Mid-February Scenes

I'm sharing some scenes from my little neck of the woods this mid-February. The first shot shows how the snow is banked up beside some of my roses. I wish the roses were covered in the snow, actually, as it would provide better protection for them, but this is ok, too. At least the wind cannot buffet them while the snow lasts. Today is sunny and relatively mild and some of the snow is melting off. Lest we get too comfortable with that, the television warns more snow may come sometime this weekend. Enough, already!

In the middle shot is the new baby, Bruiser. Bruiser is a blue heeler, also called an Austrailian cattle dog, 7 1/2 weeks old. The name "heeler" comes from how these shepherd dogs nip at the heels of sheep and cattle when they work them. The breed is supposed to be smart and affectionate. So far he seems to be pretty smart, but he is awfully young. Bruiser is the most speckled pup I have ever seen. Apparently, he was all white when he was born. It will be interesting to see how his coloration develops as he matures. Roxy is accepting her new playmate well, I think, and he has made these late winter days a tad more tolerable around here, to say the least.

The final shot is of the lovely bouquet of mauve roses and alstromeria that my daughter received from her boyfriend for Valentine's Day. These luscious roses have opened beautifully. She thoughtfully left them out for the whole family to enjoy, and, believe me, I do!

What's new with you?

Boo-Boo: Skunked!

Skunks eat grubs. Did you know that? I like skunks better than Japanese beetles, whose larvae hide in my lawn and flower beds. So, if skunks are eating those, I guess I can like them for that reason. I really hate Japanese beetles, though, so you can imagine how little I like skunks.

However, in my world, as in yours I have no doubt, skunks and dogs do not mix. Meet Boo, the Great White Hunter. The horribly smelly, stinky, Great White Hunter. Small mammals -- BEWARE!

Boo is a white German shepherd-mystery mutt mix, rescued from a farmhouse where puppies were viewed with no affection whatsoever. When I found her, she was a miserable six-week-old with runny nose and eyes, flea-riddled and terrified of humans, especially men. She cowered whenever I got out the broom to sweep the floors. She hid from men as a pup and growled at them as an adult. Her tail was kinked and bald, as a steer had stepped on her in the barn where she and the other pups were living, their only solid food coming from table scraps that undoubtedly did not provide them with proper nourishment.

I feared it was a mistake to adopt one of these obviously troubled puppies, but my daughter insisted. We put the pup in a cardboard box and got in the car. On the way home, my daughter tried to come up with a name, "Princess! Beauty! Snowball!" All woeful misnomers. I glanced in the rear-view mirror at the pathetic creature peering out of the box and said, "Poor little boo-boo." When we got home and plopped the puppy at Gourdo's feet, a father's day present, he said, "Where'd you get this boo-boo?" I looked at our daughter and said, "Sorry, kiddo, I think we have the puppy's name: Boo it is."

Boo has been a challenge from the beginning, but she's family. I don't entirely trust her around small children or small animals. She no longer is quite so fierce (terrified) around men, but whenever she's nervous about anything she growls. She still casts a dubious eye at the broom, retreating to another room if I get within 10 feet of her with it. Roxy came to live with us when Boo was 4 and I was concerned about how Boo would treat her, but the relationship they've worked out has brought a lot of laughter into our lives. Roxy jumps on Boo, bites her, steals her food and toys--and Boo tolerates it all with uncharacteristic good humor. Roxy never does a thing without looking to see what Boo does first. Roxy has mellowed Boo and brought out her good side.

Anyway, I've digressed. Back to skunks.

The first skunk Boo encountered had wandered into our attached garage seeking garbage or maybe shelter. Boo cornered it behind the trash cans, and I thought it was a kitten. She dragged it from its hiding place by the scruff of the neck, and I was right behind her, yelling, "Drop it, Boo! Drop it!" My son, hearing the commotion from the house, opened the garage door just as I realized it wasn't a kitten but a skunk. I backpedaled out of the garage, shrieking, "CLOSE THE DOOR! CLOSE THE DOOR! SKUNK!"

Boo was sprayed. The garage was sprayed. The entire house reeked for weeks.

Apparently, Boo didn't remember that lesson earlier this week when she discovered a skunk in the woods. She came trotting home across the field from the woods--you know that happy jaunt dogs have with the wide, toothy grin and waving plume of tail? That was Boo. The stink preceded her like a breaker--no, a tsunami. Gourdo hosed her while I scrubbed with vinegar and dishwashing liquid. She spent a couple of days out of the house. I think we have most of it off her, though, as she's merely funky now, rather than skunky.

As ever, she is still our boo-boo. Boo photo by JulenaJo; skunk photo from Wikipedia.

Creepy Coyote

Every evening just before bed I take our two dogs out for a final potty break. A little over a week ago I did so and heard a coyote barking in the cornfield between our house and our neighbor's house. It could not have been very far away--maybe 1/8 mile--maybe less. My dogs barked and were at alert, but were not frenzied. My heart pounded in fear, though. I quickly called Roxy, our small, black, yorkie-lhasa apso mix, to my side. She came all too slowly to suit me.
I haven't heard the coyote since, but I have noticed that our other dog, Boo (part white German shepherd), has been restless at night, barking at nothing (that I can see or hear), going from window to window, nosing the night air for all it whispers to her.
Last night I saw the coyote, though, and it was too close for comfort. I drove home after picking my daughter up from a soccer match and there he was, standing just at the end of our driveway, half-hidden by some tall grass. His gaze was intent upon our open garage door. Was he after our cat, who had probably just returned home after an evening of hunting mice in the recently harvested fields? Or had someone let Roxy out? I prayed not.
I backed the car and fixed the headlights on the clump of tall grass. The coyote had flattened himself into the clump, but my daughter called out, "I see his ears!" Suddenly, he made a break for it, loping down the road. I pursued, hoping to scare him off, and he ran, but not very far, before leaping off road and into a field of unharvested corn--the same field where I'd heard him barking before. His nonchalant pace left me no doubt that he wasn't serious about leaving the area any time soon.
Later that evening, when I took the dogs out, I kept Roxy on her leash. She played and dallied and I wanted her to hurry. It gives me the creeps being outside at night when I know there is probably a coyote hidden in the corn and staring at me, trying to decide if he should take my little Roxy for a midnight snack. Coyote photo by Christopher Bruno.