217 Days

Vito had a seizure last night at 10:14 pm.

There was evidence on the office floor that he had one, maybe 2 more while we were at work today.

At 5:31 pm this evening, he had another one.  Crabby had to handle Vito alone during that particular seizure while I got the other dogs out of the way.

Crabby still tears up when it happens.

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Vito, post 5:30 seizure.  He just looks like his head hurts 😦

Vito’s last seizure was on June 8, 2015.  217 days ago.   Yes, that’s good news.  No it doesn’t make it any easier.

Poor Vito 😦

Mom and Dad would gladly have the seizure for you if we could Big Guy.

 

 

Epiphanies

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.

 

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

 

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LEAVE! ME! ALONE!

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.

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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.

 

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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.

Captured on Film: Crabby Attacked By Run A Muck Ranch Visitor Dog Kodi

We decided to try Run A Muck Ranch Special Guest Kodi with the Little Dog Group on today’s Sunday Family Desert Walk today.

Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea.

I had the crappy camera so I couldn’t get it all, most shots being too blurry to make out the carnage as it unfolded.  But I was able to get the first frame of Kodi, without provocation, attacking Crabby.

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Oh!  The humanity!

 

By the time the attack was over, both Crabby and Kodi were covered…. in mud.

Rather than enjoying a relaxing Sunday, I now have to launder Crabby’s clothes, bathe Kodi and wipe the muddy floors.  Crabby is responsible for hosing out the Waggin’ Wagon!

Clearly Kodi doesn’t like it here :)!

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?

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

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.

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Franky was dumped.  We’re ashamed to say we don’t know how long ago.  Maybe 5 years?
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Gracie was dumped 8 years ago.
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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.

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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!

Pathetic

Yesterday, it rained on and off all day.  Of course I had to work outside in it.  Let me tell you:  Cold (we were in the low 70’s) temperatures + arthritis in a manual labor job does not = a good day.  I ended up running the hot water heater empty in the shower trying to get my joints functional to partake in my at-home manual labor work.

I know, I’m whining when I shouldn’t be.  After all, there are many who have it worse.

Take, for example Franky and Pablo.

While yesterday the windows were closed, and the respirations of 14 dogs were enough to keep the house bearably warm, today I deliberately opened the windows before I left for work.

How cruel of me!  I don’t think we even reached 70 today, and with the windows open there was no way The Horde could properly ‘self heat’ the house!

I came home to the pitiful sight of Franky and Pablo, shivering uncontrollably.  Franky was near death, crying from the cold.  (For the record, that was a couple hours ago, and as of the writing of this, the outside temperature is 60 as the sun is going down).

So what if Mom has to work in unholy weather conditions ranging from 100+ degrees in the blazing sun in the summer to barely 32 degrees with occasional misty rain in the winter, what is MORE important is that the boys are comfortable!

Looks like we'll need to take Pablo clothes shopping to get something that fits him better.
How could you leave the windows open Mom!  We almost froze to death!

Sarah’s Got Mail!

Sarah received her first piece of mail…

Sare Bear was so excited to get mail of her own!
Sare Bear was so excited to get mail of her own!

Hearing the sad tale of poor Sarah being forced to wear padded sports bras, Run A Muck Ranch fan Yanina of Texas came to her aid, sending Sare Bear not 1 but 2 UNpadded XXL sports bras!

The grey formal bra.
The grey formal bra.
The blue firty bra.  Marcy wants one!
The blue firty bra. Marcy wants one!

Thank you Yanina from Sarah and Run A Muck Ranch!  Sarah can step out with pride now!