I’ve been rained out of work pretty much since Monday.  All I have to show for the week is 3 completed properties and the start of a very nasty head cold.

I have absolutely nothing to do except eat, watch TV and give extra attention to the kids.

Apparently I’ve spent way too much time on activity #3 because at this point, some of the dogs WANT to be outside in the rain.   Those who don’t choose Satan’s Tears over Mom’s Attention have burrowed themselves into the furthest recesses of any pocket or hidey hole they can find and are remaining freakishly quiet.


If you come near me again Mom I’m gonna BITE you!
If I stay very very still, maybe she won’t see me.



Franky and  DASH! are hiding under the bed, so I can’t get a photo.

Morty, Willy, Emmi, Kodi (visiting dog), Marcy, Gertie, Angus and Gracie chose the downpour over sitting with me.  Best I can figure they are huddled in the farthest reaches of a horse stall, out of view from the back door.  I’ve called them a few times, and each time a nose pokes around the stall door, but that same nose also disappears moments later.  That it has been a different nose each time tells me more than 1 are hiding in that particular stall.

Kodi’s presence in the horse stall is more peer pressure than attention avoidance.  Every time I’ve called the kids, Kodi has come running out, stops, and when no one follows him, goes back to the horse stall. If  it wasn’t so muddy a path to get to him I would escort him inside to keep me company!

That leaves us with Pablo.  He may be out in the open, but when I tried to cuddle up to him, he snarled me away.


DO NOT test me Mom!

As I’ve been shuffling about the house, vacuming and laundering away a few of the mud layers, depressed that after all I’ve done for these Nimwits none will step up to keep me amused in my time of need, I had an epiphany:

Every single dog who calls Run A Muck Ranch home, despite their background, is confident and comfortable.  They don’t need constant human interaction to feel self worth.  Every time they jump in my lap, ask for a hug, or invite me to play, it’s a choice and not a need for comfort or to please, and in the end, they choose me with no ulterior motives.  They also don’t feel the need to suck up, knowing that their current avoidance in no way influences our relationship over all.

So I sit here on now my 3rd day of rain induced inactivity, during what has been the longest continuous time at home ever experienced by me (or The Horde) being totally ignored.  (I could even close the bathroom door if I remembered how to do it!).   And with all this going on, only one thought comes to mind:

We did good by these Nimwits!

That said, I look forward to the rain stopping so I can go back to work so the kids will go back to irritating me.

If It’s All The Same To You,

I’m gonna stay right here until it stops raining!


It’s been raining since Sunday night.    Getting the dogs to go outside has been traumatic on so many levels.

Where the other dogs still move about the house, Vito has decided to hibernate in what we call the Turbo Charger until climactic conditions improve.


It’s Not What You Think

OK, so this is Kodi


He’s going to be staying with us for a while.  Possibly until April.

Now, before you start cooing over how once again Crazy and Crabby have stepped up to help a dog in distress, I’m going to tell you right out:  This is a paying gig.

Short story:  Mom found herself in a situation.  Mom had to board Kodi.  The place where Kodi was being boarded turned out to be not so good.  Mom had a friend reach out to see if other (home) boarding arrangements could be made.  Word got to Crazy.  Crazy could use a little extra cash right now.  Crazy talked to Crabby.  Crabby said OK .  Crazy contacted friend, friend contacted Mom, and now you know the rest of the story.

Crabby was fine up to and including the meet and greet, but once Kodi moved in….

We can’t do free anymore.  Every time we do it ends up costing us more than we bargained for – and I’m not talking about the dog, it’s usually the people.  People who get free expect a lot more than paying people do, and it never ends well.

We don’t do paid anymore either – we have 14 dogs for heavens sake!

Given the above, we are mystified as to why we allowed Kodi to slip through.  Actually, we’re thinking Fate hasn’t messed with our minds lately so it must have gotten bored.  It appears it put us in this situation to keep Kodi happy and safe until Mom gets on her feet.

Y’all know that any dog who makes his or her way through the gates of Run A Muck Ranch has no worries, and that is what we can give Mom for her money.

Mom is still very much in the picture and will be taking Kodi on family outings on her days off.  Today was the first such visit, and Mom arrived to find a happy Kodi, together with his leash and his packed lunch, ready to take on his adventure.  What can I say, we aim to please!

For Kodi’s part, though it was a bumpy first day, he woke up this morning deciding he was OK with the situation.

Already staking his claim.  Fortunately, he hasn’t eyeballed the people bed yet.

You’ll probably be seeing more of Kodi over the next few months, but just know, he’s a Special Guest and not a permanent resident of Run A Muck Ranch.   I’m positive that even as a Special Guest, he will have stories to share.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, Crabby needs another box of tissue for his uncontrollable sobbing.


Seriously, We Have More Beds

Run A Muck Ranch is awash in dog beds. Actually, the dog beds are more for people use since the dogs don’t let the people on the couches.  And lest we forget, there is the coveted people bed where sometimes people are allowed.

If we have so many comforts for our creatures, why do our creatures do this?

Anyone seeing Gracie and Emmi like this would swear we’re neglecting them.

Another Lesson in Priorities

After quite a bit of deliberation and discussion, we decided it was time to buy a blanket for couch sitting. All we’ve had to this point is a very light 6 foot stadium blanket.  The Horde finished eating the last real one we had I think it was 2 years ago.

An evening out was designated for the purposes of procuring a brandy new snugly people couch blanket.  We returned home with a full sized, plush, promise of warmth.

The blanket was left on the couch as we made our sitting preparations.  Unfortunately we put it in a bad place.


After much argument and offers of bribes back and forth, we determined neither of us had the heart to take the blanket away from sweet, wobbly, gimpy Sarah.

If it had been any of the others, we would have had no issue – but Sarah – that’s a different story.

So, until Sarah moved her person to another location, and because I lost the coin toss…


When did we got from being the Masters to being the servants????

Bringing On The Crazy

People like to think that when a wrong is occurring, their internal moral compass will direct them to do the right thing, despite the possible ramifications.

Though I always thought I would step up in circumstances where others would run, my belief in myself was never put to the test – until today.

People do horrible things.  Since we’ve lived at The Ranch (1996), we’ve stumbled upon far too many examples. I won’t go into detail because I don’t want to.  I’ll just leave it with saying not all animals abandoned on the desert are left alive.  Gracy, Franky and Morty were some of the fortunate ones who were.

Franky was dumped.  We’re ashamed to say we don’t know how long ago.  Maybe 5 years?
Gracie was dumped 8 years ago.
Morty the day he wandered into The Ranch in 2012.  Who knows how long he had to fend for himself after he was dumped.

Morty, Willy, Franky and Slugger were my 1st group out for Sunday Desert Walk.  Crabby was still in bed. Toward the end of the walk I watched a man in a pickup park on a trail in an area off limits to motor vehicles.  He pulled a rifle out of  his cab, and then wrestled a bag out of his truck bed.  He was too far away to tell if the bag was moving or not.

The man kept looking over his shoulder at me as he went down a trail.

Morty and Willy originally ran in his direction to greet him, but stopped short and ran back to my side, before I even had a chance to call them. That’s not normal.

The bells went off in my head – but I could not confront a man with a gun when I had the boys with me.  I rushed them home and returned to the scene, deliberately driving onto the desert parking behind the man’s truck.

I began walking in the direction the man had walked.  I went maybe a few hundred yards when I heard the scream – the scream of a dog in agony.  My walk became a sprint, leaving the trail and charging in what I could best determine was a straight line towards the source of the scream.

When I heard the second scream, still running,  I dialed 911.

I continued running, falling often on the rocky, uneven desert while alternating between screaming into the phone at the 911 operator and shrieking to the top of my lungs, that I had called the police, hoping the man would release the dog and run.

I crested 1 more ridge.  I fell again, dropping my phone, cutting off the 911 operator.  I looked around desperately for the dog being tortured.

Instead, I saw a very befuddled looking man peeking from behind the protection of a boulder.

“Is there a problem lady?” he asked with a shaky voice.

“You let that dog go!” I shouted, “I’ve called the police!”.

“Umm…  look behind you” he said.

And when I did, the sound of the tortured dog was nearly at my feet – coming from a speaker.

{This is NOT the same sound I heard earlier today, but I post the video  link to give you an idea of the type and loudness of the sound I heard.  You may want to turn your volume down before listening:

A variation of a coyote bait call

Now tell me, can you really blame me for my reaction?!?!?!}

Apparently, someone in their infinite wisdom decided that blaring the sounds of wounded animals from speakers was a nifty way to lure coyotes during coyote hunting season.  This unfortunate hunter in HIS infinite wisdom decided to use the sounds of wounded dogs as his sound of choice – in the very same area where locals, including this Crazy Dog Lady, walk their dogs regularly.

Seeing an upper middle aged woman barreling over the ridge, hair sticking out in all directions, entangled with various debris picked up from many falls,  body covered in cholla, while screaming up a storm apparently alarmed the hunter a wee bit because he then, with great desperation in his voice, informed me that he loves dogs, has 2 of his own and asked if I wanted to see their pictures.

When the armed man was convinced the unarmed crazy lady wasn’t going to hurt him, he quickly packed up his hunting gear and with great haste made his way back to his truck, I think we can all assume, never to return.

I learned something about myself today:

Apparently I WILL run head long, alone and unarmed, at a psyco with a loaded gun to help a dog.

While that may be all well and good, Crabby has requested that I refrain from doing so again in the future.

I can’t make any promises.

Go ahead!  Try and harm a hair on my head! My Mommy will DROP you!



It’s Not Raining

Though the weather forecast called for a chance of showers today, Crabby insisted that wouldn’t be the case.

The usual after dinner ritual is such that as each group finishes eating, they are escorted outside.  This evening they were reluctant to do so.  Though Crabby said it wouldn’t rain, The Horde was pretty sure they saw rain falling from the sky.  Every dog knows, even dogs who love to splash in rancid desert water holes, rain has the ability to completely dissolve any member of the species Canis familiaris. Once dissolved, said dog will be blinked out of existence, never to return.

When the last group was punted out the door escorted outside, I set about the after dinner ritual of washing dog bowls and setting tomorrow’s food to thaw.  I wasn’t concerned about The Horde because it wasn’t raining.

I wish I had the camera with me when I first went to the back door, or that when I did take the camera I had the memory card installed, because if I did, you would have seen a photo of 14 of the most pathetic dogs you have ever seen.  Instead, since I went to the door twice before actually being able to take the photo, 5 braved Satan’s Tears and made a dash for the back door.  Pablo was in the process of making run for it, and the rest went from vestiges of the neglected to faces of hope.

Still, I think you can get the gist.  Where Crabby is adamant that it isn’t raining, The Beasts of Run A Muck Ranch clearly disagree.

C'mon Ma! Let us in!  We don't care what Pa says, it IS raining!
C’mon Ma! Let us in! We don’t care what Pa says, it IS raining!