ONE OF THE FAMILY

This little cutie pie is a regular at our house.  Her dad is retired and active in the Shriner's organization, and is on the road a lot, so he drops her off for sometimes two weeks at a time.  Her name is Billie, and she is eight years old.  I must tell you, don't let her small size fool you.  This ten pound dynamo rules the two seventy pound Airedale sisters. 

Billie also loves being a chicken wrangler.  When I go out in the morning, she is right at my heels ready to scan the chicken yard for varmints.  Even though she never gets in the run with the chickens, she feels her job is of utmost importance and carries it out with pride.  We love her to pieces and miss her when she is home with her dad.

The sun here in the great Pacific Northwest is setting earlier and earlier and the leaves will soon be changing color.  It's at this time of year that I love the most.  I am an autumn junkie and could live in it all year long.  Soon it will be time to haul out the harvest decorations!  On a side note: if any of you have birds (parrots), then hop on over to my other blog and join the fun! http://www.thebeakwhisperer.blogspot.com/  I will be starting a giveaway on there within the next couple of days.  So, if you have a bird or know someone who does, drop on over and enter the contest!

THE NEVER ENDING CHORE....

Spring is still a ways off for us here in the Pacific Northwest, but one sunny day found me pulling on my boots, donning my gloves and diving in to what seems like the never ending chore list.  This tree use to be a beautiful red leaf maple, but it died last year.  I decided to trim it up and leave part of it as a sort of "art" piece.  Plus it holds our bird feeder quite well.

This is another maple, a twin to the deceased one.  Each held a prominent spot on each corner of our patio.  This one is showing the same signs of decay as it's fallen sibling.  Hopefully we will be able to save this one.

Messy, messy, messy.  Lots of work to do on this little snippet of our property.  I have grand plans for this area.  Since the dogs cannot be out with the chickens when they free range, I needed to find a spot where I could let the dogs enjoy the outdoors without being able to attack the resident fowl.  After repairing the pickets that fell off when a branch hit them, I will line the fencing with chicken wire (yes, the chickens might be dumb enough to slip through a slat and right into the mouths of the terriers).  That way both dogs and chickens will be able to see each other but not touch each other.

These beds will be removed and some grass will replace them.  The dogs will love the grass to keep cool in the summer while penned in at "chicken time."

Savannah doesn't appear impressed with the idea of being penned in while the chickens have free time.

Sasha doesn't care as long as there is food in the enclosure.  The hens will only get around three hours a day to free range, so the dogs won't suffer long in their new area.  Hey, it's better than having to stay in the house while the hens are out.  Right girls?.......girls?.......like I said, they are not impressed.  Their motto is: seeing is believing.

The hens had a meeting and they are very pleased with the arrangements for the dogs.  Turnabout is fair play.

FUSSY JAZZY

It's meal time and we have run out of Jazzy's favorite canned food, Fancy Feast.  In desperation I searched the pantry for something to take the place of her normal dinner.  Here are the few options I had to offer her.

Surf and Turf...now this looks promising.  So I open it up and give it a try.

Nice and juicy....just the way Jazzy likes it.  Yummmmmm, I coo to her, trying to show her how good this meal will be.  And what is the reaction?

THIS!  What a face!  I do believe she is NOT impressed.  So, on to the next can.

She gives it a good whiff....and the verdict is......

Not a fat chance of this junk touching her fine mouth.  She proceeded to sit there and stare at me as if to say, "have you lost your mind?"  I guess she would rather starve. 

Good thing the dogs aren't fussy eaters.  They never turn down dinner.  By the way, they would have loved to scarf down the rejected cat food, but I so did not want to be awakened at 2am with both girls having a bout of diarrhea from consuming cat food.  So where did the food go?  In the garbage, of course.