My life in a photo

This photo so sums up my life - jewelry and dogs, not always in that order. There are so many days where it feels like that is ALL I do. I am surrounded by dogs and jewelry all day every day. It's not a bad thing...it's just that I sometimes want to pop my head out of my box to see what else is going on out there.

Have I mentioned that my dogs are cute?

Really, really cute. I was walking through the living room and my boys were lounging on the couch together looking all sweet. It's funny how tiny Preacher looks in this picture. See how Pasqual is all wedged down behind the pillows behind Vincent? That is what he always does. I always ask him why he can't lay on the couch like a normal dog! Probably because if he didn't get behind the pillows he might actually touch Preacher - at which point Preacher would get completely put out and get up in a huff! They are funny.

are you sick of it yet?

I really can't help it - I get a cute picture of my dogs and I just automatically want to post it here! I guess I am a show-off at heart. Are you sick of seeing my dogs?

But seriously, they are cute, huh? This is from a recent Thursday. See, every Thursday I get my house cleaned (super-duper luxury but with 12 dogs it's a luxury that I make myself afford). So, myself and several of the dogs pile into my studio while the girls clean. It's actually really good because it's forced work time where I can't get distracted by something else in the house. However, my studio is not large by any stretch of the imagination, it's like 12x12 or something. And I have: two jeweler's benches, one huge table/bench that holds my drill press, pickle pots, and soldering station, a table for pouring resin and assembling jewelry, a book case, a corner cabinet w/ a tv, a vintage desk, a practical desk, three chairs and a stool, three dog beds, and on Thursdays - at least five dogs including a Great Dane...oh, and sometimes one of my assistants works too. We're pretty packed in there, hence the cute photos of the dogs all kinda piled on top of each other. In this particular photo - Pasqual using Vincent as a pillow while Veruca Jane grabs up a tiny edge of dog bed. Too cute!

I'm ready for my close up

I love these pictures of my dogs. My dogs are cute as a whole, but they even have cute parts. I suppose most people wouldn't photo just their dogs paw, but why? It's so cute! Look at the nubby little claws and those big black pads (that smell like corn chips, by the way) - I mean, that's photo worthy, right?

And Seven's close up profile that shows of her beautiful eyes with her thick black eye liner - you couldn't see that in some full body shot, definitely calls for a close up. And, as a side note, Seven might look like (oh, it pains me to even type this) a plain brown dog to some people, but in reality she is, as we say "the most BeeUteeful girl in the world, a princess, the principessa and I will argue that point with anyone!).

Oh, Horatio's little snub nose that can't decide if it should be chihuahua or pug! You gotta get a close up of that along with those dark brown eyes that just beg for attention in any way, shape, or form!

Okay, then there's that pig nose. When sweet Pasqual was still our foster dog and we thought we would be able to let him go (we were deluded) we would take him to adoption days and small children would often ask why we had a pig up for adoption. I love that piggy nose - and we have several close ups of that pinky pink nose!

So tell me, am I the only one who take pictures of her dogs parts?

You kinda set yourself up when you have 12 dogs...

When you have 12 dogs you are bound to run the gamut when it comes to illness and injury. Of course, this was not something I thought of as we adopted each of the dogs. I thought "I love him" or "no one else will love him" or medically they were such train wrecks that I knew no one else would adopt them. But I never thought too much about the increased odds of medical issues and heart ache. Kinda dumb in hind sight.

So we have seen what I thought was - it all... ruptured hematoma leading to a splenectomy, a dangling lip from jumping through a window, various here-and-there tumors, strabismus (cross eyed), liver shunt, lymphoma, obstructions (once a twist tie and once a q-tip), broken toe, split tail, hypothyroid (two dogs), cuts, sprains, teeth pulled, and probably more that I am blocking from my memory.

But this past Sunday evening was a new one. Clarence was acting a little restless. He was panting and just could not get comfortable. I like to think that Tom and I are pretty hyper-aware of our dogs and their behavior. And we both knew this was not normal. Given that he has had two obstruction surgeries in the past (he's the one that ate the twist tie and the q-tip in addition to some unidentifiable plastic something or other) we thought he was at it again. It was 11pm the night before a holiday - let me pause to say, we have THE best vet EVER. While most folks have to head off to the after hours vet clinic, we can call the clinic, leave a message, and one of the vets will call back within five minutes. Long story short, he met us up at the office within 15 minutes. After xrays we found out that it was an obstruction, but not the kind we thought. He was constipated. Now, I am not going to go into the gory details, and believe me, there are a lot of details and poop talk is not pleasant. So let me just give you this - it was bad enough that he spent two nights and two days at the vet clinic being "evacuated". Lovely.

I feel sooooo sorry for him. I can only imagine that it was beyond unpleasant in addition to being in a strange place and not understanding why you are there. That's the thing with pets - you can't explain to them that this is for their own good and that you will be back to pick them up. It kills me wondering what they are thinking when I have to leave them there. And Clarence is my baby. I love him so much it hurts - I even have his little paw print tattooed on my foot so that he is always walking with me.

But my sweet boy is home now. He is very tired and probably pretty disgusted with Tom and I. I am showering him with kisses and affection...Tom says he should have been counting how many times I have said Clarence or Clarbee tonight. Can you blame me? I am just so glad he's home.

Lazy days...

ahhhh, the last day of vacation. Somehow I don't think the dogs know that it's back to work tomorrow. Not that they have to "work". Don't get me wrong, if I could strap a hammer into their little paws I'd do it in a heart beat. But they have gotten pretty used to mom and dad being home all day doing not much more than just hanging out with them. And as you can see from the photos, they are quite happy with that arrangement. There is not much that I enjoy more than a cozy evening at home with Tom and the dogs resting contently all around us.

But tomorrow means back to reality and the house goes back to reality too. No more twinkling lights, snow globes, and snowmen cookie jars. Tomorrow is put-away-the-Christmas-decorations day. Ick. It's not so much that I dislike the chore of it, it's that I dislike the end of Christmas and having to wait a whole year for it to come around again. This year felt so hectic, much more than past years. So I made the decision already that I am putting out all of my Christmas cheer (decorations and such) the weekend before Thanksgiving. I am.

One last thing, in this last picture, there's Preacher, sleeping peacefully, but can you see Pasqual's little chicken leg sticking out from behind that pillow? He's so funny. It's not enough to lay on the couch, he has to lay on top of the pillows on top of the couch. silly goose.

It's nap time at the Gibson house!

I think I need a 24 hour nap. When I take long naps Tom says "that's not a nap, that's called sleep." Whatever. I need it either way, whatever you call it. It has been a whirlwind of activity around here since we got back from New York. Three trips to the airport, two friends in town, a Blue Dog event, a film screening, brunch at the parents, some friends dropping in for some impromptu Metalsgirl shopping, all in a matter of three days. I'm pooped.

Calgon take me away!

I am not a morning person. At all. This morning the girls showed up to clean at 8:30 and I was still asleep. Okay, first, I know what you are thinking "poor you. you have girls to clean your house. you get to sleep until 8:30. waaaaa!" I know. I am very lucky. Don't I tell you all the time how lucky I am? So, we have wonderful girls who clean the house. And yes, I sleep past 8:30 - let's just leave it at that. But, I stay up late. Sometimes working until 11 or 12 at night. Sometimes with the computer in bed catching up on e-mail at 1am. Anyway, I'm a little tired and a little overwhelmed with ACL looming so near in the future. Will it go okay? Will I have enough inventory? Is my set up/display good enough? etc. Normal anxiety before a big show I think. So I am day dreaming this morning of the beach. The serenity of the ocean. ahhhh, calgon, take me away.

An even dozen.

I was looking at the scrolling photos of my dogs the other day - the ones here on my blog, the little thing-a-ma-bob off to the right that scrolls through various photos - and I was noticing how many of the pictures are of them in costumes or clothes. I immediately felt the need to tell everyone that we are NOT those people! We don't typically dress the dogs up. But I suppose on the rare occasions when we do we feel the need to capture it on film! Anyway, if made ME feel the need to show you how truly dignified my dogs REALLY are, sans clothing.

When Tom and I helped co-found Blue Dog Rescue almost 10 years ago we had two dogs. Seven and Preacher. A very reasonable number of dogs. But over the years of fostering some just seemed to stay. We certainly never meant to have 12 dogs. But that's where we're at. And we adore each and every one of them. We have probably fostered 200+ dogs over the years so I like to tell people that keeping 10 out of 200 is not so bad!

Anyway, here they are, in order of arrival, the loves of our lives:

Seven.

We adopted Seven from the local Humane Society in 1998. She is the absolute love of our life. She's the Princess and knows it!

Preacher.
The Big Man. If you've read my blog before then you've heard all about him over the past month. He is a sweet, gentle soul who loves every single person he ever meets.

Ozilinne.

Ozo. Our very first foster and maybe the big glaring sign that we shouldn't foster because we'd want to keep them all. But thank goodness we didn't pay attention to the sign. Ozo has the happy-go-lucky of his Golden Retriever part and the independence of his Chow part. EVERYONE loves Ozo.

Clarence.

This little man is the love of MY life. He has soooo much personality rolled up into his little chihuahua/dachshund body. He's a little gangsta and considers himself The King. I have his paw print tattooed on my foot so that he walks with me wherever I go.

Pasqual.

The Notorious P.I.G. When we were fostering him and took him to adoption days kids would tell their parents that we had a pig for adoption! Pasqual was the first pit bull in Blue Dog Rescue and he won over everyone he met. He is the Pit Bull poster child!

Vincent.

My baby. We got Vincent and his four littermates when they were two weeks old. Their mom had been hit by a car. Tom and I brought them home and bottle fed them. We almost lost Vincent one night when he went into hypoglycemic shock. I slept with him on my chest all night. Since that point he has been my dog through and through. He is my guardian and protector. Where I go, he goes.

Clishy Marie Shew.

Probably the most energetic dog in our house. She wants to know what is going on at all times! And the best hugger in all the world!

Veruca Jane Shew.

While her sister is the hugger she is the kisser. And she prefers your nose if that's okay with you. Oh, and a beer if you'll share that too!

Monkey Shew.
Sweetest little boy ever - all he wants is a little attention of his own. In this pack you do have to kind of assert yourself to get attention - and he's just not that assertive. So we try to go the extra mile to give him the love and belly rubs he deserves.

The Business Man.

Oh, Ferdabidnee. The dog is even sillier than he looks. We joke that he should really be a cartoon character. His tongue sticks out and he's cross-eyed. He's not particularly nice to strangers and he has a liver shunt. He's a little train wreck but he brings laughter into our lives every single day. I wouldn't trade him for anything!

Horatio.

Our little chug. Another foster who came and just refused to leave. And while I didn't want 11 dogs I wanted life without Horatio even less. Every night it is his job to announce Bed Time. And he does so my garbling bizarre noises and dragging his belly on the floor. And when he does it they all know - "It's bed time!"

Jessica Beatrice.
She was going to be a "quick" adoption. She was NOT supposed to stay. But she wormed her way into Tom's heart by being pitiful and pathetic and only loving him. So there it was. She became number 12!

So that's us in a nut shell. It is crazy but it works. And what am I most proud of? That people come to my house and say "Wow, it doesn't smell like dogs!"

News and a cute baby bird...

First of all, drum roll please, Preacher is officially in remission! Whoo Hoo! He had his second round of chemo today. When they called to let me know he was ready to be picked up they also told me that the doctor feels he is in complete remission! Now we just continue on with the course of chemo (six months) and try to keep him that way. Last week when we took him in he was dragging big time. He felt like serious poop. Today, when I picked him up, he came running from the back room pulling the tech behind him and didn't see the glass door in front of him and ran right into it. Like Mother like dog. If you don't know that story...I'm glad! :)

The photo is of a baby bird in our back yard. Now, I am not a fan of birds. I am actually a little afraid of them. But baby birds are pretty precious. And the whole sweetness of leaving the nest...it's so sad and symbolic. Anyway, a momma made a nest in a lantern on our back porch. Not sure how many babies she had, but this little guy hopped out of the nest a little early. In my back yard that can be a dangerous thing. I scooped him up with a pot and plopped him back into his lantern. But not before snapping some photos of his fuzzy little face.