Neurotic Dogs and the KGB Spies

One of our grand dogs, Daisy, has got to be the most neurotic dog I’ve ever seen. She’s such a good girl, tries so hard to be perfect in everything she does, but she does some things that absolutely make you split a gut laughing.

For instance: Beau has allergies and at one point was put on prednisone to control his itching and constant scratching. Of course it did the trick, but after a period of time his eyes started to cloud over and we realized that we had to get him off the prednisone and onto something else that would ease his problems. I found a couple of things through a catalog that I get from Drs. Foster & Smith, gave them a try and they worked wonderfully. One of them is fish oil tablets, which I now buy at Wal-Mart at a much cheaper price.

So every morning and afternoon Ole gives Beau his pills and then they each get a milk bone. Well, it didn’t take long and Daisy realized that Beau was getting something in addition to the milk bone that she wasn’t getting. Now usually when you’re giving a dog pills you have to open his mouth, shove the pills into the back of his throat, close his mouth and wait for him to swallow. Not with Daisy – she’s so worried that she’s going to be left out that all you have to do is hand her the pill and she chews it up and swallows it down. Fish oil can’t possibly taste THAT good.

But last night took the cake. Last Monday we discovered a quarter-sized lump on Beau’s front leg. I called the vet and Beau was scheduled for surgery to have it removed the next morning. When he was put on the scale he had lost 10 pounds since he was in last spring. Not a good sign, but then he’s so active that he’s more than likely just run it off this summer. Daisy on the other hand has stayed the same and she runs just as much as he does – now isn’t that typical? Men always lose weight easily even in the land of DOGdom. It’s not fair.

But I digress. So Beau came home with a bandage on his leg from his paw up to his dog elbow, unfortunately wrapped too tightly so that his foot started to swell. The vet told us to remove it, put a tube sock over it and tape each end to his leg. Well – last night as Ole was changing his bandage Daisy was just beside herself. Once again, Beau was getting something that she wasn’t. So when Ole was all done wrapping Beau’s leg he cut a small piece of bandage, wrapped it loosely around Daisy’s leg, put some tape on it and she was happy as a clam. She pranced around showing off her bandage and even limped a little just for effect. Now doesn’t that just make you chuckle?

Now on to a more serious note. I feel like I’m being watched – spyed upon almost like the KGB. Yes, I understand that when you write an online journal it’s out there for the world to see and there’s no way to prevent anyone from reading unless you lock, which I certainly don’t intend to do. But due to a misunderstanding that took place a couple of years ago I no longer communicate with this person on a regular basis due to trust issues. Ole and I, along with Big Brother, were accused of things that were not true. This issue was not brought up for years and was allowed to fester until one day it just seemed to explode. The three of us were deeply hurt that we were thought of along these lines, and as a result I’ve been keeping my distance because I don’t want to take a chance on being put into a position like that again. Ole and Big Brother feel the same way.

This person is not a blogger that I’m aware of, so there won’t be a cyber war like there was with BoXx – at least I hope not. I just feel very uncomfortable having my blog checked many times a day. Site meters can certainly give you a lot of information, can’t they?

Like Ole says, you can’t UNRING a bell. Once words have been spoken, they may be forgiven but it’s very difficult to forget them.

I Got a Package, I Got a Surprise!

I got a package (done in a sing-song voice) in the mail yesterday afternoon! I love surprises. And this one came from that Pie-Rat who is always doing nice things for people. And she had a little note tucked inside - to her favorite Sturgis bikers!! Thank you so much Poolie. They are salt and pepper shakers and are so cute. I've got them sitting in my garden window right above my sink so I see them all the time.

Ole was so impressed - his comment: "You've really met some genuinely nice people through blogging." Yup, Ole, I have. I just wish we all lived a bit closer so we could get together occasionally.

I really need to get busy on my Pay it Forward items that I promised (within the next year). But that won't be until after I get my fall outside work done once we get a frost. That probably won't be much longer as it was 34 degrees this morning when I got up. Just a wee bit on the nippy side. Fall is really my favorite time of year with the exception that it means I have to go back to wearing shoes and socks - yuck. Normally I stick with the sandals until my toes turn a bit on the blue side from being cold. Then it's fun to warm my feet up by crawling into bed and putting them on Ole's bare back. Boy, does THAT make him quit snoring!!

Fall is also the time when the mice start moving. (Say, Poolie, what's a herd of mice called? There's one for you to look up.) And with us living in the country right next to a field, we do have herds of mice moving when the nights start to get cold. Big fat field mice. They truly are different than the city mice, you know. Remember that story about the city mouse and the country mouse? Well, a country mouse found its way into Lovely Daughter's house last night and met with the paws of their new kitty, Medora. Lovely Daughter said when she got home last night there was Medora playing patty paws with the mouse, batting it around in the bathroom. Lovely Daughter said they sent the mouse for a swim down the toilet, and poor little Medora couldn't figure out what happened to her new playmate. So now Medora is a Workin' Girl. I'm not sure Lovely Daughter's other cats would even know what a mouse is with the exception of Hercules, who lives in the tractor.

Yes, you read that correctly. Herkie lives in the tractor. Herkie loves being outside and only comes in to eat and take an occasional nap. Otherwise you see him roaming the property regularly. Ole has a big John Deere farm tractor that he uses to mow part of our five acres and to move snow in the winter. In the summer he leaves all the windows open on the cab and Herkie discovered that he can get in the cab and have a nice comfy seat to sleep on. You should see all the white hair he has deposited on the seat. I think you could build another cat with all of it.

Well, Folks, I've run out of words for today. I'm sure Ole would argue that point because he says I'm never at a loss for words, but then what does he know, right?

Love Lena

I Speak of Many Things

First of all I have to tell you that this really made my day. You really need to go over to The Old Grey Poet's page and watch his YouTube video - The Mean Kitty Song. Even if you're not a cat lover I'm sure you'll appreciate how true this song is.

Second - okay - I deserve 40 lashes with a chunk of wet lutefisk. I haven't written in my blog since last Wednesday. I can't decide whether I've been that busy or I just haven't had anything to write about. You pick - one excuse is as good as another to me, ya know.

Ole and I have been quite busy though. He and I were asked to head up the committee to do all the landscaping around a columbarium that our church has installed in the cemetery. It's been a lot of work, but also a lot of fun, and we've been fortunate in the fact that we've had the cooperation of the other members of the committee. Sometimes that doesn't happen, you know. People have a tendency to want their own ideas used and it may not be to the liking of the majority. But then maybe it's because in a lot of things I haven't given them a choice, I've just TOLD them what needed to be done and they did it. Then maybe it has to do with the fact that I'm the only female on the committee - forty years of marriage to Ole has taught me a thing or two about manipulating and conniving (snicker.)

Well, anyway, for those of you that may not know, a columbarium is a large stone (in our case Minnesota granite) facility that stores the urns that ashes are put in when you are cremated. The pastor wants the columbarium landscaping to be completed by September 23rd so that it can be dedicated. I'm sure we can pull it off by that time - after all I've got five men under my control to do all the hard labor and all I have to do is stand around and point my finger at what goes where. Sound like a plan to you?

So have you ever thought about what you want done with your remains? Ole and I have talked about that issue a number of times over the last years, and more so now that we're working on this project. Ole is an organ donner (is that spelled right?) and has always stated that he wants to be cremated. I guess we'll have to see how many organs he donates first - his urn might end up on the small side because he's a pretty healthy Finlander. He's also stated that he wants someone to ride his Harley down the highway and let his ashes blow out going down the road. He doesn't have any hair to let the wind blow through now when he's riding his bike, so he says at least he wants the wind to blow through his ashes.

Me? I think I want to be cremated too. And I don't think I want an open casket at my funeral. The thought of all those people parading by saying, "Oh, doesn't she look terrible," would make me turn over in my casket. That ought to make them sit up and take notice, huh? At that point I'm dead, People - you expect me to look beautiful or something? You know how those little old ladies are that walk by and criticize the undertaker's work. Yeah - go blow it out somebody else's horn, why don't you. I swear a lot of those little old ladies come for the funeral lunch, not because they knew the person very well.

And speaking of a funeral lunch - around here there are certain staples of that lunch. There's always hot dish (never casseroles) of one kind or another. Hamburger hot dish and tuna hot dish are regulars, and then there's the dead spread sandwiches. You know the kind - ground spam mixed with pickles and mayonnaise spread on a half a bun. Or cheese whiz with a slice of green olive in the center. And certainly please don't forget the red jello with bananas. It wouldn't be a funeral lunch without that.

Now back to the columbarium. As Ole and I were working over at the cemetery last week, I took the occasion to walk through the cemetery and look at all the head stones. I've been fascinated with old cemeteries for a long time. I think that started when I got into genealogy - those old tombstones can tell some stories and contain a lot of information.

Our cemetery (Lutheran) was started in 1901 and the first burial took place then. It was a little 5-month old baby named Leonard Schroeder. Quite close to this grave, which is under a huge pine tree, are five more white marble stones, all dated between 1904 and 1910. They belong to five children of varying ages all from the same family. Can you imagine losing five children within six years? Actually there are quite a few children under the age of 10 and numerous infants buried in this cemetery. I guess that was the norm back in those days. And then there was the era when the Spanish flu moved through. It was very evident in the cemetery that there were very few families that were untouched by that. That took place as World War I was winding down about 1918-1919. My mother had an older brother who succumbed to the Spanish Flu but managed to overcome it somehow. Must have been that good strong Swedish stock.

Then down the road a mile and a half is Elmwood Cemetery started in 1881. A man named Heinrich Krabbenhoft (32), was one of the first settlers in this area. When he died in the winter of 1881 there was no cemetery in the area. So a straw stack on his farm was burned to thaw out the ground and he was buried there. His grave stone is currently in the center of Elmwood Cemetery, very old and moss covered and difficult to read.

Elmwood Cemetery installed a columbarium about a year before our cemetery did, but so far nobody occupies any of the cripts. Must be because there's no landscaping around it (snicker). It's just a huge block of red granite standing out in the middle of a grassy area. Ours will be much prettier (neener, neener).