the squibix family blog

skunked

This morning I was still upstairs when I heard Leah open the door to the porch and the dogs rush out. A few moments later there was one short sharp bark, and then immediately after it an immediately identifiable smell started drifting thought the open window. Yes, for the first time in a good while the dogs had been sprayed by a skunk. Luckily for everyone involved it wasn't too bad: they must have been spared a direct hit. They smelled bad when they came back in (right away!) but not unbearably horrid; we didn't even bathe them, Leah just got some supposed odor-neutralizing spray and doused them with it. We don't know how much it actually did, but we were able to survive the day in the house with the pups, and that's what counts. It's just as well we didn't have to get them in the tub, since getting sprayed was traumatic enough! They didn't even want breakfast; each of them just found a spot to curl up and they pretty much didn't move until mid afternoon. By this evening they were back to their regular selves—but, I hope, a little bit wiser!

expensive dog food

This evening I took some ground beef out of the fridge, where it had been defrosting since last night, and left it on the counter for that last little bit of thawing in the half-hour before I started cooking. Then I did some other stuff. When I came back I was confused to not see it. Did I accidentally put it back in the freezer? No... Why are the dogs looking at me like that? Why is there torn-up plastic bag on the living room floor? Ohhhh. I see what happened.

It's been quite a while since they've taken anything off the counter or the table. The trash, sure, but that's a gray area: sure it makes a mess, but they know we don't want that stuff any more. But the days of them stealing butter or cookie dough (those things both happened—the butter more than once) I had thought were passed. I suppose grass finished local ground beef was just too much to resist. At $10 a pound that's a pretty expensive supper for the dogs. I hope they appreciated it!

that answers that question

A couple weeks ago the dogs got sprayed by a skunk. They were sad puppies, and Leah was sad too because she had to be in the car with them for the whole drive home, and then give them a bath (I was no help at all because this was the early morning walk and I was still in bed). As people—including me—heard the story of their adventure, the natural response was, "I wonder if they learned their lesson?" This morning we have the answer, and it's no. At daybreak, back for another walk at the same place they got skunked before, they had another encounter—with the same results. And another stinky trip home, and another bath. In Dog Man: For Whom the Ball Rolls baths are the consequence Lil Petey uses to help Dog Man learn to ignore balls and squirrels, but it takes hundreds, if not thousands, of repetitions; we don't have that kind of shampoo budget.

That's not to say there were no lessons learned: Leah won't be going back to Foss Farm any time soon!

doglessness

Leah is on the Cape now to keep clear of us while she attends and works on a virtual conference thingy. And she brought the dogs with her. We miss her, of course, but she's been gone before; this is the first time since we got them over a year ago that the dogs haven't been here while we are! Leah left yesterday afternoon, and last night going to bed I really felt their absence. The house was so quiet! Zion had already been missing them, since he's accustomed to spending lots of time snuggling with them when he can't think of anything else to do. Of course, no everybody regrets having them gone: the chickens were able to spend the whole afternoon and evening out in the yard, and today they'll have a full day of unmolested foraging, something they never get when they have to split time with a couple of rambunctious pups. And of course, I'm sure the dogs themselves are having a grand old time down at the beach! We're going to be joining them on Monday; excitement is running high for the journey.

these dogs let THEMSELVES out

Our first dog, Rascal, was nervous of doorways and small passthroughs. He was reluctant even to push through a partway closed bedroom door, and would never dream of trying to squeeze through a gap in the fence. That's not the case with Scout and Blue. Their first day at our house they kept slipping under the gate from the yard, so the second day I had to do some construction work to make it puppy-proof. It was a whole new level of responsibility! And while that fix worked, their drive for pushing or squirming their way through to places where we don't want them hasn't dimmed at all. In the last few days they found a hole in the fence somewhere, so that when we let them out into the yard we were actually letting them out into the whole wide world. I tell you, it was a little surprising when they just strolled in the front door while we were reading our bedtime story a couple evenings ago. I had no idea they were even outside! (and yes, they managed to open the front door themselves; that shows how secure our house is). I found the hole yesterday and fixed it, but not well enough. Knowing the potential, they pushed it open again and we had to call them in from the neighbor's driveway. It's not like they're going to run away—they've got a pretty sweet deal here—but it's a little embarrassing to have them wandering all over the neighborhood. This evening I fixed the hole again, and better this time. But I have no doubt they'll find another one before too long. Just another thing keeping life interesting!

not going quietly into the good night

Leah usually goes to bed earlier than I do; I tend to take some time in the evening to finish up work (and, you know, write blog posts and things). The dogs go up to bed with her, but while she's settled in for the night they most emphatically are not. Every time I move around—especially if I go into the kitchen!—they come racing down the stairs to see what I'm up to. When it's nothing, they decide they have to go outside. And they don't just walk calmly out the door when I open it for them: every time, they whine and yip and dash out like there's who knows what they might catch if they don't waste a single instant. Of course usually there isn't anything interesting out there, so they come right back in, only to repeat the process as soon as 15 or 20 minutes later. If I don't let them out the next time—because, you know, they've just been out—they sit by the door in such a state of high excitement that I can't concentrate on what I'm doing. And of course, when I do open the door for them, it's another mad yipping rush into the yard. I wonder if they realize how they're repeating themselves?

walking (and walking and walking) in a winter wonderland

Yesterday afternoon I took the dogs out for a walk in my favorite woods. It was maybe a little ambitious, given that it had snowed 18 inches the day before, but I figured—to the extent that I thought about it at all—somebody probably would have broken a trail in the more than 24 hours since the snow had stopped. That was not the case. Climbing over the pile left by the plow to get into the woods I sank up to my waist, which set the tone for the next hour.

It was strange snow we got in this storm. It has some fluff to it—it must have to accumulate so high just overnight!—but it's also super wet. The shoveling was easy where the snow was undisturbed, but where it had been stepped on or even brushed off somewhere else and fallen in a pile it was practically solid. And walking on it on the trail was kind of like I imagine it would feel to wade through not-quite-set concrete.

As I made my slow and laborious way, it occurred to me that one feature I like about the woods by the airport is the length of the loops. So the shortest one we could take would still be longer than I would have really liked. But of course I would never dream of turning back. It's loop or nothing! So on we trudged (or I trudged; the dogs bounded). At least it was very pretty!

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this morning

Some days I wake up ready to jump out of bed and face the day with vim and vigor, and then other days are like this morning. Elijah came into our bed sometime in the early morning hours, and then Zion joined him at first light. Cuddling with them was lovely but not conducive to jumping up—especially with the outside temperature below 10° and the inside temperature well below 60. Then the dogs came home from their walk and showed us that they were up and ready by bounding into the bed. The licks on my face I suppose were alright, but I really didn't appreciate the icy cold paws lacerating my chin and neck. I got up after that, but my energy and goodwill for the day was already running low!

on the ice

As much as I'm loving the light lately, we do love winter—and it's been a little disappointing lately in the snow and ice department. There's still no snow around now, but it's been cold enough overnight the last few days that the ice is finally solid, on ponds at least. This morning we got to enjoy it on the Old Reservoir.

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distractions

This evening I was trying to work on a different blog post, a post about what is happening in our lives this week, but I've been too distracted by the news of this afternoon's attempted coup-slash-insurrection in the capital. At supper Leah told the boys they were living through times much more interesting than what we experienced as kids. "Is that good or bad?" Harvey wanted to know. Some of each, I guess?

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