Gangsta Skunks

One of the hazards of living in the boondocks is the threat of attacks by angry woodland gangsters. They prey upon their naiive domesticated mammalian relatives who have not been educated to the signs of gang symbolism.

Those of us who are worldly know the signs. The colors: white on black with the stripes starting at the head and ending at the tail. The stripes can vary from single to double to the triple threat. We see the stripes, we turn and walk away. We know that if we leave them alone they will probably leave us alone.

Unfortunately, the naive golden retriever has been sheltered from these thicket thugs. She does not recognize the colors, she perceives a lifted tail as an invitation. She sniffs. It sprays. She is hit point blank in the face. The older, wiser, half-border collie Fiona is grazed but escapes the major assault.

I have been informed of the attack by my husband. The victims were sentenced to the garage for the day. I must deal with them at day end.

My vet recommended Nature's Miracle is all but empty. I consult the internets.

The first thing I find is DO NOT USE TOMATO JUICE! Please tell me where that tradition/urban mythology/old wives wisdom/rumor came from? I used tomato juice once, decades ago. It did not work AT ALL. The result was a dog matted with sticky red goo and a lingering skunk aroma.

On the internets I found the best remedy ever! 2 quarts of hydrogen peroxide, 1/2 cup of baking soda, 2 tsp. dish detergent. This neutralized the odor almost immediately! There is a faint skunky smell, but the dogs are tolerable. The most tolerable they have been under such an attack.

Frivolous Silly Pet Post

Golden Retriever on Couch. I see a potential poster here. Maybe a motivational phrase...."Happiness is a warm couch."

Life's a Bitch and then you Die...unless you are a cat.

Or a Golden Retriever. "The humans are gone. I can sleep in their bed".

Unless you are:


Fiona: "I am one-half Border Collie., one-half Golden Effing Retriever. " (We don't talk about that side of the family). Freja can have the couch, the bed, the carpet, whatever. I am a working dog goddammit. I must herd something. I like it outside in the snow. I don't acknowledge the fact that I had twelve stitches on my chest. I am tough. I am woman. I am BITCH.

Not the Cone of Shame

Fiona is proudly displaying her war wounds.

Every Monday night, the family rolls the garbage cans out to the road. The dogs love this.

Fiona is one half border collie, one half golden retriever. The border collie personality is dominant.

She chases and herds everything. By everything I mean the garbage can on wheels, cars, the cat, the other dog, the children, wild animals, bugs, toads, frogs, and me.

She ran off barking after something on Monday. When she came back, she didn't look so good. We did not "see" anything on Monday. Black fur hides blood.

On Tuesday, we noticed she was a bit sluggish. When my daughter tried to hug her, she noticed that Fiona was a bit "cut".

Cut badly, to the muscle. She required overnight hospitalization, 12 large stitches and this lovely drain. She wears a T-Shirt instead of the Cone of Shame. The first day she wore an anti-bullying T-shirt. On this day, she wore "Refuse to Lose" on one side and "Go Ask George" on the other. My daughters both loved this shirt. We are not sure where it came from. Today she is wearing a girl scout Tee.

You can sortof see "Refuse to Lose" here. Those are my hobbit legs. I covered the hairy feet with sneakers. Note the Bitchen Red Honda Civic in the background behind the wood pile.

Fiona is one dignified dog.

All "Starts" No Finish.

I'll be back soon. I just overloaded myself as usual. I'm taking that abstraction class (Wednesdays) and that graduate brain-based learning class (Saturdays). I have a ton of homework. My abstract paintings are just "starts" at this point. I am doing weird things like altered "grids", collage and acrylic "starts", ink with waxed paper "starts". All starts, no finishes.

The class is interesting. I'm totally "out of my element", out of my comfort zone. Okay, I really "suck" at this. I'm used to being one of the "better" students in the studio. I am taking this class at the local art association and I feel like a total newb.

Ah well. Tis good to "stretch" our boundaries they say. We grow through stretching, trying new things, taking creative risks. Maybe this will prevent Altzheimers?

In the meantime, Fiona and Freja say "hello".