I’m staying home sick this week. I’m 99.999% sure it’s a normal cold, the likes of which I have worked through hundreds of times before, but we are in strange times. That normal head cold might actually be the plague that wants to kill people!
Pardon the sarcasm. Yeah. We’re in strange times. I’m not driving a 40-footer full of random people these days. I drive people who are tired of being locked down in fear. They have braved the pandemic and the airport screening line in order to have an experience. They don’t need to see me going through Kleenex like crazy and worry about sharing an enclosed space with me. I went to get tested and will probably hear the results today. I’m not worried.
Looking up the frozen creek. The sun is somewhere that direction.
So about that title. I woke up this morning a bit colder than usual. The dog can’t decide whether or not to stay under the blankets and ends up dragging them off of me. So I pulled them up again and reached for my weather app. It says -41. I say what? Pull to refresh and it updates to -31. Okay. I went outside as one does when necessary, even though it might be that cold. As soon as I’m vertical gravity says hello. And yes, it’s extra cold. Cold enough that when I cleared my sinuses I think the wad was half frozen before I could spit. (Sorry, I guess it’s TMI day, but the experience was strange.)
I installed a new weather app with NOAA in the name and that one says it’s -13. That doesn’t seem right either. I know it’s colder than that. Or at least I think I do. I’m not sure what to trust anymore.
I guess I need to get a thermometer to put up outside. Maybe I’ll tack it to a tree and have real time temps that I can trust.
I’d join him if I could. He’d love the extra body heat.
It’s very close to the solstice and the temperature has been dipping lower more frequently. This weekend was the second in a row that hovered around -17° for most of the time. Oddly enough, it wasn’t as hard as last weekend.
I had zero plans for my weekend. I literally stayed in a cocoon in my bed as I explored and built in a new world on minecraft. Then Saturday afternoon a friend texted me to let me know she would pick me up at 4. I had to think about it for a while. I wasn’t sure what day it was. Then I remembered that she had informed me that I WOULD be joining her on a girls night out with her friends. Okay. I said I’d be ready.
We went to a favorite Thai restaurant and talked and ate. I knew I would probably like her friends. She has good taste in people. And I know I need to make more connections. As much as I could be happy as a hermit, I still need to socialize. After we left the restaurant we ended up going to look at guns (Missi has found one worth saving up for) and I bought a smaller cast iron skillet. Then we had to park at the side of the road to watch the solstice fireworks. We didn’t even need to be downtown.
It’s cold outside and I’ve been typing this while I wait for the truck to warm up. But the time comes to head for work. Clay is happily tucked into the blankets. He isn’t fond of this weather. It’s snowing again, so I’ll be thankful for the empty Sunday morning highway. It isn’t quite hibernation, but it’s closer than I have been to it in many years. And it feels good.
A couple of weeks ago we wanted pizza. Chris went 10 miles into North Pole to fill the heating oil cans and picked up two pizzas. They were gone in a flash and we were still hungry. All for $35. It didn’t feel worth it.
I tried again a week ago. I picked up a pizza on my way home. For $12 it was underwhelming. Sparse toppings, mediocre flavor, I can do better. My pantry has most of what I need to make pizza. All I needed was some fresh spinach and mushrooms. I think I spent less on toppings for multiple pizzas than I would have if I bought a ready made one. Plus, we like our crust better than anyone else’s.
Nothing beats homemade pizza.
While I waited for my pizza to bake I fixed a plate of salad. The entire time I was eating it I was watched by the world’s greatest optimist. I know the dog doesn’t like greens, but I’ve gotten him to eat them before. He knew what I was eating, but he still drooled hopefully. Maybe, just maybe something delicious would fall into his mouth!
Optimism at it’s finest.
I didn’t feed him, but he loves me anyway. As he put his paws up on my knee I could feel how cold they are. Soon we’ll get tucked into bed and he’ll warm his toes while he acts as a living hot water bottle to mine. Dogs are a treasure. They’re full of optimism and loyalty and they’ll clean up any crumbs you drop on the floor. What more could you ask for!
He of little fur enjoys days curled up on the couch blankets.
I knew the Alaskan winter would be tough for this dog. Clay is a Pitbull/Australian Shepherd mix, and has a short, single coat. Even back in Oregon he preferred curling up in warm spots or diving under my covers overnight.
Planning ahead, I bought a dog coat for him. I’ve also gotten him a sweater and booties to protect his feet from the ice on those trips outside in severely subzero temps. He hates them all. He also likes to run across the creek after he does his goofy stunt of hiding behind a tree to take care of business. There are other dogs to play with over there and possible snacks to snarf. The problem is that he has so little insulation that we don’t want to let him stay outside for long and it’s hard to keep track of where he actually is. I do worry that he’ll get too cold. He certainly complains about it enough.
Then came last night. I was playing with his paws again. I do it as a trust exercise ever since he panicked that one time he had a blackberry thorn stuck between his toes. This time I noticed a change. He has grown extra fur between his toes and it partly covers his pads. It gives me hope that he will adapt to the cold. I doubt that he’ll grow an undercoat, but at least his feet will be protected.
Fuzzy toes
This entire adventure has us all learning and adapting. I figure that’s a good thing.
I have a duck in one tub and a dog in the other. And there’s a story behind it.
It’s not the first time we’ve had a duck in the bathtub.
Last time we bought poultry feed we decided to try a cheaper brand. It saved us almost $20 for a month of feed, but it seems to have caused problems for the ducks. Almost two weeks ago a duck had to be brought in for treatment of a prolapsed vent. She got all bound up and tried to eject her innerds. Professor Google provided answers and she got to have daily Epsom salt baths and Preparation H applied to encourage healing. This morning she got released back to the pen, but another one seems to be starting the same problem. We need two people to catch the duck because they are slippery suckers.
Well, the ducks share a pen with the turkeys. The turkeys don’t like anyone messing with their pen or their ducks. They need to go out on grass anyway so we herded the turkeys out of the pen and down to the pond pasture. The goats were at the gate, but the leaf-rake-of-doom kept them far enough back so we could shove turkeys through one at a time.
Then we noticed that one goat had grown too big for his collar. I don’t know how it came on so quickly, but he looked like he was choking and gasping for air. That needed to be dealt with immediately. But he didn’t want to be caught. The other goats were eager to run in defense of him to keep us away. We had a merry chase around the pond and back and forth across the creek. We were getting nowhere and he just got more stressed.
Here’s a word of advice: don’t bother chasing goats to catch them. It works for poultry, but goats are stubborn and smart. They will always escape if you chase. It’s better to lure them in. A coffee can of COB (AKA goat crack) properly applied will get them to do almost anything you want.
So we had a can of goat crack. We had the rake-of-doom and a long stick and a leash for just in case. We got 4 of 5 goats to come and partake of treats. You can guess which one refused. We got 3 of 5 into the other pasture and closed the gate. So now we have the meekest goat (Ritz) and the distressed goat (Moo). They’re easier to manipulate on their own. I walked over to the roofed dog kennel they use as shelter and drop a pile of crack…COB. Ritzy meanders in, happy to have a chance at treats and Moo follows. I step in and close the door.
We aren’t supposed to use horns to manage goats, but they sure are handy. I caught him. My helper straddled and pinned him. I unhooked the collar… finally! Then we let him eat out of the coffee can so the entire encounter could be associated with treats instead of terror. I might have made a mistake in not working with this goat much. He needs to be better socialized to humans.
Okay, the goat is dealt with, the turkeys are hanging out with them and intimidating them while wrestling each other. Meanwhile the dog has been gleefully running in circles, unable to decide if he’s going to “help” us wrangle goats, chase rabbits, or roll in all the smells he usually doesn’t have access to. Guess what he did.
Back to the duck pen. We got the ducks cornered and pulled out the ailing one. Got back to the house and I started filling the tub with water and Epsom salt. The dog followed me in and boy did he smell foul! The minute that duck was settled in her bath I took the dog to the other bathroom to get him cleaned up.
“But Mom! I thought it smelled so good! Why don’t you like my perfume?”
There is something about manure that is irresistible to dogs. Especially male dogs. Most baths given to dogs in this house happen after they have found their way into a pasture and come back crusted in stink. It’s like a 13 year old boy that believes the Axe commercials. Except we all know that repulses rather than attracts.
I got the dog clean. I even finished off with a dab of the boys Old Spice body wash around his neck. We’ll see how he likes that smell. The duck has gotten her treatment and is in the hospital cage for observation. The bathrooms are clean-ish and the used towels in the washer. Let the day go back to the sleepy rainy Saturday we had intended to have.
