Armadillo Tails

Yeah, you read that right. Not tales. TAILS.

As in, one of my dogs, right now, is carting around the back shell and tail of an armadillo in his mouth, and it's creeping me OUT.

It all started Tuesday, when I posted to Facebook that "any day without a dead possum in the yard is a good day." Because, yes, we've had a spate of those, thanks in part to our wonderful canine companions.

My sister responded and asked if armadillos counted, because if so, all bets were off. I didn't realize how serious she was until I got home that night, and Anna Marie and my mother told me the tale of coming home from school and seeing the dogs playing - PLAYING - with the carcass of an armadillo. EEEK!

(And yes, someone has enlightened me to the connection between those animals and leprosy. And it's not helping the creep factor, let me just tell you.)

When Jason came home, he disposed of it like he does most things they drag up - by getting a shovel and throwing it into the cow pasture next door. Because we're good neighbors like that. But apparently, the dogs are able to get back there under the fence because remnants of the beast appeared back on the front lawn that night.

Once again, we tried to dispose of it.

Later that night, after Jason and AM had gone to bed, I heard a ruckus outside and looked to see that same object on the front porch. I start screaming uncontrollably, but does anyone get up out of bed to see about me? NO.

(But that's another post for a different day, my friends.)

Our male dog, Lucky, was a rescue dog. I happen to know how he came to the shelter, because he belonged to a man I knew who had passed, whose wife had cancer and couldn't care for him or their other dog so she surrendered them. The other dog had a tumor and was put down, but we adopted Lucky. He's a great dog, but he's got this habit - when you come near him, he picks up something - anything and brings it to you.

It could be a food bowl, or a stick, or a bone he's found - but he never shows up empty-mouthed.

Tuesday night on the porch, he was headed straight for the armadillo. I knew what his little doggie mind was thinking, and scolded him to stay away.

Then, I got desperate. I couldn't stand the thought of them messing with that thing all night, so I went into the kitchen and grabbed some hot sauce - and from four feet away, I flung it towards the remains, screaming at the dogs to stay away all the while.

It worked, at least for a bit, because much later when I checked it was still in the same spot. I was NOT going to stumble around in the dark of night to find the shovel and try to dispose of it myself! I figured that Jason could do his manly duty and get it done in the morning.

By morning, though, I guess either the hot sauce had worn off, of they decided they liked the taste of it, because it was back in the yard. Again.

Again, it was disposed of, or so I thought.

Again, after another ruckus just now, I checked and Lucky was defending our property from some dogs who live around the corner. When I called him, he came running - and ran straight for the armadillo shell, which was lying in the yard. Again.

Sigh.

I wonder how long it takes armadillo shell to burn to a pile of ashes? Because at this point, I'm thinking cremation is the only way to go.

Life with dogs

Not pictured: Lucky, The World's Most Patient Male

Life with dogs means...

...you have an escort around your property, ready to protect you from the odd squirrel or snake...

...you spend a small fortune in food, medicine, and vet bills every year, to make sure they're healthy...

...you have an instant alarm system, ready to sound if something - be it animal, vegetable, or mineral - comes into their "personal space"...

...you find them on warm, sunny afternoons, stretched out napping, but they snap to attention at the sound of your footsteps...

...you can hear their tails beating rhythmically against the side of the house as they wait for you to emerge each morning...

...you always have a buddy ready and waiting for a game of fetch...

...you never know WHAT "present" will greet you on your doorstep when you get up in the morning...

...and, evidently, it means that, if an envelope with some cash in it happens to fly out of your purse on a windy day, one of them is going to make a meal out of a $20 bill and you'll never (want to) see it again.

These observations brought to you by Lucky, Delta, and Annie Turner.

Know what this blog has been missing?

Yeah, that should just about cover it.

Oh, and a little smidge of these guys too -



Happy Thursday, y'all!

Meet Annie.

A.K.A The Luckiest Dog in Tate County.

I never knew my husband would turn into such an animal lover. He'd had dogs growing up, and his mom still had one of them when we got together. But he'd never seemed that attached to them, and, up until a few months ago, we'd put the idea that we could own a furry friend right out of our heads because of our living situations.

And then, Jason hit upon the idea to use the old enclosure in the backyard as a pen. And apparently, the doggie floodgates have opened, because since May we've gone for zero dogs to THREE of them.

Yes, THREE.

You've already met Lucky and Delta, the yellow lab mix and full-blooded black lab we rescued from the local animal shelter. They're good dogs, if a little goofy. Jason has worked TIRELESSLY with them, on every behavior issue.

I think we now own stock in several doggie-treat companies.

He even bought himself a little drawstring treat bag that fastens to his belt, for when he takes them out on walks. He stops at a park up the street that has a gazebo, and practices sit/stay commands.

(Lucky is catching on much faster than Delta, by the way. Jason says she's a typical stubborn woman. I say she's just bored with the simple commands she's being given.)

Anyway, Jason took my car to my dad's house on Saturday, to hook his computer up and see why the "Check Engine" light was coming on. On the way back from the test drive, they see a little black puppy on the side of the road.

Jason, who was in the passenger's seat, opened the door. The puppy jumped in and sat between his feet in the floorboard.

It was love at first sight.

Jason brought her home, and I offered to call the city to take her to the shelter, which was closed for the weekend.

"I'm sure they don't need another dog," he said.

"Neither do we," I thought. And maybe said aloud. I don't remember. But I DEFINITELY was thinking it.

The puppy lived, barricaded, in our kitchen from Saturday afternoon until Monday afternoon. Do you have any idea how hard it is to cook with a small animal at your feet? DO YOU? And to have to watch your step, for fear of disturbing the "presents" left by said animal?

And to have to eat your cereal standing up in the kitchen, because if you cross over the threshold into the dining room, that puppy is going to cry and you won't be able to eat peacefully?

Not that she's not perfectly lovely. I'm just sayin'.


I tried to give her a good home with my cousin at church on Sunday, and Jason got mad because I'd tried to "give away his dog."

Gave me the "talk to the hand" sign right up in the choir loft!

Sigh.

So, Monday morning bright and early, I took the puppy to the vet while Jason went to Memphis. And, $62.50 later, she had a clean bill of health (and a $17 bottle of shampoo to clear up what the doctor called "fungus" but I think is just "mange.")

(And no, I've never spent $17 on a bottle of shampoo for myself, thankyouverymuch.)

The doctor gave her some shots and a dewormer, and said she was OK to live with the big guys in the backyard. Glory be! Coffee in peace once more!

Anna Marie named her "Annie" after a character in the Magic Treehouse books. She and Jason went to Walmart, and bought her a tiny pink collar and a teeny pink leash, and now Anna Marie walks the puppy while Jason walks the big dogs.

I saw them on the sidewalk as I came home last night after working late, and yes, it's the cutest thing you've ever seen.

She seems to be getting along splendidly with the other dogs. Jason did the introductions, and other than a whole lot of sniffing, there wasn't much controversy going on. This morning when I left for the gym, I even saw Annie and Lucky curled up asleep in the dog house!

I suppose it'll be good for Anna Marie, who is still a bit intimidated by the adult dogs. She can have one all her own, that's her size, that she can get used to as it grows over the next several months.

And if anyone is going to have to get a second job to pay for these animals, you can be pretty sure it isn't going to be me.

Confession is good for the soul

I have a shocking confession to make.

I've only been to the gym twice in two weeks.

I know.

See, last week, I took Monday off since it was a holiday. And I went Wednesday. And then on Friday, my key wouldn't work.

My gym is open 24/7, and the only way to get in is with a bar code on a key fob. And even if folks there know you're a member, if your key doesn't work, they aren't supposed to let you in. And there's no staff there at 6 a.m. to answer questions.

So, humiliated, I left. And went to Walmart.

(At least I got some walking in, right?)

I was so furious! I was going to call and give someone a piece of my mind!

And then, about an hour later, I remembered - our bank had issued us new debit cards at the beginning of the month because of a "possible security breach." They gave us a couple of weeks to activate the new ones, and they deactivated the old ones.

And my bank draft for my membership was on the old card.

So, since it was too early to change that (no staff until 9 a.m.) I changed all the other things that were hooked to it - Netflix, The Grocery Game, a couple other things.

Man, I spend a lot of money each month without even thinking about it.

When the staff was in, I called and changed the number. But, I was frightened. What if I went, and it still didn't work?

Monday Jason got up to walk the dogs, and saw me still in my PJs sipping coffee, and said, "You didn't go to the gym?"

Nope. I was waiting until the staff was in, and trying my card again, so that if it didn't work I could have someone to talk to, I said.

Except, I didn't do that. And yesterday, when Anna Marie was at my mom's so I could have gone (Jason was at work), I didn't go. I walked the dogs instead.

(It isn't like I haven't been getting exercise, y'all. I am now the owner of two large dogs, and let me tell you, walking them is a real workout!)

And then, just as I was about to return them to their pen and feed them breakfast, Delta broke the leash and chased a little boy across the street. She's never done that, so I don't know what her deal was. I don't think she would've bit him, but it broke my heart to see the look of terror on his face! She stopped at the sidewalk, and I guess he turned the corner and hid.

I guess when I was leashing her, I'd hooked the clip to the small keychain-like ring that held her tags, instead of the big ring on her collar. When she bolted, she went one way, the ring snapped, and her tags went the other way. I spent about 15 minutes looking for those things!

But, this morning, my key worked. And I walked on the treadmill - I'm increasing my incline, to get a better workout in the same amount of time - and I was glad I did. I was getting out of the "habit" of going, but it felt really, really good to accomplish that this morning and get it out of the way.

No more laying out for a week for me! The guilt alone is enough to kill a body!

I'm surprised I remembered the password to this thing.

And what have I been doing the past week?

Somehow, in the past week, this:



was joined by this:


Yes, friends, we adopted ANOTHER dog.

Well, actually, we're fostering him, just to make sure he works out.

(Also, because he's scheduled to have a little snippity-snip next week, kwim?)

I think he's going to. Work out, I mean. Poor Delta was so used to having a buddy, she was getting a bit lonely in the backyard. And she wasn't acting out, as such, but she WAS barking a good bit. And she DID escape from her pen twice on Sunday.

And so we just thought what the heck - two is just as much trouble as one, right? That's what people who are trying to get me to have another kid tell me, anyway.

Having these dogs is almost like having another kid, though! No, we aren't up all night, feeding every two hours - or changing diapers - or anything like that, but they're pretty time consuming all the same.

I realized one day this week that when you have animals to care for, there is no such thing as staying in your PJs all day and not leaving the house! I have to go outside and feed them each morning, and usually Jason comes along a little later to take them for a walk. Even though they're outside, we figure it's good for them, and for us, to get out and walk a couple times a day.

When Jason goes out of town this summer, I'm not sure what's going to happen to the whole "walking" thing - I'm not at all sure I can walk two dogs which weigh more than my kid, all by myself.

Just like kids, these two have very different personalities. Delta was obviously a pet. She is very social, and she loves to be with us. Her favorite thing in the world (besides tumping over her water bowl or playing in the water hose spray) is fetching a tennis ball. She could do it for hours!

Lucky - that's what we found out the other dog's name is - seems to be very different. He belonged to a member of our county's planning commission who passed away earlier this month. The widow is a cancer patient, and she was unable to care for his dogs so she asked the shelter to take them. We are surmising that he must've been mostly a "yard dog" and not had a lot of interaction with humans.

He doesn't like water, and he doesn't like riding in in the car - things Delta adores.

He does seem to have solved the barking problem - she barks a bit, and then she settles down. I was concerned about her being left alone all day, but I feel much better with Lucky back there. He hasn't been aggressive with her at all, besides getting, well, a little too friendly with her in the beginning. I was told that once he's, ahem, worked on, that shouldn't be much of an issue.

Anna Marie is beyond thrilled to have not one, but two dogs - and I've got to say, it isn't so bad. It's good for her, too, because she can go back there and get them out of the pen and play with them - and not spend so much time on that DS!

Hopefully all of us - the dogs and the humans - will adjust to our new reality soon, and they won't take up so much of our lives that we don't have a chance to do much else!

The bill for the first 24 hours

Adoption fee for a shelter dog: $35

First trip to the vet after adoption: $110

Look on your kid's face when she realizes the dog she's petting is going home with her: priceless.

(Note: no Mastercards were harmed in the making of this blog post.)

What I did on my summer lunch break

Y'all, I adopted a dog.

I KNOW! CRAZY TALK!

In all the years we've been married, we've never owned a dog. Part of that is due to location - we've always rented, and couldn't have inside pets, and never had a fenced in backyard. And really, I'm not much of a "dog person," but I've tended to like the larger, more mellow dogs more than the smaller, yappy ones.

But, something has happened to Jason in the past couple of weeks. I put a "pet of the week" ad in the paper, and I mentioned that there were two female Labrador Retrievers, both spayed, who had been surrendered by their owner because he was going into the military.

I may have said, "Man, if I had a fenced in backyard, I'd go get those dogs."

You know, in passing.

Last Sunday, Jason and I may have had a conversation about dogs, and how we have an enclosure in the backyard that would make a good dog pen.

And last night after church, Jason might possibly have asked me to call today and see if the labs were still there.

I never in a million years thought that those two dogs would still be unclaimed after two weeks - but they were. Well, at least one of them was. The other has been paid for by an elderly woman in the next county, but she hasn't picked her up yet.

I was instructed by Jason to tell the ladies at the shelter that if she didn't come get the other dog, to give us a call.

We almost got two dogs today, y'all! TWO!

Jason still feels really badly about the two being separated, since they've been together their whole lives, so I can't guarantee that we won't end up with another dog in the near future.

Anyway - on my lunch break, we went to meet Delta. We paid for Delta, and then we left so Jason could get the pen ready, and bring the van.

After school, he came by to get me - and Anna Marie had no idea what was going on. When the tech went to get Delta, she was a bit hesitant. But - once she got down on the floor, and saw how gentle the dog was, she was fine.

Delta had a little trouble being convinced to get into the back of the van, but she rode through town with us just fine. Anna Marie is playing with her now, while Jason finishes getting the pen prepared. I hope this will give her something to do besides play that silly DS all summer!

For a larger dog, Delta is very gentle. She hasn't jumped up on us at all, and she's not been a "barker." I just hope she can adjust to the relative quiet of our neighborhood - that shelter was loud!

I think we'll enjoy this new "adventure" of dog ownership. I just hope Jason knows what he's gotten the rest of us into!