I Am Special (Yeah That Kind of Special)

Yesterday was a shocking day for me.  I work in juvenile justice so on occasion I can have a really bad day.  Some of the bad days have included having one of my favorite kids found dead, having to call child protective services due to rape, having one of my kids committed to adult jail for 15+ years, etc.  Everyone that knows me knows that I love my job.  Most of my kids are overall good kids.  I can honestly say in the year and a half I have worked at this job I have only met one kid I thought was truly evil.  But I get side tracked, I had a really shocking day yesterday.

I took an early lunch to go eat with my dad at 10:30 which I do most Wednesday's.  I returned to my office that I share with my partner at 11:30 and he took off for lunch.  I turned my computer back on and the screen was messed up.   So I turned my computer off and back on.  I decided to unplug my phone charger under my desk and plug in my speakers so I could listen to my ipod while I had the office to myself.  As I was plugging in the speakers the metal faceplate covering the sockets came loose.  I had the speakers half plugged in and the faceplate hit the prongs on the plug for the speakers.  I got a good zap.  A really good zap.  Of course my computer was booting up and my partner had left his on when the circuit breaker flipped.

All of this happened right after noon.  Do you think any of the maintenance guys took an early lunch?  Nope.  Luckily I could do some of my work from my smart phone.  My partner came back and laughed hard once he realized I was OK.  Then my husband called and laughed at me.  The final embarrassment was having to explain to the maintenance guy what I did.  He laughed at me too.  But he was really nice and fixed the faceplate and flipped the breaker back.

My partner and I had a couple seconds of panic.  We had spent all morning adding case files into a new database. I had added fifty files plus all of the notes.  Dominic had added fifty plus files also.  Crap!  I had a couple moments of panic because our database is brand new and not backed up on a server yet.  It took a couple of minutes of panic before I could see that my database was OK.

So long story short: don't play with electricity when everyone is at lunch...

I Found Some Pictures

I found some really good pictures on my hard drive that I did not know I had.

Psycho before David and I met.

Precious the magnificent!
I think this will have to be my last post about Psycho and Precious.  It helps to get out all the hurt but it has come to the point of being harmful.  So look forward to some more funny stories in the near future.

Cali is the Silliest!

I just have to share some baby pictures of Cali today.  She is so silly!

This is Cali after a hard day of helping clean the house.

This is David and Cali after I made them both help clean the house.  They are pitiful.

This is Cali with her protector Gracie.  Cali picks a fight with one of the other dogs and then hides with Gracie.

This is Cali snuggled up for a nap with her best friend Shelby. 

It Has Been a Long Week (Lets Talk About R-E-S-P-E-C-T)

So I haven't wrote another post in a little over a week.  We named the puppy Cali but it doesn't seem to be sticking.  I have been trying to think of another name.  It is not sticking because David can't pronounce her name properly.  It sounds like he is calling her Kelly.  I went to school with the biggest bully named Kelly so I am not really liking that.  Either way Cali has to get her shots this afternoon.  She is doing good with all the other dogs.  My heart still aches everyday for Psycho.  I want to plant a rose bush over where she is buried.  Maybe I can get to that this weekend.

I have been having a tough time in my relationships with people too.  It seems like most people value respect but do not seem to know how to be respectful.  I really think there are three levels of respect: respect, no respect and disrespect.  The difference of no respect and disrespect is vital to understanding where I am coming from.  If you you do not respect someone but do not act disrespectfully toward them I would consider that no respect.  You don't respect them but you also don't go out of your way to be disrespectful. 

I think every family has some sort of respect (or lack thereof) ingrained within the family dynamic.  I was raised to be respectful even if you hate the person.  I have taken many disrespectful comments from "family members" and never been disrespectful back.  That is a hard feat for me because I have a temper.  On the other hand some families learn to communicate by yelling and throwing tantrums at each other.  To me that is disrespectful behavior but they think it is normal.  I feel completely disrespected when I am yelled at while others find yelling is a good way for them to communicate.

Another matter of respecting someone is to allow them to have their own opinions.  I think the world is a better place because everyone does not think alike.  I try to be (and hope) I am a flexible person that takes others opinions into consideration.  There are a few things that I have a strong opinion on that I will not be flexible about.  Most of those inflexibility's are centered around my relationship with my spouse.  I feel that visiting a strip club is cheating.  I also feel that communicating with an ex is a huge no-no.  I live by the rule of do unto others.  If you don't want me to do it to you don't do it to me.

A big part of respect is the ability to compromise.  Relationships are one big compromise.  Everyday you wake up to make compromises.  What is for breakfast?  What are we going to do today?  Who does the dishes?  Who feeds the dogs?  All compromises in a relationship.  One of the biggest compromises I have personally had to make is our social life.  I am the least social person.  I gain more energy off of being home by myself than anything else.  David is the opposite.  He gets energy off of crowds of people and socializing.  Needless to say this causes issues with our relationship.  He wants to go to crowded events two days in a row for eight to ten hours at a time.  This can kill my whole weekend to where I go to work more exhausted.  On the other hand it is not fair to David if that is what he really wants to do.  My solution is let him do his thing and I will do mine.  It sounds good in theory but doesn't work because David doesn't like to do things without me.

I just don't know.  I started this post on Friday and here it is Monday and I am feeling a little better about everything.  We stayed home all weekend for the first time in a long time.  I feel rested, refreshed and ready to dace a couple more weekends of going out instead of staying in.  Maybe that is what I need.  One weekend a month to stay in and rest.  Do you think I will get any compromise on staying in one weekend a month?

Losing Psycho and Gaining Another

Losing Psycho has been one of the most devastating events.  She was my world and had been my constant companion for ten years.  At the beginning of the week David told me I could get whatever kind of dog I wanted as my next pet.  I wanted another Australian Cattle Dog of some sort.  So over the last couple days I have looked at hundreds of dogs in four shelters.  I have checked out every dog on petfinder that was withing driving distance. 

On Tuesday we found a beautiful five month old German Shepard.  She was taken to the shelter for eating chickens.  After doing some research on German Shepard's I decided I couldn't take one because of the potential health problems.  Tuesday we also found an Australian cattle dog that I liked.  She was too timid and scared to even come out on a leash with us.  She didn't speak to me and wasn't the right dog.

On Wednesday the Animal Humane Society had a couple Australian cattle dog pups.  I called to see if they were still available and they were.  When we got to the shelter they were already adopted.  So David offered to take me to the east side animal shelter.  When we were walking through a particular Australian cattle dog caught my eye.  She was smaller than most Australian cattle dogs and was the neatest color.  We took her out and played with her.  In the play area as we were looking around we noticed big clumps of what appeared to be Psycho's hair.  I already liked the little dog but that seemed to be Psycho's blessing to take her home.

So we took her home.  The first place she went outside was to where Psycho had laid until we came home.  She stood in that place and wimpered a little.  I think she knows that Psycho was there and meant a lot to me.  As of right now I am calling her no name until we can come up with some as creative and unique as DB or Psycho.  No name has a few really funny things about her.  This morning she picked a fight with Shelby the black Doberman and then went and hid behind Gracie our red Doberman.  She also was nipping at my pantleg trying to herd me around the house while I was getting ready.

After doing some research I am pretty sure I figured out what no name is.  She does not look exactly like an australian cattle dog.  I think she is a Red Cloud Kelpie.  She looks just like one.  It makes me wonder how such an excellent herding dog ended up in an Albuquerque animal shelter.  Kelpie's are known to jump on the backs of sheep to get to the front of the herd and clear up a jam.  I am waiting for the day she decideds to herd dobermans by jumping on their backs.

Now I have a 7 month old kelpie to keep my mind off of Psycho.  I can't ever replace my Psycho dog.  But as bad as it hurt to lose Psycho I think it is good to keep taking strays until the day I die.  There will be only on Psycho in the world but there will always be good pound dogs that need a home.

One more note on Psycho.  My coworker Dominic cracked me up about Psycho yesterday.  He said she was a G (lingo for gangster).   He told me in the list of all time G's it goes Tupac, Notorious BIG, Psycho the dog.  They all went out at the top of their game in a blaze of glory.

Here are some pictures of no name.  Keep in mind she weighed 17.9 lbs. two days ago when they weighed her to spay her.  If she really is a kelpie she will get to 30-40 lbs. max.  She won't be very big.

P.S. I think she looks like a Dingo.

Things Only Got Worse

So the last time I wrote a post I was going to take a couple days off.  My main reason was to clean house and have some relaxing time to myself.  Friday was a good day off.  I spent the entire day on the couch watching TV with the dogs between doing loads of laundry.  Saturday afternoon I agreed to go to the drag races with David.  We feed the dogs early so we could stay out a little later in the evening.  We went to the races at about 5pm and came home around 11:30.  When we got home is when my whole weekend and life went to shit. 

As we came through the front door I was congratulating Bentley and Shelby on not eating anything in my house since we had been gone for awhile.  They were running around and I was laughing.  I realized quickly that Psycho had not greeted us at the door.  So I asked David where Psycho was.  David went out back to look for her as I looked in the house.  David yelled for me from the back yard that he had found her.

When I got out there he said she was bloody and hurt.  So I ran in and grabbed a towel to pick her up.  When I picked her up I brought her into the house and sat her on the floor.  She was covered in blood and looked a little woozy.  So I asked David to pick her up and take her into the bathroom so I could clean her up and see how bad she was hurt.  David picked her up like a baby and I noticed fresh blood on the carpet where I had sat her down.  I pulled the towel back that was wrapped around her and saw that she had a serious laceration on her tummy, a large wound on her side and her little leg was almost completely cut off.  I checked her gums and they were totally white indicating severe blood lose.  I told David we had to take her to the vet immediately.  The emergency vet was a good twenty minute drive from our house.

When we got to the emergency vet we handed Psycho over to the vet tech with a warning that she would bite.  They took her to the back and started and IV to give her pain meds and some fluid.  They also had to muzzle her because she offered to bite a vet tech.  By this time it was a little after midnight.  The vet came in and told us that she was in serious condition and we needed to decide what to do.  She would need at minimum $1000 worth of surgery to repair her leg and their were no guarantees on how severe her injuries were without xrays and blood work.  Our other option was to have her euthanized.  David and I could not make the decision so I called my Dad and woke him up.  My Dad loved Psycho and was the reason she was such a good dog.  So I knew he would make the right decision for her.  He told me the kindest thing would be to put her to sleep because even if she survived surgery she may not survive the infections.  So the decision was made.

The vet took her and laid her, covered up on a dog bed in a room and let us sit with her until we felt like it was time.  We sat with her for twenty minutes and loved her and talked to her before we could let the vet put her down.  The vet came in and gave her a sedative and then the sodium pentathol.  She laid there and let me rub her face and David rub her feet and just went to sleep.  She looked very peaceful in her last moments.  She was officially pronounced dead at 1am on Sunday morning.  The vet then took her body and wrapped it up for us to take home and bury.  When they gave her remains to us the vet tech told us we had made the right decision.  The vet was sure that a coyote or another wild animal had inflicted the damage.  The vet told us that Psycho should not have still been alive when we brought her in.  She had a punctured lung, perforated colon and her leg was almost detached.  I think she held on long enough to say goodbye.  When we got home David took her inside and put her in the spare bathroom until the next morning.

On Sunday morning my mom, sister and brother-in-law showed up to help us bury her.  David and I had already dug the grave on the back corner of the property before they arrived.  My sister, Lisa, and I shoveled up all the bloody material into the bottom of the grave.  Psycho was laid to rest with the chewy her dog buddies had left with her when she was injured, her dog bowel and a squeaky toy.  Stevy (my brother-in-law) helped bury her and return all the gravel back to where it should be.  After we buried her Stevy found a place next to the wall with tons of blood where it looked like something had went over the wall.

Before we buried her I got up and looked around our property for signs of a wild animal.  One of the neighborhood police officers stopped and told me that they had reports of an injured or sick bobcat in the area so be careful.  My Uncle Tom who is an avid hunter does not believe that a bobcat would be big enough to hurt Psycho and thinks that it was a mountain lion.  I think a mountain lion is a really good possibility where we live.  Whatever it was left enough chunks of fur and meat from fighting with Psycho that I think it went off and died.   

On Sunday we managed to piece together what we think happened.  The thing we know for sure is our red doberman Gracie was beyond traumatized.  I think she is probably the one who chased the cat off of Psycho.  She had a little blood on her collar like she had went out and laid down with Psycho.  Also one of the dogs took Psycho her rawhide chewy and left it within her reach.  The other dogs did not go out and retrieve it so it got buried with Psycho.  They did the best they could to take care of her.  We think that the animal was trying to come in through the dog door and Psycho defended her home like she always did.  She was my little warrior and died like a warrior.  After some reflection and thinking about sitting her on the floor after we found her injured I am pretty sure her back was broken.

I will post more things on Psycho in the near future.  It really helps me feel better to get it out.

                                                   RIP Psycho June 26th, 2011

Lots of Things...

So for my lunch hour I am going to write another blog post.  It will be all over the place and so I apologize in advance. 

First on the agenda is my writing.  Some of the people who I have shared this blog with think I should write a book.  So in the theory of one day getting there please pass this blog on to everyone you know.  Maybe the right person will see it.

Second on the agenda is to do one last shout out to Precious the cat.  I will never be able to wear flip flops again and feel the same.  Precious loooovvved my flip flops.  I would kick them off under the coffee table and he would roll on them and rub his face all over them.  Once he was done loving my stinky flip flops he would fall asleep with his head on one.  The weird thing is it was just my flip flops, he would never roll on and love my tennis shoes.  So lots of love for Precious because he changed my life in such a positive way.  I will try not to do any more Precious cat posts for a while.

The third item is some information.  Before I post anything about anyone else I try to check it out with them first.  So I asked David before I posted the un dun dun stories.  As far as I know David, my mom and other family members read my blog.  So I try to be sensitive to every one's feelings.  I am sure that many of you are asking where this is coming from.  I am planning on doing a post in the very near future about trust and respect. 

The final item is that I will be taking a couple days off in the very near future.  I don't think everyone needs to know exactly which days but it will be a couple.  I am planning on doing some personal reflection and some house cleaning.  So I am not totally sure if I will write any posts but then again I may write tons.  Who knows?

One last minute update:  Bentley may have a new home.  I am going to take him to meet with his potential mommy on Saturday morning.  So wish him luck in finding his forever home.

Who is taking it the hardest?

Yesterday was a really hard day with all of the crying.  I am not yet sure of who is taking it the hardest and having a hard time moving through the grieving process. 

I went home early and tried to get some of my work done on my laptop.  That just started the tears.  Usually when I sit at my desk and work on my laptop Precious is under my feet letting me rub my smelly feet all over him.  It was really hard not to have him there while I worked.  I have also been battling a migraine headache for a couple weeks.  I missed Precious laying on me while I laid on the couch watching TV not feeling well.  When David got home we went to Burger King for dinner (such a diabetic no no).  I usually have Monkey tapping me on the elbow for a bite of my burger or chicken.  Precious would sit under the coffee table and let Monkey do the work so he would get a handout too.  It was sad to only give a handout to Monkey.

I know for sure that David is really heartbroken also.  He did not sleep well last night and still looked really sad this morning.  If Precious wasn't sitting on one of us he was always sitting on the arm of the couch next to David.  Precious would also greet everyone in the morning.  David being the first person up missed the greeting this morning.

DB has been the saddest about Precious.  When I got home yesterday she looked all over the house for him.  She came up to me and whined until I walked all over with her.  DB is my deaf dalmatian/pit bull and Precious best dog friend.  Precious was intuitive about DB, he got that she was deaf.  He would stand on DB while she was laying down and knead her sides.  He would also get close to her and purr so that she could feel the vibrations.  I read an article about showing your other animals the body of the deceased animal so that they know their buddy has passed on.  I am now wishing we had went inside before getting the shovels out of the garage and showed the others that Precious was gone.  DB will understand with some time.  I am thinking about walking her up to where we buried him so that she can sniff around. 

We have survived the first twenty four hours without Precious.  I think David and I have both decided Monkey will be our last cat. 

Precious the Cat

Today has been the hardest Monday I can remember.  As anyone who knows me knows we have a farms worth of animals.  One of the farm favorites is Precious the cat.  He is not an ordinary cat.  He is like a little dog.  He comes to you when called and loves everyone.  One of his favorite people past his dad and my sister.  He will come out and sit and purr for hours for anyone who will love on him.

Unfortunately he has been sick for the last month.  I have been having to make sure he eats everyday (I used to have to shoo him away from the food).  He has been hiding a lot more and only coming out to sit on David.  He would occasionally come out of hiding and cry for a couple seconds and then try to throw up.  So I treated him for hairballs.  He had started acting better so I thought he was getting better.

This morning David got up and went out to check on the puppy and make sure he hadn't ate our house.  Precious was hiding in the laundry room next to his food bowl.  When David came out Precious started crying so David picked him up and set him in the hallway.  Precious staggered all over and couldn't walk so David called me to come check on him.  I watched him walk and then decided we had better get him to the vet.  I thought he may have had a stroke.

When the vet checked him she said that his liver had totally failed and he had a seizure or a stroke.  She also told us there was nothing we could do.  So we chose to have him put to sleep.  This a decision that is breaking both David and my heart.



Disclaimer:  Graphic description of animal euthanasia.

They took Precious out of the room and set him up with an IV.  They brought him back in for David and I to hold until it was over.  We sat for a long time holding Precious and loving on him.  The vet was very nice and gave us some time to say our goodbyes.  We then placed him on the table and she told us how it would work.  They would give him a very large overdose of sodium pentathol and he would stop breathing and his heart would stop.  She said it would be just like he went to sleep. 

In all truth it wasn't like he just went to sleep.  It was horrific.  (Keep in mind that I have dissected human bodies and seen some horrific things so I am not a pansy.)  She started injecting the sodium pentathol and about three quarters of the way through the injection his head flopped off to one side suddenly.  I lost it.  I thought that he really would just lay his head down and go to sleep.  The suddenness of his death was horrific.  Apparently he died that quickly because he was already dying.  I took off out of the room with David still holding Precious.  I went out to the car and screamed and cried.  I threw up next to the car. 

Seeing a helpless little animal die is the very worst thing to me.  I finally gathered myself and went back in to hold precious until they got a little casket box for him.  I was horrified that his eyes were still open.  He had the most beautiful big yellow eyes.  We paid the two hundred dollars and took him with us.  We ran home and grabbed two shovels and walked out to the mesa.  We buried him on the mesa where he can find his way home. 

Precious was the best cat I have ever had.  He was so friendly and happy to be on this earth.  David was blessed to have him for 11 years and I was blessed to know him for the last 3 years.  He loved to sit on me and David and watch TV.  He would help David corner and catch the live mice Monkey would bring in.  He always had to be the clown of the house when we had visitors.  He made sure that anyone who professed to not like cats loved him.  He made sure all of the dogs walked the line.  He was the best cat ever. 

We are heart broken because we believed Precious had at least another good five years left.  May God bless him and keep him.

Dun Dun Dun! or Un dun dun!

I have to start this post by explaining who my husband is.  He is the class clown of all class clowns.  He will do most anything to get a laugh out of someone he cares for.  He is probably the funniest person I know.  I have several theories on why he is so funny.  My number one theory is he is short so he has to have a personality that is bigger than life.  I am a giant for the part of the world we live in at 6'0".  My husband is the height of an average Hispanic man at 5'6".  He makes up for being short with a personality that is bigger than life.

One of his favorite things is to say dun dun duns instead of underwear (I personally call them under roos).  When you look at him funny or ask him what dun dun duns are he will give a demonstration.  He says it comes from when he was a little kid.  He will jump into the superhero pose.  (Feet slightly apart, fists on his hips, serious superhero look, etc.)  Then he declares "dun dun dun!".  Apparently little boys run around in their underwear striking superhero poses and declaring dun dun dun!  This is personally very funny to me and rather embarrassing to my sister.  Sometimes I wish I had a cape for him. (Just as a side note he is fully clothed when he does this.  I don't want anyone to get the wrong impression.)

One night about two weeks ago David and I were going to bed.  We said our good nights and I reached out to pat him on the butt.  The second I patted him I realized something was wrong.  He had seams running up the center of both butt cheeks.  I asked him what he was wearing.  He told me boxer briefs.  Hmm...that is weird to have a seam right there.  Finally it clicked.  His underwear were on backwards.  I asked him if he wore his underwear backwards all day.  He said he had and I lost it.  I laughed until I almost peed.  He finally got up and turned them around because I was laughing so hard.  He did not find it nearly as funny as I did. 

For the next couple days most of my snarky comebacks involved "at least I can put my underwear on right".  Until David got even.  We were walking into the store when he made some rude comment to me so I came back with "at least I can dress myself".  That is when he jumped up on the curb with his back to me in the superhero pose and declared "Un dun dun!".

So as usual David got the last word... 

Doberman's Again

So Titan went to live with his new family a little over two weeks ago.  He went to live in Arizona as an only dog to a really nice man and his wife.  We had Titan for about a month.  I miss him but he got a great family.  Last week Doberman Rescue called me to see if I would take another foster dog.  Of course David and I said yes.

So yesterday we took delivery of Bentley from Alamagordo, NM.  Bentley got to his first foster family by way of Mesilla Valley Shelter in Las Cruces.  Bentley had to find a new foster home because he was not getting along with the first foster homes other male dog.  At the first foster home Bentley got beat up rather bad by the other dog over food.  When I first discussed Bentley with his first foster mother she said he had been bit and that it was healing.  When we got Bentley yesterday his face was really messed up.  He will take some time to heal but I hope that he will heal nicely.

Bentley is about 9-10 months old and a black like Shelby.  At first he was not sure he even wanted to come in the house.  He is really timid and shy.  Once he came in the house we let our girls in too.  He loves the other dogs.  He is attached to Shelby at the hip.  They go everywhere together.  He has figured out that Psycho is the dominant dog at our house (by stepping on her tail and getting snapped at).  He is going to fit in just fine and heal and learn at our house.  It is really exciting to have a puppy. 

This is a photograph of Shelby in all her glory. Bentley is the same color with the same ears.  The only ways to tell them apart is Bentley is way smaller and has a docked tail.

This is Shelby snuggling with David.  This happens to be her favorite place but also the place where I normally sit on the couch.

This is Psycho taking a nap.  Isn't she really too cute and fluffy to be named Psycho.  Trust me she earned her name.

This is DB and Gracie napping together.  They take a lot of comfort in one another.  DB makes a great pillow.

When I get a good picture of Bentley I will post it.

Update:  This is Bentley.  You can't tell from this photo how bad his face is torn up.  He went with David and I to Farmington to visit my dad for Father's Day.  He learned to be a dog with all of the attention from my family.  We brought him back a much happier healthier dog.  He really was not liking women until he met my mom and sister.  He would avoid me if at all possible.  Now he is forgetting that he doesn't like women.  He came running up to me yesterday (I was feeling awful because we had to euthanize Precious).  He leaned on me and gave me kisses before he remembered he wasn't supposed to like me.  He is learning and healing quickly.

The Gangster Goose and His Duck Henchmen

This is a true story of the second year I attended college at the University of New Mexico.  I am typing out this story just specifically for my mom.  I swear that it is a true story (for the most part).

I have to preface the story with the fact that I have a pathological fear of birds.  I hate birds more than most.  I really hate large farm animal type birds because they pinch and twist when they bite.  I have never been bit by a large bird but I still hate them.  My dad had guard geese at one of his shops when I was a kid.  They were vicious and would mess anyone up who thought of breaking into the shop.  I think that is where the pathological fear comes from.    Once I even tried to throw my mother into a duck pond trying to get away from some geese.  So you get that I am really afraid of birds.

The University of New Mexico is a large beautiful campus.  On the northwest side of campus is a duck pond with tons of grass to lounge in and shade to study in.  There is a building called Dane Smith Hall just northwest of the duck pond.  Just south of the duck pond is Mitchell Hall.  There is a sidewalk that runs around both side of the duck pond connecting the two building.  So in order to go from English class in Mitchell Hall to Stats class in Dane Smith Hall I had to walk past the duck pond one direction or another.

On this particularly dreary, foreboding, spring day I had to go to class in the rain.  I made it to my first class in Mitchell Hall, soaked but still on time.   After class the professor asked me to stay and speak with her about a public speaking project.  (I had a bad habit of making my public speaking presentations on serial killers which was unsettling to my classmates).  This is the point where the day headed south very quickly.  I had fifteen minutes to get to my Stats class on the other side of the duck pond.  I spent way to much time speaking to the professor and had to hurry to my next class.  My Stats class was one of the few that the professor took attendance and used that in calculating your grade.  So I really didn't want to be late.

As I was walking up the sidewalk, past the duck pond to Dane Smith Hall I saw some shadows looming in the distance.  As I got closer I realized it was a goose wearing a little trench coat and a black fedora standing in the middle of the sidewalk.  To this day I swear he had a miniture, goose sized, tommy gun.  I thought "How bizzare, I can skirt around him and still get to class on time.  Surely he is not after me."  Then my day took a turn for the worse.  Much worse.  Standing on either side of him in a V formation were six ducks, three on each side.  They must not make duck size trench coats but the ducks for sure had little fedora's.  You could also tell that some of them were packing .45's under their wings.  The gangster goose and his duck henchmen made for an intimidating gang.

As the sceen processed through my head I heard the goose sound a command.  At that moment I let out a little scream.  (Really it was more like a blood curdling scream).  I got the attention of the maintanence workers on the other side of the duck pond.  They turned around in time to seen me turn and run.  As I got some momentum the slick sidewalk came up to meet me.  I lay there on the wet sidewalk thinking for sure I was going to be shot and killed by the gangster goose and his duck henchmen.  Or much worse bit by the gangster goose. As I pulled myself up off of the sidewalk I looked at the maintenence guys.  They were laughing really hard as the goose and his ducks drifted back to the pond.  The weird thing is they no longer had gangster outfits or guns.

I made it to Stats class wet and embarrassed but at least I was not shot and killed by a gangster goose or his duck henchmen.

This is the most menacing goose I could find.  The only pictures of geese in clothing on google were the cute lawn ornaments wearing bonnets.  The gangster goose was for sure wearing a fedora.  So just imagine him in a trench coat and fedora carrying a miniture tommy gun.

Kids and Dogs

Some of the rough patch I have been going through involves a disrupted adoption.  David and I really wanted a family and due to illness we decided to adopt.  After being lied to by the state foster/adoption program and suffering through a disruption, we decided adoption is not the right choice.  Here is where it gets bizarre.  David and I have four dogs, a white fuzzy mutt named Psycho, a white deaf dalmatian mix named DB, a red doberman named Gracie, and a black doberman named Shelby.  We also have two cats, a female tortoise shell named Monkey and a big black male cat named Precious.  I love my dogs and cats more than most. 

So my bright idea a month after a disrupted adoption is to foster a doberman from the Doberman Rescue of New Mexico.  It makes me feel like we are doing something good and making a difference.  So on Friday we got Titan, a 110 pound boy.  Yes, 110 pounds of untrained doberman.  I can hear everyone slapping their foreheads right about now.  But this doesn't continue in the direction you may be thinking.

Titan may be a big boy but he is really sweet.  He was taken from an animal shelter in Las Cruces where he was dropped off after being an outdoor dog and never being trained.  I am guessing that someone paid upwards of $1000 for him.  He is a great example of his breed needless to say.  I am also guessing that they got him when he was a small puppy thinking he would be 50-60 pounds full grown.  When he reached the 100 pound mark and they had not trained him he went to a shelter.  From the shelter he went to his first foster home here in Albuquerque.  At his foster home he was also an outdoor dog because the gentleman could not walk him or get him to stop marking in the house.  So from there he came to us.

When he came to us both of his ear had infection in them.  He had not had a bath ever I would venture to guess.  He did not know his name nor was he house broken.  He also does not know how to walk on a leash unless you like being walked by a tank.  That was three days ago. 

Titan, David and I got a bath on Friday night.  He sat in the tub looking sad while David and I shampooed him three times and conditioned him once.  When we were finished bathing him he wouldn't get out of the tub.  I personally don't want to pick up 110 pounds of smelly wet doberman.  Thank God for David getting his front feet out of the tub so he came out on his own.   I have brushed all dead hair and skin off of him every time he is still for a minute.  So he is now getting his shiny doberman coat back.

My mother knows the best remedy for dog ear infections (may work on kids too).  White vinegar mixed with water 50/50.  I got David to hold his head while I treated his ears with a dental syringe.  So when I dropped the solution into his ears he shook his head and got both David and I covered in dirty dog ear vinegar.  I had to do that three more times and the infection cleared up.  I smelled like vinegar for two solid days.  Titan smelled like rotting meat for two days.  I think I got the better end of that deal.

As of today Titan has not marked in the house.  He also hasn't had an accident in the house or in the spare bathroom where he stays at night.  He also knows his name and the sit command.  The one issue is my cats.  Titan thinks cats are neat.  Not neat to eat, just unusual.  He will sit and stare at my cat and then bark at her to try to get her to play.  David's cat is a whole different story.  Precious teases Titan.  He walks by Titan very slowly to try and get him to chase him.  So both Precious and Titan were in trouble yesterday.  I don't trust Titan with the cats yet so he has to sleep in the spare bathroom and hangs out in there while we are at work.    When I get off of work today we are going to start learning to walk on a leash.

Now where do kids come into this post?  I like my Dobermans more than I liked one of  the kids we were going to adopt.  Does that make me a horrible person or what?  The doberman pisses me off I can spray him in the face with a water bottle.  I can't do that to a foster kid.  If the doberman teases my cat unmercifully I can lock him outside until he calms down.  The kid that tortured my cat had no repercussions other than the cat left the house for days at a time.  Titan is a big, sweet, loving doberman unlike the kid that was a sociopath.

If you are interested in the Doberman Rescue of New Mexico you can visit their website linked below.  On their website is the instruction on how to foster or adopt a doberman.  You can also relinquish custody of a doberman if you are unable to care for it.  They also take donation to help with the cost of taking care of the dogs.  Titan will have his medical care paid for by Doberman Rescue of New Mexico until he is adopted out.  I am just responsible for the cost of food.

http://www.dobermanrescuenm.org/

Who I Am

I am Angela, a 28 year old college graduate that works as a case manager on a grant funded project.  I work at both a juvenile detention facility and a public school.  I have to be very careful about how much I say about my job for obvious reasons.  I am married to David a construction inspector for a well known west coast construction firm.  David is a type 2 diabetic that is overall compliant but sometimes not.  I have four dogs, one foster dog and two cats. 

Why do I want to write a blog?  My mom always laughs about the things that happen to me and the stories I tell.  Right now I am going through a really rough patch in my life.  I think that writing about things that are funny or sad or somewhere in between help me cope and process.

I hope my readers enjoy what I write.  I really appreciate comments.