Jayne Says

Skunked

I returned home late Wednesday night, exhausted from my conference and a five hour drive from the coast. The Pilot was off piloting and the dogs were happy to see me (and to finally have their dinner.) I fed them and crawled into bed.

A few hours later, crazed barking dogs awakened me. I stumbled downstairs and yelled at them to come inside. Rotor pranced up to me, grinning, with her tail at its full proud mast. The following conversation ensued:

Jayne: Good God, what is that stench?!

Rotor: Heh heh heh.

J: A SKUNK sprayed you, didn't it?

R: Yeah, and it was the coolest thing EVER!

J: Get in the tub!

R: Sure!

J: You know this is Daddy's favorite vegetable juice - it's organic and everything, and not cheap!

R: Whatever!

J: Gross, now you smell like tomato juice and the tub looks like a crime scene. Now for the coconut shampoo.

R: This is all so worth it!

J: Okay, stop gloating and get out of here.

My dog is never happier than when she is filthy and reeking. She will run, slo-mo, to any rotting carcass on the beach and roll in it, as I scream " N-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!!!!" I swear, time slows down during these moments. Being sprayed by a skunk, after a good chase, was doggie heaven for Rotor.

The house still smelled like skunk, so I sprayed it with some Cinnamon Toast perfume from Demeter (it smells just like the name mmmmm.)

But the overpowering miasma of skunk, tomato juice, coconut and cinnamon -- Satan trying his hand at Thai cooking -- continued to assault my senses for hours.

And the recurring thought that I couldn't wait to blog this contributed in no small part to my sleeplessness. I am such a loser.

Kristen over at Motherhood Uncensored recently posted about a parenting rite of passage of children doing a certain thing in the bathtub.

Being skunked must be a similar rite of passage for dog owners. Lucky me.

Lizard-Faire

A plain brown lizard startled me when I opened a bottom drawer in my bathroom last night. We looked at one another for a while. I got what I needed and closed the drawer. Then I re-opened it a crack, in case he wanted to get out later.

This morning, the lizard is still there. I considered moving it outside. Then I recalled that there have been bugs in the bathroom on occasion. Perhaps it is not lost, but perfectly content. Warm, (the bathroom receives a lot of light) sheltered, probably fed.

I care about this lizard's comfort and well-being.

I also saw a furry black spider with a red abdomen (not a black widow) in the bathroom this morning. This sight also startled me, more so than the lizard.

Would the lizard eat the spider? Would the spider bite the lizard? Are they competitors? I just shrugged and walked away, leaving them to work it out.

I will kill (or make my husband kill) ticks, mosquitoes, fleas, cockroaches, black widows, other poisonous or parasitic or disease-carrying insects.

I will move (or make my husband move) rodents, rattlesnakes or other larger potentially dangerous animals or pests. If a bird ever came inside, obviously, we'd get it out of here because it would be confused.

The rest (the vast majority of critters who come onto our house or property) are left well enough alone, with a nod of acknowledgment, even respect. Especially if they eat bugs. Ah, welcome to the country.

I have the vague sense that many others would trap the lizard and kill it or move it outside in disgust because it doesn't belong inside. Thoughts?

Sometimes a Bear, Sometimes an Island

Kodiak* was our fifth and final foster dog. We began fostering dogs in the Fall of 2002, as we both liked dogs but did not know how well one (or two) would fit in our busy lives. Fostering seemed like a good way to "test drive" particular dogs and the reality of having dogs in our life, without a permanent commitment. And foster dogs get out of the shelters, become better socialized (to humans and, in our case, cats) and there is more room at the shelters for new homeless animals.

Rotor was our first. We fell in love with that Border Collie mixed mutt right away and adopted her once someone else showed interest in adopting OUR precious puppy. Then there was Zeke (a true gentleman of a Black Lab), Foster (a wild, ill-mannered but sweet Australian cattle dog), and Lady (a gorgeous Yellow Lab/Shepherd/Husky mix with one blue eye and huge bat ears and a keen over-interest in our cats.)

We noticed Rotor was becoming a bit of a melanCollie, each time she had to say goodbye to one of her brothers or sisters. The adoptions were hard on her, and, increasingly, on us.

So we went in search of Rotor's "forever" brother. We went to an adoption event at a ranch-like sprawling shelter not far from where we lived. Rotor played with several of the dogs, and really seemed to hit it off with a young, handsome, happy-go-lucky Yellow Lab. We paid the adoption fee and put him in the back of T's Jeep with Rotor, confident that we had found the "perfect" new dog.

However, as soon as T started driving, this new dog began trembling violently. All we knew about him was that he had been picked up by the police (which made us think his prior owners were off to jail and weren't very nice).

We named him Kodiak, because he's the reddish-gold color of a Kodiak bear.

Kody trembled and whined and paced and panted all the way home. We soon realized he was a new breed to us, the Yellow-Bellied Lab. He was afraid of brooms and any large object. At first, I feared he had been beaten with sticks. But then I realized he startled at cardboard boxes, paper bags, anything unexpected. He once refused to go outside because there was a new cardboard box right outside the door on its way to be recycled. The boy needs his routines.

If there is a thunder storm, wind, loud noises, Kody is under my legs or up on the bed, shaking and whimpering, his expressive brown eyes wide, his brow furrowed. Rotor, our fearless Wonder Dog, just sighs and shakes her head at him in pity.

But Kody has the sweetest heart. He possesses not an ounce of guile. His heart is on his coat; he fully expresses his feelings, from bounding with joy every time we return home, to the quivering anticipation of a treat, to, of course, the anxiety that still plagues him daily.

He prefers to be outdoors. He makes little dens for himself on our property. He returned to the land when we stayed at my parent's house last summer, eating acorns and we actually saw him delicately pluck blackberries off the brambles with his lips. Very sweet.

We have even discussed putting him on anti-anxiety medication. We gave him some homeopathic anti-anxiety drops (which did nothing). And we do have some mild sedatives we give him if he has to be in the car for very long.

But then, when we see him, running free, with the unleashed abandon of a drunken youth in love, we think he must be doing okay.

*aka Kody, Agent Kody Banks, Banksy, Bubbs, Bubby, Choady, Choadler

Stream Unconsciousness

To avoid widespread global rioting, my cartoon likeness has been replaced by the real deal. And yes, I can levitate, don't ask. I'll be rotating my profile and banner pictures because T took some good ones and I'm a vain bitch. And I like change.

And my banner will be fixed and changed soon. All will be well tomorrow. After all . . . tomorrow is another day, isn't it, Scarlett?

Today, I'm rocking life's pendulum between the . . . Vapid and the Irresponsible.

We solved all the world's problems last week, no?

Jett is growing up, but still a hellion. Remember how she helped us decorate the Christmas tree? Responsible people string their sentences together coherently. They have separate thoughts for separate paragraphs. Tidy.

I will recommend the movie Fire, directed by Deepa Mehta, that I watched last night (via Netflix. It was "recommended" because they know I like girl on girl action. Tastefully done, of course . . .Speaking of, ever seen Bound? One of my favorites. But ah, for "mature" audiences only.)

Anyway, Fire is a lovely, deep, gentle and poignant look at middle class Indian families, caught between tradition and duty and modern life. Two women in loveless marriages find renewed lives and hope in their friendship (and more) -- that sounds like a personal ad, doesn't it? (A responsible person would re-write that.)

AND the movie is not only dramatic, beautifully filmed and well told, it is well worth supporting given the controversy it sparked in India (riots when it opened, etc.) because it threatened the status quo and the fundamentalist radical Hindus rioted and tried to shut it down; they took issue with the depictions (which were very tasteful.)

I always like to support free expression; it's amazing what we take for granted, and how many so-called "developed" countries can backslide into practically pre-fascist states. MAKES A PERSON THINK.

Herding Cats

My anti-consumerism serenity is beginning to crack along the edges. I can't very well show up empty-handed for various family get-togethers, can I? I'm leaving tomorrow for San Diego, another conference, for three days. I haven't sent out Xmas cards, haven't a clue what to make/give. I was going to put together a cute DIY post with links to clever crafty sites.

Holy shit, I am starting to panic. I'm thinking blown up photos decoupaged or something on canvas to look arty or burned CDs (instead of coal in the stockings, for the bad boys and girls.) I got nothing. Any ideas?

Maybe tomorrow I'll pull it all together?

In the meanwhile, let me introduce you to Jett.

So named after Joan Jett and also because T found her orphaned and abandoned a few months ago, covered in jet fuel (he works in aviation) so we rescued her and got the fleas off and fed her so she's not a scrawny little fleabag anymore.

She's the one following me around on my avatar, egging me on to make snarky comments. Blame Jett, not me.

And this is how the little mongrel ingrate repays us! Climbing up 6 feet onto our newly decorated tree, batting off ornaments and generally being the hellcat that she is, then taking a nap in the tree . . . Cats!

But of course we just laughed and I ran to get my camera phone, (darn, the batteries in my digital camera needed charging.)

Merry Pre-Christmas Panic, for those of you experiencing that particular Joy.