Roadtrip!

One of the good things about having a blind dog with a winning personality is you get to meet so many nice, interesting people that, otherwise, you never would.

A couple of weeks ago, when Lucian, the bigbossman, was here installing Ray's new patio and front walkway, a friend of his came by to show off her new car and to meet the blind dog. Jennifer, Lucian's friend, has FIVE rescued dogs (two HUMONGOUS ones) as well as two llamas, 17 alpacas, and three horses.

We chatted. Jennifer offered me an alpaca fleece that she just happened to have in the trunk of her new car, and in exchange, I offered her an enormous skein of yarn.

The lines of communication having been opened with fiber, Jennifer then sent Ray and me an invitation to meet her pack o' dogs and all the other animals on her farm. In an effort to get Ray's mind off of his recent loss, and because I really wanted to see Ray's reaction to horses, alpacas, and llamas, this weekend we took a drive out to God's Country to visit Ray's latest conquest.

God's Country

It was a steamy summer day but a good day for a drive with the AC blasting. As usual, Ray curled up in the back seat and went instantly to sleep. The drive was relatively easy. As the scenery grew more scenic, I knew we must be nearing our destination. When we finally lost our Washington, DC radio station, I knew we had arrived.

The initial meeting was a bit rocky. As Ray and I got out of the car, Jennifer exited her house to greet us. The sound of barking dogs followed her. Through the glass front door, one huge head was visible; Sam, one of Jennifer's Tibetan Mastiffs, was excitedly barking a greeting. 

Jennifer and I decided that maybe the best way to introduce the dogs was in the fenced backyard. As Jennifer tried to enter the house to lead the 100+ pound dog out back, he escaped and rushed to greet us. By that time, Ray and I were on the lovely, wrap-around front porch with nowhere to go. Feeling a bit trapped, Ray growled a warning at the young dog. Thinking that Ray was overwhelmed by the exuberance of the  huge, furry pup, I dragged my hound away. Jennifer did the same with Sammy, wrestling him into the house, and then out the back door. 

Meanwhile, I led Ray down the steps to the front yard. Another Tibetan Mastiff was headed our way across the yard. Knowing that these giant dogs are considered guardian dogs, I eyed him nervously wondering if we were going to get eaten, he looked almost big enough to do it. But the dog approached us calmly; Ray's tail started to wag. As Jennifer came back outside, Ray and the furry fellow were greeting each other. Obviously not seeing anything threatening about a blind hound, Drake was unmoved by Ray's presence. 

Ray and Sam's meeting in the backyard was uneventful. Sam, obviously intimidated by such an aggressive dog, wouldn't come down off of the deck. I let Ray off of his leash and he poked around a bit, then, followed by Sammy and Drake, we headed out to the paddocks to meet the other animals. 

(alpaca ladies)
What the heck is making all that NOISE?

As soon as the alpacas saw Ray headed their way, they started bleating. Ray, ears deployed in ultra-Dumbo mode, approached the fence and then, not unexpectedly, started yelling at the interesting scent. Jennifer tried to coax the nervous ladies nearer (the boy alpacas were in a separate paddock), but they politely declined to approach the freakishly noisy thing. 

(llama)
Do you feel lucky, punk?

We dragged Ray away to meet the horses. Strangely, the horses seemed to like Ray's yelling. As he paced back and forth at the end of his leash, yelling at the new scent, the horses came to the fence to check him out. Ray, not knowing exactly where the fence or the horses were, got a bit too close. Niki, the most beautiful of the three horses, stuck her head over the fence to get a sniff of this new, strangely-noised dog. Her nose gently touched the hound's head. Not knowing what kind of giant was sniffing him, Ray hit the ground like he'd been sledgehammered. Then, tail wagging, and glad that whatever it was that had sniffed him didn't seem to want to eat him, Ray stood, backed up a bit, and yelled some more. 

(Ray)
I smell giants.

We let Ray yell for a bit then, as it was blistering hot and all the dogs were panting as if to expire, we headed up to the house and the air conditioning. 

Ray was then introduced to his dream harem; three old ladies by the names of Maggie, Holly, and Noodles. The three old gals (all in their teens) seemed very happy to have a nice-looking boy in their midst. Ray explored his environs and then passed out on the cool kitchen floor. All the other dogs passed out in various spots within eyesight. Jennifer and I sat, chatted, and ate homemade cake baked in honor of Ray's visit. 

After a couple of hours, I noticed a high-pitched whining. Ray was standing at the front door. I took his hint that maybe we had outstayed our welcome and clipped Ray to his leash. As soon as we got outside, though, Ray pulled me back toward the fascinating horses. We paid them another loud visit, gathered our things, said goodbye to all our new friends, and headed home. 

(Ray)
GIANTS!!!!!!!!!

(Ray)
Maybe I'll get just a little closer... I need a better sniff...

(Ray to Jennifer - Drake is in the background)
Did you know that there are giants living here?

(Niki)
Dang, that dog makes a beautiful sound.
We need to get one of those.

(Ray)
Hey, guess what!
She's got an entire bucket FULL of dog biscuits in here!

(Sammy)
I guess this spotted dog isn't that mean after all.
 He sure scared me though.

Man this is FUN.

(Maggie, at rear, to Holly, foreground)
I call dibs on the cute young fella.  

(Ray)
GIANTS!!!!!!!!!!

(Ray)
I don't know what the heck they are but they smell HUGE.

(Ray)
Horses, you say?  
Um...can I have a ride?

(Sammy)
Oh, thank God they're gone. Guests are SO exhausting.

Missing Moonie

It's been over a week now since Moonie passed on to birdie-dragging heaven, and Ray has really seemed at loose ends.
When Pie was here, Ray would leap from wherever he was sleeping and rush to greet the little cat whenever she would emerge from her room for a visit. He would give her a good ear-cleaning then go back to doing what he was doing. This would happen at least half a dozen times a day. Moonie, who used to have the dirtiest ears in town, went to having the cleanest cat-ears around.
Now, Ray just sleeps and, lately, everyday, spends a little time in the cat room.
The first time I saw him there, he had jumped up on the bed and was sniffing intently at Moonie's most recent cat bed. When he couldn't find her there, he went to her winter-quarters (tent), stuck a paw inside and felt around, then withdrew his paw and stuck his head inside to see if maybe he had missed something. By the time I got back to the room with the camera, Ray was just poking around the bed and investigating the windowsill where we had been feeding Moonie. Finding no food and no Moonie, Ray settled himself on the bed to contemplate his mortality.

Haunted

All week long, Ray has been howling two or three times a night. The first night, when the arrroooo alarm went off, I went to check on the blind hound. He was downstairs, standing in the front hall, looking up the stairs. Usually, when something like this happens, Ray will be at the back door waiting for me to let him out so that he can chase whatever-it-is that is passing through our backyard. But this time he was looking UP the stairs. After turning on the back and front porch lights to see if anyone was outside messing about, I stretched out on the couch for the rest of the night. Ray settled himself on my feet and we spent the rest of the night listening. Only one other time during that night did he sit up alertly and give one short, sharp rooo.

The next night was the same. Ray woke me, I went to check, and we spent the rest of the night on the couch.

By the third night, I was tired and so, obviously, was Ray. This time, when I went to turn off the arrroooo alarm, he hadn't bothered to leave his chair. There he was, curled up, ears in Dumbo mode, listening and howling.

Last night, after listening to him howl and growl for a couple of minutes, I went down to check on him. There he was, again curled in his chair, ears deployed in Dumbo mode, howling. Again I turned on the porch lights and looked out. Nothing. This time however, I went back upstairs and Ray came with me. He settled down on the futon but at some point in the night, he started howling again and went back downstairs.

I think we have ghosts. I'm not going to speculate on what kind of ghosts we have, but I'm pretty sure I know.

A Perfect Location

Evicted

Ever since we've had Ray's graves covered with rock, he has been at loose ends trying to find a new homestead. Although he likes the new patio and especially the new front walkway, the cool dirt along the foundation was fun to dig in AND a nice place to lie during hot Virginia summers. So Ray had set out on a quest to find new digs.
Oddly enough, Ray has settled on Hugo's favorite old spot, the one he used to occupy before we brought the blind hound home and ruined the black cat's life. Hugo loved the dark shade of the little Japanese maple and would sit for hours, completely invisible to small critters scampering across the patio and birds landing on the top fencepost. Hugo was a lazy hunter (probably because of his unknown heart condition) and preferred that small animals come directly to him.
Taking the real estate advice of "location, location, location" to heart, Ray's new, smaller, shallower digs have the advantage of being tactfully landscaped with a beach-umbrella-shaped Japanese maple,  and right between the fence where his new pug 'friends' hang out and the stone-covered patio where Ray likes to catch some rays. Ray only has to move a step in either direction to enjoy both; just perfect for the lazy hound.

The new digs

Enjoying the shade

 

Checking the fencewidth

Establishing high-speed inter-fence connection

Connected

Just a step away

THIS isn't what I ordered

Every once in awhile, I try out a new type of food on Ray. This morning it was a 'chicken stew' from a Canadian pet food company. I don't know about you but 'stew' to me indicates that there will be vegetables. And, knowing Ray's antipathy for the vile things, I don't know WHAT I was thinking to buy anything clearly labeled 'stew'.
As soon as I opened the can, I knew it was going to be a lost cause. But, determined to make the best of things, I tried to con my dog into thinking he would like it.
"Mmmmmmmm, Ray, this looks good," I said as I popped the lid on the food and saw unidentified white bits floating amidst the gravy and chunks of chicken, "Do you want to lick the lid?"
Ray reclining on his chair, showed vague interest in doing anything of the sort. I walked over to him and held the gloopy lid flat in front of the hound's nose. It twitched infinitesimally. Ray's head turned fractionally away. I moved the lid under his nose again. Ray moved his head fractionally back.
Once more I moved the lid under his nose, making yummy noises. Bored, Ray yawned.
I laughed at the lounging connoisseur, put the can aside for his friend Maddie, and popped a can of his old favorite.

A Comforting Visit

I love this story. Would you read it to me again?

John, Yuko, and Hannah are on their way home. After the trauma of losing Moonie, Ray spent three blissful days being hugged, cuddled, and dressed like a French maid. He was read to, slipped smoked pork during dinner, and joined the family for some chair-painting fun. Overall, Ray had an absolutely marvelous time with his uncle, auntie, and cousin.

Can I have some pork, please?

Can I have some pork, please?

Can I have some pork, please?

The hug is nice. Thanks. But....

... can I have some pork, please?

Hey Hannah, do you want some pork too?

Bliss.

Pure bliss.

No, don't stop.....

ahhhhhhhh

Oh yeah. This is what I'm talkin' about.
(have you ever seen such a smile on Ray's face? j)

I love you guys.

Uh, I'm not too sure about this.

Really?

All right, do what you have to.

But don't expect me to clean the toilets.

And I don't do windows!

Go ahead and paint the chair without me, I'll just wait here.

(sigh. I wish I had opposable thumbs.)

Moonie MoonPie: 1996 - 2013

She came with the highly-improbable name of MoonGlow. A six year old tabby cat that was put up for adoption because her owner “traveled too much”. I chose her because she’d been at the shelter the longest of the cats that were there, and she wasn’t too old. 

Thankfully, she didn’t answer to the name MoonGlow, or for that matter, Moon or Glow, Moonie or Glowie, MoonCat or GlowCat, or even Kitty. She didn’t answer to anything that we could think of to call her. We decided on Moonie which became MoonPie, Miss Pie, and more often than not, simply, Pie. Over time, she acquired the ever-so-appropriate name of Bad-Timing Cat, or BTC, because Moonie’s timing was always impeccably bad.

Within the first week of arriving at her new home, Moonie gave us a hint of things to come. As Gregg was stashing  groceries, she walked between him and the pantry just as he got a case of fumble fingers. Knowing that Moonie was going to get hit, Gregg screamed like a girl as he dropped a can and Moonie was bonked with a can of chilies. For years after the “chili incident”, Moonie would scurry from the kitchen every time a person entered it. 

Although Pie has been kicked and stepped-on more than all my other cats combined, Moonie’s bad timing usually evinced itself in less painful ways. She had an innate ability to enter a room just as the occupant was about to leave. She would jump up on the couch for a little lap-time just as one was standing up to go. She would come down the stairs to spend some quality time with us, just as we were getting ready to exit the house. It was uncanny, really, the consistency with which she displayed bad-timing-ness.

It was almost impossible to take a good photo of BTC. For every clear shot there were 10 blurred ones where Moonie had turned at the split second the shutter had clicked. Until she went deaf, trying to sneak into a room to take a photo of her cat-napping was impossible. She would hear a floorboard squeak, lift her head to see who was trying to sneak up on her, and then sprint across the bed, calling out a little mrrrrttt in greeting.

As an extension of her bad-timing, Moonie was an uncomfortable sitter. If she had the good luck to find a person reclining on a couch or with legs tucked up on a chair, Pie would sit awkwardly with her back feet on the reclinee’s ankle or shin-bone or thigh and her front feet on the upholstery. It was usually somewhat painful for the reclinee and made for an uncomfortable-looking Pie, although she seemed perfectly happy to be in such a position. Or she would sit near enough to her chosen person that it was next to impossible to pet her without angling an arm like a bird wing. Or she would sit just far enough way that one’s abs would need to be engaged in the slightest of crunches to pet her. 

Although Moonie liked a good belly rub and would plop over alongside a body at rest, just as often she would display the Moon squat; a half-standing crouch with her Moon butt hovering inches above the sitting surface, purring like a maniac and looking slightly demented, with her big Black Rhino lip drooping. She always appeared as if she was going to leave at a moment’s notice but, in fact, could hold the squat for ages. 

Moonie was the gentlest of cats. She never caught anything live, just dragged her ‘birdie’, (a tuft of feathers on the end of a stick) around the house. Birdie-catching always was accompanied by the madwoman-howl. Lately, her birdie-catching had become more and more frequent, as if she knew her end was near and she needed to get the darn things under control before she was gone. 

Since Hugo’s passing, Moonie’s pacing and wailing had also become more frequent; the wailing always ending in a single, plaintive, heartbreaking, inquiring note. 

We knew that Hugo being gone could affect our old woman and that there was a possibility that she wouldn’t last long without her friend, but there was nothing we could do but wait and see if we were right. 

Unfortunately we were.

Being the BTC, Moonie waited until the day before John, Yuko, and Hannah were due to arrive for a visit; she stopped eating. We waited a day, trying to tempt her with all kinds of different delectable foods, then, yesterday at 5:45, took her to the vet to see what could be done. 

It wasn’t her kidney disease, as we expected, her kidney values were good. It was her liver that was failing and we could expect nothing but a quick, painful decline over the weekend. We chose not to watch our old girl suffer. 

Into the light

The visibly upset vet, who had started her day in same fashion, prepared the injection. We told Moonie to say hello to Hugo for us and told her that she would be ok. 

Then, for the second time in less than a month, we said goodbye to a treasured friend.