.

Though the dog invitees, were missing chairs and teacups, the biggest let down was they could not lick the plates. Yes, it was sad, as you know they wanted to.

Cat Butts: "oh, no you're not taking my picture"

"Excuse me, pretty kitty, can I take your picture?"

Yeah, whatever, blow you pest.

Here take a picture of me leaving...bye

How about this perspective...do you like my butt? I've got things to do, find yourself a hobby...

No respect...

Spot has his eyes on everything...no telling what could be at the door

Spot the cat, but as cats go there are no ordinary felines out there, they are all strange in some way or another. Spot who competes or as they are all growing up, he is the smartest, so there's are some sibling issues between him and the other cat gang.

Spot is apparently a gift giver and has nicely enough brought things to the door for those in the house, (us humans), to pick up as the door mat is like a serving dish, or gift bag.

But Spot doesn't bring the usual items most of us won't want or unlikely to appreciate beheaded creatures and other macabre cat selections.

It became clear, I was told, that Spot not only had a need to bring things to the door they were interesting.

One day it was a stick. He announced that it was there too, sitting in front of the door mat calling all who would be up and awake early enough to see this breathtaking stick.

Then things were changing, items of some worth and note, began to appear.

One day, his owner, went to the to the door, to find Spot holding a crumpled $20 bill in his mouth.

You've got to appreciated that sort of service.

And then you come over with your camera and bag, and you really have to watch this guy, my stuff could turn into a gift for the family or something...