Musings on a stormy, rainy day after Christmas

So, did everyone have a good Christmas? Was Jesus Christ honored in your home? I hope so!

Well, it is now the day after Christmas, so THAT madness is over with for a good while. I've written a few posts about that the last few weeks, so 'nuff said.

You know, as crazy as most holidays are, you just gotta love the day after ones like Thanksgiving and Christmas that involve lots of food. Leftovers, baby! Leftovers! No real cooking necessary for several days, if done right. Yeehaw!

OK, moving right along. I am not a believer in the whole "global warming" hullabaloo, at least the stuff about man-made "greenhouse" gases destroying our climate. I do believe that climate is cyclical, with long periods of warming and cooling. Shoot, we're probably overdue for an ice age. But, I digress. What I have noticed, as even a hermit like me cannot avoid noticing, is that our winters have been warmer lately. Here it is a few days from New Years Day, and it is in the 50's outside and in the middle of a day-long thunderstorm. Forecast is for four to ten inches of rain between last night and Monday night, seventy-two hours or so, accompanied by record-setting flooding. Yikes!

I tend to follow these things fairly closely, so I was kind of surprised to just now finding out about a new attempt by our Federal Gubmint to circumvent our constitutional rights. This time in the form of a bill proposed ten days ago by Rep. David Cicilline, D-RI, called the "Assault Weapons Ban of 2015". I can't believe I'm just now hearing about this! Normally, something like this would be all OVER social media! But, I guess everyone was too busy posting cute Santa pictures and stuff. Anyway, here's a link to the actual bill.

https://www.congress.gov/bill/114th-congress/house-bill/4269/text

I HOPE it never passes! If it does, what little is left of our country's historic rights will go right down the tubes. Please read this, then contact your local Representatives and demand that they make this abomination go away!

I have had an account on YouTube for quite some time, so that I can subscribe to various channels and comment on videos. About a week ago, I began making and uploading some of my own videos. So far there are only three, because at this point I am just learning how to film stuff and edit the clips into something watchable. But I hope to really start putting up some serious content very very soon. Mostly outdoors-related stuff about camping, so-called "bushcraft", gardening, and the like.

This one features Daisy and Stempy, put together from a couple of short clips on my phone from almost a year ago.

This one features Daisy and Gidget, again from a couple of short phone video clips from this past spring.

And the third is actually a short slideshow of pics from a summer day at the park with the Debster and Tyler. Regular readers will recognize the pics from an older blog post, but in the video I did some editing and added a sound-track. It was a lot of fun.

If you happen to like what you see, I'd appreciate your "thumbs up", your comments, your subscriptions, and even sharing with your friends. Just like this blog, I don't make any money at all, and do it for the sheer pleasure I get from doing it.

One other new thing I have started doing, is a sort of journal or pocket diary, where I am just jotting down ideas, random thoughts, and so forth. I had on hand a mini-composition book, 4-1/2" by 3-1/4" with a few pages ripped out, and have begun with that, just because it was handy. But the more I think about, the better I like the small book. It fits in any pocket, so it's always handy. And, the small size pretty much forces me to be concise. As we all know, given the time and space, I can get pretty darn wordy!

I have other things on my mind, but the Debster doesn't want me airing family dirty laundry. So even though I can say what I want to say as general commentary about life, without naming names, she still has fits. So, I'll that all slide.

Well, I've rambled on for too long as it is. See ya next time!

God bless you all
Ron & the Debster

Weekly round-up

I know, it has been a few weeks since I have posted, but I really need to post more often. There is almost always SOMETHING going on that I could write about. So, if nothing else, I'm going to try to post at least a weekly update of what happened during the week.

So, although this is a "weekly" update, this first time out will be actually a monthly update.

Well, as I mentioned in a previous post, we lost out dog Stempy to cancer back in early May. Daisy, the youngest of our dogs, took his loss very hard. Her playmate suddenly disappeared, and she searched and searched and cried and cried, and then just moped around. Poor thing! We felt so sorry for her, because we were going through the same thing.

Pam to the rescue! My eldest niece called me out of the clear blue towards the end of May. She had this little itty bitty pupy that needed a home, and thought of us. She brought her by the house, and we fell in love with her.

"Gidget" joined our family on May 25. She was only about 7 weeks old; she was born March 31. Weighed maybe 8 ounces or so. Part fox terrier, part chihuahua, part who-knows-what-else. Mostly white, with black head and ears and a couple of black spots on her back. And BIG ears standing straight up. Fox terrier heritage, I believe, showing up there. And so tiny!

Gidget with the Debster, the day after she joined us

We had hoped that an energetic puppy would rejuvenate Daisy, but for the first few days, it was a little touchy. Neither Daisy nor Chelsea wanted anything to do with this little thing, and our cat just stared at her with a "WTH?" expression.

Well, eventually Daisy warmed up to her, and they have become pretty tight. Daisy is back to her playful self again.

Here is a YouTube video of Daisy and Gidget playing in our back yard last week. 

(Sorry, I haven't figured out how to insert a thumbnail image.)

Our garden has gone insane!

We have been harvesting Romaine lettuce, spinach, green onions, and herbs for several weeks already. Just as well, because with all the rain we've gotten the last couple weeks, the tomatoes, cucumber, and zucchini plants have completely overtaken everything else. I'm trying to keep them tied up, but they have still completely smothered the remaining lettuce and onions, and are threatening the pepper plant, spinach, and the herbs.

I harvested one large cucumber earlier this week, and several more will be ready soon, as will some of the zucchini. The tomatoes are loaded down with smallish green fruit, so we should be able to start harvesting them in a week or two.

Well, if nothing else, I have learned some valuable lessons about planning the layout of the garden that I can apply next year when I expand to two full size 4'x8' beds. The tomatoes and squash-type plants will each be completely enclosed in separate cages about 20" in diameter, and the smaller plants will be kept farther away from them. And I think the herbs will be in individual containers rather than the main beds. Live and learn!

Haven't done much at all lately with genealogy. Too many other things have kept my interest. My interest in prepping has led me to re-discover my love of the outdoors, especially bushcraft and survivalism. My personal health issues and physical limitations will limit the extent of what I will be able to actually do. Long backpacking trips are out of the question, at least for the foreseeable future, for example. 

But I can still do some things. Day-trips are always possible, and camping for extended periods as long as I camp near the car and stay reasonably close to the camp and don't try to do too much at once. 

As the weather gets hotter and muggier, I probably won't be doing much. So for now I will concentrate on collecting and maintaining a decent collection of gear, and practicing various skills that I can do mostly at home. Then, when cooler weather returns, I'll be out and about a lot!

This is a Morakniv Mora Classic #3 sheath knife, and a copy of Dave Canterbury's first book. They were very early birthday gifts from the Debster! Gotta love that gal o' mine! She has little interest in the type of camping and outdoors activities that I prefer, but she is very supportive of me anyway. I really don't deserve this wonderful woman. But God has seen fit to put us together, and so I must be the best man I can be, for her if for no other reason.

Well, that's enough for now. We'll talk again soon.

God bless you all!

Ron, and the Debster

Good by, li'l buddy ...

Stempy Johnson

January 21, 2004 - May 11, 2015

This is a tough blog to have to write ...

September, 2004. I'm a newly married 45 year old man. A guy I work with, Bob, knowing I am a serious dog lover, asks me if I would be interested in a small dog, a nine month old mostly-grown puppy. It belongs to his sister & her husband and young son, and her husband is very displeased because the puppy is chewing things around the house, and occasionally has "accidents" before he gets out the door. The dog is half dachshund on his mother's side, and half golden retriever mix on his father's side. ... Not sure I can visualize how that happened, but ... there it is. His name is Stempy, and yes, he had a twin brother named Ren, who is not part of this story.

I've had a lot of dogs in my time, and had always figured that if a dog couldn't knock me down, it wasn't a real dog, merely a wannabe. But a few years before, I was disabused of that notion by a Maltese Terrier mix that literally followed me home one day and wouldn't leave. I named him Fritz, and he was one of the neatest pets I had ever had. I was heartbroken the day he died. Also, my best friend, a big burly lumber-jack type of guy, and his wife had dachshunds . So, I was at least amenable to the thought of another little guy.

Well, Bob brought the mutt to work, and I immediately agreed. Such a cute little thing! He mostly looked like a tiny golden retriever. Slightly shorter legs and a slightly elongated torso were the sole markers of his dachshund heritage.

The trouble began that evening when I took him home for the first time. Remember, I was NEWLY married, for the FIRST time, and had been single and independent my whole life until just the month before. It just didn't cross my mind to check with my wife first. Although the Debster is just as animal-crazy as I, she had just had surgery on her Achilles tendon, and was hobbling around wearing a boot-cast on her foot. So while I was at work she would be stuck with trying to finish his house-training and keeping his chewing confined to dog-toys and not shoes and furniture. She was NOT pleased. She loved the dog, but was aggravated that I hadn't checked with her first. Understandable. 

So, for about a week, I took Stempy to work with me every day. I was managing a small used-car sales lot, and had some free time at work. He would wander the lot with me, play fetch with sticks, and play with the customers. 

Unfortunately, as he became acclimated to living with us and "adopting" us as his "pack leaders", his aggressive dachshund nature asserted itself. He started growling at customers, especially if they got too close to me. Not good. Not good at all! So, I tried keeping him in a crate behind my desk. Didn't work; he would bark his fool head off every time somebody came in the door, and wouldn't shut up until they left. Can't run a business with that kind of nonsense. So, I was forced to leave him at home with the Debster.

Well, she had gotten over her little fit of pique, and had grown quite fond of the little runt, as I knew she would. There were a few issues that developed over time. Our yard wasn't fenced, and he "decided" that the whole neighborhood was his territory, and that the only people allowed were me, the Debster, and Travis, my step-son. Neighbors, not so much. One day, he chased the neighbor's wife back onto her own front porch and scared the daylights out of the poor woman. After that, whenever he had to go outside, it was on a tie-out lead.

Another issue was his rampant adolescent male interest in mating, if you know what I mean. Although, to the best of my knowledge he never showed interest in any person's leg, any four-legged creature that he could get hold of was fair game. Didn't matter what gender, age, or even species. If he could figure out how to get his front legs around the critter, it was open season! I don't know how many times we had to pull him off of one of the cats before he got sliced and diced by their claws. And the Debster's dog Chelsea? Just two years old herself, she bore the brunt of most of his attentions. She would raise Cain and whoop on him, but nothing would deter his ardor. As he got a little older, he mostly outgrew this, as I knew he would. He wasn't the first male pup I had raised, after all. But for the Debster, it was a fairly hilarious experience.

Other than that, he quickly became an integral part of our home. He loved both of us, but as luck would have it, he became more of a daddy's boy than a momma's boy. Maybe because he and I were the only males around, surrounded by females and cats. (Cats are all female, you know, regardless of what "plumbing" they have.) He also became closely attached to Deb's mom, and she to him. Every time she visited, he spent the whole time sitting in her lap loving on her, and her on him.

He sure did like to get comfortable!

Stempy had one annoying quirk. When he got REALLY excited, he would scream. Not bark, or whine, but SCREAM! Sounded just like a three-year-old girl throwing a temper tantrum. There were a few times I was kinda surprised the neighbors didn't call the cops to investigate the "child abuse". 

When he was about five years old, there was a rather alarming development. He began having "fits", when he would suddenly start scuttling stiff-legged with his head off to the side. He would look for me, scuttle towards me, and rear back on his back legs, waving his front paws frantically. If I didn't reach down and grab him quickly, he would fall on his side and just twitch. I would hold him tight and talk quietly and calmly to him, and after a few minutes, he would snap out of it, jump down, and go about his business as if nothing had happened.

The vet diagnosed it as canine epilepsy, and put him on a twice-a-day dose of phenobarbital. That got the fits under control, but also made him a little lethargic. He was never again the highly energetic bundle of fur that he had always been. But we all adjusted.

Stempy & Daisy, taking a break from playing hard

He was a very sensitive dog, quick to pick up when a household member wasn't feeling well. He would snuggle up to and get all lovey-dovey with any of us, even the cats, if we were sick. This was always a comfort to the Debster, especially when she was going through some nasty bouts of depression.

He was a very jealous dog. If any member of his family payed attention to someone, or something, other than him, he had to get in the middle of it. It got to where it was an adventure just trying to kiss my wife goodby on my way to work. But we turned it into a little game, and had fun with it.

About two years ago, a new addition was added to the family, in the person of Miss Daisy, a tiny year-old terrier mix. This little six-pound bundle of playful puppy energy almost immediately adopted Stempy as her very own "chew-toy", mostly by default since neither Chelsea nor the cats wanted anything to do with her. She most definitely kept him busy! They'd be outside, and she would wait till he was in mid-squat, and hit him from the blind-side like an NFL linebacker. Off and running! Initially, I was a little concerned that the sudden increase in physical activity would be detrimental considering the epilepsy. But the vet said not a problem, in fact, a good thing. It added to his quality of life.

Napping with his daddy

Well, a few weeks ago, the morning of April 11, I came home to a sick dog and a frantic wife. Our beloved Stempy was coughing and wheezing and lethargic, hacking up blood. Wouldn't eat, even when a hot dog, his favorite treat, was put in front of him. An emergency vet run gave us the bad news. He had incurable lymphoma in his lungs, with a prognosis of a couple or three months at best.

The vet put him on prednisone, an antibiotic, and an anti-fungal medication. The anti-fungal was just in case the lymphoma was an incorrect diagnosis, but she was pretty sure it wasn't the fungus. Within a day, he was doing much much better. We were overjoyed! He was still wheezing and breathing hard, and a little weak, but he had regained most of his pep and vigor, and even played with Daisy some. One funny side-effect of the prednisone, which is a steroid, is that it made him revert to his adolescence, in a way. He suddenly became interested in the females again. Poor Daisy! He wouldn't leave her alone! It was so funny to watch them tussle, and suddenly he'd have her wrapped up and doing his darnedest to, well, you get the picture.

Things went well until this past Friday evening. I woke up about 9pm, to get ready to go in for my midnight shift. The Debster had laid down with me for awhile, and she got up first. All three dogs were wanting to go outside. Stempy made it to the back door, but before she got there, he suddenly whimpered and laid down. She got to him just as he drew his last breath. He was gone.

We were both devastated. I tried to take off work, but my boss, though sympathetic, said there was no one available to cover my shift and couldn't let me take off. So we picked him up, laid him in his favorite dog-bed, and set it and him in a chair. The next morning, when I got home, we took him to be cremated. We'll get his cremains back in a short while, and they will have an honored place in our home, until it is time to mingle his, and the other pets', with mine and the Debster's.

He's in heaven now**, laying on Gacky's lap, getting to know the Debster's dad, and my parents, and all the other family and pets that have gone on before.

God bless you all, and thanks for reading.
Ron, and the Debster.

** Yes, I know, in theological / Biblical reality, animals don't really have a soul in the sense that humans do, and thus don't go to heaven. I know that when I get to heaven I'll be completely entranced by the presence of my Lord and Savior and that the dog will only be a pleasant memory. But, until then, sometimes you just gotta wink at "reality" and take comfort in these little fibs we tell ourselves.