Jo Has A Solution!!

 Poor old Jo the Wonder Nanny Dog. She is just plain out numbered. DAT has gone to the Dark Side, becoming fast friends with the interloper, Murphy. DAT and Murphy play tag day, trying their best to get Jo involved in the game.

 Sometimes, it works. Old Jo will pounce and bounce some too, for a short time. Then she comes to her senses and comes wobbling up to me, sides heaving, tongue lolling tiredly and asks me, "Why the H3LL did I DO that?" At which point she collapses on the ground at my feet.

Seeing as her begging of her Dear Father to "Kill it! Kill it with FIRE!" has not worked (not even REMOTELY can you just IMAGINE?) Jo. Has. Her. OWN. Solution.

SHE will kill it with FIRE.

How, you ask? Well, Jo has been a wee bit picky of late with her food. Meaning, she does not want to eat what I have chosen for her. Which means we have to try something else. Now, from a bad incident long ago, we know-- for SURE-- to Never. Ever. EVER. feed her anything with Lamb and Rice in it. Oh. My. Mighty Gas Masks. Pure poison leaks from her continuously when she eats that.

So.

Jo says, "I'll get Mom to get me Lamb and Rice. Then I'll sidle up to Dear Father when he goes to light a smoke...... and POOF! MUWAHAHHAAHAHAHA! I"ll Kill It With FIRE!"


Never a dull moment 'round here with these guys.

In Other News:
Big Kahuna is doing well. His weight gain program has been quite successful, his hide glistens in the sunlight, and his 'Tude is coming back. He's been getting a wee bit big for his britches, and we have had to have a couple of talks about manners. Somehow, I don't think he enjoys hearing that Yes, Auntie Mrs Mom IS the Boss of Him. Oh well... Sucks to be him when he misbehaves!


If you enjoy scented candles, check this out. I was convinced I needed to do this by a friend of a friend, so starting tomorrow we'll be online hosting a Partylite party. I've never done anything like this before, and I have to say-- wow. There is a huge amount of stuff available. Check it out!

Memorial Day, 2011

 Here we are, once again. Memorial Day. The grills were put to good use all over our country, cooking up miles of hot dogs and sausages, countless sides of beef and flocks of chickens. Buckets of tater salads, pounds of chips, cakes, goodies galore were washed down by barrels of beer, soda and gallon upon gallon of sweet tea.


It is about now that I tend to encourage everyone to stop and remember those who have gone on before. Those who founded our country and those who died to keep it great. In my minds eye, I can see the Garden, with its row upon row of white crosses, American flags set out before each and every one. I still encourage you to say a silent (or not so silent) Thank You to them.


But this year... this year I am going to share a veteran who helped make our country great. A veteran we knew personally.

I'll start his story in high school, where a single young lady caught his eye at band practice. As he shyly invited her to take a walk with him to the water spigot (note that-- not water FOUNTAIN and for sure no bottled water,) Love At First Sight was in bloom. Their courtship continued through school. On graduation, our True American Hero joined the Army and was shipped out to the wilds of Vietnam. It goes with out saying, he went through Hell there, at one point being captured and held as a POW for a time. He made it home though, where he married that same girl from band practice.

Our Hero next went on to hold down a regular full time job, but his love of God and Country was strong. He joined the Air National Guard. For 20 years, he could be counted on to be there when the chips hit the fan. On his retirement from his "regular" civilian job, he hired on a civilian contractor with the Department of the Amy.

Now his many avenues of service are outstanding enough alone. But while serving, Our Hero applied his incredible problem solving skills and developed amazing advancements and improvements to many weapons systems and training systems (to only name two) that are still used today. He went above and beyond to help fellow soldiers- so that they too could stand a better chance of coming home safe to their families.

Speaking of family, Our Hero was not just a military man. He had a family- children and grand children, as well as countless "adopted" soldiers over the years that are still part of the extended family today.  He loved the outdoors. Fishing. Water skiing. Feeding the fish, and telling the grand kids about what types of fish were out there. He fed the birds, and loved his Purple Martins.

Our Hero went by many names. Daddy, Honey, Papa, Poppy, and to me, Johnny Reb.

Johnny Reb left behind an incredible legacy. One that ALL can be proud of. He went above the call of duty for his country, raised a beautiful family, spoiled his grand children rotten, and even took in a Damn Yankee.

Writing this post was far from easy for me. Even though it's been a month now, the pain of his loss haunts all of us still. Not only did our family loose a Hero, America did too. America lost a True Hero-- but Heaven gained one hell of a guardian.



Master Sergeant H. L. Harrell, rest easy, Sir. You are hereby relieved of command.

Check Out The Poll!

Now that the weather is heating up and we are forced indoors more, I have been reorganizing notes for book(s). The next step is getting them written!

So- tell me- interested in eBook format of some sort? Let me know!

Bits of Randomness for Friday

Murphy Says, "Hi Everybody!"

Not much going on in these parts, so here are some random blatherings for your entertainment. To begin our randomness, I will relate a story that shows why I'll never achieve the Fearless status of my dear friend, Mikey. Why is Mikey "Fearless"? (Oh come ON! I know you read her blog!!) Shoot, the woman relocates rattle snakes. Tames large, fierce bulls. Crawls into small, confined, perfect habitat for scorpions and large spiders and snakes drain pipes to rescue puppies. Seriously. I think Mikey, whom I dubbed Wonder Woman, is totally fearless. (Hence the name of her farrier service, Fearless Farrier, now taken over by her trusting, long suffering and equally funny wonderful other half, Poor Wade.)

So we've established why Mikey is Fearless. Now we get to learn why yours truly is NOT.

Mikey likes snakes. She posts pictures of them being relocated by her, usually in flip flops, on her blog. Me? Not so much. See, where I grew up, if we saw a snake at all it was a big deal. Add in that the average size for a snake was MAX 12" long, and we have someone very undereducated about this particular type of slithering reptile.

Earlier this week, I took Dear Husband to work. Which involved a fairly early start to the day. The sun was shining, birds singing, and the temperature was actually under 100* for a few moments. As we left our driveway, headed sedately up the road, we all had an optimistic outlook for the day ahead.

I spotted something in the road ahead of us. Initially, I though, "Dang. That's a big stick. How'd it get there?" Then the awfully big stick MOVED. Y'all, I kid you not-- this moving stick was close to six feet long. It wasn't a stick. (Wasn't a gator either, which I suppose was good right?) It was in fact a nearly six foot long Water Moccasin. *gulp*

Now, Mikey wanted to know, "Did you get pictures at least? You sissy girl!" My thought was, "Pictures? Of an almost six foot long WATER MOCCASIN? Dude-- not enough drugs or money in the Universe for that move!"

See, for those of you who don't know these crabby things, Water Moccasins will CHASE you. They know no fear-- they will come AFTER you. In fact, a few years back, two 2' long ones chased Johnny Reb a couple hundred feet from the lake to the porch, where they became fish food with snake shot. They mean biz-ness.

I don't think good pictures could have been obtained, as muzzle flash tends to obscure photo ops.

(No, we did not stop. The snake was headed away from the lake, into the woods. Worked for Dear Husband and I, so we continued on our merry way.)

And that is why I am no where NEAR as tough as Mikey is.
Lutin, aka: Mommy's Little Dump Truck, or The Pregnant Gelding, got himself a new fly mask this week. Those dastardly gnats were making a mess of his beautiful eyes, and he was miserating over them. He thinks he is THE most handsome pony going now for sure.

Being the evil woman I am, I am just waiting... waiting.. as I know that someone, somewhere along the way, will ask, "Why on Earth do you have your horse wearing a blindfold?!"

My reply will be something along the lines of, "He is in training to be a Ninja Attack Pony. He needs to be able to operate confidently using just his senses of smell and hearing."


The Big Kahuna is doing well. He seems to think that he does not rate, because HE did not get a fly mask too. Spoiled. Plain rotten. Apparently, him getting extra feed four and five times a day does not count for much.

He is gaining. Poor guy- during this last hot spell, he miserated badly. We learned that while checking the water tank, it is an important step to hose of Kahuna. Who will stand next to the fence, look at the hose, look at you, back at the hose, back to you... and turn himself to the side so that you may wash off the sweat from his Royal Hide. Once one side is done, he will delicately turn himself, so that his other side can be rinsed. Deep sighs of contentment resonate from deep within his chest. And it is nothing for him to flash you a dirty look should you stop hosing him off before HE feels it is time to be done.

Told ya. This is one ROTTEN horse!

That's about it for the randomness. We had some interesting weather earlier, which was great. We are in dire need of rain, but I sure could have done with out the gumball to golf ball sized hail. It looks nice out right now, but according to the radar, more is on its way this evening. Works for me- more rain equals a chance HAY will grow.

I plan on posting for Memorial Day this weekend as well. The post will be slightly different from my usual Memorial Day posts, so be sure to stop in and read a tribute to an American Hero that meant a great deal to my family and I.

For now though, Happy Hoofin!
~MM

Always- And I Do Mean ALWAYS- Research Rescues

It *used* to be that when someone mentioned rescue to me, I thought, "Well alright then! Got to be good folks, taking in hardship cases!" My views on "rescues" slowly began to change over the years to what they stand at now. Which, I'll warn you, is *HIGHLY* skeptical. Call me a cynic, but after reading the stories over the past couple weeks about a south Georgia "rescue", I feel justified in my wariness.

First clue-- anyone who names their organization "LOONIE" anything needs to be checked thoroughly before- WAY BEFORE- you have anything to do with them.

The so-called "rescue", Loonie Farms formerly based in Long County GA, had a massive sh!t storm erupt during this past month. According to the piece I read on TheHorse.com, the Long County Sheriff's Department made a grisly discovery of numerous carcases on the property. The *alleged* owner/ operator (Christiane Judd) has vanished. No one knows where to find her. (Me? I'm half thinking that she had some miserable fate befall her, for letting so many animals suffer and starve to death.)

The local CraigsList for our area had pleas from people who had turned animals over to this faux "rescue", worried that they were among the many found dead. Apparently if there were records for "adoptions" they are long gone and former owners are having a rough time tracing their animals where abouts. Still others have posted pictures and information, saying "We adopted this/ these guy(s) from Loonie and they are OK!"


Legitimate rescues are worth their weight in solid gold. There is indeed a need for qualified, trained professional animal handlers and caretakers to step up to the plate currently. I'm not going to get into the slaughter debate- but I AM going to say that times are tough all over and getting tougher. Horses (and cats, dogs, goats, exotic animals, you name it) are all at risk these days. Currently, in my area, we are also in an extreme drought once again. Hay prices are on the rise and good horse hay is getting harder to find. Homes are being foreclosed on frequently, displacing people and all sorts of animals. Yes- we need some way to help folks do the responsible thing. But whack jobs are all too common in the "rescue" community, many of whom are only in it for the "glory" for themselves- so they can say, "Look at ME! I'm WONDERFUL! I have SAVED these animals!" News flash kids-- there is no glory. There is no fame. Not unless you are like that Judd woman who did a lot of people and animals way, way wrong- then you wind up plastered all over the interwebz leaving a Very Bad Taste in the mouths of readers. True rescue is a dirty business. You sweat, cry, work you ass off for nothing but thanks from the animals you work with.


Look, the long and short of it is this: investigate. Check references. Listen to your gut. Ask questions all over about reputation. Go and see for yourself, and pay CLOSE attention to detail. If ANYTHING sets off warning bells, get the hell out of Dodge and don't risk your animal to them, OR your wallet.


Scam artists are everywhere. Don't get taken, OK?

~MM

And if anyone knows the whereabouts of Christiane Judd, please contact the Long County Sheriff's Department at: 912/545-2118

When Is Enough, Enough?

On the way home from running some errands, I happened to pass a blinking, scrolling sign outside of a middle school. I glanced at the school theme messages, and then about slowed to a stop when the temperature flashed up.

I had to look not once, not twice, but THREE times. AND I even got Cub and Wrecking Crew to verify what I was - or thought I was - seeing.

That blasted thing read 115*.

Yes, you read that right. ONEHUNDREDFIFTEENDAMNDEGREES.


I know, I know. I live in south GA. Honestly what the heck else can we expect this time of year? It's SUMMER already. It HAPPENS here, every year. (But I still have not learned to cope with these kind of temps.)


So. As I pondered the rest of my "To Do" list for the day, I paused. On it were two things that I'm honestly somewhat worried over. OK- so one of them I am way MORE than "somewhat worried" over- I am extremely worried over. (In all honesty, I accomplished the first item on my list in short order. And then came inside to suck up big time to some air conditioning.) As the sweat liberally poured off me, I eyeballed that next item...

Go see the older mare that needs conditioning work.
Work her a tad.
See how she is moving.
Apply treatment to pasterns.
Detangle her tail a bit more.


Work her a tad.
In 115* heat?

Yeah... umm... "NO".


Where do YOU draw the line, folks? Do you judge by how well you can tolerate the temperatures? Do you judge it by how the horses are doing? Is it a combination of the two factors? Today, I have to call it on how *I* tolerate this type of extreme heat- which is not well. Not well at ALL. Just off loading a bit of hay, checking Lutin and Big Kahuna over and tossing them hay in the shade had me dizzy, sweating buckets and sucking wind (through a hot, steamy towel) badly. I know that if I was to suck it up and go out to check that mare, I'd likely pass out and lay in the hot sand, slowly baking.


What are some cooling strategies you use to help yourself AND your horses through hot times like this? Here, we have fans for the horses, hose (and scrape) them off frequently, and monitor them closely for signs of heat exhaustion. For me... I suck it up out there in small increments and suck up to a LOT of moving cooler air inside. (We don't keep it ice cold inside either, in an attempt to not create such a shock between in and out.)


Yep. Summer is here with a vengeance. Only what.... June, July, August (traditionally the hottest most humid month), September and part of October to go before it starts cooling off some.

As they say down here, "Well Bless my Northern Bred Heart... this heat is just too much!"

Stay safe y'all. Don't melt! (Or blow away if you are in the path of more severe storms.)
~MM

Book Review!

Image courtesy of www.LeighBrill.com

It sure seems to me that horse people are not *just* horse people.

Oh no.

We are ANIMAL people-
All creatures,
Great and small
fill our hearts and homes with their special brand of love,
dust bunnies,
laughter and wonderful memories.


Through this amazing book, you will get to hear about a young woman who had dealt as gracefully as she could with a debilitating disease.
You'll learn of her struggles,
her triumphs
and most of all,
her journey into the wonderful world of service dogs.

This is a very well written book, that shares beautiful memories of an amazing dog.
Slugger was not just her helpmate-
he was her constant companion like many of OUR dogs are.
Much like many of our dogs,
Slugger had a great sense of humor.
And he even loved a good hearty roll in fresh piles of poop.

Normally, I'd say this book gets four hooves up. But in honor to Slugger and ALL of our wonderful dogs --
This book gets four paws up.

Buy it.
Read it.

Get lost in the journey and enjoy a new view on the service dog industry.
You won't regret it!!


Visit Leigh Brill, Kendra and Pato at their website!

Or join them on Facebook!

Yep, Situation "Normal"-ish

Huh. Wonder if we can carve some weight off Mommy's Little Dump Truck for The Big Kahuna...

The Big Kahuna is settling in well. We are adjusting his diet to maximize weight gain, and I have to say right now I think the big fellow is full. His diet at the moment consists of:
- Free choice locally grown grass hay (1st cutting) (Which he has not been keen on picking his head up out of)
- Beet pulp, soaked with soybean oil added 3 to 4 times a day
- Twice daily feedings of a specialized feed

On bad gnat days, he wears his fly sheet (and cusses at me the whole time).
But luckily, the gnats have not been too bad the past couple days, and Big Kahuna has even been able to lay down, flat out on his side in the dirt and SLEEP. He took such a hard nap today that Cub came running into the house all upset- "Mom!! Mom! Come quick! I think Big K is DEAD! He's laying on his side and not moving, and I don't think he is breathing!"

Fortunately, he was just sleeping. Thank Heavens, cause THAT is one phone call to a client I hope to never have to make.

This rotten child is adjusting well to her crate overnight, and *gasp*... I've even been able to get some REST. Y'all, I had forgotten what it was like- how NICE it was- to be able to SLEEP. Just... sleep. I've decided I LIKE it!

Now Jo on the other paw, has been begging us tonight-- and I quote:
"Mom! Save me! Kill it! Kill it with Fire! Nuke it from orbit! It's the only way to make sure it's dead!"
After meal times, or really anytime Murphy feels the need, she attacks the food bowls and runs around with them. She haz the ZOOMIES on a regular basis. Makes Dear Husband and I laugh endlessly, entertains the Locust Brothers as well--- but Jo? Yeah.. her entertainment lies in finding the Ideal Spot On The Couch To Nap. Hey- it's a tough job but someone has to hold the wild couch down don't they?

All in all? Yeah- things are getting level. Ish. Kinda sorta. But it's working, we're growing, living, learning and driving on.

Happy Hoofin Y'all
~MM

The Goin's On Round Here

I can't help it. The song that keeps running through my head today? (Brace yourself. And no, you can not kick me for making it run in YOUR head too.)

The Wheels On The Bus.

"Go round and round, round and round...."

Gah.


It pretty much sums things up around The Asylum though- Life keeps going round and round.


My little pal Murphy has been hard at work learning lots of new things. Like, come when you are called, sleeping in a crate at night, sit, walk politely on a leash, don't mess with Porch Cat and she is convinced that Jo the Wonder Nanny Dog is her personal jungle gym. Jo is underwhelmed by that particular idea, but she tolerates the bounding, bouncing, tail wagging pup pretty well. Her retaliation? When Jo thinks I am not looking, she'll steal Murphy's food. The old girl has not sorted out yet that A) she ALWAYS looks Very. Very. Guilty, and B) Mom Knows EVERYTHING. (All she has to do is ask the Locust Brothers. They'll tell her!)

I've been learning things too. For instance- Jo was happy to get belly rubs and praise during her training for rewards. Murphy? Yeah, belly rubs are fun, praise is nice- who doesn't like hearing "Good GIRL!" right? Murph however, is much like the Locust Brothers. She thinks with her tiny tummy. We discovered yesterday that Murphy will just about turn herself inside out for a treat. Which makes my life that much easier! My hands however, have taken on a distinctive smell from the treats. No matter how much washing and scrubbing I do, it seems to stick. Oh well- as l0ng as the pup (and the kids) don't start gnawing on my fingers, we're OK.

Another thing I've learned? Lutin needs a job! I managed to crawl up on my roly poly pregnant gelding a couple days ago, with the intention of cruising up and down the driveway just to see how he would do. He soon showed me that A) he claims to know nothing of what it means when I ask him to move laterally off my legs, B) he thinks that turning to the right is Evil and C) I can still sit a horse bareback, even after a lengthy break in between rides.


Things seem to slowly be easing into a new routine. Mornings are spent out working, walking the dogs, checking the garden and smooching on Lutin. Then we all troop inside (except for Lutin- although he stands outside the window looking in, asking to come and enjoy the air conditioner too,) and housework gets knocked out of the way. Soon- either today or tomorrow- we will have a horse coming in for some rehab. A big guy, with some serious bug issues (an allergy to sand gnats-- freaking friggin teeth with wings little biting bastards.) The poor fellow breaks out, paces non stop and has managed to drop too much weight. He is making a brief stop here (3 to 4 weeks-ish) for fattening up. (We're good at that here- fattening up that is. Just look at Lutin, Jo, DAT.... me.... *ahem*.) ANYWAYS--- after this gelding moves on- either to summer pasture much father inland or to a new home where there are no sand gnats- a mare is coming in for conditioning. So there will be lots of horse inspired posts coming. (I don't know about you guys, but *I* am looking forward to getting back to writing, talking, breathing, living horse again.)

To start that horse theme again, here is what I plan for Lutin and his refusal to engage in lateral movement.

First, as we had our discussion (that went something like, "Lutin, listen-- shift one step to the left while moving forward"...Lutin-- "NO! I don't WANNA! You leave me ALONE!" *stomp stomp stomp* *head toss* *ear pin* *stomp stomp stomp* He's kinda funny looking when he is throwing a temper tantrum!) I hopped--- ok. Wait. I did not "hop" off the pony. I slid off carefully, as even though roly poly pregnant gelding is close to the ground, I've also learned I'm creaking, tired and old. "Hopping" at the moment is not in my vocabulary.

Right-- I slid slowly off His Royal Roundness and tested his reaction on the ground. Which was easy- there was none. He rolled an eye and looked at me, saying "You've got to be kidding me, right? There is GRASS over there, calling my name, and you expect me to do WHAT?" A bit of convincing later (in which time I mainly badgered the crap out of him,) he was moving laterally with slight encouragement when I wiggled a finger at his belly. (I aimed for his hip but his belly kept getting in the way.) Moving to the right was easy enough. But asking him to move the other way... oi vey. More stomping, tail swishing, eye rolling, etc ensued. Lucky for me, I've got a stubborn streak about three miles wide and it was easy for me to wait out the ten minute tantrum.

Poor Lutin. He has met his match when it comes to determination.


On that note, my Domestic Diva costume is calling me. (Note it is NOT the French Maid outfit, 'K?) Time to get this place whipped back into shape, so the Locust Brothers and the pup can destroy it once again. (At least the Locusts help to tidy up! Murphy- not so much.)

Happy Hoofin y'all
~MM

Sunny Side Up

Our flag flies at half-mast for Johnny Reb

Well y'all, what can I say? "Thank you" does not seem like enough- we were simply overwhelmed by the number of emails, comments, calls and contacts from everyone. Your thoughts, prayers and kind words made what was a truly difficult time easier to bear. Just knowing that so many people - the vast majority of whom we have never met- care so deeply for my entire family helped to get us through the days since Johnny Reb's demise.

We're trying now to get Life back to "Normal". Each day though, poses a big question- just what IS "normal"? Normal for us for two years has been a constant state of worry, stress, confusion and the past few months add in hyper-vigilance and you wind up with a state of utter chaos as your "normal".

It seems our current state of normal is exhaustion. Never really realized just how drained we all were until last Friday. I was so tired it was all I could do to stay upright and move- forget about speaking or doing anything.

Johnny Reb's Scuppernong Grape vine

We have discovered that the only cure for being that tired-- the kind of tired that sleep will not cure-- is time.

One step in replotting Life though is to return to work. Dear Husband is back at the range, teaching away. I've gone on a couple of barn calls and scheduled others. It has been good to get out for a horse here and there. I've also been reclaiming our small garden and soon we will have radishes, peas, maters, squash and peppers to enjoy. Yum!

It was even better last night to attend the first ever Ladie's Night at the range.

I got the thrill of sitting in on classes, expanding my knowledge even more. Since the majority of the women that attended had never held a pistol before, I admit- there was a lot of guilt on my part simply because I shoot a lot. (Besides. I happen to share a life/home/bed/children with the Range Master/ RSO. Kind of an unfair advantage, really.) I held off on shooting until things thinned out a bit. Then I slipped in and ran 50 rounds through my Ruger. Yep- blowing sh!t up is freaking amazing therapy. (Sorry for the blur in the photo above- I was on the other side of the glass.)


In my last post, Murphy snuggling with Jo the Wonder Nanny Dog was brought up. I mentioned photographic proof of their relationship- and here it is.
Now this week has been somewhat lonely around here (not according to Jo or DAT). Murphy had a Big Fan in the family, and we agreed to let her move north. But. (And this is where Jo and DAT are going to go back to not speaking to me again) Things did not work out as planned for the potential home for sweet Murphy. She'll be returning sometime tonight/ early tomorrow to take her rightful place at The Asylum once again.

I'm thrilled. I've missed the little poot like crazy as have both the Locust Brothers.


That about sums the insanity up for now. I'm struggling to gather thoughts for some horse posts, as well as complete a book for review. Just a bit of a teaser--- "A Dog Like Slugger"- a yellow Lab service dog- has started STRONG and made me smile. It looks to be a fantastic book. There is one blogger who comes to mind every.single.time I look at the cover-- for there is a certain (rather handsome) Lab named DUBLIN who could be Slugger's brother. It's in the eyes!!

As for now, I'm off to wander through some rain drops and smooch a velvety muzzle. Lutin has made it plain he needs more attention by nickering at me every time I wander into sight, or if he hears me moving about. Which works for me, as every cuddle with that particular pony fills my soul that much more.

Happy Hoofin'-- and remember-- Life is short. Get out and ride.
~MM