It's tough to be a dog at my house. So much is expected of them. As you can see from the picture, they live the life of leisure. This is three of the five canines that reside in my house. Or I should say that they let me live in their house. This was taken when I was not at home by one of the kidlets. They obviously settled down and curled up on the couch and made themselves right at home. I like to yell and complain about how dogs are not allowed on the furniture in this house. But when I do they eat it. Did I tell you about the time that I came home from work and they had eaten a couch? Yep. All three cushions and the arm off it. That was a fun night. Truth be told, there is nothing better than curling up on a couch at night with a dog, they are so cuddly. No wonder they are shocked when I yell at them to get off the couch once in a while. Hey, they don't call it FURniture for nothing!

Things I love...

Jeans.
Sweatpants.
My dogs.
The smell of rain in the spring.
Camoman's goatee.
My kidlets.
Riding my mare.
Sitting in the sun.
Quiet.
The Ocean.
The Beach.
My life.
Pointy-toed boots.
Early 70's music.
The smell of roses.
The internet.
My sister.
My nephews.
My parents.
My parents house in Florida.
My phone.
Taking pictures.
Not having my picture taken.
My barn.
My house.
My farm.
The daughter.
The son.
Peanut butter brownies.
Steak.
My garden in the summer.
Sunflowers.
My grandmother's peonies blooming in my yard.
Big trucks.
Flipflops.
Wierd shoes.
Wierd kids.
Laughter.
The sun.
Soccer.
Watching my kids when they don't know I am watching.
Black eyeliner.
Ocean Potion.
Zucchini
Tomatoes with salt.
Laughter.
Twisted Tea.
Camoman's eyes.
My daughter's yellow eyes.
My friends.
My crazy friends.
German Shepherds.
Stubborn little dogs.
Peeps.
Flowers.
Dark Chocolate.
Ornamental Grass.
Chili Dogs.
Chili Cheese fries.
Hot showers.
Featherbeds.
Outside showers.
Sunsets.
Sleeping.
Building stuff.
Swimming.
Being busy.
Being lazy.
Camoman, himself.
Learning.
Living.
The above referenced picture of my son and one of his friends playing baseball in WallyWorld. It makes me laugh.

Kidlets.

These little bundles of cuteness are my kidlets. They are three and five in this picture, and are smiling and happy because they had just finished chocolate covered sprinkled donuts. Their favorite, next to their mommy. Now they are seventeen and nineteen, and their mommy is no longer their favorite. At least they wouldn't admit it.

The boy child is the nineteen year old. Self sufficient and never asks for anything. Works two jobs, has his own vehicle, pays his bills. An all around good kid. Never makes me worry. Good boy. Plus, he has a wonderful girlfriend. I adore her. She is good for my boy, and he is good for her. They complement eachother well. He makes his Momma proud.

The girl child is seventeen. She worries me. She is a mini-me. Headstrong. Stubborn. Knows what she wants. Secretive. That's what worries her Momma the most. I take stock in the fact that I raised her right, taught her values and right from wrong. She is a worker, just like her Momma. Give this girl a task and she'll work right alongside you 'til you're done. I like that. Anything boys can do girls can do just as well, if not better. She still worries me. She is seventeen and beautiful. I love my kids.

My main man, Duke.

This is my main man, Duke. I found Duke a year and a half ago outside a gas station near a truck stop. Someone had dumped him off and told him to stay. So he stayed. When I got to the gas station and saw this handsome soul, I inquired about him, and was told that the dog officer was on his way. I waited with him until the dog officer arrived, and talked to the dog officer about him. Two days later the dog officer called me, and asked me to foster this handsome guy, and adopt him if no one claimed him. How could I say no? Duke is a Shepherd/Husky mix, and somewhere between 9 and 11 years old. We had kind of a rough start, a few scraps about who was the boss, dominance kind of issues with the other members of the pack. Duke has now assumed his spot as leader of the pack, and all is well. He is a loyal and protective family dog, and a good farm dog too. He loves to go for his walks (off leash like Bear) and go swimming in the lake. It still boggles the mind that someone could dump a nice dog like this, or that people can even consider animals disposable. How could you throw away a sweet face like this?

Oliver.

This little fuzzball of cuteness is Oliver. Oliver is my daugher's two year old Shih-tzu. He's the youngest dog of the pack, and the smallest. He's also the instigator of all ruckus that happens within the pack. He's a happy little guy, but quite the little troublemaker. Have you ever heard the expression, "let sleeping dogs lie?" Not Oliver. If any of the other dogs are sleeping, he has to go over and lick their noses and eyes until they wake up. And get angry. And growl. Now anyone (or any dog) knows that a growl from another dog is a warning. Oliver doesn't care. He wants to play and he wants to play now. He is also the champion of a little game we like to call DodgePuppy. Dodgepuppy is when a human is attempting to catch/reprimand a dog, and the dog evades the catching/reprimanding. Oliver plays Dodgepuppy by going under the dining room table, which makes the human pull out all of the chairs in order to get under the table, and then when you crouch down, he dives under the couch. or the loveseat. Or he rockets down the hallway into a bedroom to hide under a bed. The only way to win a game of Dodgepuppy against Oliver is to shut all doors to all bedrooms in the house prior to beginning said game. Then when he rockets down the hallway he has no place to go, he realizes that he is cornered, and rolls over on his back and look pathetic. When this little cutie flops over on his back and looks pathetic, there is no possible way to stay mad.

Bear...

This handsome dude is Bear. Bear came to live with us four years ago when he was two. Bear is a Labradoodle. He is half Lab and half Poodle. He is a big mush. He is the kindest, friendliest, most loveable dog that I have ever encountered. He was given to us by an elderly couple who loved him, but the couple had six grandchildren under the age of six, and when Bear would walk through the house, he would knock kids over like bowling pins. Needless to say, the kids were afraid of him, and Bear had to go. He settled in at my house very well, and fit right in with the pack. He doesn't have a mean bone in his body, despite his enormous size. He is by far the biggest dog that I have ever owned, and probably the most well behaved. He never does a thing wrong, and if you even look at him the wrong way, he looks sorry. When Bear goes for walks with me, he never needs a leash. He sticks to my side like glue. He is incredibly loyal, and very smart, despite his dopey look. He's not the bravest soul around though, he has been zapped by an electric fence, and now won't get within fifty feet of the horse pasture. He was also terrified beyond belief once by a bicycle being pushed by my son, his reaction was to turn tail and run, yelping away from the bike, into the safety of the house. Never could quite figure that one out...as he was bigger than the bike.

Miss Maia...

This lovely lady is Miss Maia. Maia is my princess. The word that would best describe her would be "aloof". Unless of course, you have food. Then she loves you. She adores you. She can't get enough of you. Miss Maia was quite the little witch when she was a puppy. She was nasty, tempermental and really wanted nothing to do with people. She was happy enough with the other canines in the house, but went out of her way to avoid people. As she aged, (she's 4 now) she mellowed out. She's a happy girl now, the princess of the castle, and is quite well mannered, despite her efforts as a puppy to not be taught manners. She sleeps at the foot of my bed every night, on top of my legs or between my feet so that I can't move, and virtually guarantees that I have a restless, interrupted night of sleep every night. She goes to the groomer every 4-5 weeks, and comes home looking like the princess that she is, and then immediately plants her head on the carpet and runs through the house like a maniac until she dislodges whatever bow, ribbon or feminine thing that the groomer has dared attach to her head. This picture was taken at Christmas time in my house, and the son thought that Maia would look cute with antlers. She looked very cute, but as you can tell by the look on her face in the picture, she was not amused.

Good Golly Miss Molly

I have five dogs. I am not quite certain why I have five dogs, probably because I don't want six. My dogs have been acquired in various ways...and not all the stories are good ones. I'll write more about all my dogs in their own posts. The little bugger you see in the picture is Molly. Molly is three years old and just now starting to be a good dog. In the past my words to describe her have been "devil dog, pain in my a$$ dog, the nightmare dog, the insane dog..." you get the drift. I bought Molly for my husband three years ago to replace his favorite dog in the world, Miss Dee. Miss Dee was the perfect dog in every way. She was an amazing family dog, a great farm dog, and an amazing hunting dog. She would find birds for my husband that 25 other dogs had walked past. Her life was cut too short by cancer. I still miss her every day. So unfortunately for Miss Molly, she had a lot to live up to. Miss Molly is a great family dog, but I can't let her run, she takes off into the woods for hours (sometimes days) at a time and I worry about her safety. She is also not a hunting dog...why? you may ask? Because she is afraid of loud noises. So no gunshots for this girl. Whatever, I love her anyway, I do believe that I'll keep her.

New Peeps!

So I got a phone call from the post office distribution center on Sunday morning at 9am. "We have a box of baby chicks for you?" Holy crap, earlier than expected! So I run around like a madwoman trying to get stuff ready... Drive 40 minutes to the distribution center, and am now the proud momma of 28 new little baby fuzzy butts. The guys at the distribution center were fascinated and full of questions. I answered lots of silly questions...and drove a box full of screaming peeps home. They have settled in (kind of), and are now occupying a brooder box in the utility room. At a week old, they are already getting their wing feathers and running and trying out their wing feathers. They still run screaming from me when I attempt any interaction. However, this will disappear when they realize that I am the bringer of all things yummy. They are all supposed to be girls, we'll see as time progresses. I'll keep this blog updated as they grow. Bring on spring, I would like to get these babies outside where they belong!