Hound Dog Refuge

Somehow the canine population at Dammit Farms doubled over the weekend. Saturday evening, a little yellow hound dog wandered into our yard. He was hungry, all of his ribs were visible. He wore a collar, but no tag. He immediately seemed submissive to my own dogs, rolling on his back, and revealing his belly to them. We tried to keep the kids distant from him at first, but then we noticed his tail wagging every time one of the boys came near. Finally we let them pet him. He followed the kids around the yard, soaking in any and every bit of affection sent his direction. I had just fed my dogs the last of the dog food, and had planned to get some in the morning. Since this dog was so hungry, I found some leftover spaghetti to feed him. I have no doubt that the plate of the spaghetti was the best meal of that little hound's life. He sucked it up in seconds. We laid a blanket on the porch for him to lay on, and we were about to retreat inside for the evening when another dog was spotted peering through our front gate.

We invited the second dog in. This one, a cur hound, seemed much older, and a bit better nourished. It was clear that he and the yellow hound were familiar with each other. Once again, we cautioned the kids against getting too close to him. Once again, the kids would come near, and the cur's tail would wag. He, too, is a sweetheart who is hungry for affection, and is polite to my dogs. He aboded by all the "dog rules" and presented himself as a guest in my dogs' space. I gave him some of the leftover spaghetti too. We were joking that the other dog told him "hey, come on over! They're cool. They have spaghetti!"

 



The next morning my husband and I were getting ready for church, while my four and five year old checked on their new doggy friends outside. One of the boys comes running in "There's another dog!". My husband and I accused them of seeing things. My husband and I looked at one another. "There's no way." Sure as shit...there was a third dog standing outside our fence. This time it was a red bone hound. It's clear that he's older from the white hair on his face, he was pretty skinny, and he walks with a limp. He entered our property apprehensively, head lowered, and presented himself to our dogs. By this time I was almost hoping that the dog would turn out to be aggressive, or unfriendly so that we had an excuse not to take him in. Nope, not the case. The redbone, who my five year old cleverly named red, is as sweet as pie. He's old, and tired. I don't know where he came from, or what his life is like, but I can tell that he is craving peace. Barrett and Red have been inseparable for the past few days. Barrett checks on him before he gets on the bus, and finds him the second he gets home from school.

 

 

Since our canine refugees have arrived, we have treated them for fleas, bathed them (they were surprisingly receptive to a bath), treated the cur hound for ear mites, and fed them. They are appreciative of it all. I open my door to three wagging tails all happy to see me. My dogs have accepted their presence. We assured them that they are not being replaced. We have asked around to see if anyone is missing their dogs. Nope. We have theorized that someone went hunting, got too drunk, and lost all of their dogs. However, no hunter has been spotted looking for dogs in our area. I really think that someone just dumped these sweet animals in the country. I'm glad that they found us. I don' know what we'll do. We may try to find homes for them, or we may incorporate them into our family. Whatever happens, I have promised all three that their run of bad luck was over the day they walked through my gate.

 



Our Fartwork

 

 

I had been shopping around for some art to hang in my living room. It turns out that anything that I like is completely out of my price range, so I decided to make my own art. I stole an idea from my sister, Mona, and bought a canvas for us to "paint". I painted the background, and let the kids put their hand and footprints on it. Jason and I also added our hand prints. I couldn't NOT include the dogs, so I also stamped their paws. The paw stamp was a bit tricky. It turns out that Kaiser, our mastiff, doesn't like to have his paw restrained. He cried like I was trying to kill him, and then mouthed my hand in an attempt to remove it. Kaiser's paw is the blue smudge in the middle of the canvas. Dan, our obese coonhound, will do anything for a cracker, so he was no problem. Jules barely bothered to wake up. "Huh, what? What's going on? You're dipping my paw in paint. Alright, whatever. zzzzzzz"

 

I am not a crafty person. I have zero interest in Pinterest. I just don't have the patience to make a map of Oklahoma out of nails, and rubber bands. I have laundry to fold, and television to watch thankyouverymuch. So, this will likely be my one and only craft project for the year...unless you count the kids forcing me to make lopsided turtles out of playdoh. That, my friends, is why this artsy endeavor is notable.