Afterbath

March arrived with a pleasant afternoon, warm enough even for my temperature requirements, and because this has been a rather mild winter, I decided it was time for a bath.
No, I do take those more frequently than by season, I meant it was time to give the dogs a bath.  The ticks will soon be waking up, and I will have to put the Frontline on them to keep those bloodsuckers at bay, and that works better on a clean dog.


So bath-time it was.


Note the enthusiasm this decision produced in Decibel.  (Yes, it WAS necessary, Decibel).

I corralled the dogs in the laundry room, where we have a dog shower facility, but you won't see pictures of the actual process, because I tend to be in a state of minimal dress, since getting soaked is a requirement for the bather and the bathed.
The shampoo, rinse, rinse rinse condition, rinse, rinse, rinse cycle per dog tends to wear on me, but when it is over they do all look much better, and smell so much nicer too!
Surprisingly they suffer through the bath time with stoic patience, and I didn't have to wrangle any escaping soapy dogs.
Afterward they got a nice surprise, as Harold came home a bit early and they all got to play in the sunshine with him.
Naturally Decibel is beyond pretty in sunlight.  She still has a halo of white blonde hair, but her deep orange-y coat is coming through, and it is burnished with gold in the sun - very pretty for about 3 microseconds.  Then she is rolling in grass clippings with Maggie, wrestling with her, chasing Skeeter through the mud, and  - well, I did take a picture before I let her out, so that's what I have for my two-and-a-half hours of bathing dogs.
Ralph looked very nice too, but he still has felts that have to be clipped (he hates the grooming, and for legs and undercarriage I rather clip than try to comb those felts out, it is easier on him).  The bath made him all bouncy and playful too, happy dogs all around.

Still damp:

Skeeter is shiny too - at least his smile is!

Death and Taxes

I will leave it up to the reader to draw inferences from the ominous title; let's just say that February started off badly.  We lost some dear people, friends and neighbors, and on top of that I had to assemble our finances for the tax preparer, which means hunting down every receipt for the farm - a task that is akin to hunting for the Higgs boson.

Now, it wasn't all doom and gloom, since there was also a welcome wedding announcement in the mix, but the event that finally brightened a wretched month and allowed me to have a positive outlook on a cloudy day?  That was brought to me courtesy of Decibel, of course.

After almost 2 years of persistent effort she has finally converted Ralph into a playmate.  And after observing this a few times, I finally got photographic proof of this conversion.  The pictures aren't the best, after all, it was a cloudy day, but joy makes its own kind of sunshine...

Who would have thought Ralph could be this relaxed and bouncy around another big dog?  But then, Decibel's charm is irresistible.  No surprise there.

Agility course

Today was a warm sunny dry day - in January!

So we had to take advantage of it.  After walking the dogs and bringing the bees some honey, walking the dogs again, riding my horse, working the other horse, I set up the Christmas present agility course.
                         
                     Decibel was so excited.
                                                   She LOVES to jump.

 Ring jump or Bar jump, she will show off and get in the way of the other dogs just to jump.  She can even do the weave poles, if there are some goodies to follow:

                           ...But the tunnels?

                                          No way!  


Ralph on the other hand goes through them like he was born to it.  Today was his first time at the closed tunnel:

                                             That's his head^

               Here he is trying to get out, but Skeeter and Decibel are blocking the exit.

                                                 Finally free! Yay Ralphie!

Graduation?

Thursday was our LAST dog class.

EVER!!!!

No, our dogs haven't gotten so good at school that they are looking into a college program, rather our teacher, Amelia, found a job she likes better than us.

Maybe we should have paid her better?

I don't know how we are going to break it to the dogs, but luckily this is one week away, and we'll deal with it then.  We took all 4 dogs for the last few times, because they absolutely love their class, and they KNOW that it is Thursday.
On Thursday, I touch a comb and the dogs don't run away.
On Thursday, grooming means that you are the chosen one, the one going to class.  Even Decibel abides by that unspoken rule, although she is usually chosen, since she still needs the whole socialization and obedience the most.
On Thursday, the dogs wait patiently by the door until it is time to go.

We practiced a new trick for the teacher:  Wave Bye-bye:  

Decibel's turn.  She puts her paw all the way up, too!

Maggie and I heeling a Figure 8 around the Papillon

Decibel's turn for Figure 8

Down in motion, Decibel did good!

                                       

Baklava for teach

Bear

Goose-stepping German Shepherd

Sometimes Decibel gives kisses

Teaching a new move?

Ralphie

Louie, note flip flops in January!

Sit Stay with distraction, he looked but stayed.

All sitting!

on the sidelines

Maggie got to be teacher's pet for the heeling.

Good girl!

Winter Blues

A while ago I marveled at the fact that my blogging frequency seems to increase as the year progresses.  That struck me as odd, since I avoid the cold and stay close to the wood stove all winter long, mostly attached to a computer or with my nose shielded by a book.
So why then would I not be writing or blogging?
It is clearly a case of selective memory, or elective forgetfulness.  I can't stand winter, and that's bad enough, but I especially can't deal with the double whammy of taxes and winter.
It's sort of like DEATH and TAXES are just rubbing it in that they will get you in the end.  So I go through a blue funk and wait for better things in spring.

This winter is one of those up and down ones with sporadic nice days (well, nice for winter, entirely too cool for my ordinary expectation of good weather, but I will make allowances, and accept a sunny fifties as nice, when it is in January), only to drive the breath out of you the next morning with blasted arctic cold in single digits with wind-speeds near highway cruising rates.
Blustery, that's called.
My voluntary brain freeze immobilizes the best of intentions at times like that.

Now then to the warm ray of sunshine that managed a short-lived thaw:
Decibel, who else.
None of the dogs are intimidated by the winter weather, and Decibel, like any good Briard, delights in the routine of doing the chores.  I was setting up the cow barn for the soon to follow milking.  I set out the feed, ready the buckets, and after that I go and feed the horses and donkey, so the Ruby has some time to pee and poop.  Believe me, nothing makes a cold morning more miserable than having to duck and then clean up a cow's morning evacuations.   They save up over night.
Anyhow, the very last thing I do in the barn before braving the trek (it's a quarter mile ONE way) to the horse barn, is to feed the dratted cats.  (After Buckwheat scratched me during a hissy fit when I was trying to administer care and medication for a large gash the cats are on my blacklist).
So I tell Decibel, entirely by the way, "We have to feed the cats, before we go to the horses."
My brilliant girl gives me one of her patented smiles and runs to the feed room (she doesn't go in, she knows better), and stretches from the doorway to poke the lidded bucket that contains the cat food.  How smart it that?
She really knows stuff like that.
I was in a much better mood for the rest of the chores, in spite of the 30 mph winds with 10°F (-12°C) temperatures, or complete lack thereof, really.

Christmas Eve

As most years, the old and rather raggedy Christmas tree was set up during Thanksgiving, and this year it was finally endowed with new lights, so it shines rather brightly.  The remaining few of the fake needles we try to hide under trinkets and sparkly things, and the whole procedure is for the dogs.

Maggie knows the promise implied, and has been checking for the best present, but like a good girl without doing more than slightly moistening the wrapping paper.
She points to the choicest present with the insistence of a compass needle, so how could I refuse?

We opened it first.  It was a matter of survival, I believe.

...And the winner is...

Only after sampling the Milkbones (Harold's pick), were the other presents worthy of consideration.

some go hide with their present

while the others need more refreshments

Ralphy gladly traded all other presents for the magic Milk bones

Aftermath

Calmer times

It is truly winter.

Snow and ice have settled in, or so it seems.  The lowest temperature we've had do far was around 11° F (-12°C) and that is NIPPY with the least bit of wind stirring.  But it warms up during the day, so the critters have been managing rather well, and the dogs seem to love this weather.